The Vuvuzela Diaries

We set off from Dakhla at 6.30 AM intent on hitting the Morocco-Mauritania border by 11.00, stopping only briefly for a photo at the Tropic of Cancer. But nothing, not even our early start or our lovingly prepared egg-mayo samies could prepare us for what followed over the next 25 hours!  Grant and I scouted out the scene:   We were 80th in the “queue”, which resembled a Sowetan traffic jam in rush hour and made Beit Bridge look like an efficient toll-road. The queue was comprised largely of Moroccans, Mauritanians and Senegalese, most of whom were driving clapped-out Mercs (some stolen!) which would be sold in no-man’s land. Huge trucks queued up adjacent to the cars, leaving little space for on-coming traffic!  At one stage an emormous truck, trying to skip the queue got stuck in the sand on the side of the road and was being winched very unsuccessful back in line!  This was just the beginning of a very long wait…. One of the reasons we were moving so slowly was due to people (mostly Moroccans and Mauritanians) pushing in or paying bribes and skipping to the front of the queue!  We were not the only ones angered by this as we witnessed many fiery disputes as the fiesty Senegelese stood their ground!  Fortunately we had a convoy of Senegal’s finest behind us in the queue and before we knew it  we too were fighting the struggle.  It reached a climax when one of the Mauritanian Mercs, trying to push in, felt the wrath of Andrew’s bull-bar.  When the driver accused us of not having any respect, Andrew tapped his bull-bar and said ‘”this is respect my friend!” 

We finally made it to the front of the queue at 6 o’clock, just as they closed the gate. This was fortunate in that it meant we didn’t have to spend the night in no-man’s land.  Amazingly,  by 10:00PM everything had quitened down as everyone had returned to the sanctury of their vehicles, resting before another chaotic day at the border. At last we made it through at 11:00 the next day, exactly 24 hours after arriving!   We  stuck to the road through the perilous 8km of  no-man’s land, which was littered on either side with the burnt-out shells of cars – a constant reminder of the landmines.  We made it swifly through the  Mauritanian side and were soon on our way to Nouadibou.

We all said a fond farewell to Marrakech – having had a fantastic weekend there with our fly-in visitors. Thanks for joining us, it’s definitely a treat to have some folk from the first world for a bit! Neil and Mikaela drove via Casablanca to drop Richard and Chippy off at the airport, as they were flying back to SA early the next morning. After a pricey beer for the men, a tear or two for the ladies, Maude continued on to Rabat; sadly two passengers down. We met up with the Mr Bling just before Rabat and headed to our campsite (Camping Rabat in Sale) for the evening. It was now about 8 o clock and dark and we circled around the spot that our GPS had directed us to – nothing! After asking a local if he knew where the site was he told us that it had recently been demolished. We searched the coast line for suitable camping spots and were very limited in our choice but eventually found something far from ideal but it would have to suffice.

The next two days in Rabat were focussed on getting our visas – we managed to get our Mauritanian and Malian visas, so it was successful in that sense. If you’re ever in the area doing the same thing, definitely treat yourself to delicacies from the fantastic bakery down the road. Really helped us to get through the laborious task of waiting for visas! We also dropped into the SA embassy and briefly meet the troops there. It’s always great to ‘praat die taal’, have a name and number in case of emergency and we got some good shots of the fantastic World Cup paraphernalia that had been sent to the Embassy.

The weather we have been experiencing has been fairly extreme, to say the least – high winds and loads of rain. This does not make for happy campers! We pressed on to Essaouira in search of the surf spot the guide books eluded to. No surfers or kite surfers were crazy enough to be braving the rough seas that presented us. Essaouira was a short break for us and we chilled out – due to the terrible storms we stayed indoors most of the time – eating, drinking and catching up on the internet! The roads have been flooded and we couldn’t get back to our campsite on the final night, but luckily there was an alternative road that got us there in the end. It was time to head south – out of the storms and in to the sunshine.

Marrekech, like Fes, is divided into an old Medina and a Nouvelle Ville. Unlike Fes though, which is cloaked in a medieval shroud,  Marrakech feels electric. The beating heart of the mayhem is the town square, or Djemaa El Fna. A feast for the senses –  snake-charmers, monkey-handlers, orange juice squeezers, henna tattoe artists, date & nut vendors, teeth pullers (the closest many get to a visit to the dentist) and muti men during the day, and at night the squre becomes transformed into a vibey street food market, whose vendors make UCT’s  RAG-MAG sellers seem tame!

And then there are the souks… the avenues of stalls selling leather goods, pottery, carpets, silver trinkets & antiques. The art of bartering is essential and patience of the essence!

Thankfully, due to Jamo and Sam’s excellent organisational skills, we were able to escape the chaos and enter the coccon-like tranquility of a tastefully renovated and redecorated Riad, called Riad Linda after it’s Australian owner. Sam and Jamo had flown in from London for the weekend, as had Paula’s cousin Cara and her boyfriend, Andrew. The final ‘extra’ on board, was Mikaela’s brother, Jonathan, who managed to find time to join us despite his tough gardening leave schedule. It was fantastic having you all around!

The girls, needing some time out from the camping scene, decided to try out a ‘Hammam’. The traditional version is an exfoliating scrub and sauna amongst female friends or family in a designated bath area (similar to the Roman/Turkish baths).  The tourist version of a Hmmam is an oil scrub and massage in a steamy sauna room, followed by the genteel sipping of mint tea whilst sunken into plush velvet cushions, draped in bathrobes. In a muslim culture where women do not meet in cafes for a good gossip, the Hamman’s are the next best thing!

While we were scrubbed within an inch of our lives, Andrew and Grant sought out the services of local barbers. Grant chose the deluxe version, which included a facial scrub, hair-wash, beard sculpting and hair-cut. It’s a wonder he didn’t get a manicure thrown in for good measure! Andrew, being the no-frills man that he is, opted for the beard and hair-trim only. This did however include the obligatory side-parting, German style.

The grand finale of our weekend, was an evening at a very swish restaurant on the ‘Eloff Street’ part of Marrakech’s Monopoly board. Here, we were entertained by beautiful belly-dancers, whose hypnotic hips and sequinned tassles mesmorised us (some more than others… Richard!) as effectively as the snake-charmers in the square.

An intoxicating and heady brew!

Just a quick update to let everyone know that we have made it to Marrakech. With the arrival of some of the London contingent things have stepped up a notch and we are staying in a luxury riad complete with doorman, 2 chefs and a washing machine! As I write most of the crew are haggling away to secure various invaluable pieces of pottery, leatherwork, snails, snakes and all the other good things that the medina has to offer. A full post and pictures to follow, inshallah.

The Drâa Valley – 10 & 11 Feb

The evening of 9 January was definitely our most bizare yet! Having had dinner Neil and I were treated to a private “jam session” in the campsite with four locals who had whipped out some drums and an electronic keyboard. Helped out by shots of straight vodka our friendly quartet drummed the night away as we watched on in amazement at how pleased they were to be performing for such a small audience!The next day we left Tagounite to begin our drive back North towards Marrakech. Our route followed the Drâa Valley – an incredible palm-lined river dotted with orchards and large Kasbahs which are made using the abudantly-available mud of the Drâa itself. We spent the night in a campsite at the entrance to Tazentout where we were treated by Richard and Chippy to a dinner at a local restaurant. Ait Benhaddou was our first stop on the 11th of February. The enormous Kasbah, built by Berbers from the 14th century onwards, was on the other side of a river which could be crossed by donkey for the cheeky fee of 20 Dirhams. True to our South African principles, however, we all rolled up our trousers, took off our boots and waded across, much to the amazement of our European counterparts! The Kasbah was well worth the visit although it was a pity it was so geared towards tourists.

After lunch we continued north along the main road and decided to take a detour into Toulet to see a very old castle which had belonged to the Glourie Brothers. Despite the harrowing 21km drive off the main road this proved to be a very worthwhile excursion as the castle was magnificent and devoid of any other tourists. The highlight, however , of our day’s journey had to be the drive through the High Atlas. The pass took us up steeply to just below the snow line before winding down, swithback after switchback, through small villages precariously placed on rocky outcrops. That evening we stayed in a hotel just outside of Marakech which allowed us time to recover before our assault on the bustling city the next day !