1 September, 2014
Moroccans communicate!
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| Look closely .... whispering (fake) palms in Marrakech |
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| Moroccans talking ... from one hill-top to the next |
There’s the time-honoured
gathering of blokes at the “pub equivalent” (no alcohol here)
while the women are at home with the children. And then there’s the
farm worker riding his donkey …. ear glued to his mobile phone,
mouth moving a whole lot faster than his donkey. But then riding a
donkey is simple, isn’t it? Yes, for most. But me? I failed donkey
riding. Only lasted a few hundred metres before begging to get off 😦
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Poor donkey ..... and I'm not looking too happy either |
It was barely OK going up
hill, but when the ground sloped down and the donkey followed, the
fabric covering the saddle, which was all I had to hold onto, pushed
forward with my white-knuckled grip. I felt like I was about to pitch
straight over the donkey’s head. A conversation went through my
head:
How did she die?
She fell off a donkey and
rolled down a mountain.
I was ever so glad to get
back to Riad Ourika Gardens, a really lovely place, where Karim and
his staff could not have made me more welcome.
Morocco does export farm
produce to Europe but I’m not sure how that works. Something to
look up when I get home. Most farms seem to be on a small scale –
with transport to match.
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| Cattle transport |
The grapes were fabulous - as was all the fruit .... except prickly pears. I draw the line at what are considered noxious weeds at home!
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| Grapes |
At the beginning of the
Ourika Valley, we left the inhospitable brown, stony land behind and,
with only a bit of water, entered the world of the lush oasis.
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| First view of the mountains - through the haze |
In my mind an oasis had
always been of a circle of palm trees around a water hole or well.
And there were some of those. But along a whole river, for some
distance either side, it’s also an oasis. As well as palms, farmers
make the most of every square inch of earth and plant a variety of
crops.
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| Entering the lush Ourika Valley |
After recovering from my
donkey fail, we went for a drive right up the Ourika valley. Another
expectation re-arranged. I’d imagined a babbling river fringed by
trees. It was that. But it was also a hive of activity with the
ubiquitous roadside stalls, plus, as we got further up, cafe after
cafe, Moroccan style.
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| Pots and more pots |
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| Luscious fruit |
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| The local butcher |
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| Tagines on the coals |
It turns out this area is a
popular day out to escape the heat of Marrakech. We went up the
valley early – then watched cars and taxis full of families
arriving from our eyrie in a cafe above the river which we got to via
a very rickety bridge.
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| Hami urged me on as I crossed that rickety bridge |
I could see why it’s such
a popular spot – it was soooo relaxing just sitting there, watching
other people relaxing …. and children playing in the shallow water.
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| Riverside - table or tent? |
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| I want the table 'in' the water! |
But then we left, going
against the tide of cars still coming up the valley as we made the
return journey. For us, more places to go, people to see.
