Observations.

Where third world meets first, riding a donkey to watch the game on a large screen plasma. 

Drole.

Ahmed, speaking about the culture and sights as we drive along. 

"I'm going to stop talking now so the driver can have his siesta". 

Driving past a driving school. "This is where Hussain (our driver) got his license. Last week." 

Hussains face remained completely blank. He has no understanding of that level of English. 

Desert Daze.

It seems ironic that the country I thought I would be eating least in (due to hygiene, accessibility, opportunity etc) is actually the place I have not only been eating the most, but the best. 

Dinner tonight was yet another endless course meal where the food is brought out in record speed. The kitchens are basic and simple and yet it would seem as if there was a team of gourmet, Michelin style chefs huddling out the back, lamented by the Moroccans with whips. But no, they are genuinely the hardest working and most earnest people who refuse to put themselves first in any way. Every need is catered for and I could not fault their service. Though if they could come out every time I'm about to have another round of bread and smack my hand or tape my mouth that would be great. 

Our meal tonight was harissa soup (tomato, lentils, chickpeas, veges), a divine 7 vegetable pie with a famous Moroccan spice mix (32 spices!! How can I smuggle that back into NZ?) which I could eat for every meal, every day, then tagine of both chicken and lamb varieties (the latter with prunes, dried apricots and roasted almonds which pretty much meant my mouth exploded in deliciousness). Then a dessert of fruit, followed by mint tea (sweetened with about a kilo of sugar) and tonight, a special birthday cake for birthday girl Lucy. 

We rolled out of the restaurant into our always timely waiting van, with smile king, Hussain. I am positive he is the kind of boy any Moroccan girl would want to take back to her parents. 

Today was the most amazing day. It began before sun rise with a quick breakfast and we hit the road amongst pelting rain. Driving across absolutely barren landscapes, we drove up a hill to a village named 'Little Switzerland'. It was very easy to see why, a town straight out of Europe. 

A quick photo stop and we were back on the road, up so high we reached...snow. Snow! In Morocco! We had to get out to take some photos (this required photographic proof!) and have a quick snowball fight before getting back on the bus and regretting the child like eagerness resulting in wet feet and cold hands. It was mesmerizing and utterly bizarre to be surrounded by snow. 

We started to descend through the valley before hitting the Atlas Mountains which looked like the Grand Canyon and was a breathtaking view. It looked the same for miles and the rock made the richest red coloured landscape. 

Once we were back on the flat, the sky was the bluest blue and the sun was shining and hot! We arrived at our hotel having to take off all our layers as quickly as possible and checking with each other that playing in the snow mere hours before wasn't just a dream! Talk about four seasons in a day. This was definitely a Morocco I hadn't expected. 

We dropped off our stuff before getting in the jeeps for a bit of off roading! Somehow ending up on the back, I had to hold the roof so that my head didn't hit it constantly. Moroccans sure can drive! About an hour and a half of epic off roading and we were arriving at the camels! Chilling out on the ground waiting for their companions. 

Getting on to a camel is a pretty interesting feeling. Kneeling on the ground, you climb onto one and they have a three step process to getting up, making any 90 year old look practically child like. Back, front, back and you are thrown in each direction, with a small metal bar to hold on to. (Thank goodness we're not told about the getting off till we're on!) 

I can't even describe the camel ride through the Sahara to catch the sunset. Looking in each direction to see absolutely nothing, trusting in our smiley guides and our rocking camels. It was the most surreal thing. 

The colours of the sand dunes and the bright blue of the sky is one of the most beautiful, pure things I have ever seen followed by a sun set that seemed too good to be true, and which I'm already beginning to think must have been a dream. Only us and the desert, stretching for miles; that's not something I can ever forget. Trekking back with the motion of the camel beneath becoming rhythmic, the eye trained ahead to see the vast horizon and the stunning muted colours once the sun had gone behind the dunes. The temperature dropped about 10 degrees in the few seconds it took the sun to disappear and we were glad to be back in the van. 

Half way through the off roading back and the driver switched off all the lights, stopped the car and got out. In the middle of nowhere! We were all having visions of Taken: Morocco Edition. Thankfully, he forgoed the kidnapping and welcomed us out to share in the most unbelievably starry sky with zero light pollution. It is the most stars I have ever seen in the sky and couldn't look away. After more than a year in London it was incredible and I was so grateful to see it. 

The best day of the trip so far, action packed with activities, food and weather! I have never experienced such drastic weather changes all in one day! I am loving every minute of Morocco.

Tomorrow is another day, another early morning wake up call and another day of fun! 

Unemployment is the best. 

Epiphany.

Camel riding is going to be my only means of transport from now on. 

Day Two.

Early morning wake up call once again, the loudest alarm I have probably ever heard (enough to have me jumping out of bed and searching for the nearest fire exit) before breakfast (bizarre, an influence of Africa and Europe all in one and amounting to a very un-breakfast, breakfast). 

Unfortunately this morning greeted us with rain and wind. Cold, and very un-Africa. Who would have thought we'd be needing rain jackets, umbrellas and gloves in Africa? 

Nevertheless we powered on and headed through shanty towns toward the look out point for Fes, a breathtaking view over and above everything. A stunning reminder where we were and what was actually surrounding us. The small, winding, crowded streets sometimes have you forgetting what you're in amongst and what stretches out around you for miles.

We then drove on to the palace (where the King and his family were currently staying! Hence the well positioned, attentive guards. As we saw in Rabat, where he normally resides, the guards tend to slack off when he's not around. Just like Buckingham...) We continued on to the souks, the market place where Fes really takes off. 

One of the largest (if not the largest, apparently determining that fact can get confusing and complicated) and is impossibly easy to get lost in. I can honestly say the whole time I had no idea where I was, everything looked the same, and the groups general concern was not the flies, pickpockets or potentially rabie-filled animals but getting lost. Our guides advice? Stay where you are, he will be back next week with another tour group. Comforting. 

The entire market was one giant stream of chaos. Remarkably, the locals are incredibly welcoming. We got tours of the pottery making, the tanneries (amazing to see, and less alarming than you would think. Who knew pigeon poop was used to get the leather so soft?) as well as the fabric making for scarves, chairs, bags etc. For a place easily overrun by tourists (because of its narrow and small areas, not the abundance of visitors) every local I met or ran into, literally, was only kind and considerate towards us. Sometimes this was despite having a mule loaded with supplies or pushing a giant cart with flailing poultry. 

The buildings were falling apart and down, everywhere. The locals cannot afford to move out or drastically improve their homes, so there were wooden planks pushing against a building opposite to prop up their own home. This made walking around feel like being an Indian worker in a sweat shop. We admired the kaftans, scarves and even the Fes tourist key chains with one exclamation "oh, it's a Christmas one!" followed by an awkward, "ah, no, that's the colour of Morocco's flag". 

Bartering is a necessity and expected with most items going for 1/3 of the original price and never more than 1/2. We had been told by our guide to ask him whether the price was good before we buy, his code for translating our deal was "it's good" meant 'it's not good' and "it's very good" meant it was good. Right. 

When the calls to prayer occurred the winding streets turned to havoc as people rushed to commit one of their five daily prayers. Their passion towards religion still baffles me, their dedication is unlike anything we can really compare to in most first world countries. England's closest would probably be football. 

We had another delicious (and again, large) lunch in the souks (which sounds a sure fire way to upset your stomach and bowels but was actually delicious! They do things with cauliflower here that I couldn't even attempt to recreate.)

We explored the souks for hours with our guide, who navigated the area like it was London, just minus space, street signs or any signs of civilisation. It is only because of him that I am now out, and alive. 

A free afternoon took all of us and our tired legs for another walk along a main street to a giant supermarket where we walked the isles like we hadn't just eaten a giant lunch dish that day and accumulated strange products to turn into dinner. Amazingly, we made it home alive. A rarity given the traffic and pedestrian relationship here, where neither seems to pay much attention to the other. We were warned that "the zebras mean nothing. You might as well ignore them." Screaming and running seemed to be a much better plan of attack. Especially when some kind of what I assume to be a traffic warden seemed involved in an intense conversation with (probably) one of his many wives. (Polygamy is legal here, but not all too common. Ahmed, our tour guide, apparently dropped his third as she messed up the cous cous one night at dinner. He was joking, but the Moroccan sarcasm is sometimes hard to measure.) 

A relaxing night (watching Harry Potter! In Morocco!) before a very, very early wake up call tomorrow morning before driving through the Atlas Mountains and on to Erfoud for jeep riding and camel trekking into the sunset on the Sahara!) 

Sleeping Soundly.

Casablanca: breakfast, palace, water-seers, pigeons, mosque, rain, coast. 

Rabat: sight seeing, palaces, mosques, lunch.

Fes: giant moon, dinner, incredible show - magic, marriage and mayhem. Divine food, fast, endless and delicious. My expectations have been blown apart and chicken without cinnamon, almond and honey and coated in luscious pastry may never be the same. And the eggplant? Woah. 

Just the way I like it Morocco, salaam. 

Moroccan Air.

A lasting memorable bus ride with a tirade fuelled drunk spilling word vomit into the morning London air and numerous tube closures meaning senseless traipsing across the patchwork of London's transport system. 

Watching the green flash by as the brick houses of Britain's capital seem blurrier and smaller. 

Adrenaline of the unusual, anticipation toward the uncertain. 

Arriving at Gatwick, clearing customs and being ushered straight into the plane, no waiting, no lines. Hurrah! 

Took off into the sky with a plane of mostly empty seats before getting stuck into episodes on my iPad. 

Landing in Casablanca was beautiful, we flew in right over the city and cut back across it to line up with the runway. Even from above, the land was barren and empty and I couldn't wait to get into it. It's absolute flatness and lack of anything  resembling third world structures was exciting and so different from most birds eye views. 

Customs line seemed to reflect the third world idea, as it took almost an hour to get through. But eventually my passport got pressed with a fresh new stamp and I was able to get through and meet my tour guide, still patiently waiting for me at the exit. I withdrew a ridiculous amount of money (in dirhams, potentially peanuts in pounds) and met my first fellow your companion, a fellow London dweller from Australia, Katie. 

We instantly got on comparing ridiculous London antidotes and I couldn't wait to meet everyone! 

Driving through the desert as the sun set, I was instantly drawn to Morocco. It's unlike anything I've seen and anywhere I've been and I love it. 

Arriving into a 5 star hotel and probably the nicest place I've ever stayed, bed is calling. First, dinner at a lovely restaurant with cous cous, tagine and 'special' beer, if I can stay awake. 

Morocco Taster..

Casablanca Abode.

5 star say whaaaat?!

10 days of air mattress, I'll be sleeping gooooood tonight.