Ksar Ait Ben-Haddou, Atlas Mountains, Morroco

Long roads through the desert

The bus had driven for what had seemed like hours, unsurprisingly it had been hours. Hours of desert, hours of hot sun beating down on the small bus, hours of dry arid ground. It was stunning, as far as we could see the sandy yellow plateau carried on behind us and to our left side. In front of us grew a mountainous border of ginormous snow-capped mountains. We could have been anywhere, the moon perhaps as we barrelled down the straight dusty road. 

We had set off early after a small breakfast of black olives, boiled eggs, dry bread and jam. It had been a cool damp morning but now the bright afternoon sun was smothering us. We made our first stop about sixty minutes after we'd been on the road at a small farmers' market in the town of Souk el Khamees. The name of the town translated as Thursday marketplace, reflecting a simplicity of a bygone era and the essential importance of markets. 

Woman tending to the selling

Walking into the market

The market place was raw: dusty and old. Farmers squatted over worn blankets on the ground selling the small amount of dirt-caked produce they had probably just pulled from the ground. Piling from the bus we had entered under a concrete archway and all around us people stared, commenting on our arrival. It was very busy, people pushed past us with wooden carts and the morning sun blinded us. We walked through the narrow alleys like one unit, keeping our arms in but carefully watching everything with our eyes. Children who weren't at school giggled and pointed at us nervously speaking out in French and calling to us. An old woman followed us, hovering like a small disobedient dog, holding out a euro coin, hoping to change it into the local currency.

Seller with fresh dates

Rice and oils

We walked past sellers sitting underneath white plastic sheets balanced by strings and wooden sticks, they were wearing old, tired clothing and dressed warmly in layers for the cool morning. Their tables almost empty, sprinkled with spices, old fruits, and varieties of raw meat. We saw the empty skins of the animals just recently slaughtered drooped under the tables in a pile, the meat itself covered in hungry yellow wasps. 

Rocks of salt

Fresh meat (beef)

Farmers with vegetables

Orange waterfall

Boxes of spices

Bags of seeds, herbs and tree bits

Weighing the spices

As we walked around people watched us carefully, we were the outsiders, we didn't fit in there. Our guide explained how locals might travel for hours from rural villages on their donkey to attend the small market every week. Shopping was a job done by the men, probably under strict instruction from wives back home. The marketplace, as well as providing an opportunity to buy and sell, is also a weekly meeting point. Today, like every Thursday, there was a government representative atoning marriage certificates to recently married couples. Others sat just watching, a small glass of mint tea in their hands.  Our favorite site was the gorgeous orange display, the farmer perhaps unintentionally letting the oranges fall from his beat up truck, spilling over like a waterfall.

Kara fielding an approaching snake

Next to him was a spice man with woven baskets and old plastic sacks of interesting smelling spices, sticks of cinnamon, saffron, barks and dried leaves. He allowed us to smell and taste what we wanted and we left with small plastic bags of unusual brown ground chillies and cumin seeds.

We boarded the bus, on the main street and drove back out into the open barren desert plateau, following the long road southwest through the Dades Valley. Our next stop, only thirty minutes down the road was the famous movie town of Ouarzazete, door to the desert and once a small crossing point for African traders on their way to Northern Morocco. 

It's also home to Atlas Studios, one of the largest movie studios in the world, acclaimed for big productions like Lawrence of Arabia, The Mummy and more recently Gladiator. 

But really we just pulled in for lunch ate turkey with mushrooms and got back on board the bus. It would have been nice to have a longer stroll through the covered bazaars but it was onto our next destination: Kasbah Ait Ben Haddou.

Buildings in Ouarzazete

Scarfs for sale on the road

Kasbahs in the plantations

From Ouarzazete begins the 'Road of a Thousand Kasbars'. Built by the French, the road passes through the fertile oasis valleys between the high Atlas mountains and Jbel Sarhro mountains. 

The Kasbahs, like giant sandcastles and ancient fortresses were built with clay, reeds and logs from the riverbanks and have survived for thousands of years. Built in strategic locations on the edge of the desert, they acted as supply points linking trade routes, which would have once been only accessible by camel. 

Many nowadays have been abandoned for a suburban small city life, left empty and crumbling. We drove on watching out of the bus window as the square roofs would come into focus, highlighted against the mountainous limestone backdrop by their long dark shadows and surrounded by plantations of green palms.

Panoramic across an oasis

It was around three thirty when we arrived at the hotel on the outskirts of Ait-Ben-Haddou in the picturesque valley of Ounila. We had little under thirty minutes to freshen up and explore our mud wall rooms before we ventured off into the unspoiled fortified city kasbah. Located over the shallow reed-strewn river Oued Ounila we eagerly made our way. The kasbah or just Ksar in local Berber is surrounded by high earthen walls, reinforced by four angular corner towers. Inside the walls the houses crowd together. From a distance they look almost stackable and give off the appearance similar to the bottom of a sand castle bucket. Their walls were moulded with red earth and clay, ornamented and decorated with holes and designs. 

First glimpse of Ait Ben-Haddou

Shops in the Kasbar

It's estimated that the city was founded in 757AD and at one time thousands of merchants selling spices, slaves and gold passed through under the watchful eyes of guards who patrolled the fortified defence walls. 

Although today, only eight families still remain in the city making a living off tourism and soliciting as guides. The ancient town boasts several community areas, a mosque, a public square, a grain storage, two cemeteries and as a protected UNESCO site little has been done to alter or change its originality. 

Fortified walls of the Kasbar 

As we walked into the quiet city an elaborate labyrinth of narrow routes lay in front of us. The sun was almost ready to set, giving us maybe only another hour of its golden orange light. 

We were greeted by young Moroccan men trying to sell scarves, carpets and other things like rock sculptures and jewellery. They haggled with us, taking our lack of interest as part of a one side game of negotiation. 

We walked on and were detoured into a shop where we saw a technical demonstration of sugar and flame to make authentic camel pictures. They were pretty cool! 

View from the granary 

Decorated minets

Local artwork on display

Renovated residence

Following the passages

View around the kasbah

We walked through the small city, round bends and up stairs, ducking through doorways and under low hanging second story paths. The corridors were dark but the buildings that had absorbed sun all day seeped warmth. As we walked, our hands traced the small yellow straws jutting from the walls. Although not many in our group has yet watched HBO's 'A song of Ice and Fire- A Storm of Swords' the third season in the Game of Thrones series on TV, those of us that have were very excited to be in the midst of Daenerys Targaryen's conquered Tunkai the yellow city of Slavers Bay. We stopped in a small house, where the owner had been an extra on the set and had kept leftover props. He invited us for mint tea and we sat under the ground in a small dug out cave admiring his collection.

Decorated minets

All kinds of kept props

Across the plateau at sunset

As the sun began to set we climbed up the hill to where the city's granary once existed and admired the view. The houses almost glowed with the evening light. We could see for miles. It was just beautiful, transporting us back to a simpler time. 

Sun view towards the Atlas mountains

Peaking at the granary through a hole in the wall

Kara enjoying the last rays

The colourful, tasty spices

Later that evening we came together to do a tangine cooking class! 

Following the instructions of our quiet and patient instructor we mixed the almost meatless bones of turkey, with gorgeous local spices: lots of cumin powder, paprika, garlic, ground chilli, cut onion, fresh coriander and dashing a of pressed olive oil. 

We cooked the turkey and gathered our vegetables. Then, creating a teepee of vegetables, left it to simmer and cook under a triangular shaped lid. 

The process was relatively straight forward and it was quite fun putting it all together. 

Under the tangine 

Before the lid is place on- vegetable teepee

Finished product

Later however when we sat for dinner our creations weren't as delicious as they looked. Over-spiced and dry we realised that cooking tangine is not as easy as it looks! 

Tot siens,

Kara (Tania/Stu and John by association)