After a European tourist breakfast which included chocolate kugelhof which I ate too much of, we're off again for more hours of travel. This is the way of a hundred Kasbahs. They're scattered everywhere, blending in with the mountains, made of clay and straw, baking in the harsh sunlight. Eventually the homemade bricks wear away in the winter rains and then they add more to them and rebuild.
We stop at the Rose city, Kalaat Mgouna, passing by a gigantic rose which reminds me of the big prawn, the big potato etc of back home. We try to get cash out at the bank but the electricity is out, which happens quite often out here the guide tells me. He drops me at a shop that sells all things rose and the famed Argan oil. I buy the rose oil and some rosewater spray which can be used as a toner and you can spray it on your tongue for an upset stomach, something which would come in handy in the next couple of days.
Then we are supposed to go to the Hollywood of Africa, Quarzazat which I have no interest in. The guide proudly tells me that Gladiator, Game of Thrones and Lawrence of Arabia were made here. I ask if we can move on.
Next is the largest Kasbah in Morocco, Haddou Kasbah, a UNESCO site. It's amazing, full of wonderful art shops and antiques but apart from them it's sadly empty as only a few families still live here. I purchase a ruby red Kohl container and green glass perfume bottle. The watercolours are made with crushed indigo, tea and saffron. We walk to the top where the granary was. It is sooo hot and I just want to leave but my guide says I'm too inpatient which I can't deny as even the late husband told me I was precipitous but I think my guide is saying that so he can have a rest and a smoke. I do the loop of the 360 degree view of the valley and return to him finishing his smoke and then we're off for lunch.
We eat in the village, walking past a wall crowned with tagine lids, a wall of carpets and colourful necklaces. I have mint tea which the guide hates and chicken kebabs. The kids say Bonjour as they pass by, guiding donkeys with colourful loads of carpets.
Then we're off again, passing though gorges and valleys lined with date palms and stop at a shop where I'm dressed in traditional Berber dress. I silently mouth "No" to my guide but he drops me off and he's gone to join the driver for yet another smoke. The women laugh as they pull out garishly coloured clothes, a thorny looking crown and then take me across the road to where there's a few date palms as background and then put the Berber flag in my hands. Everyone is laughing, I look like a woman not to be messed with.
I purchase a scarf in thanks for this odd moment. I try to use the Moroccan visa card they were insistent I would need at the airport, which has hardly ever worked and doesn't work now so a word of warning not to purchase one. Then we're on the road again, stopping at various viewpoints until finally, we're on the outskirts of Marrakesh.
My guide likes to joke, he opens the door for me and puts my bag by my side and says I'm on my own from now on. I start to put the address into my phone and he shakes his head with a smile on his face. Evidently there's hardly any reception in the centre and he's going to take me to my Riad.
We pass through the late afternoon traffic of people and donkeys to my Riad where he tells them to look after me and then we say our goodbyes. I will miss the boys, they've taken good care of me. And here I am in the fabled city of Marrakesh. The excitement is real.
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