Now that my British friends have left Morocco, I am traveling with two Aussies, Nick and Paulina, that I met in Cef Chaouen. Nick use to work in the UK as a software guy as well and they are doing some traveling before heading back to Australia. It is interesting to hear about someone with my similar work profession and what their experiences are compared to mine.

The three of us head from Chef Chaouen north to Tangier. The only buses that go to Asilah, a small sea side town, is from Tangier. From all the backpackers that I’ve talked to as well as the guidebooks, Tangier is a rough part of Morocco. The local there prey on tourists that come via ferry from southern Spain and some of the most elaborate rip off schemes take place there. With that mind, we get into Tangier with the one goal of going straight to the bus station and to Asilah. The funny thing is that the bus from Chef Chaouen actually doesn’t take you to the bus station. Instead, they drop you off at Ferry gates so we had to negotiate a taxi fare to get to the bus station.

From the bus station we realized that all the buses, running on limited Ramadan schedule, had already finished their course for the day. Thus we had to grab a grand taxi. Grand taxis are different that regular city taxis in that they transport you from city to city. Usually they wait for a full carload before leaving. We crammed two passengers in the front and four in the back before we set out for Asilah. The ride, luckily, was only an hour.

Asilah is famous for its paradise beach. The first goal is get out of the old city area which is maze of small streets. Like Chef Chaouen this town is painted in blue and white. However the colors are bolder. It almost reminds me of some of the islands of Greece that I’ve seen pictures of.

Paradise beach is really far walking along the jagged cliffs along the sea shore. The walk goes over numerous hills and we always looked forward to seeing an actual beach over the next hill and were frequently disappointed. Fishermen are sitting along the rocks the entire journey over and finally we the beach. The walk took several hours and we decided to stay at the beach until sunset. That idea was great for sunset pictures, however we had to take the local roads back by foot since the jagged rocks along the beach were a definite bad idea in the dark. The walk took a lot longer since it was more of an indirect path back. All in all paradise beach did not live up to its name.

We get into town well after dinner time and get a chance to walk through the not so touristy part of Asilah. Here people live in shacks made out of metal panels. The slums are packed together pretty tight. I was able to get a peak here there of the insides and I was quite surprised at some of the conditions these people live in.

The town of Chef Chaouen is just north of Fez and my way to Tangier. The entire mood of Morocco has changed for Ramadan. During the day, there is not much going on. Tired shop owners sit on stools outside their shops. They no longer make an effort to try to get you into their shops. They are barely staying awake most of the time. Only tourists can be seen eating. If you’re not in a restaurant and eating in public people get mad at you.

All the buildings follow the same paint motif in blue and white. It is chalky and rubs off easily as we unfortunately learned. There is a football (soccer) game on the hills outside of the city. We walk by it on our way to the hill with a mosque overlooking the city. The entire city slowly lights up as the calls of prayer echo in the distance.

After the evening prayer call the city comes to life. A giant feast goes on in the main square area. You can only see guys out at night drinking tea. Moroccans drink mint tea with a more than ample dose of sugar. That is the activity of choice for post feast activities for Moroccans. The activities don’t end until early in the morning. Throughout the night there are sounds of drums and bugles. The bugle or trumpet sounds start around 3 or 4am. The first bugle blows and then throughout various parts of the city other bugles join in. It almost sounds like a prehistoric war/attack signal.

It is here that the three Brits and I part ways. They are leaving for tangier and heading to Gibralter to fly back. This is also my route but my flight is much later than theirs. At the hostel in Chef Chaouen, I find two Aussies that are also on my travel plan. We are both heading to Asilah to check out the beaches there before heading to Tangier, overland to Gibraltar.

After relaxing in the cool climates of Essaouira, we head east to Fez with a stopover at Casa Blanca. The train ride was cheap and at the station we couldn’t figure out why people were scrambling to get on the train before some of the other passengers even go off. We were probably the last group on the train. As it turns out buying a ticket on a train does not reserve a seat. All the isles and area between the carts are full of people. The saying “sardines in a can” is quite fitting for our situation.

Fez has probably the largest and more confusing Medina in Morocco. Most people hire guides just to get around. Our hostel was able to book a guide us at a reasonable price. However to be honest, it was really disappointing. We got see some cool things and learn some interesting facts about Fez, but most of time we were just led to his friend’s shops where a salesman gave us a pitch about buying leather, antiques, carpets, etc.

The doors here are really interesting. They usually have two knockers. One is for male visitors and the other is for females. This allows the woman of the household to know whether to cover up when answering the door.

One of the gold and bronze shops we visit has a wealth of handmade items. One of the works was currently making a plate. This is all done by hand without the aid of a stencil. This method makes every plate or item unique. The worker has been doing this all his life and you tell his eye sight has been severely damaged from staring at such intricate work for so long.

The Fez tanneries are the famous ones that all guide books usually talk about it. It is a lot bigger than the ones in Marrakesh and much more tourist-friendly. You don’t actually get down on the ground level where the smell is. The leather shop is above the tanneries and you have a bird’s eye view of the entire process.

Ramadan started on the last day that we are Fez and the entire feeling of the town changed. Most shops are closed and there are limited numbers of people on the street. The month of Ramadan is a time where all Muslim people fast from sunrise to sunset. This act of fasting teaches patience, sacrifice and humility and is done for the sake of God. It makes all the locals crankier than usual and all public transportation is now running on a limited basis. We coin this new attitude “Ramadanry”.

Our first night in Essaouira was at a guest house. We followed a local that met us at the bus terminal and we are able to stay at a 5 bed apt. Cherri and Ellie stole the queen bed before either James or I could protest. The funny thing is that Cheri woke up with bedbug bites. The next day we decided to ditch that apt and find the local hostel.

The three Brits and I find Hostel Essaouira after wandering around the market area for quite some time. The hostel is typical Moroccan style home with a terrace area in the middle and several floors with an open middle area. There are open hallways all around the hostel overlooking the central terrace area.

BizBiz is one of the co-owners of the hostel and his job is party with the guests and make sure they keep drinking. He also takes us out trip such as surfing lessons. He has a cat named Jackie Chan and a mutt dog named Speagle. They are two of the hostels residents that are always entertaining to watch. Speagle use to chase stray cats in the streets. Then one day he brought back a kitten that severly emaciated. BizBiz decided to keep the cat and nurse it back to health. And now Speagle and Jackie Chan have been the best of friends since.

We are all decided to give long boarding a go and it was well worth it. The initial dip in the waters was freezing, it was probably the coldest water that I’ve swam in for such a long time. Even with our 3mil wet suites the water was stingingly cold. However by the time you paddle out past the waves your muscles warm you up. My shoulders have never been so sore. The waves are pretty big and I got tossed around like a rag doll on several occasions. There are a lot of wind surfers and even more entertaining to watch, kite surfers. The winds here are very strong and the air that some of these guys catch is ridonkulous.

The rest of the our time spent in Essaouira was lounging at the hostel and jamming on the guitar. There were several students from Leeds “Uni” (yes, Brits called college Uni) which is the same college that James, Ellie and Cheri go to. One of them, Tim, is a total badass on the guitar. He can play some ridiculously technical songs. Jamming on the guitar once again really made me miss my guitar and being able to just chill and play.

James aka Rasta and I decide to pamper ourselves and head to the Moroccan hammam. The Moroccan hammam is similar to the Turkish hammam, in fact I am pretty sure they are exactly the same. James and I opt for the touristy version of the spa treatment and skip the local hammam spa. We walk to the main square to grab the traditional glass of fresh squeezed OJ, this is almost ritual now anytime we walk through the square. As we finish our drinks a kid with flyers comes by and is handing out cards and 10% off coupons for the touristy hammam. He leads us all the way to the spa and collects his commission.

The touristy hammam is called Isis. It is slightly more expensive than the traditional local’s hammam. There are vast differences. Isis spa does not have separate hours for men and women, is far cleaner and offers massages as well. James and I ended up getting a couple’s deal since it was cheaper than getting individual ones.

The hammam went like this, we are told to change into our boxer or swim wear and then put on robes. We are lead into a steam room. Inside the room is a cement bench with a basin for collecting water. A woman comes in and uses a large bowl and gives me a shower using the water from the basin. Then she lathers me up with a black perfume soap. The soap is not your traditional bar soap; it’s more like a gel. Then she again rinses you with the bowl.

Step two is exfoliation and the hammam gloves comes into play. The glove, on the palm side, has the harder side of Velcro stitched onto it. The idea is that the scrubbing action exfoliates the skin. Some people find it painful, others find it relaxing. I fit into category number two. After that I get another shower.

Step three involves clay. So I get smeared head to toe with clay and thent he lady leaves the room. There’s not much communication because of the language barrier. So I end up sitting in the steamy hot room, covered in a thick layer of mud, and not knowing what I’m supposed to do. Right before the clay hardens which happens to be right before I’m about to pass out from the steam, the lady comes back into the room and I get a proper shower from the rain faucet above the room.

The next step I re-robe and head to the top floor’s solarium to relax. About 10 to 15minutes later I am called downstairs for a 30minute massage. By the end of the treatment I come out glowing. All this was about 480 dirhams split two ways so roughly 27 USD.

In addition to the Cascade waterfall trip, our hostel also offers a Sahara Desert Safari. The trip has three versions with different durations of 1, 2, and 3 days. All of them include a single night sleeping in the desert under the stars and a camel ride. We all opt for the 3 day version because it’s not as rushed and you get to see more villages along the way.

James and I were able to find another travel agency en route to the tanneries that had the same trip for 100 dirhams less. It was a no brainer so we all sign up for the 3 day trip and again rise early in the morning to the travel agency.

Our Sahara Desert trip actually included a lot of towns on the way to the sand dunes. One of the most interesting towns we stopped in as located near an oasis. The entire kashba is built with mud and straw. There is some distinction for this particular town though. It is currently a set to the film “Prince of Persia” and previously it was used to shoot many scenes from “The Gladiator”.

In another village we were brought to a carpet and rug dealer. We discover quickly that the art of carpet making is only a woman’s skill while rug making is the man’s skill. The salesman does a good job of telling us all the symbolism that goes into the rugs. The materials consist of sheep, camel, and cactus silk. The most expensive ones are made of cactus silk.

Another stop is a valley full of locals. The water here is glacial and ice cold, much like the water from the cascades. There are many locals here and we do not see much tourists. There are little kids playing the water and they are all curious about our group of tourists. Many of the times the only things they can say are the simple greetings like hello, how are you and what’s your name.

The last leg of the journey is coming to a town that is at the edge of the Sahara. Here the roads are sometimes covered with sand drifts and dunes that have blown over. The dunes tower over the city in the distance. We are each instructed to buy 2 large bottles of water for this portion of the tour.

We each mount up on our camels and caravan along the dunes. It is afternoon already so the heat isn’t too hot. The reputation of camels is that they smell and spit. The latter I was unable to experience but they do indeed have a funny smell to them. Although their smell does not even hold a flame to the smells of the tanneries. One interesting this is that camels all seem to have something in their mouths to chew. Whether they regurgitates or just pick up random plans they are constantly chewing. The entire trek the camels take turn pissing on their legs. Camels walk real slow and the bob up and down the entire time. The ride almost gets uncomfortable, especially going down dunes, when the sun stats to set.

As the sun sets we approach a village setup of tents in a rectangle. There are carpets in the middle and our guides cook tagine for dinner. We end up spending one day under the stars in the middle of the desert sleeping on carpet. Without an ambient light from the cities the entire milky way lights up. Gentle warm then cool breezes blow over as we all go to sleep.

Usually when James and I walk around the markets of Marrakesh, we get a lot of attention from the local shop owners. We are easily recognized as foreigners which automatically makes us rich and dollar/pound/euro signs in their eyes. Right outside the road that our hostel is on is an antique dealer selling old jewelry and the type of the stuff the trader guy on the intro of Aladdin would try to pawn off. This guy even has old school Aladdin like lamps. Anyways, each time we walk by he always wants us to come into the store to have a look. His phrase is always “good price for you”. The fact of the matter is that every shop in Marrakesh says that phrase. We’ve been telling him next time for a while now and today is no exception and we continue our trek.

Finally we reach the busier areas and shouts of “Rasta!” and “Jackie Chan!” sound off like clock work. Usually James gets offers of drugs usually in the direct quote of “hashish, best in Morocco” everywhere he goes and today is no exception. A creepy looking guy runs out from the shadows of a dark alley and asks us how we are doing, where we are from, and finally the nonchalant pitch of “so you want some hashish?” We look straight ahead as we both say no and continue to walk.

Speaking of the question “where are you from”, it seems that in Morocco people don’t have the concept that I look asian and still be from the US. I’ve all but given up on telling people that I am from the States. They just don’t believe or think you are kidding. The usual response is “US? But ”. So from here on out I’ve been telling people I’m from China, in which their next response is “China wery good ” As my British friends would say “sorted”.

We reach the travel agency and finally book our trip for the following day. Our journey back is the same direction and the same shop owners give us the same pitch again as we walk by. This time however I hear someone shout “Elvis!” James and I both pause and give each other a look. “He wasn’t talking about me” I thought, then I look at this tall white man with dreadlocks next to me and realize that they couldn’t have been talking about James. Besides being called Elvis, I know that I have a super hot Sahara desert trip coming up and long hair isn’t the most ideal thing to have in a super hot environment. At this point, I decide, not because of the numerous requests from facebook, that I need to get a haircut. 20 dirhams or 2.30 USD later I’d be damned if I got another Elvis shoutout.

The group of three Brits have now joined forces with Daniel another Brit. And I have found another Yankee, Joe from Iraq. Joe is on vacation from Iraq where he has been deployed. He has picked to take a vacation from the deserts of Iraq to visit the deserts of Morocco. Together we all decide to go check out the Cascade Waterfalls on a hostel arranged day trip. Early in the morning, much earlier than when I should be getting up on vacation, we all walk across an empty Medina to the travel company.

There are two groups of us and we pile into a minivan and work horse of the safari world, a Landrover Defender. There was a good mix of people on the trip. In particular Joe and I notice the two Brits that joined us that were both pretty cute. Sadly they were “together”, as Ellie reported heavy petting between them, I completely missed it, but Cheri concurred, hmmmmm.

The weather is really hot and there is no AC. We just have the windows to keep us cool. There are lots of interesting things that we see from the car including the local hay transport. Just to give you an ideal these overloaded semi are all over the highways and they are almost as tall as they are long. This particular one was swaying to one side as it was cruising down the road.

Once we get to the Cascades there are lots of activities to do. The first series of waterfalls unload into a large pool area where you can swim and jump off the rocks. There is a second waterfall that is huge and much wider than the first series. At the top there is about a 15m jump. You climb up a pretty steep set of rocks just to get to the waterfall to jump off. You can even swim beneath the waterfall and into it to a hang out area.

The swimming area is cool as these are glacial waters from the Atlas Mountains. However on a day like today where it is super hot, in the mid 40’s, C of course, the cold waters are a nice clash of temperatures. When I got out of the water I was dry in 5 or 10 minutes max and again ready to jump back in. The locals also use the water chill drinks that they sell.

The last set of waterfalls is the actual Cascades and they dwarf even the second waterfall. There is no swimming here. Like the Niagara Falls there’s a boat ride to the bottom part of the waterfalls. Small wooden bridges are used to navigate across the small streams of water from the main pool and footpaths go all the way up to the top canyon surrounding the bottom. The funny part is that there was always a traffic jam of too many people on either sides of the small one way bridge to where the line of people would come to a haut as no one wanted to give way to the other. It was an amazing site to see.

The next day James and I set off on a quest to find the tanneries. We read about it in the guide and it was described as a foul smelling place, but interesting none the less. So we leave in the morning and the girls go shopping. As we get near the tannery area and away from the main square people on the streets start to try to guide us. All the locals seem to know that if any foreigners are in that area they are looking for the tanneries. We know that this is ploy to try to get money out of us so we continue walking and ignore them.

The entire time we are walking the locals try to get our attention to go into their shops. James is a tall white guy with long dreads so he is hard to miss. So our journey to the tanneries, is filled with shouts of Rasta! Rasta Man! Bob Marley! And for me, I get Bruce Lee! Jakie Chan! Arigatou! Konnichiwa! I don’t mind being called Bruce Lee all the time, Bruce Lee is badass. And even Jackie Chan is okay in my book. On the rare occasion it got real annoying when I would hear chin chong! in which I respond with derka derka (I don’t think they got it). While I was busy attempting to cause an international incident, we both smell an odor of rotting flesh.

We finally reach the tanneries and are guided inside by one of the workers. He gives us a handful of mint leaves to use to help adjust to the decaying flesh smell of the leather curing process. The text in the guidebooks did nothing to prepare us for the foul odor that hit as like a brick wall. It took me a second to stomach the smell, I had to take several whiffs of the mint leaves to even continue walking in. I can’t even begin to describe the smell to do it justice, so I’ll just leave it at that.

The leathers come to the tanneries with fresh flesh and hairs still attached. So the first step is to remove the flesh and hairs. This is done either by soaking the skins in urine, soaking them in limestone water mixtures or leaving them out over the period of several months. This particular tannery used all three methods depending on the type of skin.

The next step is to put the soak the skins in pigeon poop. Men usually step on these skins to help apply the dung to the skins. This process lasts between several hours to days. The worker tells us that the pigeon poop solution can be substituted with animal brains, but pigeon poop is better. During this process the skins are also soaked in poops of lard, limestone-water mixture. The pools are made out of limestone and have been around since the start of the tanneries. This process is passed down from generation to generation.

Speaking of pigeons, one of the things I’ve noticed about Marrakech is irregular lack of pigeons. I soon found out that pigeons are considered a delicacy, so they are all caught and eaten. Pigeon actually costs more than rabbit here. Anyways back the leather soaked in the lard solutions. After curing for a week or so the skins are moved to the roof where they are dried. Once dried they are made soft using various minerals and again pigeon poop. After drying they are finally ready for the leather smith to be made into various goods.

Our tour goes right through the rancid smelling pits. The guide tells us to watch our step as some of the pits are covered and it is easy to accidentally fall into the pits of foul waters. I ask the guide and he confirms that he has fallen in numerous times. We continue to two tanneries one is Arabic and the other is Berber. I couldn’t really understand what made one tannery different from the other. They both smelled and made me noxious. The final part of the tour ended at a leather smith shop where a sales guy tried to sell us leather bags to seats. We didn’t bite and politely exited. As we were departing the main guy that was giving us the tour demanded 200 dirhams from each of us for the tour. We bargained and bargained and settled for 50 each, which was still a huge rip off on our part.

The trek to the hostel was difficult. Not because it was uphill or anything like, but more because there are no street names. The medina is the area of Marrakesh that is walled off and has narrow streets. There are so many unmarked streets that twist and turn all over the medina that navigation by map is near impossible. There were reviews on hostelworld that said I would eventually end up paying a kid 10 dirhams to show me where the hostel is located. Instead I ended up just asking shop owners that pointed me all the way there.

The first day I met a group of three (James Cheri and Ellie) from UK, they arrived at the hostel shortly after I did. We all ended up grabbing lunch together. We ate at a small restaurant near the Medina Backpackers hostel. I ordered a Tagine, which is meat and vegetables cooked in a clay plate with a top so the food is steamed. I tried the rabbit with onions and raisins. This was a surprisingly good combination. The entire mean was around 5USD with drinks. The exchange rate here is about 1 USD to 8 dirham. Four dirham buys you a 2L bottle of water. Another food I tried are prickly pears. These are flowering bulbs that grow on cactus and are sweet. The redder the sweeter the bulb. Basically the cut the skin off and eat the seeds inside. It is suppose to help with stomach problems.

The next day was spent lounging around and getting adjusted to the area and the heat. There is only one room with air conditioning in it and the rest of the rooms just have fans. Luckily the desert weather here is cool at night, but took me considerably more time to fall asleep. In the morning I walk to the market to start my day with 3 dirham (less than 50 cents) fresh squeezed orange juice and explore more of the Medina. My excursion is cut short with the mid-day sun and retreat back to the hostel.

Most of exploration was done at night. The medina is much livelier as the sun sets and people come out. There are Arabic story tellers with groups of people gathered around. There are also games setup for people to play. The central area of the medina has small restaurants that all serve different foods. They merely tents that are setup and have a number on them so you can remember which one to return to and which ones to avoid. The same applies to the copious amounts of orange juice stands.

Cheri is half Brit and half Thai and when we travel together I guess we look like a couple. Tonight a local restaurant owner came up to me after our meal and pointed to Cheri asking “how much for this one?” I am quite proud to report that I was able to haggle all the way up to 100 camels and our entire dinner bill. Sadly James was later able to get 10,000 camels just for Ellie’s eyes.