Showing posts sorted by relevance for query Travel writing. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query Travel writing. Sort by date Show all posts

Sunday, November 09, 2008

Travel writing about Morocco #24


"The courtyard becomes a place of repose, of refuge. In its tranquillity, its serenity, there is the sense of the divine, some echo of eternity." - Stanley Stewart

As regular readers will know, we post an occasional series of tributes or brickbats to travel writers who report back to the world on their experiences in Morocco. Today it is a tribute to an interesting article writen by Stanley Stewart in The Times Online. Stanley write evocatively about Fez and bravely suggests that Fez is "Marrakesh without the crowds". Here is an excerpt:
There was a moment in the old medina in Fez, not far from the great gate known as the Bab Bou Jeloud, when three worlds seemed to collide - God, commerce and the Wolseley, in Piccadilly.

Here, within a few steps of one another, you find the religious, the secular and an excellent latte with lemon tart. Mammon is everywhere in these lanes, but God and the lemon tart would be all too easy to miss.

Fez is an extraordinary survivor. A medieval Muslim city, little changed in 1,000 years, it offers a vision of a world when the clash of civilisations involved Barbary pirates and white-slave traders.

Still enclosed within high walls, still threaded by a labyrinth of narrow alleys where mules jostle with robed figures, the medina is a whirlwind of buying and selling. If the intensity takes your breath away, it is not because there is more commerce than on Kensington High Street, but because in Fez everything is so brazenly public.

Fez was the cultural centre of Morocco for 1,000 years or more, and as such it was home to numerous medersas, or Islamic universities. One of the more exquisite is the Bou Inania. Distracted by the chaos of the street, you could miss this miracle of medieval Islam. But you need to notice it. This is one of the reasons to come to Fez.

The Bou Inania is in retirement, its academic career over, which is why faithless characters such as myself are allowed in. It is one of the finest buildings in Morocco and ranks among the best in the Islamic world.


I came at lunchtime and was alone in the courtyard with a couple of white doves. I sat in a swathe of sun, my back to a warm wall. The courtyard is a space of the most exquisite proportions. Its interior walls bear three bands of dense decoration - zellij tiles, stucco work and cedar wood. The patterns – floral, geometric, calligraphic - are astonishingly intricate. They enclose the courtyard with an elaboration of design that is almost beyond measure, certainly beyond my comprehension. But the effect is not what you might expect.

Such busy design could well produce a claustrophobic sense of excess. In the courtyard of Bou Inania, however, one finds a wonderful calm. It is the ambition of Islamic art and architecture to illustrate the nature of God, so in all that movement, in all those curvaceous, swirling lines, there is a sense of stillness. And in the tremendous complexity of the designs, there is a wonderful simplicity. The courtyard becomes a place of repose, of refuge. In its tranquillity, its serenity, there is the sense of the divine, some echo of eternity.

Read the full article here: Fez: Marrakesh without the tourists.

Check out our earlier travel writing stories:

Travel Writing Twenty-three

Travel Writing Twenty-two
Travel Writing Twenty-one
Travel Writing Twenty
Travel Writing Nineteen
Travel Writing Eighteen
Travel Writing Seventeen
Travel writing Sixteen.
Travel Writing Fifteen.
Travel Writing Fourteen.
Travel Writing Thirteen.
Travel Writing Twelve.
Travel Writing Eleven.
Travel Writing Ten.
Travel Writing Nine
Travel writing eight
Travel writing Seven
Travel Writing Six
Travel Writing Five
Travel Writing Four
Travel Writing Three
Travel Writing Two
Travel Writing One

Photographs: Sandy McCutcheon

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Saturday, June 21, 2008

Travel Writing about Morocco - #20



The upsurge in interest in Morocco among Americans is continuing. Despite the weak US dollar, the number of visitors is up and the hits on The View from Fez coming from the United States is growing daily. Also on the increase is the number of stories in the US media and the quality of the writing, while not outstanding, is at least conveying useful information.

Jude Townend, writing in the Orange County Register, has this to say...

Morocco is probably best-known to American travelers for cities like Fez, Casablanca and Marrakech. But this country in the northwest corner of Africa is actually a place of dramatic variety. On a two-week or even one-week visit, it's feasible to fit in a trip to a major city or two, in addition to exploring rural areas.

You might explore undulating desert dunes, the magnificent Atlas Mountains, or a tranquil beach like those found near Agadir. Or visit the Volubilis Roman ruins near Meknes, the dinosaur footprints near Azilal, or eerily quiet Berber villages around Imlil, at the base of Mount Toubkal.

The ancient city of Fez is known for its architecture, alluring medina (the old part of the city) and Karaouine Mosque and University, dating from 859. In Marrakech, by day you can explore the Saadian tombs and the luscious Marjorelle Garden, and by night the famous Djemaa El Fna square, with its food stalls, entertainers and peddlers.

In Casablanca, the modern, giant Hassan II mosque looks like it's melting into the sea at sunset. And for fans of the famous 1942 Humphrey Bogart movie, head to Rick's Cafe, opened by American Kathy Kriger in 2004, a marvelous evocation of the film.

Despite State Department travel cautions on potential terrorism, the number of American visitors to Morocco is slowly increasing. In 2007, 131,000 Americans visited, up 13 percent from 2006. The country is a popular destination with European travelers.

"Americans like Morocco – they get a taste of the Arabic world, without having to go to the Middle East," said Yassine Naciri, a hotel worker in Marrakech,


Read Jude's article here: Medieval to Modern in Morocco.


Photo credits: Sandy McCutcheon

Travelers to Morocco must possess a passport valid for six months from the date of entry into the country. Visas are not required for American tourists traveling in Morocco for less than 90 days.

For longer stays, Americans are required to obtain a residence permit and a special visa. For additional information, travellers should contact the Embassy of Morocco, 1601 21st St. N.W. Washington, D.C. 20009. or phone (202) 462-7979


Check out our earlier travel writing stories:

Travel Writing Nineteen
Travel Writing Eighteen
Travel Writing Seventeen
Travel writing Sixteen.
Travel Writing Fifteen.
Travel Writing Fourteen.
Travel Writing Thirteen.
Travel Writing Twelve.
Travel Writing Eleven.
Travel Writing Ten.
Travel Writing Nine
Travel writing eight
Travel writing Seven
Travel Writing Six
Travel Writing Five
Travel Writing Four
Travel Writing Three
Travel Writing Two
Travel Writing One

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Monday, September 08, 2008

Travel Writing about Morocco #22


Fez- a place of secret delights.

An article entitled Authentic Morocco by Jonathan Gregson writing for the Financial Times is a much better crafted piece than much of the gushingly Orientalist fare served up by the tabloids. Here is a short extract.

If what you seek in Morocco is sunshine with all the usual international trimmings - designer interiors, capacious swimming pools, a choice of spa treatments and/or golf courses - all served up with just a twist of Old Araby, then follow the herd and head for Marrakech. Massive infusions of mainly Gulf money are transforming its surrounding palmeraie into a Palm Springs-style playground in the sun, while the old town is now studded with estate agents quoting prices in euros rather than dirhams.

If, however, you want to be transported into a completely different world, then go to Fez. It's not just that it is the oldest of Morocco's four imperial cities (the others being Meknes, Rabat and Marrakech) and is this year celebrating its 1,200th anniversary; nor even that the entire Medina has been awarded Unesco World Heritage status. Rather it is because when it comes to such intangibles as dignity, refinement and sheer authenticity, Fez wins hands down.

That may be because Fez el Bali (Old Fez) remains a fully functioning medieval city, a hive of industry whose products - be they filigree work or bridal thrones - are as much in demand among local buyers as foreigners. On weekends, its succession of souks (which on first acquaintance resemble a medieval department store) are crammed with Berber villagers and more sophisticated visitors from Casablanca or Rabat, all seeking wedding presents or hand-crafted furnishings for their own homes.

The pride that Fassis (the people of Fez) take in their craftmanship and industry - many of the skills came with refugees from Andalucia fleeing the Reconquistá - may account for a certain hauteur. It also makes this city feel quite distinct from most other picturesque relics of a bygone age, whose economic survival depends on tourism and whose residual population is there to "service" the visitor.

Some find such un-Disneyfied authenticity frightening. It certainly came as a shock on my first visit some 30 years back. I was no novice, having already been through Marrakech, the High Atlas and the southern oases; but nothing had prepared me for the unique combination of timelessness and big-city intensity I found in Fez. I felt like an Oklahoma boy just arrived in Manhattan, overwhelmed by the crush of humanity and their hurried big-city ways.

For crowded within the city's 13th-century walls are religious scholars and merchants, wool carders and dyers, tanners, silk weavers, slipper makers, woodcarvers, silversmiths and brass-workers, porters, barrow boys, muleteers and donkey-men. These last because the streets and alleyways of Fez el Bali are so steep and so narrow that no motor vehicle can enter.

Everything that is consumed or produced within the city must be carried by man or beast. "There are 10,000 donkeys," I was informed, "and that is if you count only the four-legged ones." So, while walking around the Medina, it is best to keep an ear open for the cries of " Balak! Balak!" that announce the arrival of a donkey-train just in time for pedestrians to take evasive action. Also, to follow the Fassi custom of skirting the sides of thoroughfares (like British motorists, they keep to the left) so as to avoid being bumped by the passing animal's load - which could be anything from a new refrigerator to uncured hides.

While there are a few main arteries through the Old City, such as the Grand Tala ("our own Champs Elysées"), most of the alleyways twist and turn so much that you are certain to get lost sooner or later unless you have a guide. Not that I find this an altogether unpleasant sensation. By wandering aimlessly I discovered a traditional apothecary whose glass cabinets contained all manner of marvellous cures, from powdered herbs and minerals to desiccated lizard. On my last visit I turned down a covered alley to find myself following what seemed to be an endless silken thread, as though on Ariadne's trail. At the end of it was a moustachioed weaver, juggling with two spools, who had seen fit to use this public byway as his workshop.

Here is a link to the full article: Authentic Morocco

Photo credit: Sandy McCutcheon

Check out our earlier travel writing stories:

Travel Writing Twenty-one
Travel Writing Twenty
Travel Writing Nineteen
Travel Writing Eighteen
Travel Writing Seventeen
Travel writing Sixteen.
Travel Writing Fifteen.
Travel Writing Fourteen.
Travel Writing Thirteen.
Travel Writing Twelve.
Travel Writing Eleven.
Travel Writing Ten.
Travel Writing Nine
Travel writing eight
Travel writing Seven
Travel Writing Six
Travel Writing Five
Travel Writing Four
Travel Writing Three
Travel Writing Two
Travel Writing One


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Monday, May 12, 2008

Travel Writing about Morocco #19


Continuing our series on travel writing about Morocco, we turn our attention to the Guardian website where Doug McKinlay limps along with a piece about Moulay Idriss (pictured above and below).

Unfortunately along with interviewing the mayor he takes a quite swipe at writers of travel guides. His lack of collegial appreciation of his fellow scribes is only surpassed by his rather lazy and inaccurate shot at Lonely Planet...

Publishers and websites are only now waking up to Moulay Idriss's open-door policy. The latest edition of Lonely Planet's Morocco states: 'The embargo on non-Muslims staying overnight has only recently been lifted.' But it goes on to recommend two restaurants that are now closed and gives no advice on accommodation. From a strictly selfish perspective, I'm happy the guidebook writers have it wrong.

Well, Dougie boy, actually no. He should have kept reading his Lonely Planet because the accommodation is listed. He should also appreciate that there is a lead time in book publishing that daily hacks don't have to contend with. Between research and publication can be months and in that time restaurants open and close. It is a fact of life.



Anyway - if you would like to read the piece, you will find the full text here: Doug Explores Morocco

Photo credits: Sandy McCutcheon

Check out our earlier travel writing stories:

Travel Writing Eighteen
Travel Writing Seventeen
Travel writing Sixteen.
Travel Writing Fifteen.
Travel Writing Fourteen.
Travel Writing Thirteen.
Travel Writing Twelve.
Travel Writing Eleven.
Travel Writing Ten.
Travel Writing Nine
Travel writing eight
Travel writing Seven
Travel Writing Six
Travel Writing Five
Travel Writing Four
Travel Writing Three
Travel Writing Two
Travel Writing One


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Saturday, July 07, 2007

Travel writing about Morocco - Part 17.



Oh dear! Now the Wall Street Journal has succumbed to tabloid writing about Morocco. Yes, sad but true. The usual standards you expect from the WSJ have plummeted.

In an article headed: Morocco's Dangerous Mystique, one STAN SESSER manages to get in snake charmers and faux guides in the first paragraph. Mind you this is a man who got lost in the Marrakech Medina... now if it had been Fez, we might have understood.

Visiting Morocco can evoke that kind of anxiety. There are real safety concerns: The U.S. State Department says the potential for "violence against American interests and citizens remains high."
Oh really? According to the people who said Sadam had WMDs.

And then there is:

Moroccan families who own crumbling old mansions are discovering that they can sell them for a small fortune to be turned into these high-end boutique hotels. Marrakesh, the center of Moroccan tourism, got its first one only a decade ago, but today there are more than 500. Fez, the cultural capital, has 40.

Where has this man been?

While the riads are indeed luxurious, there's a downside. The rooms are long and narrow, with windows only on one side looking out into the inner courtyard. You have to keep your curtains closed since guests are walking past, making the rooms dark and stuffy. And since the alleys are too narrow for taxis, going out for dinner can be a hassle.

Stan, walking is good for you and going out for dinner is part of the fun...Oh forget it... I give up.


Earlier Travel Writing stories:


Travel writing Sixteen.
Travel Writing Fifteen.
Travel Writing Fourteen.
Travel Writing Thirteen.
Travel Writing Twelve.
Travel Writing Eleven.
Travel Writing Ten.
Travel Writing Nine
Travel writing eight
Travel writing Seven
Travel Writing Six
Travel Writing Five
Travel Writing Four
Travel Writing Three
Travel Writing Two
Travel Writing One



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Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Travel Writing about Morocco #18




A much better than usual contribution comes from Jim Wilson writing for Sun Media


We are rounding the bend, the satellite-tipped rooftops of Fes coming into view in the valley below, when Marrakchi Benjaafar forgets his role as an official with the Moroccan tourist office and briefly turns into ... Stevie Wonder?

"Isn't She Lovely ...," he suddenly sings, a smile creasing his 60-year-old face as if he were a child.

Marrakchi was born and raised in Fes and recently bought a fixer-upper in the old section, next to his cousin's. The impromptu outburst is from the heart. He is coming home and the happiness, he would say later, "stops time."

That may be true but in fact time appears to be catching up to one of the more liberal cities in an increasingly liberal Arab nation. Fes is a convergence of cultures rather than a clash, where much of the city's million-plus people have discarded their jellabas for jeans, where bulldozers compete with donkey carts and restaurant-goers now have a choice between cous-cous and, yes, McDonald's. It is both a UNESCO world heritage site and a university town, the kingdom's first capital (dating back to 808) and its intellectual centre.

Now, settlers from Europe, and from different tribes within Morocco itself, have made Fes a mosaic as colourful as the carpets it is famous for.

It is a city that, as Marrakchi says, "belongs to all Moroccans" -- even if they are Jewish (although the old Jewish sector has pretty much disolved into the core).

The imam may still call for prayer five times a day from numerous minarets but in Fes, race, religion and gender are uniters, not dividers.

Still, this is Morocco and modernism only goes so far, particular in Fez el Bali ("the old" sector). Venture through the gates into the steeply walled city and prepare to be lost in a world gone by. Here a 25 sq. km labrynth of lanes and passages, stairs and cul de sacs, some no more than a metre wide, have been said to leave even long-time residents longing for a GPS.

Tourists? Well, you probably won't get hassled but you might get coaxed into buying something when you stop to ask directions. It is a warren of traditional souks and craftsmen, food carts, potters and tanners and dyers, spice shops and a communal wood oven. Prayer halls and ancient mosques hide behind mammoth doors almost as old as the medina itself. And just dip into one of the many riads -- or old guesthomes -- and be prepared to be left breathless by the soaring cedar ceilings and intricately tiled walls.

In one section, gleeful school girls teem out of a Koranic school and mob a foreigner holding a camera. In another, a man purchases a live chicken and has it butchered at once to his liking.

But if Fes is a year-long festival, it only takes you minutes to reach the serenity of olive groves and a few more minutes to reach nirvana. And we're not talking about the unlikely, if magnificent, Fez Golf Course.

No, this comes with a more proper name: Sothermy, the oldest -- dating back to Roman times -- and largest hot springs in the country. Legends abound about its healing properites but the approximately one million people a year -- mostly Moroccans -- who transform the tiny village of Moulay Yacoub into Spa City -- certainly buy into it. You can skip the pedicure, manicure and massage and just immerse yourself for a day in a sulphur sauna and steaming mineral baths for about $10.

Nestled in the heart of the Middle Atlas mountains, Fes is about three-hour drive inland of Casablanca, which, despite the romanticism -- thank you, Humphrey Bogart -- acts, looks and smells like any European city. It is also the main transport hub but fortunately the real Morocco lies not far away. One hour along the coast to be precise, is Rabat, the kingdom's current capital, both geographically and culturally.

This is a city dominated by 12th-century ramparts of the Oudaia Kasbah, a fortress once built to protect the city from foreign crusaders but now embracing them like a long-lost relative. Here, young people mingle along the sea wall with displays of affection practically unheard of in other Muslim countries, where ochre walls, a trademark of life in the kingdom, has given way to a stunning azure, in deference to Moorish settlers.

And it is here, sipping a mint tea in a Moorish cafe, that all the pieces come together. Along the Andulasian sea wall, as the boats bob in the surf of the North Atlantic and young children fish off the rocks, you are left to ponder: In how many other places would the past be so welcomed as part of the future?

Earlier Travel Writing stories:


Travel Writing Seventeen
Travel writing Sixteen.
Travel Writing Fifteen.
Travel Writing Fourteen.
Travel Writing Thirteen.
Travel Writing Twelve.
Travel Writing Eleven.
Travel Writing Ten.
Travel Writing Nine
Travel writing eight
Travel writing Seven
Travel Writing Six
Travel Writing Five
Travel Writing Four
Travel Writing Three
Travel Writing Two
Travel Writing One



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Monday, February 12, 2007

Travel Writing about Morocco - Part 15


Continuing our occasional series on travel writing in which we look at the good, the bad and the indifferent, our scouts picked up an anonymous piece written for the Olive Press, the East Andalucian fortnightly newspaper. It is a pity the author's name did not appear as we could have paid them a vague compliment for the style, while deducting a heap of points for the tabloid mention of Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie, David Beckham and actor Orlando Bloom. Yes, and there are those dreadful cliches "Morocco a country of rugs, riads and snake charmers" - but overall we found it a readable though worrying about the kind of people such writing would entice. Maybe a few extra Pommy expats over from Spain for the weekend.

THE VIEW FROM SPAIN

See that land mass shimmering on the horizon? That is Morocco a country of rugs, riads and snake charmers. Now it is accessible as it is hip thanks to an incredibly quick new 35-minute hydrofoil service from Tarifa.

One part fashion shoot, one part giant bazaar, it has never been easier to spend a couple of days in the magical kingdom where Brad Pitt and Angelina, David Beckham and actor Orlando Bloom have recently been on holiday.

Sure, you have heard the stories about the rip off merchants, bag snatchers, ropey food and hygiene standards. And yes, you will have to be a little careful with what you eat – not to mention be prepared for something of a culture shock. But that is
all part of the fun and if you take my advice as a regular visitor, you should
avoid some of the obvious pitfalls and fall in love with Morocco’s vibrant colours, smells and breathtaking mountain scenery.

For me, the journey held particular interest, the route once being travelled by thousands of expelled Moors and Jews from Ronda (where I now live), who went on to settle in Chefchaoeun. Retracing their steps I wanted to compare and contrast the enduring architectural legacy they left behind in Spain with the mountain escape they went on to create. Arriving in Chaouen, as the locals call it, is always a curious sensation having first turned up on the bus for 20p, two decades earlier. A much needed escape after a whistle stop tour of the Imperial cities of Fes and Meknes, I will never forget how the excitement turned to irritation and rapidly to panic as a friend and I got attached to a particularly virulent hustler straight off the bus. We were easy prey, two fresh faces sixth formers on a week’s tour of Morocco and we were soon being led into the medina with the promise of the cheapest rooms available. Naturally, we ended up in a rabbit hutch with our guide Abdul sitting on the end of the bed smoking the strongest marijuana cigarette imaginable.

Abdul was one of the many pushers who once gave the town a disturbing edge. We ended up paying him well over the odds to leave us in peace and woke up to find my personal stereo gone in the process. Thankfully, we did not see him again (we later heard he had been stabbed in a street fight) and went on to enjoy the stunning hill town, which was then only visited by a raggle-taggle band of hippy travellers who gave the place a somewhat downbeat and dreary feel...

Oh dear... read the full article here: Through the Moorway to Africa

Earlier Travel Writing stories:

Travel Writing Fourteen.
Travel Writing Thirteen.
Travel Writing Twelve.
Travel Writing Eleven.
Travel Writing Ten.
Travel Writing Nine
Travel writing eight
Travel writing Seven
Travel Writing Six
Travel Writing Five
Travel Writing Four
Travel Writing Three
Travel Writing Two
Travel Writing One



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Sunday, March 11, 2007

Travel writing about Morocco - Part 16


Adam Karlin writes for the Arizona Star and for Lonely Planet, so you would imagine that few travel experiences would really blow him away - maybe, until while in Morocco on a recent trip. Although one of the younger travel writers we have featured, he writes well. But what is interesting here is his experience.He and his girlfriend were staying in the little village of Tamnougalt, at the Chez Yacob hotel. But let him pick up the story...
We had tagine and couscous for dinner (in Morocco, you always have tagine and couscous for dinner), and as night fell, I heard drums pounding off the narrow village streets. The noise came from just outside our hotel: a circle of men and village boys, some black, some Arab, some with roots as Jewish as pastrami on rye. They motioned us over, and we slurped tea while they joked in the muddy Moroccan pidgin of French, Berber and Arabic (my little French, for the record, served me very well in Morocco). A kid squatted next to me.
"Big movie star," a man said, smiling.
I smiled back, figuring they were joking.
"Brad Pitt," he said. Other boys rolled their eyes, like they'd heard this story a thousand times. Then one of the hotel managers spoke in fluent English.
"No, really!" he exclaimed. "He has just been in a movie with Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett. 'Babel'!" The boy nodded excitedly, and now his friends followed suit, eager to claim some shared fame.
At the time, I dismissed the story as hyperbole. About a month later, though, while watching a DVD of "Babel," my jaw dropped as Boubker Ait El Caid — the boy in the drum circle — shot Cate Blanchett in the shoulder and basically upstaged a cast of A-listers with his impassioned admission of guilt.
But on my birthday, he and the hotel manager asked me to trade an American tune for their Berber ones. I hummed a few bars but got cut off.
"Is that Bryan Adams?"
"No."
"We like Bryan Adams."
Technically, Adams is Canadian, but they were already halfway into "Summer of '69." That was how I turned 26: watching the stars enflame the African sky in a mud castle, surrounded by friendly Moroccans singing Western pop songs. El Caid was there, but there was little babble that night; our inability to speak each other's languages warmed a shared affection, the connection that grows when two travelers' curiosity and one village's hospitality come face to face.

Earlier Travel Writing stories:

Travel Writing Fifteen.
Travel Writing Fourteen.
Travel Writing Thirteen.
Travel Writing Twelve.
Travel Writing Eleven.
Travel Writing Ten.
Travel Writing Nine
Travel writing eight
Travel writing Seven
Travel Writing Six
Travel Writing Five
Travel Writing Four
Travel Writing Three
Travel Writing Two
Travel Writing One



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Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Travel Writing about Morocco - Part 13


"A hundred years ago there were only a handful of foreigners living in the old town in Marrakesh. That's not very long ago in historical terms"
It is refreshing from to come across travel writing that looks a little beneath the orientalist-fantasy stereotype. Newspaper journalism, restrained by size and readership demographics to certain predictable formats is rarely able to do more than hint at the depths of a story. Charles Dick manages to do just that. Writing in the New Zealand Herald tackles Marrakesh in an interesting way - pointing out the impact of tourism and foreign investment.

Morocco's historic walled city of Marrakesh is changing fast and a veneer of Western influence is contrasting ever more starkly with its native Islamic core.

The heartbeat of the ancient capital, once no faster than camel caravans plying the trans-Saharan routes before the trek across the snow-capped Atlas mountains to reach the city, is quickening partly because of Morocco's drive to boost tourism.

Luxury hotels are being built with foreign investment and some of the millions of foreigners flocking to the North African country, where the legendary Berber "Pearl of the South" is a prime destination, are not just fleeting visitors.

Hundreds of Westerners, mostly Europeans, are buying up and often extravagantly renovating distinctive homes called riads, typically with scented oriental gardens in inner courtyards, in the old quarters of Marrakesh and other historic cities such as Fes and Meknes to the north.

"A hundred years ago there were only a handful of foreigners living in the old town in Marrakesh. That's not very long ago in historical terms," says Dr Peter Dyer, a British expert on the city's kasbah, or fortified district, explaining that this was forbidden under the French protectorate before Morocco's independence in 1956.

"It was the French protectorate which imposed its will on the local people to separate the old city and the colonial administrative quarter," he says, referring to the Europeanised Gueliz district outside the city walls where most of the big hotels are located today.

As foreigners rushed to buy riads from the 1960s onwards, led by celebrities such as designer Yves Saint Laurent, Marrakesh gained a reputation as a playground for the stars.

Founded almost a millennium ago, and a capital city during the Almoravids dynasty, Marrakesh has a mystique that has attracted statesmen and big names of pop, stage and screen - Winston Churchill, Mick Jagger and Martin Scorsese among others. In their footsteps have followed the lesser rich from countries including Britain, France, Italy and Spain.

They are drawn by the charm of houses whose inner sanctums traditionally contain shady orange trees, pools filled with rose petals and central fountains. The thick, plain exterior walls, providing privacy for Muslim families and acting as a shield against the summer heat, hide often fabulous interiors.

The influx of foreigners has, inevitably, brought change. Poorer Moroccans have been moved to the outlying suburbs as the romantic inner city homes are snapped up by the newcomers.

And places like Marrakesh are becoming Westernised.

"Marrakesh has become cleaner and better organised, moving closer to meeting European standards," says Rachid Chnini of local estate agent Vernet Immobilier.

"What's more, security has become considerably tighter."

Perhaps because of that, Morocco is attracting more tourists after the slumps caused by the September 11 attacks in the United States, the 2003 Casablanca bombings and a 1994 gun attack by an Islamist group in Marrakesh in which two Spanish tourists were killed.

With the return of travelers' confidence, an ambitious development plan aims to double the number of tourists to 10 million by 2010 and includes six new seaside resorts.

Development is still slow on what is seen as the backbone of the plan to build the new resorts.

But a group owned by Saudi billionaire Prince Alwaleed bin Talal is to take a major stake in developing a $116 million Four Seasons hotel and resort in Marrakesh.

While the influence from abroad has angered some in Marrakesh, the musicians, jugglers, snake charmers and street vendors in the city's famous central square, Jemaa el-Fna, adapt quickly.

"Lovely jubbly!" cries a vendor in the food market - using a catchphrase of a British celebrity chef - where a mouth-watering variety of local dishes is on offer.

"Air-conditioned restaurant!" he boasts, waving to his open-air stall.

Reprinted with permission from The New Zealand Herald. The original article is here: Ancient city draws the rich and famous

The Leeds Post is also jumping on the Moroccan bandwagon with a piece by Cathy Winston which, while well written, does not delve beneath the surface:

Here's an extract:

An eight-hour drive from Marrakech lies the city of Fes, and it's well worth the trip, not least for the chance to drive through the Atlas Mountains. Their snow-capped peaks provide a stunning, if unlikely, backdrop to Djemaa el Fna – as you travel, you move from the dry, dusty treeless lowlands to Alpine-style villages at the summit. You can even go skiing.

We push on to the sunshine in Fes, pausing only to wave to a few Barbary apes and camels settled comfortably by the roadside. The ancient city, another former imperial capital, is similar to Marrakech in many ways. There's a walled medina – where our beautiful riad, Riad Mabrouka, is based – and, outside, the modern ville nouvelle built by the French. But the atmosphere here seems quite different.

It's partly the quietness of the medina, where no cars are allowed, but it's also the pace of a city which, in many ways, has changed little since medieval times. The maze of over 9,000 streets is still walked by men in long, hooded robes while donkeys transport goods to warning cries of 'balek!' But look a little closer and the men are chatting into mobile phones and the donkeys are carrying a variety of modern paraphernalia – we even spot a fridge freezer strapped to one's back. One thing that hasn't changed is the old crafts. Traditional blue and white pottery is still made by hand; beaten bronze and silver plates are transformed from plain dishes by artists armed only with hammers and a single metal tool.

The full story is here: Sun and Souks


Earlier Travel Writing stories:

Travel Writing Twelve.
Travel Writing Eleven.
Travel Writing Ten.
Travel Writing Nine
Travel writing eight
Travel writing Seven
Travel Writing Six
Travel Writing Five
Travel Writing Four
Travel Writing Three
Travel Writing Two
Travel Writing One


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Thursday, August 07, 2008

Travel Writing about Morocco #21


A zellij craftsman at work in Fez

Good articles about Fez are few and far between, but the team are happy to say that MARLISE SIMONS correspondent in the Paris bureau of The NY Times is on the money! You will find a complete list of our travel writing series below.


Fez Reveals Morocco's Soul


BEHOLD the city of Fez as it looked in the year 1000.

Nestled in a high valley, it was resplendent with its domes and minarets. Smoke rose from pottery kilns and public bath houses. There was the banging of the metalworkers, the whirr of the weavers, the wailing of the muezzins as they called for prayers and drowned out the shouts of the beggars and traders.

Along the narrow alleys, smells oozed from the wood-stoked bread ovens, from the pots of lamb stew and from the hair of the mules, lugging their loads. Down by the river, where the tanners worked, an overwhelming fetor surged from the pigeon dung and the fermented chaff that they used to treat goat and camel hides.

There were some quiet spots, to be sure: the spaces around the sacred fountains and the halls of the mosque-university, which was famous for its wise men, with students flocking here from afar.

That was Fez 10 centuries ago. Remarkably, it is a description that remains valid today. The city's astonishing chemistry of the medina is still intact.

Over the ages, Fez has sprawled outward, far beyond the great walls that secured it, and in the alleys, the mules now also lug plastic buckets and television sets. Still, the old Fez survives, battered and declining, but by many accounts the most complete medieval city of the Arab world.

Now Morocco's third largest city, Fez is no longer the capital, but it still lays claim to being the country's cultural, intellectual and religious heart. Its medina is the most complex, with more ancient monuments, more mosques, Koranic schools, inns and souks than any Moroccan city. The beauty of its woodcarvings, tiles and pottery remain unmatched. Other towns may be selling a rich choice of crafts, but chances are that many come from Fez -- and better still, in this city, you can watch the artisans make them.

Moroccans say that Marrakesh, Rabat and Casablanca live in the present, but that Fez lives in the past. It comes as no surprise. European chroniclers of the Middle Ages wrote with awe of the city that for several centuries was the most civilized Western outpost of the Semitic world. Its scholars introduced astronomy and medicine to the West via Spain when it was under Moorish rule. Historians of the time said that Plato and Aristotle first reached Western Europe in Arabic translations, from Fez.

I wanted to find out why some insiders spoke of Fez as an addiction, why they called it not a place, but a state of mind. Driss Laraichi, a guide and more than that, a skilled historian and poet, said that discovering Fez would take patience, but that even an outsider could catch a glimpse of its soul.

One fine place to start, Driss said, was the Hotel Les Merinides. It rises above the northern edge of the city, near the tombs of the Merinid rulers. Though ugly and modern, the hotel has a great terrace overlooking the city, with a stone map from 1935, which by local standards is contemporary.

The medina, which is where you want to be, is too tightly packed to offer perspective. But from the terrace, the old city reveals itself as an amphitheater, embraced by enormous walls. Opposite the main city gates, the hillsides are studded with the stones of age-old cemeteries and near them, crowned with white domes, the larger tombs of the city's numerous holy men. There is the sense of observing a North African Jerusalem.

From above, you can pick out the main mosques, the royal palace, the medersas or colleges, the old Jewish quarter and Fez's holiest building, the revered shrine of Moulay Idriss II. Forget the buildings for a moment to hear a fragment of history that is indispensable: the story of this holy man is part of the creation of Islamic Morocco. It was his father, Moulay Idriss I who arrived here around 787, possibly from Baghdad, to convert the region's Berber tribes. It is said that he was a great grandson of the prophet Muhammad. Idriss I founded Fez, which became the core of Arabic Morocco.

The way into the medina passes through a bab, one of its great gates. It can take hours to cross this great maze of more than 600 acres (about three-quarters the size of Central Park), packed with some 250,000 people. But the rewards are instant, for here an intricate and grand human engine is in perpetual motion.

Under the lattice mats that filter the sun are street stalls selling goats' feet, entrails, fresh cheese, quinces and piles and piles of mint. Workshops the size of walk-in closets hold tailors, woodcarvers, engravers, weavers, embroiderers, calligraphers and just about any other trade.

Professions usually cluster in the same alley. Here and there, weighers offer the services of their large iron scales. You are pressed against walls and stalls as porters and mule drivers shout, demanding the right of way.

Going deeper inside the labyrinth, Driss led the way into an even earlier world, a place of alchemists. There were men with bellows firing the hearths for the copper workers. A stream of blood gushed down one passage. It turned out to be the alley of the dyers who had just finished dunking big skeins of silk and wool into a deep wine color and were now emptying their vats.

We stopped at a cord maker, an acquaintance of Driss. His workshop was just a small wooden platform, three feet off the ground. He sat crosslegged and was tying strands of silk around his big toe. Then he turned and plaited these with extraordinary patience till they became cords for prayer beads or braids for a kaftan. He told Driss he had done this since he was 10; he was now 60. On a good day he could make roughly $5.

Above his head, next to a diploma with his name, Mohamed ben Ali Amrani, he had put up a sign in English: ''No photographs.'' I asked him why.

''I am here as God's guest on earth,'' he said. ''The tourists were taking pictures without even asking, as if I was an animal.''

The heart of the medina and its most important site is the great Karaouine Mosque, which is also the nation's oldest and one of its largest. A wealthy woman, Fatima Alfehri, who fled from Tunisia, founded it in 859. And it was here, where the mosque with its great library expanded into a center of learning, well before the universities of Bologna and Oxford, that the city's intellectual fame blossomed.

Non-Muslims may not enter this enormous building, whose 16 naves are said to accommodate 20,000 people. But from the alley that winds around it, they can glimpse past its mighty doors and see its courtyards, fountains and part of its halls.

Nearby, the shrine of Moulay Idriss II attracts pilgrims from all over the country and from across North and West Africa. Again, we could look only through the open gates at the stirring sight of supplicants arriving at the tomb, some blind or crippled, holding candles, delivering messages, some prostrate in prayer, some asleep on the floor of the mosque. From a side alley, a biblical image suddenly appeared: a man striding slowly with a lamb draped around his shoulders.

''A sacrifice,'' Driss whispered, and beckoned me to follow him. The man knocked at a small side door. As it opened, it briefly revealed a bloodied tile floor with other animals -- the slaughterhouse of the mosque, where supplicants left their gifts.

You can spend days in the medina because even the prepared mind cannot absorb all its scenes and the many tales that make up its history. There are numerous medieval foundouks -- the old caravansaries or inns -- that are now fraying bazaars and warehouses. There are the finely decorated medersas, or theological colleges, where young men have been staying since the Middle Ages.

The newly opened Nejjarine Museum of Wood and Carpentry, once an 18th-century foundouk, is now beautifully restored. Apart from its interesting collection, it shows the sophistication of a Fassi mansion, with its inner courtyard, its decor of intricate stucco, the finely carved panels of cedar and the mosaics and layouts of tiles.

The museum also offers one of the medina's few points of rest, a lovely rooftop cafe, with a view of the puzzle around you. In the Mellah, the old Jewish quarter, the Aban Danan synagogue, dating from the 17th century and newly restored, has a handsome cedar ceiling and handmade green and white tiles. The Royal Palace, on one side of the Mellah, is strictly off limits, but it is worth roaming around the elegant public square.

The second day, my guide in the medina was Fatima El Majdoubi, who offered a different perspective. She showed me a hammam, a public bath for women, a sure way to delve into the local life. This place of tepid and hot steam rooms was filled with the neighborhood's women and children. Upon request, hefty attendants rub you down with brown soap and administer sturdy massages. (Take towels.)

Fatima also decoded the spice market. It is spread out on a pretty square, before the Maristan, built in 1268. A plaque on its wall states that it probably served ''as a model for the first psychiatric hospital in the Western world, opened in Valencia, Spain, in 1410.'' Until the hospital closed half a century ago, Fatima said, musicians regularly came to play to calm the patients. A soothing thought, to be wrapped in music.

Outside, the stalls were loaded with pumice, kohl and tablets of ghasoul, a shampoo made of ground stone mixed with rose essence. We saw the spices for Morocco's extraordinary cuisine, for its tagines, or stews, and that great Fassi delicacy, the pastilla, or pigeon pie with almonds. Cinnamon bark is a key ingredient, and, so the story goes, harem women rubbed it on their bodies before visiting their master.

I have drawn some modest conclusions from this first visit to Fez: one is to waste no time on the nouvelle ville, the ''modern'' quarter that the French built early this century. It is a noisy jumble of fatigued cement, car exhaust, cafes, hotels and villas for the well to do. Another recommendation is to absorb as many layers as possible of the rich medina first and set aside separate time for shopping, perhaps at the potters' cooperatives on the edge of town, or the Centre Artisanal, where prices are fixed, unless you enjoy the ritual haggling that is required in the souk.

A lovely place to end the day is on the bar terrace of the Hotel Palais Jamai, a 19th-century mansion set above the medina. There, you can watch the evening settle over the medieval roofs and hear the chorus of muezzins calling for prayer.

Even in a short time, the magnetism of Fez becomes clear: Fez is not worried about being relevant to the modern world, or to visitors. The old city has its rhythms of work, food and prayer, of doors opening and closing. It is a way of life that, as in Venice, happens on foot.

The medina works because it exists for the local residents and Moroccans elsewhere who rely on the city's craftsmen. The tourist is tolerated, barely noticed. The medina is absorbed in its age-old work.

Into the medina, and the past

Getting There and Around

Royal Air Maroc, (800) 344-6726, flies from Paris to Fez on Monday and Friday and from Casablanca daily. Taxis will take you anywhere except into the medina; they will drop you at or near a main gate. The medina's network of alleyways can only be explored on foot.

Hotels will arrange for a qualified guide. Rates generally run about $25 a day or $15 a half day, at the rate of 9.7 dirham to the dollar.

What to See and Do

Batha Museum of Arts and Crafts, Place du Batha, exhibits a fine range of the region's pottery, carpets, calligraphy, embroidery and other crafts. It is open daily from 9 a.m. to noon and 2:30 to 6:30 p.m. Closed all day Tuesday and Friday morning; (212-5) 63 33 32.

Museum of Arms, Borj Nord, displays weapons from different centuries. Open daily 9 a.m. to noon and 2:30 to 6:30 p.m. Closed all day Tuesday and Friday morning; (212-5) 64 52 41.

Nejjarine Museum of Wood and Carpentry, Place Nejjarine, Medina, shows off Fez's renowned wood-carving tradition in fine antiques, including furniture, liturgical thrones and everyday objects. It is open daily 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.; (212-5) 74 05 80.

Check out our earlier travel writing stories:

Travel Writing Twenty
Travel Writing Nineteen
Travel Writing Eighteen
Travel Writing Seventeen
Travel writing Sixteen.
Travel Writing Fifteen.
Travel Writing Fourteen.
Travel Writing Thirteen.
Travel Writing Twelve.
Travel Writing Eleven.
Travel Writing Ten.
Travel Writing Nine
Travel writing eight
Travel writing Seven
Travel Writing Six
Travel Writing Five
Travel Writing Four
Travel Writing Three
Travel Writing Two
Travel Writing One


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Monday, November 13, 2006

Travel writing about Morocco - part ten



Continuing our series examining travel writing about Morocco, we zip off to New Zealand, where Harriet O'Brien writing for the New Zealand Herald, Escapes on a magic Moroccan carpet ride. The article is lightweight but informative.

Here is an excerpt:

A decade ago, Morocco was regarded principally as a backpacker destination, charming and cut-price, if a little short on comfort. You can still find cheap digs: try the shacks on the roof of the Hotel Farouk in Marrakech - NZ$14 a night, including breakfast. But accommodation options have been transformed by an explosion of style - notably riads, the traditional houses in Morocco's old towns, or medinas. Built around a courtyard where the women could have access to fresh air yet remain unseen, these retain a sense of beauty and mystery.

Meanwhile, away from the towns you can find oasis hotels, tented desert camps and seaside hideaways.

Publicly vibrant and privately elegant, Marrakech is unique, with its magnificent backdrop of the High Atlas Mountains. For all its hippie-chic image in the 1980s, it is now regarded as a cosmopolitan centre of cool. The hub of the city is the Djemaa el Fna, the main square of the medina, within which you can get lost in a labyrinth of alleyways and converted riads.

The city has oozed glamour ever since French artist Jacques Majorelle bought land here, turned it into a garden, and opened it to the public in the 1940s. The Jardin Majorelle was restored in the 1980s by Yves Saint-Laurent, whose ownership adds more than a touch of prestige to the city. The Jardin Majorelle is off Avenue Jacoub el Mansour, open 8am to 6pm daily, admission 30 dirhams (NZ$5); the garden also contains a small museum of Islamic art (DH15/NZ$2.50).

More recently, other foreigners have been transforming Marrakech. Vanessa Branson, sister of Sir Richard, bought Riad El Fenn in 2002 and has turned it into a wonderful six-bedroom boutique hotel. It has a hammam - a steam-driven relative of the sauna - and fine dining in the courtyard or on the terrace. Doubles cost from around NZ$556, including breakfast.

Read the full story here: Escape on a magic Moroccan carpet ride.

Earlier Travel Writing stories:

Travel nine
Travel writing eight
Travel writing Seven
Travel Writing Six
Travel Writing Five
Travel Writing Four
Travel Writing Three
Travel Writing Two
Travel Writing One


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Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Travel writing about Morocco - part nine.



Continuing our review of travel writing about Morocco we came across an article in the Sydney Morning Herald by Sarah Maguire. Sarah had been on a package tour as a guest of the company, so she obviously enjoyed herself despite paying an outrageous price for a small carpet and missing out on the wonderful street food in Fez.

Sadly the writing does not delve beneath the surface and she hasn't checked her facts - the Fez Medina has grown to 12,000 alleys instead of the usual 9,500 and is a century younger than usual - not all that important really and maybe even what she was told by a guide intent on frightening his clients.

Here is an excerpt:

ON A COACH tour, you figure that when your guides issue repeated warnings about the risks that lie ahead, they are aiming them at the most mentally challenged in the group. Because if they warned us once, they warned us a thousand times as we entered the ancient medina in Fez: do not take your eyes off the rest of the group. Otherwise, a 9th-century maze of 12,000 lanes, alleyways and dead-end streets would swallow us up, and no one - not even our omnipresent, all-knowing tour guides - would know where to find us.

And it was not the only misfortune awaiting the tourist: ignore the shout "balak" ("get out of the way") at our peril, we were told, for if we heard it a second time, it would be too late: the mule and his burden, charging through the medina with his driver in a scene more than a thousand years old, would be upon us.

Neither the threat of getting permanently lost nor being fatally trampled deterred any of our group, no matter how old or slow. We were on a 10-day Insight Vacations tour of Morocco, 35 of us from around the Western world, and none of us was going to miss the legendary Fez medina. Besides, we had a guardian angel, a medina local named Mohammed who skirted the group like a sheep dog, urging "please, watch your step" at just about every one we took.

And that is the advantage of an escorted coach tour in a place where the culture is so different it can be intimidating, and where the street food can make you sick and the harassment overwhelm you. You are looked after. Almost like a baby


Read the full story here: SMH Travel Section

Earlier Travel Writing stories:

Travel writing eight
Travel writing Seven
Travel Writing Six
Travel Writing Five
Travel Writing Four
Travel Writing Three
Travel Writing Two
Travel Writing One

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