southern excursion day 4

Spirits were low this morning because of the grey, rainy weather, not to mention the fact that 35 women had to use four turkish toilets. I know you’re probably tired of hearing about turkish toilets and showers, but really, that’s all we talk about. It’s important. Toilets are anyway, I couldn’t really care less about the showers, but some girls need to plan their week around when they can shower.

Moving on, the incessant rain for the past few weeks has taken its toll on the countryside: widespread flooding. The road from Ourzzazate was flooded in several places, forcing us to stop each time. The bus driver just drove through some raging torrents as if they were puddles. We were stopped for a good half hour at one stream. Nobody was crossing it, including us. Buses and cars were stopped and the drivers were having a little powwow at the edge of the rapids. An impatient CTM bus (one of the national bus lines) tried to cross the ocean and got stuck on a gravel bar. Eventually a heavy-machinery-giant-shovel-thing was sent in to clear the gravel and thus allow the water to flow down the valley and us to drive through it.

It wasn’t a bad stop really, we got cookies (biscuits!) and I discovered that my camera didn’t work. I guess I got some sand in the lens, and it got jammed open. Thankfully my friend Jesse has let me steal some of her pictures. Thanks Jesse! I did miss taking pictures of the High Atlas, Marrakech, Essaouira, and the rest of our trip, which was frankly, a total bummer.

Once we got the Marrakech and dropped our stuff at the hotel, we set out to explore the city for a few hours. Our first stop was Djmaa Lfna, the main square of the city, and some say the entire country. Our guide books were very eloquent about it, but during the day it’s a giant tourist trap, with henna ladies, monkey handlers, and others of the sort.

The souqs of Marrakech were very clean, but had the same stuff I’m used to seeing in many of the cities we visit, except for the surfeit of tourists. I did purchase a hat from a sweet-looking Amazigh lady. To be honest, I only stopped because she looked so nice. She didn’t speak Arabic, so the shopkeeper next door did all the bargaining. So I got a Purple Berber Beanie for 40dh, which I could have bargained down more (it started at 60dh), but I thought $5 was ok. The hat came in handy shortly because it started to rain. I was quite the sight, with my purple beanie under my pink scarf, but I look strange enough to Moroccans anyway so it wasn’t much of a change.

As the rain started to come down, I felt at one with the Marrakshis, dashing for doorways, not quite avoiding puddles, holding things over our heads, and in general getting soaked despite our best efforts. Moroccan puddles are nasty, in the cities anyway. You don’t really know how deep they are or what may be floating in them. I had Marrakech grit and nastyness all the way up to my knees.