Maroc through my Little Black Box

AsilahHands

One of the Asilah murals 2013

I’ve been walking and exploring Morocco at least once a year since 2006. As a good friend observed, it’s the nearest place to be somewhere else. It’s clearly Not Europe: don’t drive at night! see camels used for ploughing, flash past unfeasibly large-looking men on unfeasibly small-looking donkeys, dice with death contra-flowing behind a charioteer/baggagiste in Marrakech Sunday evening rush-hour. All the thrills of another continent. As a Muslim country it’s got to be the most liberal, with sufi-accented Marabout Shrines dotting the countryside and cascades of the call to prayer enchanting this jaded Euro in small cities like Taroudant. I’ve seen stars right down to the Time for tea - Fatima's Fingers and other almond and honey delightshorizon in the desert near M’Hamid and wandered many a happy hour with my little black box through the delightfully delapidated alleys of Essaouira and the mural encrusted streets of Asilah. I’ve shooed wild tortoises off the flat place where I want to pitch my tent and had hysterics trying to buy a magenta pouf in Tangier. I’ve discovered scorpions in the Wrong Place and tried to make Berber bread be round, thin and flat, causing merriment to the trek cook.

Berber farmyard gate - Alpujarra or Morocco

Berber farmyard gate – Alpujarra or Morocco

The Berber connection with the Alpujarra intrigues me – so many words, so much architecture and agriculture in common. The heart of the Berber Moroccan like that of Alpujarra friends is generous and wide: share food, water, music, visual humour and Jenga. They’ve got us out of many a pinch – fixed my landy gear box, bargained down the tow-truck man, dispensed tea, sympathy and local-knowledge-based solutions. It’s not home but it feels like somewhere very familiar and loved. I’ve been liberated in the use of colour in my life by my travels in Maroc: absorbing the feel, the taste, the style and textures of Morocco from chic boutique hotels, opulent fabrics, blue neela, stained and polished plaster tadelac, to cruddy municipal campsites, fabulous wild camping in desert, mountain and coast, to medersas hidden at the centre of mazes of alleys, fishermen’s nets on wide sandy beaches, wooden boat houses, mosque towers, etched pise mud walls…  

You’ve probably guessed by now – c’est vrai, j’aime Maroc!  Here’s a link to just a sample of the images of Morocco which emerged from the eye of The Little Black Box more-or-less as my eye saw them (!) and found their way into an exhibition in Orgiva from 13 – 20 September 2013.  I’m proud of my first public photo outing, but best of all for me it warms me with memories of time spent close to that great and generous Berber heart.

If you’re inspired to explore Morocco with us, with or without a black box of your own, here’s some information about the next Siroua Trek 2018 and the easy Atlantic Coast Trek 2018 from Essaouira.

Photos from the Exhibition Afrika Afrikana –

Football

Sunday footie, on the way to Ait Ben Haddou

Bootleg File #1

It’s another hot Sunday here in the Alpujarra. Cicadas are competing in the willow trees that line the acequia which curves around the house. Sometimes it’s deafening, rising to a heat-pumped crescendo. The dogs are snoozing flat-out in the shade by the back door. Barely an ear flicks as I peer over the lower half of the stable door. Not the best time for mountain walking you might think, but tomorrow I’ll be off to the heights with a couple of intrepid Dutch and an Irish walker keen to stretch their legs and rise above the simmering ƒ“rgiva valley. We’re off to visit the Refugio Poqueira http://refugiopoqueira.com/ on my favorite route, which will give us great views of the highest peaks, still studded with extensive patches of snow.

Bella on Alpujarra walkThe latest addition to the household, Bella, is growing at an impressive rate. Maybe we should rename her Bluebottle: she’s fallen in the water regularly over the last couple of weeks and demonstrates an impressive doggie-paddle along with a look of mild panic. Boris The-Much-Bigger enjoys cantering along any water-course splashing all and sundry in his careering path. Bella, like the rest of us is learning to dodge….

It’s a question frequently asked of us what we do when we’re not walking. One of the things I’m currently involved in is mounting a photographic exhibition in ƒ“rgiva in September with a friend. I’ve a mountain of possible images stored over the years since my first digital camera landed in my hands, so editing has been a bit of a challenge, but as there are loads of Morocco shots and Dharmo my partner in this enterprise has plenty of South African pictures the joint subject was clear.

BLOG_poster

Calle Real 48A is a private house down a little covered alley off one of Orgiva’s winding back streets. It’s sandwiched between the rear of the Nemesis Cafe and one of the ubiquitous bakeries. I’m curious to see how many people find us. Standing on the roof terrace and looking around at the dodgy-looking bread oven chimney, all the higgledy-piggledy roof lines and levels, I’m strongly reminded of North African towns where I’ve stayed over the last few years. I feel a surge of elation, a jumpy mixture of excited anticipation and slightly sick nerves, looking forward to sharing my photos.

Fi
August 2013