Passing Berber villages on the way to the Sahara Desert
For Mark’s big (50th) birthday we hire a private driver to take us to the Sahara desert where we are to rent 2 camels and a Berber camel guide for a 2 hour trek through the desert to our Bedouin tent, where we are to spend the night. There is not much narrative to this trip, mainly images. I take shots from the car window on the 5 hour drive to Oarzazate, through the Atlas mountains, on the other side of a tremendous ridge of the Anti-Atlas and into the (river) Draa Valley, 125 km of date palm oases which eventually merge into the Sahara in the vilage f M`hamid, where our camels await us.
1 & 2 – Berber villages along the drive to and past Oarzazate.
3) Moroccans are good at building walls 4) Atlas countryside.
1 & 2 – Oases/River Draà 3&4) Berber village below
We finally arrive at our camel station a few hours before sunset, and thus our 2 hour camel ride to our tent in the dunes:
snippet of the 2 hour camel ride to our private tent.
The trip to our tent is fraught with growing shadows. We are living in an alien landscape…
Picturesque paysage, and a lone passerby on our camel trek.
This short clip shows just how undulous it is to ride a camel:
The colors of the desert landscape are something I will never forget.
We finally arrive at our private tent before sunset:
Self portrait in tent shadow 2) Happy Big Birthday Mark!!!
A bedouin campground we later walk to. 2) My camel, poetic with the desert background colors
Once in our tent we realize that we have been provided with multiple blankets and also an aromatic meal is brought to us by a hired Berber cook, who speaks not a word of English but is visibly happy to see us devour the simple and satisfying tangia style meal he has prepared. Its mind-boggling that such a delicious and tasty meal can be made with rudimentary tools. There is no electricity, no modern amenities out here – we are far from everything we know.
If we weren’t such fortunate people, it would be easy to imagine a dark, dangerous story alá Paul Bowles, where we are kidnapped and later drugged, robbed and left for dead in the desert… but of course, this is just my nihilist imagination. The truth is, this is the happiest, most uniquely serene location to spend Mark’s birthday. And it is safe. We see no scorpions, snakes, vultures, nothing scary. The only inconvenience is the extreme cold once the sun disappears. The temperature becomes almost unbearably cold. We literally put on all our clothes plus we each wrap ourselves up in a blanket provided in the tent. We brave the elements to watch the amazing star show. Despite the discomfort of our freezing fingertips and noses, we are having a blast.
Ironically, we are both equipped with audio recorders, unwittingly thinking the desert would be full of wild animal sounds rather than the complete silence ringing in our ears. There are other camel trek campers out in the dunes, but not near us. We feel very alone, blessed, but cold.
Later, when we hear the sound of drums and singing coming from a campground in the distance we follow our ears to the following scene:
So this is how they keep warm at night:
Who would have thought we’d find a birthday party for Mark on his birthday, in the middle of the Moroccan Sahara desert.
I think I’ll end this blog on this theme, Berber drums and dancers and singers… all gathered around a campfire to celebrate Mark’s 50th.
1) Sunrise 2) Happy man
As the night progresses the music gets sloppier and we head back to our cozy tent. Happy Birthday Mark, December 29, 2010!
1) Essaouira Harbor, the setting for many shots in the Orson Wells film, Othello 2) Seagulls are active below the medieval battlements that face inhospitable, rocky offshore islands
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We are staying in Marrakesh for two weeks, which includes Christmas, Mark’s (big) birthday on December 29th, New Years Eve, plus another 4 days in Marrakesh. We enjoy our first week kicking around the Medina recording sounds and images, haggling with vendors and visiting a few “must see” museums, ingesting incredibly delicious food and crumbly, blonde kif. We relax in our quiet riad, basking in the luxury of spending time together with no distractions. We have made a conscious decision not to worry about our Partners in Rhyme business or fret about the wellfare of our 2 dogs. Everything will be fine.
Today we decide to take a day excursion, to see a bit of the Morocco coast and get away from the musky Medina. We have an expensive private outing to the Sahara Dessert planned for Mark’s birthday on the 29th, so we decide to check out the Atlantic coast of Essaouira on the cheap, with a chartered minivan that drives us out there (its a 4 hour drive) with about 10 other people, lets you roam around (or take an official tour which is included for those interested; We are not). At a designated meeting place and time, late afternoon, we will be driven back to Marrakesh. The bus leaves at 7:00 am in order to get everyone to Essaouira before lunchtime.
Mark and I are both beach people, having been raised in California. We now live on the beach in Barcelona. Most of our vacations involve a beach, so we choose Essaouira because it sounds interesting. Orson Wells is said to have put Essaouira on the map by filming (and starring in) his troubled film noir production of Othello. He began filming in 1949 but it took three years to complete.
Black and white can create such stark images. I remember vividly the opening shot of that movie. I can still visualize the man being suspended in a metal cage above the jagged sea rocks below the ramparts. I read later that Orson played this character in black face in the location I am now taking photos of. But that one image is all I remember about the story, which I saw in my college days. I have a vague recollection of a dark murky story with tortured genius imagery and a storyline wrought with punishment and mental torture.
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We learn from our minibus tour leader (Omar) that the costumes for Othello were made by the local Jewish Mellah, but they delivered way behind schedule. This led to some imaginative solutions; the famous scene in which Roderigo is murdered in a Turkish bath (the local hamman) was done because the costumes weren’t ready. Everything about Othello pointed to near disaster. Remember, this is a four hour drive, so Omar is trying to pepper the trip with interesting anecdotes. He tells us how Wells went through 5 or 6 actresses in the lead role and his crew was constantly changing due to circumstances beyond his control (lack of money) Wells financed this movie himself, often having to fly to other countries in Europe to borrow money from friends. The movie took so long to finish he had to dub the voices in the end to give characters continuity. Okay, I’m convinced. This trip to Essaouira is a good idea. Other than the blathering British family at the back of the bus, the drive is interesting.
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Fleeting shots snapped from the minivan as we pass through village after village. I like the donkey shadow in the far right corner of the first shot.
I take several photos from the window of the van. Fleeting imagery of small villages and dusty well populated strips of what I presume to be towns, everyone bustling about to the souk to buy or sell things- Even in these remote nondescript towns everyone is motivated by money, greed, lust … all the normal things that drive all mankind. Burros, donkeys, mules are the most common mode of transport, which makes sense because I don’t see many gasoline stations along the way. Motor vehicle drivers must have to fill up in the city.
1) I love this image of a burro being led through a pink corridor by a woman – to me it looks more like an impressionist painting than a photograph. Maybe someday when I “retire” I’ll try to paint it. 2) A mysterious fire warms up what otherwise appears to be an abandoned hut in the middle of nowhere.
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GOATS IN TREES
This image is unique to Morocco
About 2 hours into the road trip Omar informs us that in Morocco they grow Argon instead of Olives for cooking oil. If I understand correctly, goats are used to eat the nuts, poop them and then the inner hard core is taken, pounded and ground into a light oil. Evidently, we are to stop at a “female cooperative” which puts divorced women to work grinding and pounding the nuts. The whole “female co-op” for divorced and/or undesirable-to-Islamic-society women scenario is one that turns both Mark and me off. So we didn’t support the cause; the oil is expensive and neither of us would know how to cook with it. We’d rather spend our money on fun things.
A pushy little lady greets us as we enter, waxing poetic about the miraculous properties of argon oil, how it can heal everything from diverticulitis to liver disease to heightened cholesterol. We are escorted past a dull looking, hard working divorcee being forced to grind argon in a small hand mill. There are other oppressed looking women engaged in extremely hard work. At no time is there eye contact with these laborers. Maybe they are inured to tour groups gawking and snapping photographs as if this was the most exotic and elaborate process they’ve seen in awhile. I refuse to buy into this scene, it stinks of one of those tour guide arrangements designed to fill Omar’s pockets with a commission…
1) Goats blithely nibbling away on the branches of a knotted, spiny argon tree, similar to the olive tree but found only in this region. Goats help with the aragon oil cultivation by eating the bark around the nuts (or something like that) 2) This divorced woman was put to work grinding argon in a small hand mill. I wouldn’t want to be a female social outcast in Morocco, that’s for sure.
Mark and I loiter around outside until Omar and the group return to the van. The pushy lady tries to foist argon oil products on us to sample “for free”, but we become one stone wall, unwilling to even try this product, as magical, light and delicious as it may be… I’m Italian and olive oil is just fine. I bet argon doesn’t work well with garlic the way olive oil does…
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1) Camel with a view 2) Anonymous man in black robes that catches my eye.
Finally, around 1:00 we arrive at Essaouira. Boats docked in the Essaouira harbor, below the ramparts made famous by Orson Wells. Through these ramparts you enter in the world of the fishermen..
1) Essaouira Harbor 2) A sardine fisherman at work. Its not an easy life, but its an honorable one.
1) A girl climbs and reposes in a spot at the top of a rampart, taking in what must be a dramatic overview. I secretly envy her. 2) The gorgeous rocky coastline of Essaouira, and the ramparts that look out to sea.
Mark and I have approximately 4 hours to eat and explore the terrain. The rest of our bus has opted to take an official tour, but we’re here for the fun and the images, not to get a thorough education on the unique products and services of Essaouira.
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We leave for a big adventure to India next week, and I haven’t even began part 3 of my Morocco blog, so for the sake a progress I’ll leave you with a few more Essouira photos and then move on…
1) Street stalls selling pescado, however I must insert that the fish in Morocco are nothing compared to Barceloneta . 2) Simple beauty.
We walked around and hung out on the beach mostly:
1) Dipping our feet in the Atlantic. 2) Swinging husband.
POSTSCRIPT: I have another blog in the making of our overnight excursion into the Sahara Desert, but in that we leave for India next week (for a one month trip), my blog on Sounds and Images of Morocco part 3 will have to wait a month or longer.
The first sound I recorded, from our bedroom, was the call to prayer which I have shortened for easier listening.
Fna 5 EditSounds of Fna Djeema
Sounds of the Fna Djeema
Yes, we are having a blast here in Marrakesh, which is so very much more cosmopolitan that we had expected. Unlike Fes, which feels like stepping back into medieval times, Marrakesh is a wonderful mixture of medieval lifestyle, architecture, costume and modern french architecture, women dressed in modern looking, colorful and even sexy jalabas (kaftans with hoods) as well as the more conservative and secretive black robed ones roam the medina. I will have to buy myself one of those colorful jalabas while I’m here. They look comfortable.
Snake charmers reign at Le Square Djeema, but it is a cacophony of Berber drummers, storytellers, people walking past…
Marrakesh is interesting, much cleaner and more modern than Fes, yet very traditional as well. I think of my Dad as I read how in Morocco Islam and its interpretation is much more modern and open than in other countries in Africa, but I suspect this is only on the surface. I am reading up on Islam in Morocco and the Rough Guide says there is a big national holiday celebrating “Aid el Kebir”, the the occasion of the sacrifice Abraham was ready to offer of his son Isaac to the God Allah – same story as in the Catholic bible, only in Islam this is cause for celebration. For me its one of the specific stories of in the Catholic bible that has always turned me off. Its interesting that they would celebrate a man’s willingness to sacrifice the life of his own son to prove his devotion to God, or Allah…Could it be an insight into the mind set of the suicide bombers?…
Well, I’ll leave that train of thought for now and concentrate on the fun to had…
1) Mysterious muslim woman in tunnel – I see this image depicted in many paintings here. 2) Typical elaborate door knocker – who knows what mysteries lie within…This is the beginning of my “Islamic door knocker” series.
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Although self conscious while snapping photos, I feel invisible when I record sounds. This next sound byte contains all the cacophony and bustle of a typical afternoon at Djeema Fna:
Cacophony_Djeema2
Djeema sounds – banjo, drums, passing vehicles, Berbers clapping, bells, snake charmers, storytellers… all of them vying for an easy buck from passing tourists… I find it is much easier to record sounds at the Djeema Fna than it is to take photos or videos.
We are staying at a tranquil riad on the edge of the funky, well traveled Medina. Other than the strains of snake charmer sounds that are vaguely audible from our riad hotel, it is mostly birds we hear from our room and private balcony:
Birds 2
Happy, well fed birds serenade us while we chill at our riad.
Although the Medina is chaotic, our riad is a tranquil oasis of comfort and relaxation.
1) Mark relaxing on our private balcony 2) A few of the more tame birds at our riad.
1) View from our bedroom of the iconic Koutoubia Minaret 2) Breakfast and dining room at our riad.
Constant movement of Djema Fna
The most famous square in Marrakesh is the Djeema Fna. Anyone who has been to Morocco knows about this lively center of vendors, carnies, snake charmers, poor people trying to sell everything from the poor pigeons they must have trapped and brought there to sell to false teeth to more legitimate wares like incense and spice. The Djeema Fna or “Le Square” as it is commonly referred to in Marrakesh, is the heartbeat of the medina. It is a place in constant motion. Mark and I go there again and again, both solo and together to record the sounds and images of this remarkable experience.
A place in constant motion. I only count 3 or 4 people simply standing.
Donkeys, horses, bicycles, cyclos, all sorts modes of transport that do not rely on gasoline are the trend in Morocco, as evidenced by this poor working donkey I photographed from an upstairs kefta restaurant where we sat by the window overlooking a busy street. The resigned donkey started out with an empty cart – I only photographed him because he was there and we were waiting for our lunch to be brought to us. When our meal came, we watched his master load up his cart with at least 11 to 13 carpets while we ate, (that’s how many I counted, but it could have been more) before the patiently resigned donkey was asked to transport them, probably to a carpet shop in the medina…
Hard working donkey, typical in Morocco.
I eventually hit the souks on a quest for a simple door knocker to bring home to Barcelona, as well as a snake charmers instrument and a Berber horn. I love haggling with Arabs, some of my most memorable and gratifying moments were spent getting great deals on slippers, jalabas, incense, spices, musical instruments and I even haggled a horse taxi down to less than 1/2 of what he originally asked for (he wanted 25 euros but I was only willing to spend 10, and indeed we succeeded in paying 10, and not a penny more.)
Riding a horse taxi to the Marrakesh Museum and Madras.
At this point I will cadence with some thumbnail photos which you can click on to view a larger image, of my Islamic door knocker series, before I move on to my next Morocco blog, which will document a day trip to the coastal village of Essouira.
Some of the many door knockers I photographed while exploring. Eventually I found a souk that sells them.
Although the sound quality is not great, I share this iPhone recording of the call to prayer from the garden at our riad because the cantor (is that what they’re called?) is giving such a virtuoso performance that I had to record it, even though my NAGRA recorder was in our room. I love the birds and ambience as much as the singer – too bad I was only equipped with my iPhone.
Virtuoso Prayer
iPhone audio recording of virtuoso call to prayer with birds and ambient sounds.
1) A humble man observes call to prayer in a back alley 2) A traditionally clad woman who takes up more space than 3 normal persons would, as she glides through the Medina, apparently oblivious to passing vehicles and tourists.
I have so many gorgeous photos, too many to share. My parting images are of how modern times and medieval times seem to have merged into one. 1) if you look closely you start to notice all the satellite dishes in the Old Medina. 2) A conservatively clad Muslim man texting someone. These two images feel like an oxymoron: no matter how much Islamic countries such as Morocco preach against Western ways and encourage their people to keep a good wall between Allah and the Almighty Dollar, in practice Islamic people mostly want the same things as us: comfort, money and internet/cable hook-ups.
Memo 6 1
Postscript: I may revisit this blog and add more images later. But for now I’m ready to move on to “Sounds, aromas, images from Morocco, Part 2 (of 3)”
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