The muse and marvel of Morocco reignites post-quake
The rubble has been removed and rebuilding is well under way. Tourists, essential to the country’s economic survival, are more welcome than ever.
Morocco has served as muse to countless creative souls, especially those of the rich and famous. William S. Burroughs, Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg sojourned here, their high jinks the genesis for Burroughs’ The Naked Lunch. Jimi Hendrix will forever be associated with Essaouira, having spent less than a fortnight in the port in the late 1960s.
His brief interlude was followed by that of the Rolling Stones. Rita Hayworth, Charlie Chaplin and more contemporary Hollywood stars such as Kate Winslet and Tom Cruise have all succumbed to Morocco’s exotic allure.
My own visit takes place six weeks after last September’s devastating earthquake, which killed 3000 people, mostly in the High Atlas mountains. The citizens display an astonishing resilience.
Is it safe to travel to Morocco right now?
Although the disaster is a frequent topic of conversation, there’s little physical evidence of the destruction that occurred. Rubble has been cleared and rebuilding is well under way.
It’s clear that tourists, essential to the country’s economic survival, are more welcome than ever.
And the Morocco that so intoxicated the bohemians of yore remains. Its vast open spaces and chaotic metropolises ignite the senses, alternately soothing and scrambling the mind. Give yourself three weeks, and here’s what you can accomplish.
Casablanca
When I land in Casablanca, dusk blankets the city with a cinematic charm, soundtracked by the Atlantic Ocean. The streets are sprawling and serene; uncharacteristically quiet for the country’s corporate heart. At 9pm, it’s dinner time, and the meal is served late and long, with small plates showcasing the country’s cuisine rolled out over hours.
I waltz through the wrought-iron gates of La Sqala restaurant, between the Mohammed VI thoroughfare and the ocean.
This cavernous former fortress is an ideal location for a decadent meal of slow-cooked tagines and spiced tomato salads served with baskets of freshly baked bread. I’m welcomed into the venue’s courtyard by charismatic staff with beaming smiles. The dishes pour out of the kitchen – cured vegetables with lavish dips; pickled entrees.
There’s a brief pause as the imam’s prayers cascade into the night sky, affording a rare moment of calm amid the bustle of table service.
In the morning, such dulcet tones invite a visit to the Hassan II Mosque, the third largest of its kind in the world.
This mammoth architectural masterpiece has marble walls supporting a retractable roof that my tour guide says opens to bathe up to 105,000 worshippers in light. The minaret, 60 storeys high, shines a laser towards Mecca. Completed in 1993, the impressive structure was built by Hassan II, the son of king Mohammed V, to memorialise his father with a “fine building of which (Moroccans) can be proud until the end of time”.
From a place of devotion, I head to one of cocktail-slinging hedonism. Based on the gin joint immortalised in the 1944 film Casablanca, where Humphrey Bogart urged pianist Sam (Dooley Wilson) to “play it”, it recalls a simpler time. The French-influenced menu offers a limited array of dishes but each has been perfected. Smokers light up at their tables and waiters in white coats tip their fez hats. I must remember this.
Essaouira
With a seascape emerging from the mist like a watercolour painting, Essaouira has been a muse for many musicians. The port city, protected by imposing 18th century ramparts, instilled Yusuf (Cat) Stevens and Frank Zappa with the will to sing again. Jimi Hendrix’s visage is everywhere. Local musicians strum from the rooftops to the streets as the scents of hash and fish permeate the air.
On a morning stroll around the fortifications, I grab the catch of the day and watch as one of the many medina mongers turns it into a fresh lunch.
My afternoons are consumed by horse riding, kite-flying and hiking.
Crepe vendors spruik their brand of “afternoon delight”, competing for tourist dollars with the bakers of chebakia (deep-fried pastry coated in honey) and sellers of mosaic art and ceramic cookware.
Essaouira’s sunset is best viewed from the town’s crown jewel of dining, the restaurant at boutique hotel Salut Maroc. The rooftop venue, backdropped by the ocean, is a riot of mosaic tiles as colourful as the city’s reputation.
Originally built for battle, Essaouira has become something of a party destination. One popular nightspot, Taros, welcomes a throng of stylish locals and tourists for acts ranging from traditional Berber music to DJ sets that would rival a premium lineup in Ibiza. Dancing is mandatory at this multi-level club, but more reserved revellers can retreat to the Le Club wine bar below.
Marrakech
“Before Marrakech, everything was black,” the late Yves Saint Laurent once said of his secondary home, prior to injecting a slew of colours among his famed Le Smoking jackets. I make an obligatory detour to the designer’s honorary museum, filled with his private musings, notebooks and films.
Next door, the exquisite gardens designed by French painter Jacques Majorelle present an oasis of desert landscaping ornamented by architect Paul Sinoir’s cubist creations.
I stay deep within the medina at Riad L’Oiseau Paradis, a bohemian slice of serenity amid the mayhem. This oasis has pastel-hued guestrooms and a plunge pool ensconced in a lemon tree-lined courtyard. It provides an essential breather before venturing into the full force of the city’s chaos.
In the medina food market, street performers, henna artists and fruit juice sellers rival for attention. At each turn, I’m confronted by “numbered” dining options all serving their iteration of Moroccan cuisine. After the third promise of “very nice food” in Jemaa el Fna square, I take a seat at “No. 100”.
As a snake charmer plays his flute, I enjoy pillowy couscous topped with warmed spiced carrots, served only on Fridays in line with the country’s Islamic practices. The Semmarine, Nejjarine and El-K souks are intimidating at first. Merchants alternately coerce and charm you into haggling for their wares.
One spirited rug vendor endorses – at top volume – the qualities of the wool in his products, handwoven by Berbers in the High Atlas; another repeatedly refers to me as “Beyonce”.
Solace can be found in the city’s hidden venues. A sharp turn along a dimly lit laneway leads to La Pergola jazz bar, where a live band performs to punters bathed in neon and indulging in colourful cocktails. The city, while predominantly dry, offers vices with flair.
Todra Gorge
Tinghir, about 360km east of Marrakech in the eastern section of the High Atlas Mountains, is regarded as a pit stop between Morocco’s fourth largest city and the desert. It’s the gateway to Todra Gorge, where limestone canyon walls reach heights that rival the Empire State Building in New York.
The landmark is one of the best hiking, rock climbing and picnicking spots in the country. Six hours into a trek along the cliff faces of the gorge, I hardly make a dent in its 40km length. I stop for a rest and sweetened mint tea with a nomad Berber family.
Through a translator, the patriarch shares the legend of the river that once flowed through space. “Life lives on” despite the arid environment, our guide says, pouring the tea in flamboyant Moroccan style from high above the glass.
Two and a half hours away, Hollywood hits the nearest city, Ouarzazate, where visitors can indulge their inner cinefile, touring homes that were the backdrop to Lawrence of Arabia. Thirty minutes back towards Marrakech is Ait Ben Haddou, a UNESCO World Heritage site that served as a Games of Thrones set, and where the upcoming Gladiator 2 was filmed.
Sahara
By the time I venture out to the Sahara desert, I’m filled with a deluded sense of self-confidence. The sand dunes look fake; enormous yellow mounds plonked beneath a cloudless sky. The sun will set in three hours, our guide, who calls himself Aladdin, tells us, and we must “move” before we sink into the sand. Sure, this desolate place spans 9.4 million square km but I scoff at the prospect of walking a mere 5km to reach our campsite for the evening. My first fall brings me back to reality with a thud.
“There are no magic carpets out here,” Aladdin jokes, steaming ahead with his pack of camels led by a rope. “You earn your place on the land.”
The trek becomes a psychological and physical test, and I end up crawling up one summit, rapidly feeling dehydrated and exhausted. We arrive at our camp to find tents kitted out with glorious four poster beds and fully tiled bathrooms. We’re entertained by a band with a love for desert rock rebels Tinariwen, covering the group’s hypnotic African grooves. It’s a fitting end to a day that has encompassed all that Morocco has to offer; a country that variously charms, challenges and assaults the senses with its beauty and fervent energy.
In the Know
Intrepid Travel runs an eight-day tour of Morocco for travellers aged 18 to 29 that includes the Sahara and Todra Gorge; from $646 a person.
The tour operator is hosting a special charity trek on March 3-9 to raise funds in the wake of last year’s earthquake.
The trek to Mt Toubkal will support the Intrepid Foundation, which helps girls in the High Atlas mountains to receive an education. School facilities were badly damaged in the quake and the funds will be used for rebuilding. Participating travellers will be required to raise £250 ($460); from £550 a person, twin-share (limited places).
Bianca Farmakis travelled at her own expense, visiting the Sahara and Todra Gorge with Intrepid Travel.
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