ssalamu 'lekum everybody,

kif halek?

i am now sheltering for the sun in fes, morocco, somewhere in the medina, an antsnest of almost 10.000 streets. actually i think i am lost. i started this morning at 8:30 for a stroll through the medina. every other seconds somebody is pulling my pants, tearing my shirts which eventully ends with sreaming arabic words on a high volume, because i don't want a guide. i made a mistake. i thought about an easy walk, which ended up in me being at the other end of the medina; with no water near, where am I?

but anyway, let's start at the beginning. i arrived on a cloudy afternoon, june 1 in casablanca from where i could take the train to the city center instead of the overpriced taxi, a delight only bangkok has offered me on my travels so far.

the train ride towards the center immediately showed that i was in a different world. along the railtracks i got to see a dead mule, next to it a happy family which was picknicking on the railtracks, a little further away a crying man with a not moving child in his arms. some contrast on my first day.

on my arrival at casa port train station i was expecting a big hurd of touts, hustlers, etc. but only one cabdriver approached me. where do you want to go? you want to go there by taxi or by foot? well blow me down!

one afternoon i spent in casablanca, of course i met this so called student of wants to show me the city for a small fee. no chance, at it was starting to rain. ensh 'allah than tonmorrow will be beautiful. but this man, who presented himself as mohammed /aren't they all/ asked if i could give him an euro or the equivalent of it for his studies, i guess not. he gave me a hand and took off. blow me down again.

on to marrakech, as the city of casa has nothing much to offer. the busride took 4 hours of which the first hour through the trafficjams of casa. the landscape soon turns into a deadish red moon landscape where some small village still are being inhabited. no matter how poor the village looks like, the mosque always is being well kept. lunch underway was the first sign that travelling without a toothpick in morocco would be very foolish, i had some ribs of some kind of animal, which had been laying out in sun with the regular army of flies swarming around the skeleton. but it did taste good, as all meals so far. in marrakech i haven't found one house which has been able to escape the red paint.

at our first meeting i didn't like the city of marrakech: too many people, too many hustlers, too many snakecharmers, qnd definitely too many french couples. in morocco almost everybody speaks french as seconds language, i just keep mixing it up with spanish. and the french speak hardly any english, so communicating is difficult. besides, there are not many backpackers around, lots or organised trippers though. i spent about two days in this city, which i grew to like, mainly due to the phenomenal Djemma el Fna. in the evening time this square which is in daytime a dull square with snake charmers and souvenirs sellers, turns in the late afternoon into a square with over a hundred food stalls with tens of drumplayers on the background, fire everywhere, smoke of the BBQ's thru the sky and thousands of locals eating on this square and a handful of tourists daring to upset their stomaches with kebab, strange salads, chicken, snails, brains or complete barbequed pig's head. JAM! people are woowoo-ing to everybody who passes by hoping they are going to eat at their stall.

the old town of marrakech contains a lot of small twisting and turning streets, which look like a puzzle but after i while i got to know them, the locals didnt bother anymore to look in their spiceshops /after 1 you have seen them all/ the only thing which remains are the scooters who are driving 60 kph thru the streets so as a pedestrian you'd better watch out.

on the 5th of june i left marrakech for a three day trek with two other french travellers, of course french, and a berber guide. we set off early in the morning towards the ourika valley. the first day was a four trek to the village of ishik 'er the vehicle drops us off at the place where the road ends, from here on we are walking. we took a mule wich will carry our watersupplies. the trek starts through an almost dry river, jumping from rock to rock so our feet don't get wet. soon the trail starts to climb gradually with some nice peaks which appear every now and then through the heavy clouds. our guide, who only shows one brown teeth left, takes the easy way, sitting on the back of the mule. while climbing we meet a local who's also sitting on the back of the mule. all the sudden these two moroccan men find them selves in heavy argument, with some heavy shouting towards one another. our guide points out that we can walk on. when we are high above him, we can still here the shouting going on. i decide to walk on my own pace, otherwise, thru experience, i will get tired rapidly, so i find myself on my own pretty fast, as the french are not to keen walkers apparently. we pass thru some berber villages, whose youngsters run at us, asking for a fannit, or candy. i hate to say it but my big bag of candies which i bought just before taking off, were actually in the bag on the mule. as i take a break from my steady pace and look around i can see the mountains colouring red in the distance and beneath me i see all the green terraces on which the berbers made it possible to grow vegetables. in the distance comes our destination, the village of ishi 'ker in vision, still some two hours away. the first villager i meet looks surprised, but the two following men greet me by saying 'bonjour' so it's not all the fa away from the modern world.

as i enter the village all the kids run to me, there must have been at the least 5 dozen of kids pulling my pants. fannit, fannit, fannit. everyday i spent in the village each and everyone of the kids got one candy, otherwise they wuold get spoilt. a lot of the girls show a green tattoo, which runs from their lower lip to their chin, a way of showing that is been decided that it has been decided who they are gonne be married to. some of the girls do not even appear older than 6 years to me. we dump our small daypacks in a room where i am gonne be sleeping with the guide. every know and then some kids, look into our room, through some iron bars. when i look at them, they mov away quickly. after some days, they are to us, and keep on staring what we are doing in the room.

paul, the french guy, brough an morrocan kind of guitar with him, when the guide starts singing along with the music and starts to play the drums /tam tam/, everybody in the village gathers round. the guide seems to go in some kind of trance, as he closes his eyes and his head starts to move along with the beat and his singing. as i am a musician, i start to explore the village after a while. a herd of small goats invaded the village, which consists of maybe twnety houses made of clay, wood and something which smells not that well. two of the goats strt to fight, within a second, i see also two kids having some arguments, which they fight by means of throwing not too small rocks at eachother/ the kids surrounding them, start laughing......... some rocks hit the kids head, but they don't cry at all. unbelievable.

in the evening the four of us gather round a big pot of food, from which we eat all together. pieces of bread serve as forks and knives. there is actually a generator for electricity. thru a cassetteplayer a song with the title 'eestruid' plays. the guide tries to explain the meaning of this berber song. translated into french it means presse, or pressured. he goes on with saying that life in western world is pressured. and who lives a pressured life is in fact dead. /??????/ in this berbervillage there is no pressure. the people are poor, the clother are not more than a few pieces of cloth sown together, the faces are dirty, the village smells like urine every step you make, but everybody's stomach is filled , nobody is hungry, nobody got money, but actually nobody needs money, the lands provides all they need to be alive. only for the fannits then...........

in the evening the guide gets all the sudden very emotional. he's talking about the americanization of the world. only the arab world stands strong as an opponent. then goes on with sqaying that a lot of european countries invaded morocco /hello, it's not my fault and it's a long long time ago/ that the french, english, german have killed millions of berbers. at this point he's screaming, he's shouting, he's poiting fingers at us, like we are guilty, his eyes are turning into fireballs, he goes on and on and on, and i don't wanna here it anymore. as closing piece he mentioned, september 11, that the whole wolrd cried for america. well not me, he added.

i didn't sleep well that night, it was freaking cold anyhow, but this man i didn't trust anymore, he was snoaring as well..... and the next morning he poured our berber whiskey, mint tea as if nothing has happened. as if nothing has been said.

the first thing i see thqt morning is a mule who's skin is open on several plqces, flies swerming qround the open paces, and a stream of blood dripping on the ground. breakfast, no thanks. i was the only one in for a trek that day, the guide didn't go, another person was joining, a man who didn't speak a single word of english or french. it was definitely not good weather for a trek, i couldnt see ten meters ahead of me, but hey i am in the mountains, so clinbing is what i will do. after qbout two hours i get to see the first rays of sunlight, finally. a bit later i found myself laying on an open piece of grassland, getting a sunburn; staring at the mountains, whose peaks contain a bit of snow. a sea of clouds is surrounding the peaks, a magical sight. the berber guide next to me is sound asleep. the climbing down in not without difficulties as the path consists mainly of crums of rock, so i have to be very careful, but my personal guide walks on his slippers as easy as ever.

when i get back to the village 5 hours later i find myself alone with the guide, the first guide, who again starts talking of how bad the lives are of the locals, but that i can make a difference by giving a 'donation', on top of the fees paid. he had done it also the previuos day several times, always when the two french are not around. yeah yeah, so i ask the two french if he has come up with the same story, and guess what he did not, so guess its a nice, ahum, trick. its just to get some money, probably for his own pocket....... i guess.

the last day we walked back, the sky is all clear, of course. my conclusion about this trip that its beautiful to see how these people live, the surroundings are majestical, a moment of silence while being alone with a book, every know and then looking up to the sights of the peaks and whats going on in the village, looking over the roofs of the houses, where i spot of woman sitting on the roof staring at the crops which grow on the steep hills, i come at total ease which i needed and thats exactly what i am looking for while travelling. but the money circus, also on the streets of marrakech, bleeeah, i dont like it all, just like india, even worse...... (hey, i grew to love india) but one thing, the children stand in a line to receive their daily sweets.

back to marrakech , back to djemma el fna.

on the 8th of june i set off with one aussie guy, three USA'ers and two dutch girls for a 4WD tour to some beautiful parts of Morocco. first we set off to Ait Ben Haddou, an old kasbah, sort of castle, with fine towers, next was a swimming pool in Ouarzazate, on the boudaries of this village lies the set of the movie the Mummy. then it got really hot as we entered the draa valley, a lot of red adobe houses, a valley which contains a lot of dragon back mountains, look a like table mountains, deep gorges / the driver was outstanding/, then the countryside turned flat, flat as holland almost. we were nearing zagora, where we up for a camelride. at first i was scared for falling off, but after two hours i was confident enough to ride it with my hands loose. we spent the night in the middle of nowhere, watching falling stars, i counted five only, while nomads were playing to local range of music instruments.

i spent the night sleeping under the stars, the sky was so bright, you could see the whole milky way.... beyond imagination. the next day we had a long journey ahead of us, all the way thru noman's lands, where we would pass a village every 45 minutes or so. in the middle of nowhere a little boy comes running to our car, trying to sell a basket made of dried grass. where did he come from, there's not village near.

we arrived in merzouga, at about 4:00 PM, 2 hours before we would set off again for another camelride thru the erg chebbi, moroccon only real saharan sanddunes. i thought i could go for an easy stroll, which ended after 50 minutes making some fresh tracks (another dune, and another), completely dried out, i drank a liter of water straight down. the camelride through the dunes was beautiful but the camel was going up and down aswell, so leaning forward and backward is essential if you dont want to fall off. then we climbed altogether the real big one for the sunset, the climb must have taken at least 40 minutes because you slide down a lot in the sand. but on top, wow, you could all over the dunes, at least 50 dunes, amazing. whats really fun is running a bit to the top and jumping off on the other side, finding your self 10 meters lower on the other side. climbing back is tough though. another night under the stars, with again the local music, before we set off to the todra gorge, where we walking beneath cliffs which rise up 300 meters. in the village of tinerhir we found a supermarche which sold beer so on the way to the next stop we were getting pretty much..... eeeeh happy. as we were about to enter the dades village, the driver allowed us to sit on the roof. and this was an amazing ride. little mountainvillages, local farmerwomen with big heaps of grass on their backs suddenly turned their backs and looked at us, children screaming, and we enjoying the views of the mountains which were colouring green, grey, red and brown. the mountaincoats took the shapes of brains, of big eggs, with huge pillars jugging out of the mountains with castles scaterred around the hills . this drive, which only took about 50 minutes fits ride in with other travelhighlights around the globe. my hair feeling the wind running thru it, my head catching all the flies, my mind blowing of all this beauty. in the hotel we drank the remaining beers.

the next day back to marrakech, back to djemma el fna, with my camera broken unfortunately. one more time walking through the alleys, the souqs one last supper at the djemma el fna. the next morning, when i left for fes, a city in the north, i had this strange feeling in my stomach, not because of the food, but because i will miss the city, where the people call me Ali Baba, i have no clue why actually. i was leaving a place which felt a bit like home.

in fes a boy approached me, just as i exited the taxi, walking towards Bab Bou Jeloud, one of the famous entry gates to the medina, Fes El Bali. i could alreqdy clearly read the hotel sign, but the boy asked where i was going, so i stated the hotel name. i show you, he reply as i was walking in front of him. as i was about to enter the hotel, he slips in right in front of me, as he guided me to this place. the hotel fell for the trick, the boy got his commission. a gorgeous female of fes approaches me, she makes eyes with me, she's walking straight to me, she grabs me ...... right in my passportbelt. well, actually, she was ugly, she didnt smile, nor did i.

When walking thru the city of Fes i noticed that people scream very fiercely when having an argument, you can hear the screaming all through the city. actually i think without the screaming Morocco wouldnt be Morocco anymore. but i found this place where people dont scream, i place which serves le Big Mac, no not McD, but a local restaurant which served a wonderful bread filled with kebab, olives, in a spicy sauce, my base for dinner the next couple of days. i mean this is how i get to know the people, this is how i get to feel a home in a strange and booming town.

the city, it overwhelmes me, and i let it overwhelm me.

tomorrow i am heading for Chefchaouen, a relaxing place in the Rif mountains in the north.

So for now,

Chukran Bessef for reading

Edwin

Fes, Morocco, June 14th 2002

some personal lines:

Bel/boerma: goed gehad in la france
Joost: alvast gefeliciteerd
Pa en ma: jullie hadden echt in marrakech een hapje op ht plein moeten eten
Jaap, Serge, marjoe; verhuizing oke gegaan en alles op orde
Orange jerseys (malaysia 2002): treasure the orange jerseys, and pray for euro 2004, we will be back!
Tamara: where are you, still in south americq
Kaka: tot snel in NL; met al je down under stories
Ilse: tot snel in NL, met al je nepal / thailand verhalen
Yuri: ben je al in China?
Zo ja, Ron: gedraagt ie zich een beetje?
Lisa lou: how's the teaching going in Thailand
Ivar: FWD to all please
Greg, Darren; Kumi: where about are you now
Nienke: hoe gaat ie down under
Dick: alles kits in ierland?
Lisa (australia): how are the japan plans going all other travellers i met before: what's going on in your lives right now