This is the narrative I planned to write: We booked with a company I didn't know! I was so suspicious! But one by one, my fears disappeared! We had a WONDERFUL trip! Morocco is so amazing!
That's not quite what happened, and unfortunately this post is very long. TLDR: Morocco is truly amazing and beautiful. And the tour company was totally great. First few days were ok. Trip SUCKED for me.
Here's how it all happened.
We decided Morocco sounded cool, close, and was a place we had always wanted to go. So after hours of spreadsheets on different flights and budgets of trips including SE Asia, the Middle East or Morocco, we finally decided on it.
Next research. Where to go in Morocco. We started looking everywhere, and it truly turned out that everywhere in Morocco was amazing! The top sights were nowhere near each other, and there seemed to be no wrong place to go, but let's say we were only going once, how could we possibly decide where to go?? I searched the Hampstead Mum's FB group that I'm on to see what other privileged NW Londoners had to say, and someone recommended a company, TourDust. One click, and I bought in. They looked amazing. We emailed them the type of travel we do as a family, our values, budget, days, etc., and they wrote back an itinerary. It looked good. We were busy. Ok - let's do it!
BUT! I am the child of the child of holocaust survivors! I am sure that EVERYONE is out to get me, though I also hate that I am this way and am hyper aware of it (this is what I believe is the generational difference between me and my dad...), and Matt is the total opposite and is so relaxed, so I TRY to chill. So instead I just stay up all night worrying that we just gave money to a scam company and we also will have no holiday break. So I go back to the thread where I found the recommendation and wrote the person to make sure they were not a bot. They actually went to OSU and made a U of M joke, so they couldn't have been a bot. They said it was legit. I felt better but still worried. Once we got picked up from the airport I would knock one HUGE worry off my list - at least they would exist.
Our itinerary said someone would meet us inside the arrival hall. We arrived in the evening. Nope. No one there with a sign that was relevant to us. At the Morocco airport you can't leave and come back in, so if we left and didn't see our ride, we wouldn't have bathrooms or internet to figure it out. We peed and took a chance, and we saw a guy with a sign for TourDust. Bingo - they exist! PHEW!
Here is our route. Stars are where we stayed. I tried to map out where we drove. There seem to be two passes through the mountains, because our drive there and back were not the same for a long part of it.
Atlas Adventure
We got in a big van and drove 90 minutes into the High Atlas Mountains to the village of Imlil. The village barely had roads, and the car stopped on one of them, on the side of a mountain. A man with a headlamp grabbed one of our huge bags and put it on his neck and led us down these windy paths down the mountain, probably three to five minutes, but it felt like ten, guided by my iphone light, until we arrived at Dar Adrar. The kids were grateful we didn't have grandparents with us for that walk in the dark!
We were served a beautiful dinner of chicken skewers (Matt, Elie and I each ate three) and tagine with tomatoes, onions and egg, along with the best french fries and dates and of course, bread.
The next morning we had a lovely breakfast of moroccon pancakes (just like roti prata), bread, hot chocolate, yogurt and we met our guide for the day, Hasin, outside the guesthouse. Hasin led us on a ten mile hike out of Imlil and up a mountain pass, where you can see the other side of the mountain (it was all that we could see), from 9am until 5pm. We were near (and could see) the highest peak in North Africa, Mt Toubkal.
Before lunch it was mostly a climb, then we had lunch at the top and then came down. We had one mule that had our lunch that went ahead of us and lunch got cooked ahead of time for us (fancy!), and we had another mule that stayed with us, with his man, Ali. That mule was for the kids if they were tired. Wouldn't the kids want this on EVERY hike!?! yup! Koby ride the most, but they all rode when they got tired. Magic. The day was beautiful.
One highlight was on the way down we saw a herd of goats grazing, and one was in a tree. And four were furiously trying to join him but failing.
The end led us back to Imlil and into and through the village. Almost all of the houses are definitely not on roads. They are on paths that are accessible to mules only. I didn't realize that was a thing. I mean in the far-away land, but this wasn't so far off the beaten path. We also learned that the Berber people build their houses in a few levels and as children get married and stay with their families, they build onto the houses upwards - by adding another level. So they're square and the top is always ready to be made into a floor.
Yasin was so patient with Koby. He listened to all of his football stories and he taught him about Hakimi the Moroccan World Cup star. Koby had watched him and knew who he was but learned more. Yasin listened to him for hours, often with his arm around his back and picking him up when he fell because he was so worried about what he was saying, he wasn't watching his step. And this long walk pushed ME to my limits. It was a LOT and tons of up and down. Kids were amazing superstars. Nearly no complaining.
This day was also Kenny's yahrzeit. We talked about him on the hike.
Our last stop of the day was in Zagura, where Mohammed (the driver) was from, and where his family lives. We had lunch (I had an amazing lemon chicken tagine) and went to a place where they make pottery. Zagura is in this area where there is a little water, so they planted LOADS of date palms. Unfortunately the last ten years has seen very little rain (other than 2014, apparently), so they didn't look very good. But from the oasis area, the potters grab mud and bring it up to where they work. They mix it with water they get from a well and then spread it out to dry. Then they area able to use it as clay, and they put it on a wheel. Once it's shaped, they leave it in the sun again, and then put it in the oven. There are different minerals they use to color it - or they paint it - and it can go in the oven again. We saw their ovens, and we saw a bunch of boys furiously going through the palm fronds they were putting in to burn to make the oven hot, finding dates and popping them into their mouths. The pottery was unbelievably beautiful but it was actually really expensive. We didn't buy anything major, and decided to wait to Marrakech where there would be more competition on price. (Mistake for me! Spoiler - I didn't get any pottery!)
We drove into the last town before the Sahara, and Mohammed announced it was the last store if we needed water or anything. We were good. Then the road literally ended. And it was desert. I kept asking Mohammed how he knew where to go - there are paths in all directions - and he said "GPS in my head." I said, "are you using the mountains?" "also." "the sun?" "also." "this random bush?" "also."
this was where the road literally ended. there was no road after this. just desert.
At this point I realized Mohammed didn't know our names. Hadn't talked to us at all. Was annoyed at my kids' audiobook (we had about 20 hours of driving on this trip to and from the desert. Audiobooks are magic for car rides. we have three little kids. COME ON!!!! Percy Jackson to the rescue!). He was on the phone (loudly) for about 30% of the journey. He was on his phone figuring out who to call or texting a whole heck of a lot of the windy journey. I didn't feel comfortable asking him not to - he kept telling me how the most important thing is RESPECT and no matter what, if you respect him, he is happy. I felt like that would disrespect him, and I was a little scared of that. He didn't give a shit about us. And here we were, in his car, in the middle of the Sahara with our lives in his hands. No fucking clue where we were. How we would call for help. I felt like if something happened he could totally abandon us (again - child of child of...).
But, yet again, we were fine. We drove about an hour (or maybe it ended up being less) and MIRACULOUSLY ended up at the desert camp.
In the Desert
We threw our stuff in our tent and ran up the dunes to watch the sunset (just in time!) with the rest of the camp. Truly beautiful. The boys brought a soccer ball and found a pit where they could mostly play without losing the ball - though they did have to chase it over big hills a few times. They had so much fun.
playing football on the way
We walked back to our tent to settle in and then went to the main camp. Koby said it was like Michigania. We ate communally. There was a fire pit in the middle. There was a salon tent with included drinks and games and couches and tables for playing. We played splendor until dinner.
At dinner we sat with these two lovely Dutch families who had much older kids and were inspirations on traveling with kids - they have been everywhere. Though the guy next to me was coughing and blowing his nose all night. I said to Matt that I definitely got Covid. But what is the alternative? The camp holds 30 people, and you all eat in this tent - one side is open - together. Do we really say, "I'm sorry, I don't feel comfortable sitting next to this sick person."? Also nearly everyone who worked there seemed sick. Fuck. Anxiety triggered (again...I'm not a great traveler - you see?!).
We listened to beautiful music by the fire until too late for us and went back and went to bed. It got down to 0 C/32 F and we were in a tent. We had some gas space heaters that they turned on for us for a few minutes while we got ready for bed, and then we had hot water bottles (though some leaked) and a lot of blankets. Once we got into bed, our power went out. Like completely. I was fucking freezing. I don't like the dark. The place was kinda weird. I didn't think anyone was going to come into our tent and get us or anything, but I was NOT comfortable. I read all night. When Elie woke up crying that he was cold and scared I let him into our bed. Note: this is the first time in my parenthood of conscious children (not tiny babies) that I let anyone sleep in our bed. I wasn't sleeping anyway, and it was slightly abusive to make him sleep in this scary, freezing place alone. The others were fine. We read together for a while, and then we both slept for a few hours before we woke for breakfast.
Tuesday breakfast was a highlight for the kids (haha - joke coming), because there was a baby goat. We ate and then ditched our jackets and winter hats and boarded camels. In Israel a few years ago (I didn't blog about it - I guess I was too busy surviving three children to blog), Elie was too scared to ride the camel, so he walked the route. Everyone who rode the camel was fine. Elie fell down on the walk and hurt himself. This time he rode the camel.
breakfast w the baby goat
The camel ride was led by a super sick nomad (I think everyone who worked there was so sick) and his five camels took us to the dune area (after an hour of sahara touring) where we watched the sun set. There were sand boards, and we all tried it. For some reason I was SUPER fast and almost killed/crashed into Koby. We all had fun. Then it got really windy, so we went back to the camp until lunch. The sick Dutch people were in the salon tent, and all the sides were closed because of the wind and blowing sand. There was nowhere to be, so the kids went back to our tent and played. I don't like being inside without windows, so I laid down/sat in another open area and tried to cover my face and put my back to the wind and waited. Lunch was skewers and they made pasta for the kids. This was the last meal I ate in Morocco.
suuuper windy. all protection used
After lunch Mohammed the driver met us and drove us about 20 minutes to a nomad family, so we could see how they live. We saw their living space, their kitchen, animals, farming. They made bread IN the fire ashes for us. Elie and Koby said it was the best bread they have ever eaten. All my kids asked for seconds. I started feeling really weak and tired and was constantly looking for shade and a place to squat and rest. The kids had a lot of great questions about nomad life and learned a lot - it seemed like a pain to go, and we almost didn't, but I was glad we went.
watching the woman from the nomad family clean the ashes off the bread, with bashir, who runs the camp
We went back up the dune for sunset, though I had chills and my stomach hurt. I wasn't sure I would make it, but I did. Barely. I couldn't tell if I had just not slept and was an anxious mess or was actually not well. I was still semi-functional, so I helped all the kids with pour-overs back at the tent. There is no shower, but there is a big pot you can fill with warm water, and a bowl. The kids all complained that they didn't want to do it, but once they felt warm water being poured over their SUPER SANDY, dirty bodies, they were so happy and didn't want to stop. (the boys spent most of the time at the camp either playing soccer or wrestling, which included digging heads INTO the sand. Their ears. Hair. Pants. All. Full. Of. Sand.
koby has sand eyebrows and a sand snot mustache. you know that magnet guy that you dragged the magnet hair with that pen all over his face? looked like koby was decorated by him
At dinner I ate a few pieces of bread (only), just to play it safe. We sat with an American family and talked mostly with their amazing 14 year old daughter, from CA who lives at boarding school in VT and is in a snowboarding institute! She had soooo much patience listening to all the kids and their stories. They hadn't really talked to anyone but each other and us for a few days, so this was a dream. Then fire. Then bed. Luckily that night the electricity stayed on.
matt walking back from the camp at night
I was up all night with chills (it was also freezing) and finally took my temp. 102. Stomach ache, but not terrible.
In the morning I had bad chills and felt really weak and was fairly useless. Matt gathered up all our stuff and the kids and we all went to breakfast (with the baby goat again) and piled into Mohammed's car again for the drive out of the desert.
Leaving the Desert - to Marrakech
The next hour was the most miserable of the trip. We had a three hour drive IN the desert, to get out of it. Then three more hours to our destination for that night. I had a high fever and felt awful. The first hour was windy through sand with lots of jerky moves. We had to stop many times, literally for each kid. I could barely stand up, but I wanted it to just be over, so I always voted for MOVE. I was shivering. Teeth chattering. MISERABLE.
The last two desert hours were through a dried up lake and much less bumpy and side to side, and we were fine (but I wasn't really fine). Once we got out, we stopped for lunch (not me) and then drove to Ait Benhadou, which is apparently a great destination where lots of movies were filmed. I asked to please be dropped at the guest house before the others went there. My fever was up to 103.7. And my stomach was not happy (from the bottom, not the top, at least). Sam wanted to rest and stayed back for a nap with me.
They all had the best dinner of the trip - for them - apparently the place made THE BEST PASTA EVER (Morocco is not known for pasta - perhaps I have mentioned my kids' crappy eating before!?) with AMAZING CHEESE (Morocco is also not known for their cheese). They were all stuffed and so happy. I was so sick. I believe I had food poisoning. 40% of travelers to Morocco get food poisoning of some sort. That guest house was a lovely place to be sick. The bathroom was nice. The room was spacious. Lovely view. Sound of call to prayer and cats and sometimes dogs. A-ok.
The next morning they all had breakfast, I had a piece of bread, and we were off (with two imodium and advil) for a 5 hour drive to Marrakech. Again, lots of back and forth turns as we went through the Anti-Atlas Mountains and then the High Atlas Mountains, but WOW it was so so so beautiful. We drove right through Berber villages that have been there for hundreds of years. We were on the old trade route from Timbuktu to Marrakech. Apparently 51 days from Timbuktu to Zagura and then 2 more weeks to Marrakech. And there's some Jewish history there too that I probably would have absorbed if I wasn't so sick.
out the window of the car later in the drive
The houses are almost all built from clay from the dirt, along with straw. And the dirt changes color all over the place, so that means the houses go from red to pink to grey to brown to red, and they all match the hill that they're on, or the level of the hill that they're on - it's gorgeous. The colors. Amazing. Again many of the houses we saw were not on roads. Some were even across a big river/wadi from the road, only accessible by mule.
I asked the family to please power through with bathroom stops and snacks only (no lunch) so we could get to the next Riad before my imodium lost effect. We got to Marrakech and drove into the medina (old city) and then Mohammed stopped and a guy with a cart showed up. Bye Mohammed and thanks for delivering us safely after SO SO SO MUCH driving.
The porter took our bags in a cart and pushed it through a narrow street, through a covered area that was a market of EVERYTHING (carcasses, pita, spices, kitchenwear, juices, EVERYTHING) and then we turned right. And then we turned left. Then right. Then left. All windy. All UNBELIEVABLY beautiful and detailed and colorful and sooooooo crowded. Then we were at our final riad.
Marrakech
I was sooooo looking forward to Marrakech. I truly hate driving and was dreading all that part of the trip and was so excited to go to the souks. The spice market. Eat delicious couscous on Friday. Go to the Jewish area. Wind through the medina and look at the doors and watch everyone going about their business. And I saw only the walk from the car to the Riad and then back again.
I was so so so sick. I had a fever until we left basically, with visits to the bathroom about 30 times a day, but could barely move. I couldn't sit up. I was so weak. I was sooooooo hungry but had no way to get food or take care of myself. Matt was doing an amazing job with the kids and sourced me bread and banana and sprite (all of which I did have), but how do you find chicken soup or something salty that won't hurt my stomach in the old city of Marrakech? I don't know. It was not a nice few days for me.
(Though I did read a lot when I could open my eyes. I ended up finishing Nine Perfect Strangers in the desert camp, didn't super help my anxiety. And I LOVED Lessons in Chemistry while sick in Marrakech and now have nearly finished Michelle Obama's new book as well. Kinda all over the place, but she's so wise and I love what she has to say).
Matt took the kids the first day and explored the shops and the central square. They found pizza and had it at a few different places for all meals in Marrakech, other than breakfast. Kids were so grateful. For the rest of the trip they had mostly eaten breakfast and then french fries and bread until then (other than the AMAZING pasta, obviously). They did eat a few bites of chicken or meatball or rice or veggies but not enough to make themselves full. We traveled with a shit ton of (not TERRIBLE for you) snacks, because we're not stupid.
The second day we all slept in, and Matt took the kids all around to explore. They went to one of the old synagogues and the old Jewish cemetery. They bought lots of fun things and had a great time. Sam LOVED Marrakech. Elie loved it but didn't like all of the motorcycles that try to pass you on the narrow streets. Koby loved it too.
I survived.
Oh and that day was my birthday. I did have no fever for most of the day, until the evening, but my stomach was a MESS. I was so so weak, needed a bathroom every few minutes, had TERRIBLE stomach pain and nausea. And that day I also got a stuffy nose. I was like, SERIOUSLY!? MORE!!!!!??? I can't handle it!!
It was my third worst birthday.
1) day after Kenny's funeral/sitting shiva for my brother on my birthday. SUPER SUCKED
2) day OF my Bubby's funeral. Super sucked.
3) This
4) Insurrection
One good thing: this room we stayed in was one of my favorite rooms I have ever stayed in. It was decorated sooooo beautifully. And the bathroom was so super cool. If you have to go to a bathroom about 60 times during a hotel stay - this is the one the do it in. TRULY beautiful. And the entrance to the bathroom. Beautiful every time - even while so nauseous.
Our last day we slept in again and Matt was sort of done with Marrakech. They had breakfast - I had a banana, some tea and some pedialyte while I slowly was starving to death but also felt awful and was coughing a bit more and had a proper stuffy nose. They played splendor and games in the salon with the fire in our guest house. Then they went out to get lunch and walk around one last time, and we were off to the airport (after imodium). The walk to the car again was a highlight for me (though dizzying). The drive to the airport, by the king's palace, waiting for donkeys and carts before we could fit through shared openings in walls was cool.
The Marrakech airport was beautiful. We made it out. We made it home. I was SOOOOOOO grateful to be in control of my own food. I ordered pho - alllll I wanted was soup. Ate that and then had an upset stomach again. Matt said I should go to the clinic tomorrow. I said I should test for covid before I go, just because I am now all stuffy too. Though NO ONE here tests and probably no one cares.
Yup. In case the world hadn't shit on me enough - I also have covid.
So all in all, it was a shitty trip for me. I made it a few days. I really feel disappointed about Marrakech, and I'm committed to going back (though also scared to eat). I also slightly (not so slightly, actually...) never want to travel again.
The kids loved it. Sam LOVED Marrakech and the desert. Koby and Elie LOVED the desert. They were planning their return with friends the entire time we were there. Koby also wants to go back when he's "23, when we free him to the universe." They said all the driving to get there was worth it. I should have taken a better look at the driving times and said "nope - not the itinerary for me - I hate being in the car" but that's just me. Matt wasn't wowed by anything (but he's VERY hard to wow). I'm glad we're home. Whatever home is right now.
And as a health update, I think I did have food poisoning and then got covid separately - clearly I blame the Dutch guy, though it's possible the GI stuff is symptoms of covid. But it's almost like they had a two day overlap, but now I feel super covidy and waaaaay better in the stomach. I am a person again. I can walk and talk and eat and it's not going through me - or at least way less! I think I have beaten the stomach thing, though I'm still eating carefully - I just made myself a huge pot of chicken soup that I absolutely cannot smell at all.
And Covid-wise, we were LITERALLY the only people in the entire airport wearing masks AND on the plane. NO ONE is doing covid anymore. But yet I'm devastated that I probably gave it to our driver yesterday, and I am sure I gave it to my whole family (everyone is totally fine so far) and the lady next to me on the plane. Ugh. Flashbacks to last year. Same time-ish. Different place.
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