Movin' on in Morocco - Mara posting

In the shoulder-width alley, I flatten myself against a red stuccoed wall as a motorbike grazes my ankle, a bicyclist swerves to avoid a head-on collision, and a donkey cart suddenly stops a foot in front of me.  A burka-donned woman pushes her way through, without hesitation. Chrome teasets, lanterns, curly toed leather slippers, patterned rugs and ceramics spill from shops, while vendors peddle raw goat heads, carts of flatbread, oranges, and pastries. Aromas of baking bread, heaps of spearmint, and bags of cumin intermix with the stench of diesel and sewer.

A dozen people want to be my guide: “Big plaza? It’s this way,” (pointing in every direction except for where I am headed), “That way is closed.”  A dozen more are convinced that I need to urgently buy a rug. I keep my sunglasses on and somehow manage to simultaneously step over a miscolored puddle, avoid an oncoming pushcart, see a cat run from a falling box, and make the correct turn into an unmarked alley.  And so it goes in Marrakech, a city pulsing with life.  A city with thousands of perfectly manicured roses and a hundred orange juice carts with matching signs lined up amidst tourist crowds, camels, mule carts, taxis, mopeds, escargot stands, acrobats, and even a monkey in diapers. It’s the Morocco I had imagined.

What I didn’t expect was its diversity. We disembarked in the quiet new port of Tangiers in the middle of fog and chilly rain.  On the five hour train ride to Sale, we passed mile after mile of green, sheep-speckled hillsides and rolling fields of wheat. Did the ferry take a wrong turn? Were we in Ireland? 

The landscape changed again as we ascended into the High Atlas mountains for an incredible three day trek with our Berber guide, Mohammed.  14,000 foot snow-covered peaks towered above sienna-colored villages and glowing green terraces, full of flowering apple trees.  Mules, goats, and sheep outnumbered people, and there wasn’t a camel in sight.  Nighttime temperatures were near freezing, but the heaps  of couscous, tagines, and Berber tea (sweet thyme) kept us warm. 

Our jaunt to the desert only took us as far as Ouarzazate (that's like going to Phoenix and not seeing the Grand Canyon, but I couldn't bear to take another 10 hour one way bus ride for only a few days).  It's the American southwest times ten: red rocks, rocky mountains, and chameleon homes hidden amongst the mesas and date palms. 

And now we're off to see the sea!