Down in the Moroccan sub-Saharan desert

 Down in the Valley of the Draa and the Moroccan sub-Saharan desert 

A local map of the area showing important towns

The  name ‘Sahara’ denotes incomparable hardship, toughness and determination – attributes the many thousands of travelers and traders must have had in plenty to make the journey from the fabled city of Timbuktou to Morocco’s outposts of Zagora and MHamid. I remember my friend Geoffrey Moorhouse, traveler and writer, telling me about his crossing of the Sahara on camelback, a la Lawrence of Arabia. Ask most people and they will say that Timbuktou is a fictional city but in fact it’s a 52 day caravan journey from MHamid to the Malian town of Timbuktou, known for it’s blue tattooed Tuareg warrior tribesmen and famed for its trade routes through the centuries.

In Morocco, I was determined to see the Tuaregs and the Moroccan sub Sahara. Getting there safely was the prime consideration. Distances are vast, the data on transportation bleak and language always the issue as French and Arabic / Berber dialects of Tarifit, Tashelhiyt & Tamazight the primary communication tools. My schoolboy French and bits of Arabic picked up in my Saudi sojourn were a boon but I relied on the traditional Moroccan hospitality and friendliness of the natives to get to our destination. As I told Ali, my driver / guide in Zagora, it’s strange that one pays good hard earned money to visit far off places to see absolutely nothing!! It’s not as if we don’t have deserts in India but we still insist on going to distant lands at considerable cost to see just sand…. nothing but sand in a hostile harsh environment.

After a round of the major cities of Rabat, Fes and Marrakesh and including sites around these cities, we were off to Ouarzazate. Spelling it is complex, pronouncing it is confabulated! It’s Urszazats.  We had travelled till then by Air Maroc in their large ATR from Lisbon (like Indian Airlines, the lost baggage retrieval system was a nightmare), and local long distance trains between Rabat, Fes and Marrakesh. The 2^ndclass was always jam packed but full of helpful locals who would find you a seat as you were a guest in their country. The A.C. 1st class Fes to Marrakesh train was eight hours in comfortable reserved seating and food trolley service; the only hassle in train travel being the total lack of water in the toilets on every train we were on and it reminded me very much of travel on the Italian and French rail networks where again, seat etc are good but toilets the pits!

So now we were experiencing a 5 hour bus journey Marrakesh to Ouarzazate – efficient polite ticketing staff gave fixed seats in super deluxe AC long distance coaches.  The inexpensive journey (MAD 80 = Rs 560) of 200 kms takes us over the High Atlas mountains and a pit stop halfway through 5 kms before Taddert.  The road twists and turns considerably over the mountain ranges and the driver, being on a time bound programme (the same bus was going onwards to Merzouga at the other end of a large U shaped tour) drove fast but carefully. The tarred road is single lane each way, the curves generally bordered by a metal road safety bender, occasionally missing. Due to his speed, many passengers were sick all around me and it was a relief to finally arrive at Ouarzazate.

 To our lasting surprise, the sub Saharan Morocco part of our trip was the best. Walking the streets you were left alone, no one constantly following you / harassing you to buy some goods as in Marrakesh - a nightmare for a tourist. Ouarzazate is a large well spread out town.


It is known essentially as the place famous for its film studios which are way out of town. The 30 hectare Atlas studio is where Lawrence of Arabia, Samson & Delilah, Indiana Jones, Jewel of the Nile, Asterix & Obelix, Cleopatra 2, Key to Heaven and many others were filmed. Ben Kingsley was in town shooting ‘The Physician’ so part of the studio was off limits. It was a strange feeling walking amidst Eygptian columns and around Cleopatra’s bath! 

We could drive in a 4x4 SUV by ourselves or take one through a travel agency – I had decided that as we were travelling so far, instead of a one day trip to Zagora, we would stay at least two nights which gave us enough time to see the sights and go to MHamid…. literally the end of the road where the desert leads to Timbuktou.

By going alone, even with a Michelin map, meant we could miss out on many sights worth seeing enroute as we don’t know the roads like a good local guide / driver. Allal Kiki of Desert Dreams, Ouarzazate is fully tuned to the needs of tourists coming to this far corner of Morocco. Allal has an amazingly cheerful loud laugh which echoes for a few minutes after the laughter. He gave us Ali as our chauffeur for a trial outing to Skoura. We decided that Ali Labaraka was not only our chauffeur but far more, a knowledgeable guide and a mentor who cared for his clients, a wonderful man. We took the car and Ali for three days to Zagora and the Draa valley, going on and off road. For my wife, a strict vegetarian, Ali found eating places which he felt she would enjoy, and did. He also found us the charming Hotel Palace Asmaa in Zagora. As a travel writer, photographer and artist, Ali understood my needs of stopping frequently to take photos at the oddest of places. 

La Palmerie de Skoura is a unique place – an oasis of 1,000 palms and 15 miles of garden plots, north east of Ouarzazate, having a unique irrigation system called ‘khattaras’ where through a system of deep holes in the ground, the water moves upwards for over 15 kms through a system of canals. Some of these holes are around 30 ft deep but today due to disuse; the water level is only 4” or 5”.

Ait Ben Haddou – what a surprise. It’s a Ksaur or Fort where 50 families currently reside north of Ouarzazate. It’s a series of small beautiful mud houses laid out on a hill. We had to cross a river bed to reach the Ksaur and then enter it through its single gate. I saw many artists practicing the local art form – watercolour on paper using saffron as a medium. One even used the sun’s rays through a magnifying glass on a card! Women working at their household tasks welcomed you as long as you paid the statutory MAD 10/-. I saw lock makers making exquisite locks with intricate patterns and keys which were part of the lock.  
We stopped at Tamnougalt Ksaur briefly and off-road.  It was an unforgettable drive as the car went over terrain which resembled the moon’s surface: pebbles and  rocks, oueds (river beds), ergs (dunes) all covered with such ease! We felt as if Ali our driver was testing our resilience / spinal strength as the car was continuously jolted in every direction. We had the palm groves in the centre on the right and the volcanic rock face of the cliffs on our left. In the far distance was the other mountain range.

Off road to Zagora

Zagora beckoned. We covered around 120 kms during our trip going through exotically named places like Agdez and Tansikht over the anti Atlas range. Here the height is 1,600 m whereas the off road height in the High Atlas is often 2,260 m. Whilst the valley is the midway point of the 1,200 km long Draa valley, which is the longest valley in Morocco, the palms cover only 200 km with a population of around 325,000 people. Most of them are refugees originally from Niger and Mali and hence have distinct African features as against the Moroccan Arab look!

We passed many small mountain villages and dates being farmed. These are collected on a large sheet and then the family spreads the dates according to quality. Eating fresh dates is so different from what we get in India.These were like cotton wool; so soft and deliciously sweet.  According to our driver, there are 43 types of palm dates; each palm gives 140 kgs over three month season – the best dates are the first pick. Zagora and Tefilageet are the best known for their dates.

Zagora is also known for the numerous wonderful antique shops where local tribes from across the Saharan area come and deliver their leather, ceramic, steel wares. I have never seen such beautiful antiques. Swords, plates, cupboards, jewellery, leather bags and items, it was an endless Ali Baba’s collection. We stayed at the incredible Palace Asmaa which had over 50 fully grown palm trees and swimming pool in its grounds.    
Ali took us to see his friend who owns ‘Prend ton temps’, a collection of 12 cottages each named “Take your time” in a different language. The owner, Belaid Lalilee is ex Foreign Legion, a self made architect who designed the whole camp. He is a well known TV musician who plays the lute and also a small time actor. Visualize us sitting there in the desolate wilds of the sub Saharan sands, with the local Zagorans, listening to their music and seeing Beliad’s video on U-tube played on his iPad. State of the art technology in the midst of nowhere!

 


  Onward to MHamid, we passed Tamegroute and Tagounite before reaching MHamid. Tamegroute has a famous library of 4,000 religious volumes and a Kasbah with underground chambers. The road to MHamid was again off road for some 20 kms; the rocky road gradually changed to a pebbly road and finally sandy road.

Sand ridge in desert.

Desert as far as the eye can see !

On Saharan sands - an unbelievable experience

Suddenly we were in the desert and the sand dunes of L’erg Lihoudi! These were magnificent – some 15 feet high, clean sand as far as the eye can see. I climbed up a dune and let the sand trickle through my fingers – immediately the sand formation changed and rivers of sand ran fast creating new paths under me! It was hot, 45 deg or so. Very sunny. The 300 m high red coloured dunes of Merzouga, N.E. of MHamid, are more famous but I was happy as we were finally n the Moroccan sub Sahara. It’s an amazing humbling feeling to stand in the bleak desert with not a single soul in sight, sometimes not even an acacia tree and you  realize how inconsequential Man is against nature in that environment.

Tribal encampments – bleak structures with tattered fabrics tied to tree branches – and goats grazing were nearby. We also saw tourist encampments – fancy tents or mud huts with a well nearby. No tourists around. As per local tradition, Ali pulled up a bucket of water from the well and left it in a container for animals. Hardy acacia trees jut out from the ground creating a surreal scene with their oddly twisted weirdly shaped branches bunched together in clumps on rocks, all facing one direction due to the wind.

A strategic role was played by the Draa region during the 16^th C as a stage for the commercial caravans between Morocco and sub Saharan Africa.  The trade between the prosperous Oued Draa and Timbuktou during this period made Morocco a commercial intermediary between Africa and Europe.  This region became a customs centre to collect financial rights generated by the trade and gave rise to political, economic and social mutations which played a key role in development of the region.

The final destination was MHamid. After the off road drive, we came upon the last village in Morocco where the tarred road ends and desert begins. One doesn’t realize this as we passed through the small village which in the midday heat is totally deserted. It’s a poor village with mud huts on both sides of the many lanes. Suddenly you are at an end and a large sign featuring a camel and an arrow states “52 days to Timbuktou”.  It’s yet another humbling sight when you see the tarred road ending abruptly, just sand and no road! Just desert and more sand, endlessly. My mind goes to the caravans of yore which traversed the Empty Quarter to reach the fabled city of Timbuktou. Hopefully it will be another journey for me in the future.    

The end of the tarred road at M'Hamid...........desert only for a few thousand miles

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Madison's BratFest - an unbelievable gastronomic orgasmic fest 18.5 miles of brats consumed in 4 days !!

Wisconsin's Bratfest - an unbelievable sight - excess personfied in every which way!!!!

Wisconsin is dairy country. You get a vast variety of cheese and milk products. But one off shoot of the dairy industry is that Wisconsin hosts the largest Brat Fest in the world over a three day period.  For the uninitiated like myself, a brat is a sausage. Americans are great lovers of abbreviations and acronyms as well as changing the name of an item just for the sake of it. So brat comes from bratwurst or sausage. Here over three days, Americans consume a humongous amount of sausages or brats. Also known as hotdogs !

Situated around a beautiful lake, and there are many in Madison (state capital) and Wisconsin, the surroundings are idyllic for a very pleasant day spent strolling around in the park and just chilling. 
It was after we had rounded the corner to the park, that we saw the parking lot,    the ferris wheel and other tents. We had parked some way away essentially so we did not get stuck could make a quick getaway if needed.
in fact on our way out, we used a golf cart to reach our car we were tired and fully satiated after eating so many brats.  
This Brat fest is awesome. Read some of the statistics below! They consumed in 4 days, 18.5 miles of brats stacked end to end!! 

The first sight that greeted you was the stage and some artists performing. As yet being on the periphery, one is not assaulted by the sights of the brat fest!  

 
Boom, the first sight of the brat guys is this monster truck converted into a grilling area.

Right there the board informs you of the prices for each item. 

There are basically four types of brats on sale. Basic cost is US$ 1.50 and numerous counters for visitors to buy them. Service is fast and consumption is unbelievable. 

As the food is cheap, there are thousands coming throughout the day. They  have entertainment provided at two large stages whilst they eat these brats. 

This is the stall from Johnsonville - as you see very well laid out and ample space for visitors to see and buy.

These souvenir stalls were popular with everybody. T shirts and gift items moved off the shelves very fast.

The overall impression I got was that most Americans were over weight, that everything in America is in extremes and there is tremendous wastage of everything - food and packaging over here but elsewhere of all most anything. Nobody cares about excess and wastage.

Here you see some stalls where  shooting galleries offer fancy prizes if you are successful.     

One thing you notice that nobody cares what they wear in public - they appear to be unconcerned whether it suits them or how they look. Perhaps they think differently from how we see them. Its a very relaxed informal country.  

I am an event staffer states this guy's T shirt! Would not want to mess with him. See the size of his calves - like tree trunks.

Text and photographs copyright of the author. No part of this article or photographs maybe transmitted or reproduced by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without written permission. Do contact the author on email -- helpthesun@gmail.com

Ireland's Aran Islands - a bleak but scenic day excursion

 The Aran Islands -  a bleak but scenic day excursion

Galway town is beautiful in its well laid out design, its nice shops and tourist areas, its pubs and helpful friendly folk. See my Galway blog as it’s not fair to the city to tie it up with Aran Islands. One needs a few days in Galway as apart from the town itself which you can see over two days, you need to go to the Aran Islands, Connemara as well as other sights nearby. The day after my arrival in Galway, I left for the Aran Islands and the day after for Connemara (another blog). My enjoyment of Galway was regrettably left to the time after the tours.  

I had seen leaflets of different tour operators and felt that an Aran islander might be the best guide to show the island. I was wrong as my tour driver / coach owner was frankly more interested in packing as many tourists as possible on the coach and then leaving us on the island rather than taking us up the highest point as far as possible which he could only do with a minivan on the small lanes of the island.

I went with Michael Faherty Tours which left Galway at 9.30 am via Spiddel. We had to get to the ferry point, an hour’s drive away - massive beautiful clouds which changed colours as the sun played hide and seek, undulating green fields, rolls of hay waiting to be picked up. Beautiful countryside. At 10.20 am, we reached Roskillen ferry point.  A small village which has the ferry and fishing as its main activity.

Throughout Ireland, I found hundreds of Spanish and French students on holiday or on an English course. In Dublin, hordes of American students came for a month or more as part of their own university’s international semester.  

Our ferry was full of Spanish and French school children. It was a 45 minutes ferry ride to the largest of the islands. Bitterly cold winds on deck but worth it as we got a great view of the ever changing seas and clouds.

The Aran Islands are situated nine miles off the Galway coast – it’s a wild and wintry place. Rich in antiquities and prehistoric Celtic remains. It has a record of human habitation going back some 4,000 years!

Islanders eke out their existence by farming, fishing, harvesting and knitting the famous bainin sweaters which have made the islands so well known. (See end on the Aran knitting industry).

There are three islands – the last Gaelic speaking islands on the Irish west coast. In Irish, they are Inis Mor, Inis Meain and Inis Oirr. Ours was the largest island in the group. We reached Inis Mor or anglicized, its Innishmor at 11.35 am– and drove upto Kilronin – there are 14 villages with 800 islanders on Innishmor and 300 on other two islands. Innishmor is 18 km long and 5 kms wide. We were told there are 7,800 linear miles of limestone walls on the island. For a small island, that’s a lot of limestone!

The map shows that the tour starts from the ferry point in the southern part and then goes to the other end where the fort ruins are and crosses across to the far end where there are the ruins of the churches and ends back at ferry point.

 
There are few hills, no trees or sheltered places. The island lies low on the sea with sweeping terraces of polished limestone and miles of dry stone walls enclosing hundreds of small fields.

An interesting point – the Irish stone forts are often compared with the Atlantic round houses of Scotland (incl the ‘brochs’) Cornish 'rounds' and Iberian ‘castros’. All these monuments are of Iron Age period 600 BC to 200 AD – something which I never knew.  

 
 
12.00 – 2.10 pm free time. Saw the shops (bought a green T-shirt on the islands) and walked to the old fort, after confirming that it was a sight worth seeing.

The last traditional basket maker weaver left ?

I don’t like uphill climbs and especially where one is climbing uneven slabs of rock and there is not much to see at the end of the road. Here as it turned out, the fort was a real waste of time but the cliffs were mind blowing! 

On the way up, saw the traditional basket weaver at work – claims he is the only one left in the island.

His kit and clothes were interesting. He did not speak or greet – I suppose he concentrated on prospective sales rather than greeting hundreds of passersby.

Dun Aonghasa, 7 kms from the ferry point, is said to be one of the finest prehistoric forts in Western Europe. 

The tourist office has an excellent visitor centre with history of the place in many languages incl Hindi.

I found it amusing that they say “the fort is about 900 m from the centre and is approached over rising ground” – they should have said…. “Over rising ground which is liable to sprain one’s ankle due to the unevenness of the limestone rocks which one has to carefully negotiate. The Tourism Board  is not liable for any damages /  insurance claims”.

The hike up took the better part of 30 minutes. The beginning was easy as it was essentially crushed limestone even ground but then came those uneven large slabs and small rocks which had to be carefully cleared. Painful exercise.

More interesting was the view of the many cliffs falling straight down 300 ft. Scary. You could actually walk to the edge and take photos.  Many 'loonies' taking selfies and photos. I stayed far enough to take the photos without getting vertigo. One guy actually went over the top and held on with his fingertips whilst his girl friend took pics. I got the heebies just looking!  

The fort was disappointing. After a small entry gate which one bent under to enter due to its low height, one saw the broken fort walls. There was nothing else except the vast expanse of green space and at the far end the broken stone walls now being repaired.

  It has three dry stone ramparts and the forts outermost wall encloses 11 acres of land. Outside the second rampart, there is a 30ft band of upright stones forming a defensive band against any attack. They say that in the 19^th C, alterations were made when the buttresses were erected.

At the top, I met Conan of the local Tourist office. It was an opportunity to chat and sell him my idea – to get local youngsters employed gainfully and so that they earn money, instead of being state dependant. I told him about the ‘dolis’ or palanquins in India and China where elderly people are carried up mountains to the religious sites which seem to be the highest point locally - why can’t religion be at ground level ? I told him of Abu and Palitana and he seemed interested. He is on the local committee and one hopes he put forth the idea to his people. That would earn revenue for the local tourist office; help the youngsters and most important, help the elderly and handicapped who cannot climb steep hills. 

On the way down, as the bus could not come to us, we had to walk all the way to the lake edge where it was waiting. We went to the ruins of a monastic settlement of seven churches. The weather was foul – cold, drizzly and wet. It is said to date back to the 7^th C and I had enough of blarney for the day – did not need to explore a wet field with stone ruins. So I went up the hill from where I could see the buildings, decided they were not worth the effort and came back to the coach.

When we decided to leave, the driver found a puncture and called for a mini bus. The new driver was a taciturn man. Not a word of tourist explanation of the places we were passing. We passed Kilmurvey beach where they claim to have 20 seals but as it was high tide and foul weather, there were none to be seen. Even the seals did not like the weather.

We were dropped off in the village centre, a long walk still ahead to the ferry point, which had shops, pubs and a post office. Aran woollens on sale here in 4 or 5 shops, essentially pullovers, scarves, gloves and some standard T-shirts. From the Aran Sweater Market Shop, which had good quality items, I gifted myself an Aran beret.  It was here that I found an interesting garment - an item called RUAN for ladies - like a long wrap made of wool, beautiful colours, went round the front and then like a scarf or dupatta, around again.
We had to walk a long way to get to the pier in the cold drizzle with the wind hitting me straight in front. Coach driver was totally unhelpful and only counted us as sheep to ensure he had all of us on board the ferry. Luckily as we were early, I managed to get a seat in the rain shelter until we left for an uneventful ride back to Galway.

THE ARAN KNITTING INDUSTRY

The knitting industry was natural to the islands as the islanders needed warm clothing to protect them from the harsh winds and rain. The naturally oiled bainin sweater was the answer. There were plenty of sheep, hence wool. Spinning and knitting were social pastimes and their unique patterns were handed down from generation to generation.

The earliest known representation of what is known as the Aran design is in the famous Book of Kells in the 8^th century. The figure Daniel is wearing an Aran design garment…milk white bainin sweater with knee britches and Aran knitted stockings.

There is a strong graphic relationship between Aran stitches and ancient Celtic art.  Aran patterns are visible on many ancient Irish monuments. Also the islands have been a sanctuary for the religious. This heritage seems to have been imprinted in the knitting designs. Many designs have Christian symbolism. In some cases, the actual art forms pre date the Christian era. Designs like Cables, Trellis, Jacob’s ladder, Tree of Life, and the Holy Trinity Stitch all have a spiritual meaning and are inter laced with folk traditions.

As the craft developed, certain traditions also grew around patterns and designs. One is about the grouping of certain panels linked to the fishing families. Also, it was said that the birth of the first son was commemorated by making a plain sweater with one decorative panel on the front side. As sons were added, panels were added with different designs on either side. When a boat was shipwrecked, the pattern identified the body. Families guarded their patterns. These were passed on only to the daughters of the same family. Only through marriage and birth of sons would the pattern disseminate around locally.

The islanders saw the surroundings to create their patterns. Stitches like Irish moss which is a symbol of Carrageen moss gathered by the locals. The Diamond stitch is said to represent the little stone walls enclosing fields. Sometimes the moss stitch represented the sea weed which fertilized the ground.

Text and photographs copyright of the author. No part of this article or photographs maybe transmitted or reproduced by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without written permission. Do contact the author on email -- helpthesun@gmail.com