Departure
When I turned my phone on as the plane landed in Chicago, the first email said my bag would be on a later flight and to see the agent in baggage claim. I know the world looks short to me, being over six feet tall, but the baggage claim agent was not four feet tall, and she had no interest in my bag. She stood on tip toe to enter the information in the computer. The least United could have done was given her a phone book to stand on, if they even make phone books any more.
Having planned to stay over a night in Chicago with friends Wally and Annie, I made up for this mishap, over dinner in a neighborhood French bistro. The next day was a shopping trip to the loop with Annie to replace my only swimsuit, in which I’d discovered a hole when I was in Hawaii. While at Macy’s, I picked up some Frango mints for my hosts at home-hosted meals in Morocco.
The flight to Munich was on time and had good wine. The new Munich airport, designed by Helmut Jahn, was beautiful with all glass jet bridges. Unfortunately they don’t know what they are supposed to do with them. We bussed to the terminal and then back to the connecting flight to Madrid.

Madrid
I’d planned a short stay in Madrid before meeting the tour group in Morocco so would be navigating the Madrid airport and Metro de Madrid public transit system. In Madrid, my bag came off the belt early, complete with the case split in two places! I added a luggage store to my Madrid itinerary.. I figured out the Metro de Madrid enough to get to the hotel, but I had to change trains twice. The airport had escalators but the two intermediate metro stations didn’t. When I finally got to the hotel, I was beat.
Hotel Plaza Mayor is right in the heart of the old city and within walking distance of every major sight. After a brief nap, I headed out looking for something to eat. The streets were lined with tiny bars serving tapas and pixtos. After a bit I picked one that had many jamons (Spanish ham, a whole cured pig leg on the bone) hanging in the window. I stood at the bar and ordered wine, the best Ribera del Douro ever. They served ham, sausage and olives, one with each glass. Total bill 9€. I did somehow manage to stay up until ten.
Morning comes late in Spain – sunrise after 9. There was a tiny working man’s place across the street – breakfast was a latte, fresh OJ, and a croissant for 6€. I decided to try the free walking tour scheduled at 10:15. A nice girl led us from the hotel to the plaza Isabela, where several groups were gathering and being sorted by language. After much milling, a couple of pep talks and a lecture on the importance of tipping your guide, we set off. The tour was geared for 12 year olds. I soon left to look for a new suitcase.
Google maps showed a Samsonite store in the north part of the city. I followed the map and rode the Metro but it was not where my phone said it was. I asked a couple of people and they pointed out a building that turned out to be a train station. No one there ever heard of the Samsonite store, so I went to the luggage store in the ritzy area. They were very helpful. I left with an expensive aluminum case (my Christmas present to me) that will, hopefully, last more than a year. I meandered down the boulevard, about a mile, having lunch on the way.
When I got back to my hotel, I checked the hours of the Royal Palace of Madrid (Patrimonio Nacional), open until 8pm, so I took a brief nap. I headed for the palace a little after 4, and was taking pictures of the outside when I saw the sign, “closed at 4 today for official function.” Old Madrid is great for just walking aimlessly, and eventually I wound up at Plaza Mayor. It was completely filled with stalls selling Christmas kitsch – It is probably very nice at other times of the year. Dinner at 17 Calle Cava Baja was great, a couple of glasses of wine, a plate of pulpo (octopus), a couple of pixtos, 21€. 14,000 steps for the day.

Casablanca
At 7:30 in the morning there is no one on the streets and it is still dark. By now I have the Metro figured out; the #1 Metro to Charmartin, and the commuter train to terminal 4, 5€, and escalators at every stop. After umpteen stops in the airport terminal, finally got my VAT back on the suitcase. Somehow they turned a 60€ refund into $52. The flight from Madrid to Casablanca was less than two hours. When I arrived in Casablanca, I found an ATM, avoided the taxi hustler, and managed to explain to the legitimate taxi driver where I wanted to go. 40 minutes and $30 later I was at the Imperial Casablanca Hotel. Aziz was waiting at the desk. The Imperial was originally Shell Oil’s West African headquarters, a delightful art deco building repurposed as a 4-star hotel. (I’ll use US dollars and not the local Dirhams for all costs.) Casablanca is Morocco’s largest city and there was a lot of construction in progress. The economy looked good at first glance.
After a few minutes getting settled in my room, I headed out with Aziz and the two people already here, to find a bite. We wandered down a typical third world boulevard, dirty, graphitized, lots of places boarded up. There was a shiny new street car system and a few restored French colonial buildings. They are starting to realize the tourist value in keeping their history. Lunch of chicken shawarma and OJ was tasty and about $6. We stopped at a liquor store on the way back for some wine, as the next day was some kind of holiday and we would not be able to get any booze. I also picked up a bottle of Pastis , after all this was a French protectorate.
I drank a couple of Pastis in my room and went down for dinner but no one was around. I called Aziz and there was some delay with the rest of the group at the airport. I took a taxi to Rick’s Café! Outside were two goons who checked my purse for guns, and inside it was pure Hollywood Casablanca. I had a lovely dinner, goat cheese and fig salad, lamb chops (with six sides), and a couple glasses of nice French wine, $33. Then I went downstairs and sat at the bar, though I wasn’t really dressed for the part. I sipped on a favorite calvados, and Issam (Arabic for Sam, I guess) played the piano. When he played “As time goes by” I almost wanted a cigarette in a long, jeweled holder. When I came out, the same taxi driver was waiting to take me back. I guess he is my regular driver now.
In the morning our group headed out. Our first stop was the Hassan II mosque, closed for a Royal Function. So it was off to Chefchaouen. We stopped at a roadside farm stand and bought the best mandarins, 50₵ for a kilo. We stopped in Souk el Arba du Rharb for lunch, barely a wide place in the road. The carcasses were hanging right outside and they butchered what you ordered and grilled it while you watched. Maybe some of the best lamb ever, cooked a perfect medium rare. I ate 6 pieces, with a vegetable tagine (traditional Moroccan dish cooked in a clay tagine pot), and bread and olives of course. Every meal comes with olives here, even breakfast.

Chefchaouen
We finally arrived in Chefchaouen late afternoon. This is a charming, blue washed city perched in the foothills of the Rif Mountains. Quite touristy but still with its Berber charm intact. Our accommodations were in Riad Hassan (riad is Arabic for garden) which did not even have a sign outside. The interior really felt like old Morocco, lots of tile, painted wood doors, open court yard. My room had beds for 5 (is there a word for a harem of men?) and was huge. The square and the old city were strictly pedestrian, with narrow lanes, plenty of stairs, and cats everywhere. The many shopkeepers were surprisingly subdued, I guess because many of them actually catered to the residents, tailors, fruit sellers, pharmacies, etc. A nice walk about in the early evening worked up an appetite. We had snails from a street vendor that were spiced differently from anywhere else I’d been, and delicious. Dinner at Restaurant Hassan was without wine, not even BYOB, but the flan was to die for.
In the morning we wandered the town early to get some great pictures. We went out the east gate and up the opposite hill to see the sun rise as it hit the town. Then it was off to Houmar to visit a rural family for a cooking lesson and lunch. I was hoping to learn about tagines, but they had just built a new oven and were making bread. After the oven was hot they quenched the wood coals, making charcoal. Then they swept out the oven with a broom made of fresh picked wild mint. They made about 15 round loafs. The kneading was a hands-on activity but I loafed. There was also a vegetable tagine (cooked over charcoal) and a chicken dish special for this holiday. We stuffed ourselves and the family went wild for the Frango mints from Chicago. A lovely interlude in an idyllic setting, although I think our hosts were more left over hippie than salt of the earth farmers. He claimed bee keeping as his main occupation, and their garden was just for subsistence.
Back in our accommodations, a woman came to talk with us about the status of women in Morocco. Equality seems to be on good footing here, though men are still allowed multiple wives. We have seen almost no hijabs but most women do cover their hair. Their scarves are mostly decorative and many women have western dress, especially in the cities. In these mountains everyone seems to wear the Djellaba, a long coat with a hood. They come in both wool and cotton and have no religious significance. Some of the women’s are quite attractive, and practical as well. When they put the hood up they look like extras from the first Star Wars movie. Dinner for a few of us that night was in a tiny hole in the wall with mainly locals. We could have brought our wine, but no one wanted to go back for it. Half of what we tried to order was not available but other stuff not on the menu was available. We ordered some appetizers, and small plate entrees, I had a fresh anchovy tagine in tomato which was very tasty. The locals were happy to pose for pictures with us and told us to come back the next night. Ever the big spender, I picked up the bill. For 6 it was $24.
The next day we set out for Tetouan, an ancient city (8th century) near the Mediterranean coast that was the capital of the Spanish protectorate. On the way we stopped at a sheep market, baa, baa, boring. The medina was a step back in time. We meandered aimlessly, passing weavers, tailors, tinkers, and especially leather workers. We went thru a tannery (gad what a stink) that had been in use since medieval times. We passed by a Royal Palace, one of many in Morocco. Then we had a seafood feast at a beach side restaurant. 26 fish for 10 people, and I only ate 2. The route back went along the coast and through some spectacular canyons.
Back in Chefchaouen, I took time to visit the Kasbah (fort). It seemed to draw mostly Moroccans, and had a pleasant garden in the courtyard and great views from the top of the tower. I wanted to find a reputedly good French restaurant for dinner, but succumbed to a week on the road and went to bed at 6pm. 12 hours sleep is an amazing restorative.

Tangier
The next day, the road to Tangier ran thru Tetouan again, and except for a great coffee at a pit stop, the drive was a snoozer. Tangier was once the debauchery capital of the western world, think William Burroughs or the Rolling Stones smoking hash. We walked through the Tangier Kasbah, which had a great medieval feel, and down in to the medina. When we got to the vegetable market, the olive displays were amazing. I bought some persimmons to go with lunch. Next was the fish market – the best retail fish market I have seen (Tokyo’s is great, but is wholesale). Every kind of fish from the Atlantic or Mediterranean, even gooseneck barnacles. Not a fishy smell anywhere. Lunch was grilled fish at a seaside place run by a Lebanese guy.
After lunch I had a choice, the American Legation (now a museum) or the Grotto of Hercules with the group. As the museum closed in 30 minutes, I went with the group. Morocco was the first country to recognize the independence of the U.S., and the museum was highly recommended. The cave was where Hercules rested after his penultimate labor. Then it was on to check into the hotel.
Our hotel looked like a new European hotel but several things did not work like they should. I never could figure out the lights- turn on one and another goes out. Turn out both bathroom lights and all power goes out. Turn on both the hall light and the bedroom light and they only light with half power. It took ten minutes to figure out how to get it dark enough to sleep yet still have the bedside light work. I never figured out how to get most of them on at the same time.
Anyway after I got settled I grabbed a taxi to the El Minzah Hotel. This is a historically restored 1930s gem next to the medina where all the celebrities stayed. I walked down into the court yard and then had a drink in the wine bar. It felt like a 40s movie. As I went out I asked the doorman for a taxi. He asked if I wanted a big one or a small one, and I said I didn’t care. I wound up in the front seat of a small shared cab and the woman in the back was yelling into her cell phone loud enough for them to hear her in Gibraltar. And it cost as much as the big, unshared taxi I took down there in the first place. When I got back to the hotel, I found that the front desk had told Aziz that I had gone out for dinner, so he had canceled mine. Eventually they rounded up a salad big enough for 4 people and a decent streak. I also discovered an excellent local Syrah!

Rabat
The next day we were to drive to Rabat, non-stop. That would be too much so I floated an idea to stop at Lixus, an old Carthaginian and Roman site. The Phoenicians set up here about 1000BC. It fell to the Carthaginians in 600BC and entered the Roman Empire by 42AD. The site is little visited and only has two guards and no signage or facilities. One of the guards had OK English and gave us a tour. By the road were 150 vats for making fish paste, garum, which was highly prized in Rome, (they still make anchovy paste in the next town). Half way up the hill were the public baths and the amphitheater. The main city sits at the top of the hill (I was almost dead after that climb). The quantity of ruins and preservation was amazing. The abandoned wildness and solitude made this one special site.
We were now behind schedule so we stopped at a truck stop for lunch – which looked and felt like a typical U.S. truck stop. I had very low expectations until I got to the counter. The meat looked beautiful. They had several cuts some marinated, some not. They even had heart, which of course I ordered. They grilled it and I just had olives and bread on the side, a 4 star meal at a truck stop, $6! Moroccans are masters of grilling fresh meat. We continued on to Rabat to meet the last few of the group. Dinner was on a Dhow in the river and eminently forgettable.
Exploring Rabat started at the unfinished Hassan Tower, started in the 12th century to be the largest mosque in the world. (We humans started with the tower of Babel and are still trying to build the biggest whatever.) We then wandered around the exterior of the Royal Palace before going to Chella, a Moorish fort built around an old Roman town. There were more nesting storks than I have ever seen in one place, and a tank for feeding eels. Feeding eels is supposed to make you pregnant, just a tad of symbolism. I never feed any eels. The ruins were very intermingled, Roman and Moorish. The Rabat Kasbah was much more interesting and well preserved. The gardens were very peaceful and well maintained. They had a great Contemporary Art museum but a nap over took me. Dinner was in an old house deep in the medina. The food was traditional and excellent, many mezza’s, beef tagine with prunes and apricots, and a spectacular dessert with phyllo. I also heard that the archeological museum was good, but time ran out.
Another day another bus ride – this time to Fez. On the way, the stop to see the cork trees was barely better than the sheep market. The next stop was in a small town farmers market. The veggies were gorgeous. How can they sell tangerines for 50₵ a kilo? The donkey food to bring them to town must eat up half their profit. We also stopped at roadside stand selling jujubes, eggs, and live fowl. They invited us to see their house and share an omelet . We finally arrived in Meknes, one of the 4 imperial cites, stopping first at the Bab al Mansour, the grandest of all the imperial gates, after a brief tour of the souk (market) we went to the royal stables. They held over 12,000, yes thousand, horses in the 17th century. Most of the roof had caved in but what remained was truly of epic proportion. Lunch at a local restaurant was chicken kebob. The food was getting steadily better.
Next we stopped in Volubilis, the 3rd and best maintained of the Roman sites in Morocco. Probably founded by the Carthaginians in the 3rd century BC and annexed by Rome in 40 AD. At its peak it had about 20,000 residents and most of the buildings date from the 2nd and 3rd centuries. The basilica (town municipal building) was very impressive. Surprisingly there was no theater but the private residences and mosaics were very impressive. Most of the good stuff had been removed to a museum, somewhere. The remaining drive to Fez seemed interminable, even with a bit of dozing off.

Fez
In Fez, we stayed in Riad Dar Dmana in old Fez (from the 9th century). The house was built in the 1750s by a Jewish family and sold to the current family in 1952. They converted it into a guest house which opened in 2006. The central court yard was amazing and the rooms very comfortable (ensuite) yet still traditional. Dinner in the courtyard was a pastille, a famed dish cooked with layered warqa (thinner than phyllo) seasoned chicken, caramelized onions, lemon and eggs. With the traditional mezzes and dessert it was the best meal yet.
Exploring Fez started with a visit to one of the synagogues in the mella (Jewish salt merchant’s quarter). It was actually quite interesting with a Torah on deer skin 26 meters long. We then stopped to watch them clean the bronze door to another Royal Palace with bitter oranges. You are not allowed to take pictures of the wooden doors to the palace because in 1956, when they were negotiating with France for their independence, a picture appeared in a French magazine of a guard sleeping in front of one of them. The king did not think that was funny.
After a brief visit to a ceramics factory where they still did everything by hand, we plunged in to the medina (walled city). The old city still has the look and feel of a medieval trading city. It is a total assault on the senses, tiny shops selling every kind of food, hardware, and essential of life. There were tinkers re tinning copper cooking vessels and making new pots from copper sheets. The University of al-Qarawiyyin is the longest continuously operating and first degree offering university in the world. It was founded by a woman in 859. Lunch was a tagine of chicken. Dinner was in the home of woman who taught French in the local school. She lived in the new town, founded by the French. While the conversation was sparkling the food was dull, traditional soup and tagine of turkey meatballs. It was interesting to see how a middle class family lives. They had a large salon for extended family gatherings.
Our route took us through the middle Atlas Mountains and a small town called Ifrane. It was a ski area and felt like a French alpine village, but no snow yet. A little further on, we stopped at Ifrane national park to see the Barbary macaques, an endangered species of monkey. Midelt seems like a dusty dessert town on the east side of the middle Atlas Mountains, but the trout we had for lunch was pink fleshed and cooked perfectly.

Erfoud
Eventually we made it to Erfoud, on the edge of the Sahara. We were greeted by Berber musicians, and realized it was New Year’s Eve. I don’t know how they bunk down in Morocco, but my bed looked like 2 queen sized beds side by side. Again what was that word for a harem of men? Definitely a 4 star place. The bar had a touch of Christmas, and good drinks. The Berber band came through, and the second time they came we all started to dance. Dinner was not until ten, but it was certainly worth the wait. The dishes were spectacular, both visually and taste wise. My personal favorite was squab wrapped in phyllo. All the wine you could drink and a huge table of deserts. By this time there were two Berber bands taking turns. One of them had these 5 foot long horns, which made an astounding, delightful sound . There must have been a couple of hundred people, Moroccans, Spaniards, Americans, and who knows. I made it to 11:30 before the amount of wine caught up with me, so I missed the champagne at midnight. I did hear the fireworks. Best New Year’s Eve in a long time!
We started late and slowly on January 1st. We drove to Rissani and visited a shop that worked with fossils. Morocco has an amazing source of fossils and this place was making tables, plates, fountains, and polishing hand specimens. I would have liked an end table, but didn’t see anything that struck me, so I wound up with a starfish fossil. We had tea in a hovel of a very poor family for which the tour company was funding room and board for their daughter to attend university. Our last stop in civilization was Ksar Ouled Abd El Halim. A Ksar is a cluster of Kasbahs, where additional families group together. At one time there were 20 families here but now they are down to 10. Some of it was restored and some was falling down. Deep inside we met a retired army soldier who decided to just live out his life in the place of his birth. His abode was humble but comfortable.

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The Sahara
Then we loaded up in 4x4s to go out into the dunes of the Sahara. I tried to sit in the front but the seat would not go back and my legs were sticking out the side. Fortunately there was a very short person who pulled the seat all the way up and I sat behind her. The three of us in the back were wedged in so tight we couldn’t even move our toes. After too much bumping, careening, and squealing, we finally bounced up to a tent for lunch. The WC was a tent with a hole in the sand but a welcome sight. Lunch was soup and a composed salad of rice and cooked vegetables. Then we went camel riding. These camels had handlebars, very touristy but welcome as the camel stands up. They were dromedaries (one hump) and smoother riding than the ones in Tunisia, shorter than the ones in Egypt, but not as good as the ones in Mongolia, I am getting to be a camel connoisseur. After more bouncing, careening and squealing (from the Texas girls) we arrived at one of the ugliest camps I ever saw. Black tents, short beds, and the commode seat was not attached, I almost slid off in the middle of the night. We immediately broke out the wine. The camp cook showed us how to make a chicken tagine, which became our dinner.
While I hate sand and camping, the desert is a beautiful place, for pictures. We visited some nomads. Stopped at an Islamic grave yard, very austere, but you could tell by the head and foot stones which were children. The high point of the day was the Pigeons du Sable, a Berber band. At an oasis we saw an underground aqueduct system for irrigation. Our last stop was a fossil bed. It was impressive. Every rock I picked up had something in it. The larger rocks had whole giant sea snail fossils right on the surface. Dinner was spaghetti bolognaise with eggplant in lieu of meat, ugh. This part of the trip was camping billed as “No roads, no people except for an occasional nomad.” There was a camp every half mile and 4x4s zooming everywhere. At least it was very quiet and clear at night.
Hallelujah, we are bouncing and careening (no squealing today) out of the desert. Eventually we found a gravel road (it was rougher than driving across the desert) then some paved spots, and finally a real paved road. In a bit we stopped and a super friendly Berber showed us the ancient underground water system. Each tribe had one but unfortunately his had dried up. Because of the ubiquitous sand there were cleanouts that looked like African termite mounds all in a row every few dozen meters. Lunch brought us to the Ksar El Khorbat. There was a charming local museum in an old dar (house) that probably counted visitors by the week not the day. Berber has only recently become a written language and the examples we saw looked like a cross between Greek and Hieroglyphics. Lunch itself was in a delightful riad. It was like the usual vegetable soup but called bread soup, with croutons and 100 times better tasting.

Tinghir
Tinghir is an oasis that is exploding due to local mining (largest silver mine in Africa). There are amazing abandoned Kasbahs and lots of new construction. After a visit to the awesome Todas Gorge (30 feet wide and over 500 feet straight up), we finally arrived at the Kasbah Lamrani hotel and SHOWERS. After washing 5 pounds of sand out, I should have taken a nap, instead we went looking for Berber rugs. After the usual demonstration and showing of the unaffordable, we finally got down to serious shopping. The initial price for the one I liked was more than NYC prices. Eventually I offered ¼ of the asking price. When he did not walk away I knew we were going to get to a deal. Even though I only paid 1/3 if the initial ask, I still think I paid too much. At least it stays in the local economy.
Today was devoted to seeing local life. We had a local guide with the most colorful garments, turns out he makes his own. After wandering through some fields and talking to a Berber woman, we arrived at a mosque that was being restored. Inside there was also a Koranic school that no longer functioned because the government dictated all children go to public school. Our guide turned out to be the local muezzin and he let us hear his call to prayer. To get to the medina we had to cross the river via a palm tree log, not the best crossing for a bunch of old farts, but at least no one fell in. The medina had separate sections just for women’s clothing and men’s. Lots of tiny shops where artisans were making household goods, bellows, sifters, wool carders, etc. We were tasked with buying the fixings for dinner. I always love grocery shopping especially in local markets. I volunteered for fruit (not meat) and had a ball with the olive seller and date seller.
Lunch was in the home of a local family. The son was almost 2 meters tall, 45 years old, single, and a musician in a Berber band. He played flute for us after lunch. He had picked up excellent unaccented English just by listening. He could be a polymath. I gave his mom the last box of Frango mints. After lunch it was time to play dress up in local costumes. I’m not 12 anymore, ugh. Then the Hamman (Turkish bath), been there done that, not today. Then henna tattoos, no again. Dinner was good and we had a band to entertain us. No one ate the dates and almonds, so I scooped them into a baggie to eat on the road.
The next morning we headed up the Dades gorge. When we got to Ait Oudinar the bus could go no further so we got in mini vans and continued up thru some of the tightest hair pin turns to Timli where we got out and walked a bit further along the stream where the rock walls seemed to come together. Back in Ait Oudinar we visited a Berber family who were baking bread. Berber bread is like the other Moroccan bread with a bit of spice, tomatoes and onion in the middle, like a bready calzone. The family also had a store with more rugs. The bargaining was more limited but the starting point was much more reasonable. We stopped for lunch just outside El Kelaat. A very nice gentleman served us lunch and turned out to be the local Imam. After lunch he held a Q and A session about Islam. He espoused the gentle idea of Islam that I got when I read the Quran 40 years ago. Too bad what is in the book is so seldom the practice, as in all religions.

The road to Marrakesh
Our accommodation that night was at the Berbere Palace in Ouarzazate. It was truly a 5 star resort. Ouarzazate is a big movie making area with many studios. Troy, Alexander the Great and the return of the Mummy, were all filmed here. Now they do lots of Arabic movies and TV shows. Dinner that night was at La Kasbah des Sables, a place that looked like a scene from the Arabian nights. It was started by a French woman but recently changed hands. The quality of the fish matched the décor. The whole evening was a change of pace from a trip that focused on the traditional.
Our first stop in the morning, up a barely one lane road, was Ait Ben Haddou, a fabulous old Ksar in varying states of restoration and decay. One shopkeeper had the perfect sales pitch “Marrakesh too expensive,” he kept repeating. One artist was painting with alum and with sweetened tea. Of course there was nothing to see until he heated the paper, bringing out a very desert like image. The place was lightly occupied and had many tourist guest houses, but still felt very medieval. This was the 7th world heritage site we have visited here in Morocco. There are 9 total and we will see one more. After Ait Ben Haddou we started up over the high Atlas Mountains. The highest peak is almost 14,000 feet and we went over a pass at 7,814 feet. The road down toward Marrakesh looked like something out of Indiana Jones, and appeared to be constantly under reconstruction.

Marrakesh
In the late afternoon we rolled into Marrakesh and the Riad Marrakesh. The garden, which had no plants, where we ate breakfast, had a retractable roof. Every hotel room has its quirks but this one had a first, a bidet with a lid. We wandered into the medina, where I tried on a Djellaba . My spine looked crooked, my boobs looked crooked, and my head seemed cockeyed. Maybe it was the mirror, but when they put the hood up I looked like Obi Wan’s great aunt, may the farce be with you. After an interminable stop for t-shirts we split up for dinner. Sally and I went to the Grand Caffe de la Poste. Talk about French chic. I had razor clams and steak tartar, and Sally had the butter poached sole. Everything was as good as it gets. Coming back I gave the hotel card to the doorman and he got us a taxi. Unfortunately he gave the driver the wrong directions and kept the card. A quick phone call (international roaming is so worth it) and we were home safely.
The next day we set out in a caliche, horse drawn carriage. The new town was singularly boring, but the Koutoubia minaret was interesting. The first architect in the 12 century, did not orient the mosque toward Mecca, and was summarily executed (some E&O policy!). That king died, his sons squabbled, someone else conquered Marrakesh, and the mosque was never finished. The Bahia palace is everything you expect in an Arabian Nights tale. Built in the late 19th century, on 20 acres with 150 rooms, about a third has been restored and opened to the public. I guess every city in Morocco has a royal palace, unfortunately none of them are open to the public. The Saadian tombs were interesting, built in the late 15th century. It had separate chambers for the king, his sons and his wife and daughters. His successor walled it off and it was forgotten until rediscovered from the air in 1917.
After lunch I wandered through some more of the medina. The Djermaa El-Fna, the main square, is a mad house, a circus, and a food court rolled into one. There were snake charmers, magicians, acrobats, musicians, and hucksters of every kind. They all wanted cash if you took a picture. A large fresh squeezed OJ was 40 cents. That night we ate at Le Marocain in the Mamounia hotel. It looked like a 5 minute walk on the map but there was loads of construction. A stranger offered to lead us around, and we went down some very dark alleys but arrived in one piece. This was more impressive than a real palace. The gardens in the moon light were like nothing I have ever seen. The prices would make Manhattan seem cheap, $32 for a Kir Royal! But dinner was indeed sublime. I kept looking for Omar Sharif, I know he’s dead but I still expected him. We took a taxi back, the driver spoke no English, and when I went to pay him I accidentally tore the bill in half, but he took it anyway.
Our third day in Marrakesh was a hodgepodge of wandering. Our first stop was the Jardin Marjorelle, which originally belonged to a French painter, but now belongs to the family of Yves St Laurent, and his ashes are scattered in the garden. It was very beautiful and peaceful except for the nearby jackhammer. We then started wandering thru some of the more obscure corners of the Medina. The madrassa Ben Youssef was very nice though no longer in use. The museum of Marrakesh was in another grand old house. The house was the attraction more than the exhibits. Deep in the alleys craftsmen were producing wonderful work with the most primitive methods, first time I ever saw a foot lathe. Lunch was mechoui, lamb that had been roasted in a pit, which we ate with our hands. We all thought it tasted like pork. I almost got mugged by a snake charmer for taking a picture without tipping (out of coins). Our last dinner was in the Red House, another grand mansion. They had a belly dancer for entertainment. Why never dancing boys?

Essaouira
The drive to Essaouira (essa weera) was across the plains, and they were having a drought. While it was the worst year for most agriculture, they had a bumper crop of olives. Essaouira was founded by the Phoenicians in the 6th century BC. The islands just off the coast were a source of shells to make purple die for them and the Romans. The islands are now a falcon sanctuary. In the middle ages the town was a vital link in the trade between Timbuktu and Europe. The medina was much calmer than any other we had visited. Hardly any motor bikes and everything moved by foot. Eventually we came to a small restaurant with a patio on the third floor. Lunch was fish soup and fried fish and shrimps. After lunch we noticed how laid back the vendors in the souk were, barely pushy, and the starting prices were very low compared to previous cities. The harbor is just fishing boats now, with grilling stands right by the docks. The city fortress was massively impressive, with many cannons from Spain and Portugal. Their navy (which other countries called pirates) had captured them. The waves crashing against the rocks were stunning. Eventually we sat in the main square for coffee and watched the sun go down. We were staying at the Hotel des Isles which was just across the street from a wide sandy beach. I had a great room with an ocean view. Dinner, unfortunately, was the same as lunch, fried, (I know to never eat in the hotel).
The next day we went to visit the Argan forest. These trees grow in very rocky soil and can take heat of 50 C. The fruits are inedible but the nut is used to make oil. There are goats that climb the trees to eat the leaves. The myth is that the goats eat the fruit and poop out the seeds, but actually the Berbers just dry the fruits. They haven’t managed to mechanize the process of extracting the kernel of the nut so it is a very labor intensive process. The Berbers use it for cooking and dipping bread, but is has become the latest must have for cosmetics. It didn’t do much for me so I just got some Argan nut butter. Back in the medina, we had a very local lunch. We bought fresh sardines ($1 per kilo) and 2 other kinds of fish, olives, bread and fruit. Then we had the fish cleaned, and went to a local grill shop where they grill your lunch right there for you. Lunch for 5 was about $20.
I ate so much that all I wanted to do was take a nap. Around 5 we went to Taros just off the square. The main bar was outdoors on the 4th floor, and then there were patios up one more level, for watching the sunset. This would be a class bar anywhere in the world, impressive specialty cocktail list. After a couple of drinks we went looking for the restaurant where we were meeting for dinner. It seemed straight forward, just follow the inside of the wall to the fort and there was the restaurant. Eventually we wound up in the shops of a bunch of wood carvers so we turned back. Fortunately Moe , our new guide, heard us talking in the street and hollered out the 3rd floor window at us. The fort had closed at 7 and that is why we missed our turn. The restaurant was very French. The monk fish was perfectly done. We were all done with tagines and couscous.
Finally a day with no agenda. Sally and I walked a mile down the beach and back before having cappuccino on the main square. There were street musicians out already. Then we wandered randomly down various alleys. In addition to the usual trinkets there were many small galleries, some with very nice work. We got to the wood carvers we had stumbled upon in the dark the previous evening and they had wonderful work. Inlaid trays, puzzle boxes and decorative carvings. I resisted. The scale of the town, and the low key merchants, made shopping delightful. There were many spas and even a small museum, Sidi Mohammed Ben Abdallah, in an old riad, with a nicely curated exhibit. 12:30 was time for lunch, so we took a side alley which opened into a little square with several outdoor cafes. I guess they were all related because our waiter seemed to get every dish from a different place. A Moroccan salad and a plate of grilled shrimp were $5. After lunch we stopped at the guy with the prickly pear fruit. He cut the top off and you would take the heart out with a toothpick, yummy. We sort of got lost again, but when we walked by the Berber knife I had admired in the morning, I did not stop. Close to the square was a gallery with calligraphy and art mixed. In spite of the fixed prices, I did pick up an interesting piece.
By this time, we were beat and sat at a café for tea. The amount of sugar they give you is astounding. Supposedly a family of 5 uses 2 kilos a week just for tea. No wonder they have an 85% diabetes rate. The same street musicians came by, and remembered that we had tipped them in the morning, so they didn’t ask again. On the way back to the hotel we stopped at the silversmith cooperative. Too bad I don’t want any more jewelry as the prices were very good. After a nap and our last bottle of wine we went to dinner at Le Decouverte, a six table French Moroccan place. Sally had the camel tagine (tough and stringy) and I had the stuffed calamari (excellent). Rachida, a local teacher, joined us. Her great grandparents had been kidnapped in separate countries and brought to Essaouira as slaves. Her grandmother was born into slavery and freed when she was 12, (slavery was abolished in Morocco in 1922). Slaves all had birthdays of Jan 1st of whatever year they were born, like horses. Rachida was part African and part Berber, she spoke at least 5 languages and taught in secondary school. Her perspective was that while there was still a way to go, things for women were improving significantly.

Return to Casablanca
Our last full day started with a drive up the coast. There were a multitude of chemical plants. I saw the phosphate plants and port that Jacobs was working on. We stopped at the oyster farm at Oualidia and tried some. They were very salty and watery, but an old guy came walking by with a basket of fresh sea urchins (uni) and he just cut them open and handed us spoons, very yummy. Just north of there they had salt farms (drying ponds). We had lunch just south of El Jadida at an outdoor butcher stand, fabulous lamb again. A little nagging and we stopped at the old Portuguese fort at the El Jadida harbor, the 9th and last World Heritage site in Morocco. Mohammed was not excited about us stopping but it was great. After walking the ramparts and taking many pictures, on the way back to the van, the old cistern was open. Not much is known about it or how it worked, but it was reminiscent of the cistern in Istanbul. We hit Casablanca (pop. 5 million) at rush hour and traffic was like any big city. We blew off the dinner at the hotel and the 4 of us went to Rick’s café. Food was great, wine was great, and the owner (a former American diplomat) came over to chat with us.
The others left very early but I had an afternoon flight. Mohammed was supposed to call me about a half day tour of Casablanca, but he blew me off, so I worked on my blog notes. He had been very insistent that since the Paris attacks you were required to be at the airport 3 hours early. On the way to the airport we passed the Jacobs office. At the airport security was a joke, I got thru with a bottle of water and a dozen oranges. It took 30 minutes, so I had 150 minutes to wait for my flight. Royal Air Maroc was not like anything I have been on in a while. They started taxiing before everyone was seated, there was no safety briefing, there was free food and wine, and they arrived 30 minutes early.

Madrid redux
I thought I would be smart about getting to downtown Madrid this time. I would take the train to Recoletos and get a taxi, easy. Not! Recoletos had no escalators and loads of stairs. I went up and down, mostly up, at least a dozen sets of stairs. But there was a taxi outside and for 7€ it was a cheap trip. The Hotel Quatro Puerta del Sol looked dumpy from the lobby, but the room was clean and modern, and small even by European standards. There were so many tapas places within two blocks it was hard to decide, but I saw a place that specialized in octopus. The wine was good and cheap, the freebies were odd, a tuna pasta salad and bitter olives (the ones in Morocco had all been great). The octopus was just OK. I left my phone on the counter when I left and the lady who sat next to me caught me before I got very far down the street. Nice people the world over.
Today I woke up to rain, so it became a museum day. I headed out to visit the Prado first, looking for breakfast on the way. I passed a Steak and Shake, no way, but nothing else showed up on the way, so I ate at the museum café. The Prado is huge and considered one of the great museums of the world. They have loads of Goya but much of it is either Portraits or cartoons for tapestries for the royal palace. The best, I thought, were the many Rubens. Rubens, I learned, was a diplomat as well as a painter, and the Netherlands was controlled by Spain during Rubens’ time. He painted several works while in Spain. He was knighted by both Spain and England for his diplomatic work. For lunch I opted for La Tragantua, a very small highly rated local place. I had a warming bean dish for a starter and an enormous piece of Hake in a green sauce.Wonderful, with 2 glasses of wine 19€.
After that I walked over to the modern art museum, Centro de Arte Reina Sofia, free admission for seniors. Like most contemporary art, most was dubious, but the place was huge and there were some very interesting works. The highlight was certainly Picasso’s Guernica. They had several good examples of Picasso, including some early portraits, which really brought out the personality of the subject. It was all uphill back to the hotel, which called for a nap. Later I went to Taberna Alhambra, which was quite old and full of character. The wine was good, the snacks were tasty, and after 3 rounds I didn’t feel like dinner, and still only 9€.
Last day in Madrid was clear and sunny. I had breakfast at a modern local place, and their special was toasted bread with fresh tomato and olive oil. Walking down Calle Mayor, I wished I had brought my scarf, it was 40 and windy. I wandered down several side streets, and eventually got to the palace, no break for seniors here. The court yard was epic, and as I walked up the grand staircase, I thought I was palaced out. By the time I got to the third room, I knew this was something very grand. The rococo ceilings were astounding, and they had original furnishings everywhere. One room had 4 Stradivarius cellos and 8 or 10 violins. Eventually I went back outside and into the armory. It was a show of its own. 18 armored horses and riders, uncounted suits of armor, and some of the royal armor was almost jewel like. I broke down and bought a book, as photos were not allowed.
I visited the contemporary art gallery, again mostly dreck, with a few stunning pieces. The best was Miguel Barcero. I was going to go to Botin for lunch, founded in 1725, the oldest restaurant still running in the world. Goya worked there as a waiter. But it was closed, so I went back to Cantina La Traviesa, where I had eaten on my first night in Madrid back in December. They remembered me, surprise, and asked if I just wanted wine again. I sat in the back and had garlic rabbit and fried potatoes, with 2 glasses of wine 18.50 € and worth at least double. At the next table a small woman put away a steak that was at least a kilo, and so did her husband and young son. I did revisit Plaza Mayor and it was much nicer without all the Christmas kitsch. I wandered leisurely back to my hotel, shopping along the way. Dinner was at La Cathedral, the most over the top rococo bar I have ever seen. Their wine was only 2.50€ a glass and a healthy pour to boot.
The flight back was totally boring, everything went off on time. I stayed one night in Chicago and woke up to 0 degrees. Talk about a cold reentry.