Atlas to Ait. Better than alright.

I’m going to fast forward a few days, Jarrod and start this entry leaving Marrakesh. Not because I have nothing to say about the Kesh, but we finish our trip there, so I’m going to confine that all to one blog entry. Teaser complete!

Now, every trip I take, I visit a place that’s renowned for its postcard, picture perfect views. And inevitably, on the day that I happen to be there, said attraction is shrouded in unseasonal, freakish low cloud cover. It happened to me most recently in Isla Grande, Brazil. We did a three hour uphill slog in what I’m pretty sure was 90 percent humidity, (my shins were sweating, Jarrod, my SHINS) to reach a lookout with allegedly amazing views out over the island. I say allegedly, because to look at our pictures, I could be standing in my backyard with sweaty, frizzy hair and a smoke machine billowing away in the background. And as we make our way up into the Atlas Mountain ranges to the town of Imlil, a starting point for hiking in the region, it looks to be all just little bit of history repeating.

Cloudy with a chance of disappointment

We leave our mini van in the town itself and hike about 50mins uphill to get to our guesthouse. It’s drizzling, steep and slippery; the holy trinity of Shit That I Hate When I’m Hiking, basically.

Low clouds are hovering but not completely blanketing the mountains. Yet, anyway. We arrive at our guesthouse and are rewarded with an amazing spread for lunch: spiced lentils, salads, bread, chicken skewers and berber omelettes sizzling in huge tagines.

First of many helpings

There’s a fire, there’s hot mint tea and there are huge fleecy blankets to curl up underneath. Our guide broaches the optional activity of a hike that’s a four hour return trip and in response half of us retreat further under the blankets like terrified turtles and I’m pretty sure I actually whimper. Flashbacks to Isla Grande. Half the group head off in their GoreTex and hiking boots, (good for them!) while the rest of us fritter away the afternoon reading, lounging about, chatting, listening to podcasts and sipping tea. #IknowwhereIwouldratherbe.

The next day dawns cloudy again but the sun determinedly busts on through. Lucky, because a drive all the way to beautiful Ait Benhaddou only to find it blanketed in fog would make me positively homicidal.

Heavenly *cue harp music*

This is a long, long, long travel day with a few stops at windy view points in the mountain ranges. The sequence goes thus: steel yourself, don polar fleece and scarf, leap out of bus like warriors piling out of a Trojan horse, wielding cameras (lens cap already removed, what are you, an amateur? There isn’t a second to spare!), take quick photos, sprint back to bus, and shiver theatrically with relief at being out of the wind. Repeat again a few kilometres later. But worth it, for views like these–

When you’re setting up your market stall remember, location, location, lo- fuck it, it’s too cold.

The picture that explains why motion sickness tablets might be advisable

At the highest pass in the Atlas Mountains.

Gaw-jus!

We take a longer stop at a market in a town whose name translates to ‘Monday Town’ because that’s the day the weekly market is on. I like the simplicity, naming the town after the thing that constitutes the highlight of the week. (They are probably very confused by Garfield constantly ragging on their favourite day).

Monday Town

Having worked up an appetite with all our sitting on the bus and short sprints to take photos, we buy a few of these Moroccan donut creations which are piping hot and deliciously soft and chewy (but could perhaps be taken to the next level with a dusting of some sugar and cinnamon, in my opinion anyway)

How much for the whole big bowl? Notevenkidding

Soft and doughy, just like my thighs are going to be after all this indulgence #noregrets

Some of the market is pretty standard fare–produce, livestock etc

Tread carefully, the going can be a little slippery

Abundance of colours

Don’t look so worried guys! Actually, as you were. Fret away.

Olives olives olives olives olives olives olives! (Play it cool, be ready to barter…)

but Monday Town has a few twists on the norm. Firstly, they actually have tagine stalls where people can take their freshly killed chook and vegetables and hand them all over to the Tagine Man, and he’ll combine their ingredients and cook something up over charcoals for them, while they do the rest of their shopping. Real life Ready, Steady, Cook, basically! I’ll leave it to you, Tagine Man, see what you can whip up with these five ingredients….

Moroccan Fast Food

Or you can just get your chicken cooked for you over hot coals while you wait *salivates* This stall is within eyeshot of the chooks which is maybe a little mean.

There are ad hoc barber stalls set up with men being shaved by gigantic razors, and even a dentist out there in the open with his table and equipment in the mud, but they’re not keen to be photographed so we respectfully gawk and move along, keeping our cameras holstered.

There are also impromptu stalls where herbal medicine men hawk lotions, potions and concoctions. The sheer volume of men crowded around this chap with their body language that screams ‘I’m very, VERY interested but doing my utmost to look casual/indifferent’ suggests that he’s spruiking herbal viagra of some sort.

Hmm, but does it really work? Asking for a friend…

And there are stalls of people just selling random possessions like piles of old remote controls, watch parts, and cutlery. I deliberate briefly about buying you a random remote control for a brand I’ve never heard of. What DO you get the guy who has everything, after all?

I’m after a CD, a non functional clock and a green handled knife. What are the odds?! This is better than ALDI!

Oh, and these….

Submitted without caption

We purchase huge bags of sugary biscuits–half a kilogram for under a dollar, and return to continue our journey towards inevitable diabetes. I mean, our journey towards Ait Benhaddou.

It’s an amazing sight, this terracottta coloured casbah/fortress rising up from a cluster of palm trees. Honestly, I half expect to walk down there and find that it’s a two dimensional film set made of polystyrene and wood.

Magnificent!!

Built to last

The vantage point up on the hill…..

Affords excellent views of invading tourists in cargo pants and sensible shoes and gives you time to close the city gates.

Just a little hole in the wall…

No longer slavers bay. Bless you, Khaleesi!

Oh, and if Ait Benhaddou looks familiar that’s probably because you’ve seen it in Game of Thrones? Although without all the boobs to give it context, you may not have recognised it as having featured in GOT. (Ait Benhaddou played the city of Yunkai).

Alternatively, you might recognise it from one of these other productions:

Walking in the footsteps of everyone from Russell Crowe to Danny DeVito!

To sum up, our journey from Atlas to Ait has been picturesque, provided us with a fascinating slice of life and finished up at one of the most amazing, historic sights in Morocco. But as always Jarrod, I’m going to throw the question over to you. Atlas to Ait, Jarrod, would you go there?