We rocked the kasbahs

Ali pulled his Toyota Land Cruiser up to the hotel at 8am sharp. We loaded up, strapped in and then his “cousin” called. She’d left her wallet in the car. No way she could be without it for the next 10 days. Who could blame her? We detoured, did a quick handover and THEN we were on our way.

Crossing the high Atlas Mountains via the Tiz n Tchika pass and the Ounila Valley, we wound through Berber villages and fertile palm oases. We stopped for Moroccan tea somewhere in the pass, then continued on to Telouet kasbah for a look around.  Ali had arranged an English speaking guide – although it was so small, we might have wandered on our own more easily. Ali is not allowed to act as our guide wherever there are official, registered guides. And the official guides need to make their money. of course.

 This kasbah was built by the Glaouli family, originally in 1860 with additions in the 19th century.  Rasheed happily explained that the Sultan had 85 problems (wives) but he, Rasheed, only had one and a half problems. Lest you leap to conclusions, the half problem is his young daughter. 

At the end, Rasheed said, casually, oh, I almost forgot, let’s go into this building and I will show you a picture of your General Patten dining here with our pasha. And by the way, look at these beautiful rugs. They are made by an old widow. We like to help her out. Don’t worry, if you don’t buy, we are still friends but you know prices are cheap here. I said no and stuck to it. 

We had a light lunch at the cafe outside of the kasbah (tajine was all they had so…) and then we were back on the windy, narrow road. Going slow. Besides the road being narrow, the speed limit is low and there are slow moving, heavily ladened trucks, motorbikes that top out at 30 mph and bicycles. That’s why it took a good 7 hours plus stops to travel 368 km (about 223 miles).

I think I started adjusting to Morocco a couple of days ago. But today, I felt my bearings fine tuning themselves. Breath slowed, time of no consequence, just stare at the natural beauty, which in many places closely resemble the landscape of New Mexico. That’s a Berber village? That could also be Laguna Pueblo. Perhaps Laguna is more on the adobe colored side but still. Subtract the occasional palm oasis and we could be motoring through Chama, or taking the back road from Albuquerque to Santa Fe.

We finally enter Ourazaate, known for the Atlas Studios, largest film production lot in Africa. The streets are wide and smooth, buildings are tall and picturesque. Movie money has had an impact on this town. We opted not to seek out the famous filling station set used in the original “The Hills have Eyes” film.

In the next town over, Ali pulls into a Carrefour supermarket. He wants to buy wine. Perhaps he needs liquid refreshment at the end of the day to get through the next 10 days with two elder Americans. I took advantage. Why not sample some Moroccan wine? I came away with a bottle of white from a vineyard Ali recommended. 90 Dirham. $9.00. And quite good.

We stop next in Skoura to see another kasbah. This time, we opt to look around on our own. We were warned about the low doorways. At 5’3”, I barely fit without slouching.  Grubb has to do major hunching to get through. Trickier is that the entrance to all stairways is gained through a doorway necessitating an awkward bend over while stepping up the first stair.

Now the last stretch to Dades, near the top of Dades Gorges. And voila, here I am, sitting on the terrace at La Perle du Dades, our resting place for the next two nights.   Abdul is our go-to guy her. You want a couple of glasses and big bottle of water for your room? No problem. He takes to calling me Missus Ella in a sing-singing voice. He confides that he likes us Americans because we are quiet. Unlike those pesky, French. 

Tomorrow, (Friday) we hike the gorge.