Salam again .....
We had a long drive ahead which was OK particularly cause I was fasting all day. I had to drink water though I couldn't go all Muslim-fanatic. I even diluted a rehydration sachet or two, into my bottle....(oh, now I feel guilty....) The truth has to be said.
It was a long winding mountain pass but with stunning reddish brown mountain views, various photos opportunities along the way. We came to another village and decided to discover its souq. It was much much smaller than the one in Marrakech but so typical with just one stall selling trinkets, necklaces, scarves aka tourist bait.
Arlene, Michelle and I couldn't help stopping to observe the colourful items. The vendor was very pleased to see us out of the blue that fine sunny morning!
He tried hard to sell me two trinkets which he succeeded in the end by talking me into the history of the 'silver' trinket box which he personally worked with years & years of craftsmanship experience...etc...etc.. could be true, whatever I liked it and the bright orange 'amber' stone one. In the meantime, Arlene and Michelle were being narrated another Arabian Night story of some scarf. The men then twisted colourful scarves on our heads turban style took photos of us modelling with them. Finally we got away without even buying one! Oh well, I'm sure we, at least I, paid twice the actual price for those trinkets, anyways.
Back on the road we stopped at a restaurant. Arlene, Abdul and I sat at a table away from the others to avoid any temptations, not that I was hungry with the heat and still whinging stomach. (Luckily I wasn't desperate for the loo again that day, btw!) We chatted about many things which turned out to be quite an interesting lunch!
A couple of hours later we got to the highest part of the Tizi n'Tichka. We stopped to take photos at the 2260m mark trying to avoid the hawkers and their fake trade.
The further up we drove, the darker and heavier the sky until it just burst on our backpacks which were tied on the roof of the bus.
We almost witnessed a what-could-have-been a fatal car accident. Suddenly, we saw a small crowd of people just running towards a low rubble wall on one side of the road. Our driver stopped and we all jumped out. A pickup van overturned a few metres below on the other side of the wall. Abdul called for the two (psychiatric) nurses in our group, Gaby and Petra. But luckily to our relief the driver, who was the only person in the vehicle, escaped unscathed and was actually pacing up and down checking damages to the car.
Finally Ait Benhaddou....
We checked into our lovely sand-camouflaged hotel and a quick fresh-up and tea later (not for me this time!) we made our way to the world-renowned Kasbah. Before which however, Arlene and I tried to make a very special request to the hotel's management. It was Abdul's birthday. He mentioned it during lunch and even told us how the group he was touring with last year, had ordered him a birthday cake. Then he tried to explain to us the weird assumptions that made his, as well as his (I forgot how many) brothers their birth day. As things happened, even more back in his mother's earlier days when more people were illiterate, the state would only guess when the mother would have had the child by the time they'd register it. So irrespective of the number of days or year, they recorded a date, which date would apply for every subsequent brother or sister. Because the year was also a guess Abdul just figured his to be the 26th! Well, he kind of looked it so it was pretty convincing.
Anyways, with whatever rusty French I could sum up, I tried to pose our request for a Birthday cake for Abdul. But all I got was blank faces and head shakes. It was twice as hard cause Muslims do not celebrate Birthdays on a yearly basis. There's only one big fuss at birth but then everyone forgets even your parents. That, coupled with the term 'cake' was a mission to get the message across. Moroccans have a full range of pastries and sweets but no such thing as a round, 20/30cm wide baked cake used to celebrate anything!
Finally, they promised to look for some gateaux at the next village which was kms away. We even tried to ask if they could bake us some but they insisted on checking whether there was any ready available.
We walked down the road then crossed a wide water-drained river. The Kasbah is truly a living film set. It's amazingly beautiful. Not sure whether its rudimentary architecture with minimal, if any mosaic stonework, is what makes it appealing or the remoteness and solitude that dwells in its stepped alleyways. Only a few families live there nowadays. We treaded to the summit as quietly and discreetly as we could. It was breathtaking - the whole experience and not just the view at the top. The sun was descending in an almost cloudless sky turning the desert land around the Kasbah and Ait Benhaddou into a deep red sea.
We were lost in that heaven until Abdul made Arlene and myself head back downwards to break the fast. Oh, so wanted to stay till it was dark but I had had decided to live the day otherwise.
Back at La Rose du Sable the hotel stuff were waiting for us in the veranda. I enquired about the gateaux and this time I got smiles and nodding heads and lots of 'petite petite gateaux...' reassurances. Whatever, missioned accomplished! They then invited us into a backroom where to our surprise, we found a table full of food and drink waiting to break the fast. We were seated on a wall-to-wall sofa and offered orange juice, coffee, tea, water, harira soup, really sweet sweets, dates, baguette, pancakes, eggs and so much more. We were so astonished by the hospitality or rather the sense of being part of the community for having fasted - no questions asked - that we only got to nibble and sip at some of all that manna.
Later we joined the others for dinner, stomachs almost full. Abdul, true to his early announcement, made us dance to the beat of the drums. Together with other members of the hotel stuff we had a great show to which we rapped, Scottish and country-danced to ...whatever made us move to the beat. It was fun. But the part I enjoyed most was actually playing the drums, bring it on!
Finally, the manager brought along Abdul's 'birthday cake' or rather petite gateaux, that is, an assorted array of local sweets.
We presented Abdul with a signed postcard and sang happy birthday, all to his surprise. It was a great evening and despite having spent most of it at the back of the minibus, we were exhausted.
On our way to bed, we lingered by the pool for a lovely cuppa of sweet mint tea. But the night wasn't over for Abdul. Just as he stooped to flick some water at Kate from the pool, big-Aussie-block Phil gave him 'a lovely pat' on the bum which completely and literally, threw him off board, landing straight in! Before I even realised what had happened I saw Abdul quickly scrabbling out of the water and in desperation emptying his pockets from soaked mobile phones, money, keys and birthday postcard :(
He was not so OK about the whole thing just cause well, both phones were ruined, thankfully not the SIM cards. Oh well, he didn't get the full 26 typical-Aussie-birthday punches but he got one hell of a pat! It definitely was a memorable birthday after all!
Having blow-dried the phones and drank our tea we dragged ourselves to bed, eager for the next day and whatever lay ahead.
Sahha for now unless you want to read my next entry about The Sahara
Nicky
X X X
We had a long drive ahead which was OK particularly cause I was fasting all day. I had to drink water though I couldn't go all Muslim-fanatic. I even diluted a rehydration sachet or two, into my bottle....(oh, now I feel guilty....) The truth has to be said.
It was a long winding mountain pass but with stunning reddish brown mountain views, various photos opportunities along the way. We came to another village and decided to discover its souq. It was much much smaller than the one in Marrakech but so typical with just one stall selling trinkets, necklaces, scarves aka tourist bait.
Arlene, Michelle and I couldn't help stopping to observe the colourful items. The vendor was very pleased to see us out of the blue that fine sunny morning!
He tried hard to sell me two trinkets which he succeeded in the end by talking me into the history of the 'silver' trinket box which he personally worked with years & years of craftsmanship experience...etc...etc.. could be true, whatever I liked it and the bright orange 'amber' stone one. In the meantime, Arlene and Michelle were being narrated another Arabian Night story of some scarf. The men then twisted colourful scarves on our heads turban style took photos of us modelling with them. Finally we got away without even buying one! Oh well, I'm sure we, at least I, paid twice the actual price for those trinkets, anyways.
Back on the road we stopped at a restaurant. Arlene, Abdul and I sat at a table away from the others to avoid any temptations, not that I was hungry with the heat and still whinging stomach. (Luckily I wasn't desperate for the loo again that day, btw!) We chatted about many things which turned out to be quite an interesting lunch!
A couple of hours later we got to the highest part of the Tizi n'Tichka. We stopped to take photos at the 2260m mark trying to avoid the hawkers and their fake trade.
The further up we drove, the darker and heavier the sky until it just burst on our backpacks which were tied on the roof of the bus.
We almost witnessed a what-could-have-been a fatal car accident. Suddenly, we saw a small crowd of people just running towards a low rubble wall on one side of the road. Our driver stopped and we all jumped out. A pickup van overturned a few metres below on the other side of the wall. Abdul called for the two (psychiatric) nurses in our group, Gaby and Petra. But luckily to our relief the driver, who was the only person in the vehicle, escaped unscathed and was actually pacing up and down checking damages to the car.
Finally Ait Benhaddou....
We checked into our lovely sand-camouflaged hotel and a quick fresh-up and tea later (not for me this time!) we made our way to the world-renowned Kasbah. Before which however, Arlene and I tried to make a very special request to the hotel's management. It was Abdul's birthday. He mentioned it during lunch and even told us how the group he was touring with last year, had ordered him a birthday cake. Then he tried to explain to us the weird assumptions that made his, as well as his (I forgot how many) brothers their birth day. As things happened, even more back in his mother's earlier days when more people were illiterate, the state would only guess when the mother would have had the child by the time they'd register it. So irrespective of the number of days or year, they recorded a date, which date would apply for every subsequent brother or sister. Because the year was also a guess Abdul just figured his to be the 26th! Well, he kind of looked it so it was pretty convincing.
Anyways, with whatever rusty French I could sum up, I tried to pose our request for a Birthday cake for Abdul. But all I got was blank faces and head shakes. It was twice as hard cause Muslims do not celebrate Birthdays on a yearly basis. There's only one big fuss at birth but then everyone forgets even your parents. That, coupled with the term 'cake' was a mission to get the message across. Moroccans have a full range of pastries and sweets but no such thing as a round, 20/30cm wide baked cake used to celebrate anything!
Finally, they promised to look for some gateaux at the next village which was kms away. We even tried to ask if they could bake us some but they insisted on checking whether there was any ready available.
We walked down the road then crossed a wide water-drained river. The Kasbah is truly a living film set. It's amazingly beautiful. Not sure whether its rudimentary architecture with minimal, if any mosaic stonework, is what makes it appealing or the remoteness and solitude that dwells in its stepped alleyways. Only a few families live there nowadays. We treaded to the summit as quietly and discreetly as we could. It was breathtaking - the whole experience and not just the view at the top. The sun was descending in an almost cloudless sky turning the desert land around the Kasbah and Ait Benhaddou into a deep red sea.
We were lost in that heaven until Abdul made Arlene and myself head back downwards to break the fast. Oh, so wanted to stay till it was dark but I had had decided to live the day otherwise.
Back at La Rose du Sable the hotel stuff were waiting for us in the veranda. I enquired about the gateaux and this time I got smiles and nodding heads and lots of 'petite petite gateaux...' reassurances. Whatever, missioned accomplished! They then invited us into a backroom where to our surprise, we found a table full of food and drink waiting to break the fast. We were seated on a wall-to-wall sofa and offered orange juice, coffee, tea, water, harira soup, really sweet sweets, dates, baguette, pancakes, eggs and so much more. We were so astonished by the hospitality or rather the sense of being part of the community for having fasted - no questions asked - that we only got to nibble and sip at some of all that manna.
Later we joined the others for dinner, stomachs almost full. Abdul, true to his early announcement, made us dance to the beat of the drums. Together with other members of the hotel stuff we had a great show to which we rapped, Scottish and country-danced to ...whatever made us move to the beat. It was fun. But the part I enjoyed most was actually playing the drums, bring it on!
Finally, the manager brought along Abdul's 'birthday cake' or rather petite gateaux, that is, an assorted array of local sweets.
We presented Abdul with a signed postcard and sang happy birthday, all to his surprise. It was a great evening and despite having spent most of it at the back of the minibus, we were exhausted.
On our way to bed, we lingered by the pool for a lovely cuppa of sweet mint tea. But the night wasn't over for Abdul. Just as he stooped to flick some water at Kate from the pool, big-Aussie-block Phil gave him 'a lovely pat' on the bum which completely and literally, threw him off board, landing straight in! Before I even realised what had happened I saw Abdul quickly scrabbling out of the water and in desperation emptying his pockets from soaked mobile phones, money, keys and birthday postcard :(
He was not so OK about the whole thing just cause well, both phones were ruined, thankfully not the SIM cards. Oh well, he didn't get the full 26 typical-Aussie-birthday punches but he got one hell of a pat! It definitely was a memorable birthday after all!
Having blow-dried the phones and drank our tea we dragged ourselves to bed, eager for the next day and whatever lay ahead.
Sahha for now unless you want to read my next entry about The Sahara
Nicky
X X X
1 comment:
oh gosh..poor abdul...memorable birthday for sure ;)
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