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Fortunate enough to have been welcomed into the inner sanctum of a traditional Moroccan family and to traverse the mountainous landscape with a close friend (also a local), the memories and experiences will never be forgotten.
Before we left Abu Dhabi, Abdell and I made a promise to one another. I would embrace his culture, immerse myself in it fully, and he would support me and ensure that I didn’t embarrass myself (or him).
We shopped for traditional clothing together and purchased gifts for his sisters and the Queen of his family, his mum.
I knew what an honour it was to be welcomed into a traditional home environment and I so wanted to represent myself and my best friend respectfully, while still being true to myself.
I formed an immediate connection with Abdell’s younger sisters, his brothers (younger and older) and his mother and grandmother.
Despite the language barrier and the initial nervous jitters and slight culture shock, I lived as a Moroccan for all intents and purposes without much trouble.
Abdell’s sisters dressed me in traditional clothing, put kohl they source from the Earth on my eyes, and showed me how to cook a meal over nothing more than a fire pit in the middle of a humble kitchen.
I was adorned with Henna, at tagine (a traditional stew) around the family table with my hands, and washed my hair in a bucket, assistance at the ready if I needed it.
We laughed away the awkward moments and shed tears on departure.
After wandering around the grounds of Koutoubia Mosque – the city’s largest – and strolling through the Menara, a historic public garden and orchard that was established in the 12th century and listed as a Unesco World Heritage Site since 1985, it is a visit to the carnivalesque Djemaa El Fna that cemented its reputation as ‘the Greatest show on Earth’.
A snake charmer with his basket of dancing cobras attracted my attention at first, then not too far away it was the jingling jangling Berber Troupe that piqued my interest, just but not before the gnaoua musicians and the drumbeats stole my attention away.
Potion sellers, henna tattooists and tarot card readers entertain the early-evening crowds, a mix of locals and tourists soaking up the atmosphere, drinking in the cup fulls of sweet joy being offered up by the orange juice vendors lining the square.
If this sounds like a cultural coup, wait until you head into the 16 kilometres of winding laneways that are a combination of colour, scent and magical appeal, think traders selling everything from woven baskets to leather traditional-style shoes, local medicines, perfumes, and live animals. Like me, you must soak it all up from above.
My tip, find a rooftop bar or cafe overlooking the square/medina, you’ll be glad you did.
The day we were booked to take an early morning camel ride to the base of one of the tallest dunes in the Sahara desert we woke to an extreme dust storm.
Not sure how prepared I was for that, and with the high-pitched whistling of the wind letting me know it meant business, we trundled out of bed about 4am and made our way to the departure site.
Wrapped up like a true Bedouin we let the guides lead out camels to the base of the dune. Realising just how tough the approach was going to be in the time we had and the elements we were battling, I told Abdell to forge ahead to the top while I struggled against the wind AND my unfit body to make at least some ground.
I wasn’t the only one battling and half-way up, I opted to just sit and take it all in.
The landscape was as breathtaking as you’d expect of the world’s biggest and most iconic desert. I felt on top of the world, despite not being so literally, and watched as the colours changed as the sun made itself known.
Having fulfilled a bucket-lister and having descended safely from his sunrise pew, Abdell passed me the dress his mother had offered I wear and we took some photos, below left, before heading back to his family at the house we’d stayed in in Merzouga for breakfast and some last-minute photos.
It’s not hard to see why it’s so popular with filmmakers the world over, but how the nomads survived all those years ago has me beat, it can be a cruel landscape (for novices, I suppose).
I hadn’t been feeling well the day we pulled up somewhere in the middle of nowhere. A little groggy it wasn’t until we made our way onto the site that I realised where we actually were.
Atlas Studios is located about five kilometres from Ourzazete, which is a relatively small town about 200kms from Marrakech. When measured by acreage, this is considered the world’s largest film studio with most of the property sitting in the nearby desert and mountains.
To provide you some context, these studios are responsible for some of the biggest blockbuster films in the world, including The Jewel of the Nile, Aladdin, Gladiator, The Mummy, and more recently, Game of Thrones.
A guide took us through the 11-hectare site and talked us through some of the stages, sets and workshops, providing us ample time to take photographs, above right, and admire the magnitude of the set-up.
Movie buff or not, this place will have you under its spell. One minute I was in Egyptian temples then Tibetan monasteries, before rounding a corner and finding myself in the middle of a Gladiator fight scene in ancient Rome, and then amid the reconstructed biblical towns in the middle of the desert.
I climbed on things, sat on thrones amid pharaohs, and by the time we left I felt that warm fuzzy cultural immersion again.
Whether driving through the Atlas Mountains with the contagious Moroccan beats forming the road-trip soundtrack, taking in the beauty of the Hassan II mosque in Casablanca – the second largest functioning mosque in Africa – as the Call to Prayer resonated around us, sitting among Abdell’s humble family sipping Moroccan tea in a traditional majlis, or panicking upon departure that the incorrect spelling of his name would mean I had to travel back to Abu Dhabi alone, I wouldn’t change any of it.
Travel is living and the memories give passport stamps their meaning. Inchallah I will get back there some day.
For more on Morocco visit the national tourism body.
For as long as I can remember I’ve been a writer, combining that with an inquisitive mind and a desire for adventure and cultural immersion, and well, that’s me.
