Spoko Maroko

I'm on a train right now, going for the plane to Morocco (well, to Frankfurt first to be honest) which is one day earlier I expected it to be. This caused the amount of time I've got for everything (including this writing) shorten considerably. Thanks to my new mobile whatsitcalled, I can write on the way. Great. The one thing I was always too lazy to do - type everything once a week in an e-cafe should be thing of a past now!

Next day. I'm waiting for second plane in Hahn. The wait was so long that I managed to explore Trier in the meantime. Not bad, but the surroundings of the city were much prettier than the city itself. Sunny hills and small valleys filled with mist (and coldness-tested) created such a beautiful landscapes. And little towns around where main streets are made of stone instead of tarmac-simply brilliant! German "province" manages to amaze me every time. I'll definitely spend more time in it whenever opportunity arises.

German capitalism (by which I mean paid hotspots) prevents me from posting this message right now. Good. You'll get a longer one, possibly with some African impressions already.



Now, a good two days later. I'm hitch-hiking across Morocco, down to Sahara. Great, my thumb has been itching for a good while. This truck picked us up in the middle of nowhere at 23 o'clock and there are now five of us sitting in its cabin. Cozy is the best word here. Both of the drivers claim to be Tuaregs and we know about 10 words in common language which makes discussion about the truck's load so much more interesting and vivid. In general Morocco's people seem to be of two kinds: first are proud of their Berber origins and try to make it clear. Ones involved with tourists wear blue robes associated with Tuareg tribe-the most 'mythical' one. Others on the other hand make clear they have Arab roots and describe Berber "wild". Both kinds are however very hospitable, even if sometimes there is a desire of getting a bit richer behind that.



Common knowledge is often wrong: it does rain on deserts. Once every two years apparently, but when it does-it's for good. We got soaked on a camel "safari" for a lack of a better word. The rain caused small (10 cm wide) streams appear on the desert rendering it impossible to pass on these stupid beasts. They were afraid of drowning most probably. The day and night preceding the rain however were quite incredible: the setting sun over Merzouga sand dunes creates a beautiful show - and the lightning storm all around our tiny camp in the night was even better. Clouds heavy with water and electricity circled in a distance for around 5 hours before it started raining.

This rain also caused some bridges on the country's main roads to become temporarily impassable. The flow of water has increased dramatically. When we arrived around 3pm to the bridge the river was pouring over it and within minutes the steel railings were gone. "Wait until 10pm", said the policeman. "yeah, right. We'll be lucky if we get through tomorrow". But around midnight-there it was. Water was low enough to allow anyone to pass the bridge. However since our tents were already up, we waited until morning. The view was worth it.

Anyway. Today we had a nice little walk in the Todra gorge and it's surroundings. This thing cuts the main Atlas mountains chain in two and features some spectacular sights of geologic nature which is interesting for me in one way or another. Very scientific and so on. But seriously, the mountains are definitely worth much more time than we had to spend in them.



But the other one of my two main goals in Morocco has been achieved (first obviously being the Sahara) and the only thing I seriously need to find yet are kids playing soccer on the streets in the evening. There were some in Fes but I managed to get only few decent shots of them - and I really NEED more. Hopefully you'll see why. But the next stop was Ait Benhaddou - one of the best preserved kazbas around (which means this pile of debris is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.



Now, on a flight back, after a crazy truck ride through High Atlas with a driver who had to keep his speed over 60 kmh not to fall asleep. I managed to squeeze a short visit to Atlantic coast at As-Sawira - a blue sandbox for a guy with a camera.



The only remaining thing was to endure somehow the 3 days in Marrakesh while waiting for the flight. The city's medina is not as huge as one in Fes, but the Djamaa el Fna square certainly is one of the most vivid and lively places I've been to.



AND, I found the evening soccer players. A good end (well, not really) of the trip.