Our new friends...

The pictures below are from in and around Imlil a town in the high Atlas Mountain where the Berber people live. The Berber are the people native to this part of the world and lived in these lands long before the spread of Islam.

It was such a treat to escape the bustle of Marrakech and see an entirely different pace of life...

The boys and I conveniently ran into three other guys who looked just about as lost as us as we wandered the streets of Marrakech in search of the Grand Taxi Station. I thought we were enough of an eyesore with our bright jackets and big backpacks but I am happy to say, I think they took the prize. They were loaded down with skis, boot, backpacks and the likes. It was quite apparent that these guys were headed toward the mountains as well. These three Austrian gentlemen in their mid to late 20’s, Joe, Stefan and Alex became our loyal companions and comedic relief for the next 24 hours. Together we found the Grand Taxi Station, commonly referred to as Bab-er-Rab. It was no more than a parking lot with a rickety fence, on the out skirts of town in the middle of a huge field that was a combination of grass and trash.
We were able to negotiate down to 300 DH for the six or us, roughly $37 dollars for and 1.5 hour drive. That was six of us full sized bodies and all the luggage I spoke of packed in an old Mercedes. It was a tight fit to say the least. Our driver was Simone. A toothless, middle-aged man who in the end proved to be truly delightful man. It took us a little while to feel good about our decision as we ran out of gas within the first 5 minutes of our trip. We thought surely it was a scam as Simone took off with little explanation. A few of us got out of the car to stand guard as we sat in the middle of a bustling Marrakech with skis and bags practically hanging off the car. But Simone was back within a few minutes with gas in hand and we were on our way. Simone was impressive (or lucky) with his ability to drive on handed on some of the most windy, knuckle whitening, ungaurdrailed roads I think I have ever been on…all the while he was able to keep us smiling with his unwavering effort to communicate to us with his French but more successfully his body language. The views were spectacular. The steep and rocky hillsides were scattered with herders and their sheep and goat. Upon our arrival into Imlil we unloaded our bags at the Café Aksoual, a dark and chilled hostel that our friends were staying at. They had won us offer (we decided to stay the night) with their use of the English language, their combined school studies of recreation, high school geography, exercise science and special education, and the fact that they were looking to have an adventure as well. And adventure we did. We set out to explore the hillsides and villages around us. The fog was dense and laying low which made for a mystical afternoon as we walked past donkeys (mountain taxis) adorned with beautiful tapestries, veiled women working the gardens and the occasional herder…all the while hearing calls to worship sung from the minarets of the local mosques. Muhammad a Shepard we came across was perched on a rock up a small river gorge. When turned the corner he came into sight. His legs were crossed under his floor length brown wool coat with pointed hood. He seemed just to be sitting, pondering life. What else do you do in a place where cars, electricity and running water are all next to none? Around him was a plethora of sheep. I admired his contentness as he sat an apparently watched as the fog rolled in and out of the valley. I wonder what consumes his thoughts? Life seems so simple, so practical; the direct benefits are seen of all actions. It’s hard to imagine a life this way. When Muhammad eventually saw us he began to approach while gesturing with his hands to his mouth and pointing in the direction of a far off village. Will a little persuasion to our Austrian friends we convinced them that Muhammad was a decent man and our following him would lead to something good. We traversed a hillside following him until we arrived at his home. It was a cold cement structure with little in it. He took us past the bathroom, kitchen where to women were squatted on the ground washing dishes and preparing food and then into a living room where he then left us for the next 5 or 10 minutes. We had no idea what exactly we were doing so we sat quietly and waited. Muhammad returned shortly with a basket full of walnuts, which he promptly dumped onto the cement floor. He then proceeded to sit down next to them with a scrap of metal in his hand that he used to deshell the walnuts. I sat down next to him and helped sift out the nuts from the shells. When all the nuts where ready and the Moroccan mint tea served we sat around a small coffee table and shared this meal with our new friends. We were so amused with how graciously this old man took time from his day and welcomed 5 strangers into his home. This is a theme so common around the world. It has me wondering what I can do to be a more hospitable person. I wonder if it is that as American we really are less hospitable or if our pace of life that doesn’t accommodate “taking unscheduled breaks” from our busy lives. Who knows?
After an hour or so in relative silence filled with smiles and gestures the three Austrian, Mike, Peter and I bid farewell to Mohammed and made our way back to our hostel. Back the hostel we sat next to the fire and learned an Austrian card game with a deck of 32 cards, one being the Welei, the Queen who was a pig, the bartender and the bartenders’ brother. Can’t say I ever fully understood the game but it was a fun activity that distracted us as we tried to stay warm and pass the time until dinner.
Dinner was prepared for us by the man who ran the hostel. It consisted of couscous, a vegetable soup and copious amounts of bread. When it was ready the six of us, adorning all of our warmest cloths and hats, made our way to the table down stairs. The table was situated around the fire but the large cement room didn’t retain the heat well so we played musical chairs and rotated seats every few minutes. Dinner was filled with more sharing of our lives and we developed our plan from them to “couch” with us in the Northwest. To couch, referring to couch surfing-a relatively new phenomenon that is done via the Internet, was a term that these boys really enjoyed using. They are avid outdoorsmen and so, the Northwest and the activities that abound there are part of their vocabulary and knowledge. It was fun to be able to talk to people in this small mountain village in Morocco about Mt. Baker, Squamish, and the Gorge. Those are just a few of the hot spots they want to hit when they embark on their couching adventure. If you boys are reading this, we are anxiously awaiting your arrival!