Marrakesh. Morrocco

Aboard our flying carpet (AirBus 737) we depart one of the most enchanting and magical places that we have ever been to. Minds filled with color, beauty, history and an experience of a land like no other, we depart with a whispering au revoiur and shukriyan to Morroco.

Rewind back 3 nights to our arrival into Marrakesh and those would not be our sentiments. Arriving from Amsterdam, a frontier in technology and ways of living, to Marrakesh; a city with an unchanged lifestyle flowing from centuries in the past, the culture shock was immense.
Our flight went from Amsterdam to Casablanca, with a 40-minute stopover and then onto Marrakesh. With our first leg delayed, what occurred in Casablanca was chaos and a heap of running and arguing with officials. The Admiral was on point, doing all that was necessary, ensuring that we were getting on to that flight, and the captain can say (with delayed relief) we had made our flight to Marrakesh.

We landed in Marrakesh at 10pm, to a baron airport, dark and dingy, the stereotype was real. Exchanging some money, we huddled into a cab and set destination to Medina – Old town Marrakesh. The captain and admiral had previously decided if we were going to do this, we needed to do this right.
Reaching the medina our taxi driver advised that the Riyad (What is this you ask? Keep reading – I will explain later) we were staying in was a 100 meter walk into some alleyway, unloading our luggage the team started trekking. The alleyway was narrow – about 2 meters wide, it was dark, and baron, with hardly any people, the ground was cobblestone, the whole thing resembling something that was built in the 14th century (it was). As we walked in the dark,  2 strangers decide to join us and start leading us to our Riyad. I can honestly say I was scared they were going to take us somewhere and mug us, we later found out this was a means of earning money, walking people through the alleyways and asking some money for their efforts. This had turned out to be a blessing as the alleyways got narrower, the places darker and the surroundings started to blur, after what seemed like a long walk we reached our Riyad, to be greeted by a lovely man named Suleiman, the Riyad manager.

We paid our guides (thanking god secretly that we had not been stabbed) and joined Mr Suileman as he walked us to our Riyad courtyard.
Now would be a great time to explain what a Riyad is. A Riyad is a hotel of sorts with a shared courtyard/ terrace, where guest can gather in to have communal dinners and socialize. The courtyard is surrounded by rooms in which guests stay. Think of it as a common lounge room with bedrooms surrounding it.

Mr Suileman (who himself struggled to speak English), introduced us to a lovely French family staying at the Riyad as we sat, enjoyed tea and some fantastic conversation. We all sat like a family and talked, the social nature of the country was coming out. The time was ticking however and the captain was starving. Finally after about an hour of chit chat with some really nice people we went to our room. We stayed on the top Terrace room, a beautiful Moroccan themed bedroom. The challenge was getting up to the third floor via steps that were barely a meter wide, a task that would challenge the strongest person, let alone one with a snapped finger (Captain ingeniously broke his finger previous to flying). Mission accomplished we had checked in and the baggage had reached our room.

The next mission was to find something to eat. Mr Suleiman (with profuse use of his hands) described where we could get some food at 12am, turns out we were only 5 minutes walk from the infamous Marrakesh Market square Jemaa el-Fnaa.
Using the captain’s navigational prowess, we made it to the square. I think they got it wrong when they said New York is the city that doesn’t sleep, they clearly have not been to Marrakesh.  The square was full of hustle and bustle with people coming over to ask about food and showing us the menus and offering the best food in Marrakesh. Another funny moment occurred when a shriek came from behind me, turning around I noticed it was from The admiral. She has almost slipped on a squashed tomato that was laying on the floor. With no damage done except to her ego continued to walk. The admiral was approached by a street seller that promised her “No Diarrhea” and with that I guess he was the winner. Seemed Legit if you ask me.

This seller has meat and everything laying on a slab of ice and out in the open, hesitant at first but assured we wouldn’t get sick, we both decided to live on the wild side. With the philosophy ’ when in Morocco’ Meat sticks and Couscous it was. Delicious! Tummy full we prayed on the way back that food poisoning was not an outcome of the gluttony.
A much needed sleep later, struggled to get up at 6 am for our 7am pickup. Destination Sahara Desert. Sleepy eyed we were loaded into a mini van along side several other Cadets from around the world. Little did we know at the time that what was to form from this 8 hour journey to the desert would be some very beautiful friendships.

Chugging along in a van, in which the Captain could not even fit his legs (yup, comfort levels were at rock bottom) we ventured through the breathtaking Atlas mountains. Winding roads, an overly erratic driver and a congested transport was a sure shot recipe for travel sickness, the admiral as well as 3 other Cadets as victims, bracing themselves for a regurgitation festival. Traveling (often facing death due to the speed and the rash driving) 300 km over 7 hours, through the steepest, highest (~2200 meters above sea level) and most winding roads was an experience we would not ever forget.

We stopped along the way, at times to pee, at times to eat (bonding with our fellow cadets) and most of all to explore and take in some of the sights. One of these sights was a beautiful Berber (native Moroccan) village, and our berber tour guide had all the girls (old and young) smitten I wouldn’t blame them, the guy spoke 7 languages but had never been to school and had mesmorising green eyes. The village was also a set for some famous hollywood blockbusters such as Game of thrones and gladiator, with the locals often acting as extras.

The admiral is constantly trying to avoid the saliva of the rabid camel, which coincidently liked the admirals bright blue jacket and was constantly trying to lick it.

After what seemed like a long journey and our bums sore as if we had been part of a dominatrix exercise we thankfully had reached our campsite. Relieved at the ability to use our own two feet we walked around and although it was dark, we admired the Sahara.
Shortly after we were called to have Tea and then treated to a lovely Moroccan dinner of lentil soup, turkey tagine and some fresh local fruits. The conversation with our friends was a highlight worth pointing out, as each person came with a story and from different parts of the world. Topics included the likeness of our countries as well as the differences. Satisfied with conversation and bellies full we headed outside again, where the temperature had dropped. It was Freezing, our multiple layers and down jackets couldn’t protect us from the freezing desert temperatures (desert y u so cold?!) We huddled around a campfire and shortly after were treated to some traditional singing and folk music underneath the desert stars. It was surreal. I can say that amongst all the countries I have travelled this was one of the most magical moments in my life.

We then moved to our tents, we were given 2 thick blankets each, even in which were cold, the captain shortly fell asleep, only to wake up in the middle of the night to see the admiral shivering “I have not slept all night”. The cold has beaten the Admiral. At dawn approaching we headed outside to an empty campsite and watched the sun rise. No words can describe this.
Once the sun was shining everyone was awake, enjoying some tea and breakfast before we set back on the camels, and back on our long journey home, chatting along the way with our new friends. We exchanged facebook’s and opened our homes if any of us were to visit in the future.

Once we reached Marrakech, we headed back to our riyad and were met with Mr Suleiman, who we sat with and described our adventures. Even with the least bit of common language our pictures could paint our journey. We headed back into the market to mark what things we wanted to buy from the bazaars. At this point I want to explain how lovely the Moroccan hospitality is; Mr Suleiman, the shop keepers, everyone wanting to help. At first it can be overwhelming, but once you realize it’s from the heart it’s warming and comforting, this is something I have never experienced anywhere. The people speak fluent French and Arabic and look as if they were grown from the earth; rugged, strong and strangely beautiful, their hands mirroring this sentiment.

We woke on our last full day in Marrakesh to an epic breakfast which had been prepared by the Riyad’s lovely maid. We sat and devoured this on the roof terrace overlooking the Marrakesh Medina and planning what we wanted to see.

Done with Brekky we set out, with our stars pinned and maps loaded, we visited palaces, gardens, mosques and even some tombs walking around for over 8 hours (most of this time the admiral spent taking pictures with doors) to see everything the ancient city had to offer. The beauty of the city is indescribable and what we could we captured in our photos, even those could not do the city justice.
At this point the admiral’s itch to shop was getting the better of her, we rushed to the market and went a little crazy. The Market fit every stereotype, a real life Agrahbah, snake charmers, dwarf people playing the violin, dragon shaped eggs being sold, hecklers, beggars, bargaining, spices from around the world, tarot readers, singers and performers. It was Magical! I can close my eyes and see them as I write this log. Arms full of bags we headed back, getting back to the room and showing Mr Suleiman all our spoils, the last few hours dedicated to fitting these into our suitcases.

Waking up early, we were treated to another lovely breakfast, absorbing all of it, we lowered our overflowing bags and set off for the airport. When checking, the passport control officer referred to the Captain by a name he has never been called: “Tarzan Tandon” – No this is not one that will stick.

We leave Morocco full of admiration, experience and a little bit of magic. We leave morocco with a little piece of Marrakesh in us. We leave Morocco on our jet plane, our eyes and minds full of wonder and our hearts full of Moroccan beauty.

Morroco, the real life Agrahbah, with surreal beauty, hospitality and a little bit of magic, that will stay with you a lifetime.
Captains Log Day 11 – 03/01/15 4:24pm. Emirates

Goodbye Portugal and Thank you for the party, a party hard to forget even harder to remember. Well Played, Abrigato.

India awaits as we leave the city of Lisbon, flying to Dubai for a quick layover, only to be stranded with delayed connecting flights. This wouldn’t be the first time, on these travels that the captain and admiral have landed themselves in the waiting areas of middle eastern airports. A fantastic time to slow down this rollercoaster and reflect on (try to remember and piece together) what has happened over the last few days.

Happy New Year. 2016 was off to a good start with a cadet being spear tackled to the ground by security, ending up with cuts and grazes on his elbow, all for 6 Euro – more on this later.

Landing in Lisbon from Morocco was a restructure of our minds, not knowing what to expect we had been transported from one ancient city to another, however between the two, the age was the only thing in common.

Departing the airport our taxi driver was an angry man, barely speaking a word to us during our 20-minute commute into town, although having enough to say to other drivers as he weaved past them hurling abuse. A little scared, both Admiral and myself enjoyed the contrasting architecture of the city.
An Air BnB would be our castle for the following 4 nights, and once again we arrived to find… 3 stories of stairs. Our Host had been waiting and due to the delay we had made it to our resting spot by sun down, a lovely apartment located in the city of Lisbon, in the hear of Baro Alto – the bar district of Lisbon. I would say this was an apt spot for the captain and the admiral. With great difficulty and assistance of our host, we hoisted our luggage.