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K ASBAH DU TOUBKAL MOROCCO’S PREMIER MOUNTAIN RETREAT Number Eleven July 2017 Contents 4 Chaouen the Fat Chefchaouen, Morocco’s fascinating all-blue city in the Rif Mountains. 6 Stumbling over Eden Steve Bonham made a 500km trek from the mountains to the desert - tweleve years after he first had the idea. 9 Roadside Marketing There’s always something for sale on the side of Morocco’s highways. 10 Readers Write Colleene Eidlitz takes a stroll from the Kasbah on a wet day - and loves. 12 The Ladies of the Raq Sharqi The sensuous, shimmering sway of the belly dancers of Marrakech. 13 People as well as Profit The local community has always been part of the Kasbah duToubkal’s development. Click on logos for 14 Promoting Mule Welfare more information in the High Atlas Mountains Summer is a’comin’ It’s already here! Long days and blue skies, the time when Marrakshis make their way up from the heat of the city to enjoy the mountain breeze. Strolls through the walnut groves around the Kasbah are the order of the day, with a star-spangled dinner on the roof terrace. To begin Issue 11 we take each rewarding in their own a step from the High Atlas way. Mountains to the Rif Moun- And if you think the Kasbah tains in the north of Moroc- is just a base for trekking, co to visit an ancient town think again! We are in the where it’s okay to feel a little process of preparing our new blue; discover that not all brochure, so click on the link shopping is done in the tiny on page 8 to make sure you shops of the medina or large receive a copy when it hits supermarkets – there’s plenty the digital bookshelves at the can be bought at the side of end of August. Morocco’s highways; and are We are grateful to Colleene entertained by the ladies of Eidlitz for her story about the Raq Sharqi, the butterfly a walk through the villages belly dancers of Marrakech. surounding the Kasbah - and We feature two walks; a look forward to hearing 500km trek from the High yours! Atlas to the Sahara Desert to fulfil a twelve-year-old Derek Workman Dreams are only the dream, and a stroll through Editor the small villages surrounding …and everyone at plans of the the Kasbah du Toubkal on a reasonable. wet, cloudy day. Two totally KASBAH DU TOUBKAL different experiences, but [email protected] What’s your story? We all have a Moroccan story, whether it’s an unexpected meeting in the mountains, a magical moment wandering the souks of one of the majestic Imperial Cities, something that made you laugh or even, perhaps, shed a tear. Then again it might simply be your experience of the Kasbah du Toubkal or the won- drous country that is Morocco. We’d love to hear yours. Please send us an email for more information. 3 Chaouen the fat Just as Henry Ford was famous for saying you could have his Model T in any colour you wanted so long as it was black, in Chefchaouen in northern Morocco’s Rif Mountains you can paint your home in any colour you choose - just so long as it’s blue take a morning coffee on the Plaza Utan el-Ham- flowing waters, another that it was introduced by man, the ‘watch the world go by’ main square of Jews who took refuge from Hitler’s pogroms in the IChefchaouen medina. The waiter spends more 1930s, although as it was supposedly founded in time hustling people into his café than serving them. 1471 by Moors and Jews who fled Spain you might He seems to take it as a personal insult if they don’t wonder why they waited so long to give it a coat of come inside, throwing insults after those that walk blue. Still others will tell you with conviction that away. the blue is said to symbolize the sky and heaven and Chefchaouen in the Rif mountains takes its name serves as a reminder to lead a spiritual life, but there from the Berber word for horns, ichawen, reflecting again you may like to believe those that are adamant the shape of the mountains above the town that have that it’s because the nearby Mediterranean Sea is the appearance of the horns of a goat. Known simply blue, although commenting that ‘nearby’ is at least as ‘Chaouen’ locally it has also picked up the soubri- twenty miles away and Chefchaouen can hardly be quet of ‘The Blue Town’, hardly surprising given that considered a seaside resort doesn’t seem to dent almost every available square metre is painted in a their conviction. Frankly, it doesn’t really matter, it’s a shade of blue, from the delightful town whose me- startling Majorelle Blue andering alleyways bear little of Marrakech garden of the frenetic that invades fame to the washed out other Moroccan cities, and shade of a winter’s sky. rumour has it that the local As ever with these government provides all the curiosities, you have necessary paint and brushes a Pandora’s box over- to the townsfolk to keep up flowing with theories appearances. to choose from. Many I walk into the upper levels locals say the blue of the medina and the higher keeps the mosquitoes I go the streets become less away, as it makes the tourism orientated and more streets look like cool directed at village way of life. 4 Small grocers, furniture makers, bakers and artisans concentrating so much on poking with his pole that he fill the tiny shops. Tailors at their sewing machines doesn’t notice that the wire has dropped under one making kaftans of rich fabrics, sellers of cactus thread of the tiles on his roof. With a mighty heft he pushes with spools of bright colours, sacks of coloured dyes. the vines up over the phone cable and at the same On the terrace above a grocer’s shop a young man time dislodges the tile. With a crash, the roof tile hits fixes the cactus filaments to a hook in the wall before the ground, scattering shards into the street. He looks twirling them with a tiny model airplane engine to around bemused, realizing that he has just created make the fine threads for hand embroidery. Broad himself another repair job. embroidered strips hang from a line displaying his The crash makes a baker jump as he steps out his wares. Laid out on the ground in front of a tiny shop shop. He’s carrying a tray of baked round loves cov- are dozens of small frames, representations of the ered in tea towel-sized cloths that he lays on the low symbol of Chef, a blue door set into a section of wall, frame of a banquette, without the mattress, wait- waiting for small mirrors. Nearby a young man paints ing for the owners to collect them. At one end two them by hand. metal trays of baked peppers show what someone is Cast an eye to the sides as you walk to see the alley- having for lunch. At the end of the day, when all the ways that climb the mountain, some barely a metre bread has been baked, he will slide trays of honey wide, where neighbours could simply hand a bunch and rose-water pastries into the oven to cook by the of mint from window to window if they needed to cooling embers of the oven fire. borrow one for their glass of tea. At the Librairie El Dai Ben Maymouna piles of sec- ond-hand magazines going back decades form a low wall outside the shop. To pass the time the owner reads something from his stock, sat on a small rickety stool in the morning sunlight. In his cluttered shop bundles of tied up magazines share shelf space with dog-eared paperbacks and faded black and white photos pinned to the door show Chefchaouen as it was generations ago. A couple of postcard stands display out-of-date cards, some of them almost curled double by exposure to the sun. Next door is Janine Internet, with its stock of computer necessities, and a place to send modern day versions of the postcards, the photos you took yourself a couple of hours ago with an iphone, but lacking the charm of the stock in the Librairie’s worn-out display stands next door. It’s a curious contrast, the ultra-modern next to the outdat- ed, but a commonplace sight in Morocco. This ancient quartier is a place of corners shaded by hanging vines, a dispute as a builder blocks a shop doorway with bags of cement before he hoists them above, boys on bikes dodging the pedestrians as they scramble downhill, a father hand-in-hand with his small son, entering a barber shop that has outmoded photos of models with dense lacquered hair taped to his window. A mini-moment of drama occurs as a man tries to raise a wire supporting a large grapevine that crosses the narrow street. The wire has settled on a tele- phone cable, which looks as if it is about to be torn from the wall by the weight of the grapes. Mr. Cable is 5 Stumbling Over Eden From the High Atlas Mountains to the sands of the Sahara Desert. In 2005 Steve Bonham found himself on top of Jbel Toubkal, the highest point in North Africa, where the idea came to him that he could walk from the mountain peak into the Sahara Desert.

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