On the slow train from Marrakech to Fez

This was the day of the holiday that nobody was looking forward to very much.

The four hour journey down from Rabat to Marrakech had been hot and uncomfortable so the prospect of taking seven hours to go all the way back and then on to Fez was not promising.

In the end everything worked out more or less fine. The one problem was that while we had first class tickets we did not have reservations for specific seats whereas some other passengers did so some of us got moved on after having found a good seat. I lost my window seat early on and had to move to a middle seat in another compartment.

The ride was a lot more comfortable this time, either the air-conditioning was better, or it was a little cooler or we were all more used to the heat by then.

The other thing that helped was the observation area at the very back of the train with reasonably clean glass on three sides.

Obviously the view was the much the same as on the way down but the greater comfort and the better viewing facilities made it seem better.

Apart from the view I had a wealth of podcasts to entertain me and the seven hours passed easily enough.

I had packed a little to eat and drink but we were all getting touches of icky tummy so I played safe and just had a croissant and a few sips of water. I do not eat much at lunchtime anyway, and eat even less in the heat, so that was not a problem and I preferred to be safe rather than sorry.

We stopped a few times to allow people to get on and off and to allow other trains to pass. These were opportunities to take more photos while keeping an the guard to make sure that the train did not sneak off.

We arrived in Fez in much better mood than we feared and the day was actually rather good. It was restful and interesting and I wanted a holiday where I was busy some days and not on others.

We arrived in Fez late in the afternoon and it was a short coach ride from the station to our hotel in a modern part of the town. I was still not hungry so I stayed in the hotel and finished what I had bought for my lunch. The hotel had good wi-fi so I spent the rest of the evening catching up with things, like making sore I had the latest Archers podcasts.

Tomorrow would be another day and one best faced rested.

Around and in Marrakech

Our second day in Marrakech started with a trip out of the city to see a Berber village.

On the way we were told that, broadly speaking, the flat areas of Morocco were inhabited by Arabs and the hilly areas by Berbers. So that is why we headed out to the hills.

This was a was a part of Morocco that attracted weekenders escaping the city for some greenery and cool waters so the route was lined with shops, restaurants and camels to tease money from internal tourists, plus the steady number of external tourists like ourselves. Also there to greet us were some pretty insistent street traders who appeared by magic whenever the coach stopped and who then followed us as we took in the sights. They really did not know how to take no for an answer.

We were first driven up a gorge and then back down again to see the many bridges across the ravine. The height of the bridges indicated how high the river rises when at full strength but this was the end of the Summer and there was little of the river left.

The Berber cottage was a little mill fed by a cut from the river. And having fed the mill the water went on to the kitchen where it ran past the fire before returning to the river.

The cottage was, much as expected, composed of several small separate rooms. It was all on one level and I suspect that was partially because the mud construction would not support anything more.

What was a surprise was the television sets. I liked them as it suggested that this was a real cottage rather than some pastiche of one prepared for tourists.

It did not take long to see everything in the cottage and we were soon back fighting our way through the paddlers to the coach and on for lunch in one of the grander restaurants nearby. Personally I would have liked a couple more stops just to take pictures but our guide had other ideas.

This general picture of the area around the Berber village shows how the river creates a green line through the dry landscape. Right next to the river a number of Summer cafes had sprung up to take advantage of the flat land and the visitors.

After lunch we were taken back to the hotel. There was a horse and cart trip to Jardin Majorelle arranged but that sounded too tacky for me so I gave it a miss.

I took a taxi there instead.

Not only was that a great deal cheaper but it meant that I could stay as long as I wanted rather than leave when our guide decided it was time to go back, which turned out to be not long after the group got there.

The garden is small and, if challenged, you could probably walk all around the edge in under two minutes. Of course the point was not to walk around it quickly but to do so very slowly to take everything in.

The garden's main claim to fame these days is that it was owned by Yves Saint-Laurent until his death in 2008 and his ashes are scattered they.

The gardens dates from French colonial time and was designed by a French artist, Jacques Majorelle, who gave his name to both the garden and the shade of blue that dominates it.

It is a very structural garden with several main features, some with water.

The shock, and brilliance, of the garden comes from the sympathetic clash of colours with the blue structures, tropical green plants and many bright pots.

Despite being busy, this is one of Marrakech's main tourist spots, there was a strong sense of calm to match the beauty. I stopped for a drink to soak in both.

The gardens shut abruptly at 5:30pm when it was still light and I was still fresh so I decided to walk the 3km or so back to the hotel. Actually I walked a slightly longer route but a U-turn soon corrected that!

There was a quicker route back but I chose to go in to the centre of the medina rather than skirt around it. I simply failed to see the point of having some down-time in the hotel when I could be out exploring the city.

The medina was still buzzing and enticing. It was tempting to find a cafe and settle there for a while but heading back towards the hotel was a better plan.

That plan got interrupted by a road on the map that was not there on the ground and a park that demanded exploration.

This was the Cyper Park, so called because it had some internet kiosks scattered throughout it. It was a very formal and varied garden with plenty of space for some serious strolling.

I managed to catch this garden just before closing time so just as I got to the far end I was turned back by a whistle-blowing attendant. The sun had all but set by then so it was time to move on anyway.

The last surprise on the way back to the hotel was a section of old wall. As with the rest of Marrakech it was a fetching pink and as with all such walls in Morocco it had irregular holes punctured in it.

From there the hardest part of getting back was crossing a busy road. The rules were somewhat different there and they did not have pedestrian crossings. Instead people just walk out in to the traffic which slows down for them. It looks a little scary but it works. And I had seen it work before in Tunisia, Dubai and London.

We were fending for ourselves that night and I chose to go to the cafe that I had seen near to the hotel. The same brilliant idea had occurred to about a dozed of our group (of 37) and to lots of locals. The place was packed. It also did good food and juices. A wise choice indeed.

Reflecting on the day over my Spaghetti Arabica it was easy to see that the free-time in the afternoon and early evening was the best part of the day. It is often thus.

Old Marrakech was warm, friendly and very pink

Our first day in Marrakech proved to be a busy one.

Our hotel was a little way from the city centre, about 1km, so we were taken on the coach to the fringes where our long walk started.

Inside the medina walls felt very different from the other medinas I had been too (Casablanca, Rabat and Tunis) in that it was very open. It felt much like any other town and it just happened to have an old wall around it.

The feeling of openness was encouraged by the various parks and gardens that we saw on our short ride.

Just inside the wall was some of very old Marrakech. This is Koutoubia Mosque. It is the largest mosque in Marrakech but its main point of interest is that it dates from the 12th century. This is on the edge of one of the parks and the approach to it walking through the park built the sense of anticipation and excitement.

Marrakech is pink.

Apparently it is some sort of diktat but whatever the reason it give the town a distinctive feel. Much like all the sand coloured buildings in Dubai do.

It looked busy and worn, like a vibrant old town should. There were people out shopping, shop keepers sitting half in and half out of their shops and a fleet of small vehicles providing them with goods to sell.

We were led along a couple of streets to a palace. The name escapes me, but that does not matter. The point is that in a town that looked a little worn in places there were places where beauty was allowed to flourish.

The design and features were similar to other buildings that I had seen decorated with intricate plaster and coloured ceramics so to ring the changes slightly I've chosen a picture of some patterned wood. This was also a feature of the other grand buildings that I had seen but it was often hidden on high ceilings in dark rooms and so did not photograph very well (I refuse to use flash as it destroys the colour).

Back outside it was getting hotter but it was still very pink. As always I found myself taking lots of pictures and my daily total reached almost 250. That's how good Marrakech was.

The next place we were taken was a small mausoleum.

The arrangement of the graves was according to set rules with only direct members of the family included in the mausoleum itself, that meant daughters but not wives, and outside were the rest of the family and also the most important servants. People like Bruce Wayne's Alfred.

The graves were essentially flat and some had a raised block with the height of the block indicating the importance of the person buried beneath.

There was also a cat and while I usually avoid animals as much as I avoid people I took a picture of this one because I liked the contrast of the square-patterned graves and the dishevelled white ball of the cat.

We were next treated to our first Intense Retail Experience (IRE) of the holiday. We coined the term IRE on our China holiday to describe the frequent attempt to sell us things often disguised as a visit to something cultural.

We were taken to a shops selling goods derived from local plants, e.g. cooking oils, face creams, tea and herbal remedies. A lively and effective salesman gave a good explanation of each item and was rewarded with some good sales afterwards.

Then it was back to the hotel for lunch. We were left to our own devices for this and I went to the pool bar in the even grander hotel that shared the site.

We regrouped later in the day to go back to the medina and we started with another IRE. This time is was carpets.

The show was less impressive in that we were not given much information about the different techniques or styles. Instead we had different rugs thrown before us at an extraordinary pace.

One couple had gone to Morocco with the intention of buying a rug and they were the only people to so so. Luckily it was a short stop and we were soon back on the street.

We were led to the main square in the old town that was getting livelier as the sun set on a hot day.

In addition to all the stalls that we had seen elsewhere in the medina there were also lots of entertainers (using that term in its widest sense) there to entice coins from the many visitors and tourists. There were jugglers, fire-eaters, henna tattooists, people in regional costume and people with monkeys. I had to be careful when taking photographs not to include an entertainer otherwise payment would have been demanded.

The square was ringed with bars on the upper level and we were advised by our guide to go up there to get a fuller view of the square.

The rules were you had to buy a drink on the way in and they did not do beer so I found myself on the terrace with a bottle of Fanta. A first for me.

Most of the people on the terrace with me seemed to be foreigners too but the square was mostly filled with locals doing what they had done for centuries.

The atmosphere was lively and expectant. After a quite afternoon in the hot sun the locals were getting ready for a long evening, we were told by one person that the main events would be happening around 10pm, but we had to move on.

Like the China holiday, we were taken to a large local restaurant that only had tourists in and clearly did not expect anybody else. As with most meals on the tour the vegetarian option was unimaginative but the meal was good enough and the local musicians were not too distracting. The belly-dancer was distracting, as she was meant to be, as she moved around the room pausing to do a little turn for each group. I have no idea how genuine it was but it did liven up a quiet evening that I would rather have spent in a bar/cafe in the square.

Even with the siesta in the hotel and a couple of retail sessions, we had done and seen a lot that day and Marrakech started to feel like a friend.