Mild weather, good business and happy Afghans. And I decide to go away. Just for a four nighter. To Marrakech. Yes, that's right, all the way to Marrakech. Why not?
I'm rather blessed with a dog sitter, a cottage tenant, and a part time house guest so off I go.
Connections aren't trustworthy, so I had a car meet me in Casablanca for the almost 3 hour ride to the boutique hotel of choice 20 K south of town. Lovely modernist Moroccan building with 16 rooms, a breathtaking pool with views of the Atlas Mountains and a small farm. La Palais Paysan.
I dined on some wonderful meals, sat under a straw umbrella two afternoons and rather enjoyed the 106 degree dry heat and great breeze, had a hamam scrub and massage, attended a French-English meeting in the new city with transfer seemlessly provided through hotel and felt like a little shopping in town on the third day. Which never quite happened the way I planned. What do they say? "Make plans and God laughs?" Well, he must have been ROTFLHAO because what ensued was worse than Lucy and Ethel ever experienced.
I met an arranged-from-hotel drunk guide who reeked of wine at the entrance to the Medina, with a bandaged arm and upon hearing my specific adress locations completely ignored them and dragged me through hot, sweltering, moped-filled dirty streets trying to direct me to places where he gets baksheesh(commission). I asked military guards several times where to find the first location and walked and walked because the address system here is not anything like I have seen. Memories of Bumfuk Egypt (Turkey) flash through my mind as I forced them out, determined to make it through the sweltering afternoon heat of 106 degrees without the sweet country breeze.
My lovely ATT phone was totally inoperable after countless calls but that's another story. The drunken old guide couldn't keep up with me and phoned the driver who promptly appeared after about an hour of passing the most horrendous sites and thinking my little escape was terrible. A young crippled and disfigured man in fresh clean clothes layed splayed in the street, unable to talk, just moaned, with his hand outstretched for alms. Old donkeys that are sold after they can't maneuver the mountains any more are used to schlep supplies in the narrow streets are undernourished, over-burdened and scarred/scared with blank stares as they're whipped unmercifully to move impossibly heavy loads through the filthy cobbled-stoned narrow passages. I had to get out of Denver and fast. I didn't want to see the poverty and desperation, I was here for a holiday not a UNICEF recon mission.
Ground transport appeared after some time and I jumped in the front seat, pushed the drunk away and we were off. Then there was the whole drama about I didn't want to pay for inferior services. And reception finally agreed to take the loss after seemingly ages of arguing.
So the next day, I try for two destinations. One is 4 miles away according to google maps. The same driver couldn't find it. We drove on unpaved roads watching the poor people begging for food with sign language, homes that looked worse than old sheds and malnourished, sad and weary animals of dry dusty Morocco flash before my eyes. When we asked people for directions, we received conflicting info. The driver insisted it was one way, not the map or directions way. Calls didn't go through. Thanks ATT. So...two hours later we abandon this brilliant idea and try for a home goods showroom. Sounds easy? Hah! A couple more hours driving, driving and bad directions.
So I used his phone to call the hotel and I relayed this ridiculous story and I said I wasn't paying for this nonsense. Well the driver only heard ridiculous and stopped the car in the middle of the desert hi way and turned off the air con and was yelling to dispatch. He said I had to pay right now or I had to get out of the car. I said "call the police" but he didn't. Instead a colleague rolled up who spoke English and it was sorted out. Sort of. Just then, my friends, who were at the first destination, called and said they'd collect me on the highway and NOT to get out of the car. Then the car hire people said they'd take me back to the hotel where my friends were waiting. So off I went with them to visit their donkey conservancy which was one of the highlights of my trip. Jarjeer Donkeys.
This wonderful retired English woman attorney who lives in the countryside of Marrakech has taken it upon herself to rescue these poor animals. It seems that after they work them to near death in the mountains, they're sold to the people in the old city to haul trash and other tremendously heavy loads. They're the last ones to eat in these poor families and never have vet care. She saw one collapsed from malnourishment and dehydration on the street and little kids kicked and hit it. She pulled them off, got some water and food for it and had it brought to her home. He's still there, living out his days nicely. Sweet Pablo. She has a handful of others and a rescued mama cow who was in bad shape and her calf that she convinced the people to sell to her. The mama is getting better and the little guy is 18 months now and big! The people want him back because he's valuable and don't get that they sold him to rescue. This big silly guy was licking my calf. Later it dawned on me: a calf licking my calf.
Now, more hotel nonsense. After 5 hours of endless driving in the hot sun and being bullied into paying it or being left by the side if the road, the hotel manager was still convinced that I had to pay for this trip that wasn't susccesful. His comment was, "You're American, you're on holiday, you pay, I'm just a poor Moroccan, not on holiday." So I said, "call the cops" which they were happy to do only as I was checking out and my car, arranged by the donkey rescue folks, pulled up. Pussies. I ended up paying 39€. Just to get away. Beware people, beware.
And did I tell you about the receptionist with the ever-present moronic grin who insisted I speak English even though my French is decent? Well, she asked me if I'd like to take something to drink as I walked to the terrace. I said, "coffee with milk, please," and then repeated it in French. There were only a party of two in the entire hotel so 15 minutes later, some one brings me a shot of espresso. Wth?
Back to the poor donkeys, thanks tripadvisor.com for helping me find them when I clicked on attractions at the hotel one night. http://www.marrakechmules.com. I'm going to be a supporter and help her expand the sanctuary.
My flight was at 4 am, yes, you read it correctly. So I went into town to do some shopping with the donkey-savers' right hand man. No problems. Didn't get lost at all. It was fun. Then a few hours of pampering at La Mamounia Spa. One of the most elegant hotels/spas in the world in MHO. It's a restored Art Deco meets Moroccan styled Hollywood-inspired hotel the likes of which Chirchill, Garbo et al frequented back in the day.
Spa treatment was delightful. A hamamm scrub and exfoliation, a massage, a trim, shampoo and blowout, jar of mud, for over $400 usd total, followed by a walk through their amazing gardens in an afternoon rain under hotel-provided umbrellas then a $10 glass of fresh orange juice. Then the $43 usd burger and coke. Burger cold, coke was hot. Allah, Allah.
Of course there was more Lucy and Erhel comedies but I'd like to leave this on a pleasant note: it was really nice to get away and experience a different climate and people but, damn, I miss Westchestah and my family and really the kids.
Final thoughts: don't expect much at LA Paysan.
May God bless.
Photos: interior courtyard at LA Mamounia, view from room balcony outside town, luscious peaches, abandoned home on the way to Jarjeer Mules Sanctuary.
