Location: Fes to Marzouga,Sahara Desert

Traveling always makes me feel small. Seeing the fields and villages pass by in a whirl as you move from place to place, seeing just the sheer number of people with families and houses and individual lives, and comprehending just how minor my passing through will be, I get a contented feeling of insignificance. That pales in comparison to how I felt sleeping under the stars in the Sahara Desert this weekend.

Given that I come from the United States, where we have landscapes that change and vary throughout the country, I shouldn’t be surprised by the sheer contrast between the landscapes I saw traveling around Morocco this weekend. Morocco is an average sized country, so I suppose I was not expecting to see such a wide variety of scenery here. Traveling from Rabat to Fes, then to the south of the country in Marzouga, a town at the foot of the dunes of the Sahara Desert, we saw rolling hills, cedar forests, plains, shrublands, mountainous rocky valleys, flat desert, and giant sand dunes. From the actual sea to seas of wildflowers and sheep, to seas of sand and sky, Morocco is truly beautiful. Traveling through the countryside, I felt the happiest I have on this trip.

Morocco is a land of colour. During the hours of Pinterest browsing before coming here, I’d found a watercolour painting of the plains at the foothills of the Atlas Mountains. It showed innocent blue sky, dark green hills in the background, and bright red poppies, yellow mustard-seed flowers, and purple flower of some sort all growing amongst cream coloured field of wheat or grass. The watercolours all blended together in what I’d assumed was an artistic touch. Upon actually traveling though an exact replica of the painting, I’ve discovered that no, it actually looks like that. It was picturesque and beautiful and all I wanted to do was stop and take pictures and frolic in those fields happily…but I was not in charge of the moving vehicle and we had a lot of distance to cover so sadly I was restrained to taking pictures out the window, which didn’t come out too well. Just another reason  I have to return right?

Another moment of colourful beauty was the view overlooking Fes from the rooftop terrace of our hostel (rooftop terraces are a dime a dozen in Morocco and I think we’re really missing out). We had woken up at what we thought then was the crack of dawn (waking up to catch the sunrise in the desert the next day would change our definition of “crack of dawn”) and seeing as we’d arrived too late at night to really see the city, I climbed up to the terrace to get a look at Fes. I was rewarded with the sun rising over an ages-old walled city positioned amongst the hills, each house with their own rooftop potted plants and laundry wash-lines.

However, seeing the rest of Fes would have to wait until another trip. After a meager breakfast, (Ramadan had started the day before, more on that in another post) we piled into a passenger van for the long trek south to Marzouga, the town at the edge of the desert dunes. Along the way we did some sightseeing; after passing through the outskirts of Fes with little towns dotted here and there, we stopped in a very bizarre town called Ifrane. The town is called “the Switzerland of Morocco” for two reasons: one, because it actually snows there, and two, because the architecture is entirely European. In an almost Rip Van Winkle effect, walking around Ifrane made it feel like we’d gotten very lost and ended up in Europe; terra-cotta pointed roofs with stork nests, green central parks, wide (by Moroccan standards) streets, and trees everywhere.

Another placed we stopped was the Azroua Cedar Forest to see the barbary apes that live there “wildly”. They are even more used to people than Penn State’s squirrel and duck population- nothing fazes them, they just amusedly stare at the tourists that peer and photograph them. They contentedly sit and munch watermelon all day, only getting out of the way when a car is coming.

A little further on, we drove through the foothills of the Atlas Mountains. I have never seen so many sheep (although Mum says wait till I go to New Zealand!) Regardless, I was stuck by the particular way of life that I saw in this area. Situated in the valleys of the hills, are flocks and flocks of sheep, not enclosed, just in little herds wherever they be tended by a shepherd. Close-by was always a large tent made out of many tarps, with a cow, a goat or two, and a horse grazing. Go a little further down the road and there would be the next flock and tent and shepherd, and so on.

It was a long day of travel, even switching over to 4×4 jeeps when we got closer to Marzouga. The edge of the Erg Chebbi Dunes had mud-brick casbah-shaped auberges scattered around; it clearly is a hot spot for desert tours like ours. After arriving, we immediately were directly to our camel train to begin our trek into the desert. The Berber staff helped us tie scarves around our heads and faces to protect us from the sand and sun, we loaded up on water, and were introduced to our camels. Talking to some Belgian girls back in Fes about the tour, their only advice was “hold on tight when getting on and off”. With the camel kneeling and sitting down, you mount and settle yourself in the saddle and hold on to the bar, and then our guides tell the camels to stand up. After a lurch forward, you are suddenly high off the ground. It’s alright though, cause the camels have absolutely zero interest in you; think of how often they do this. Riding the camel is not difficult- they are tied together in a train so all you have to do is hold on and shift your weight with the camels’ steps, which gets much easier once on sand dune instead of ground. And so began our trek.

  

With the sun setting and ruining all my pictures, we slowly trekked through the dunes for about an hour before stopping at their camp, a circle of Berber tents with rugs laid down in the middle, making for a very nice enclosure. Now we had time to kick off our shoes and climb up the dunes to watch the last of the sunset. The colours of the fields and of Fes were nothing compared to the vibrant rays illuminating the dunes and mixing with the shadows as the sun went down. It was enough just to sit atop a dune and watch the show around you (though moon-jumping down the dunes was fun also). After dinner of tajine (chicken and potatoes cooked in saffron chicken broth with mushy vegetables), harira (Berber soup), and watermelon, we dragged mats and blankets out into the middle of camp, laid back, and gasped as hundreds upon hundreds of stars came out. There we no bugs, no other lights, nothing to distract you from the blanket of infinite vastness spread out right above your head. I’m almost glad my camera had zero chance of capturing it because I think my memory of it will be more powerful.

I’d fallen asleep (I was a little dehydrated so passed out earlier than everyone else) without grabbing my blanket, so I was freezing when I woke up around 4am. Groggy and disoriented, we walked back out to the dunes to find a good spot to watch the sunrise. Again the colours were fantastic, and I felt like I could watch the sun set and rise everyday here and not get bored. There’s something very naturally calming about physically watching and being assured that the sun reliably rises every day. I dunno; I’m a creature of the sun and thrive off of daylight (especially the morning) so it might be just me.

Coming back to our camels (and realising where we were sore from the day before), we trekked back to the auberge and promptly fell back asleep without bothering to do anything other than take our sand-filled shoes off. The rest of the day was spent playing in the pool (…getting burned at the pool….), doing homework, and talking to the Berber guides to learn a few words in Amazigh. In the evening a few of us went sand boarding and sand skiing, to hilarious avail. The penetrating heat dried out the air and left us without much energy, so we went to sleep (outside again because why would you ever sleep under a roof if those stars are there) early. Turns out sleeping outside was a bad idea for me as I woke up with half a dozen spider bites….

An uneventful trip back to Rabat, I settled into another week of classes, looking through all our pictures and trying to fathom how much natural diversity can exist in the world, or even just in Morocco….and how on earth I’m supposed to get to see it all. For when I say the world is beautiful, I’m not trying to be some flower-crown wearing girl at an indie festival. No, it actually is, and sometimes only going somewhere new can show that to you.

Oh and that thing about “WE ARE” shouts around the world? It even works in the Sahara.

Well I was sorta cheating…there’s one other person from Penn State on my program….but it still counts right?

Location: Marzouga, Morocco