Friday, February 16.  Mountain pass to Marrakesh.  Pretty scary for me (fear of falling).  The driver seemed to be late for a date with a bat out of Hell.  When you can’t see any part of the road from the bus window, you know we’re close to the cliff.  Nice scenery, though it was cloudy.  Lots of apparently vacant villages, abandoned by shepherds and farmers until the Spring.

Reached the valley floor safely and entered Marrakesh.  What a mob!!  Donkey pulled wagons, scooters, and bikes use the narrow alleys, seemingly making magical passes through masses of unconcerned crowds.  Every shop has a hawker.  Stare at an item for more than 2 seconds and someone is all over you offering a deal.  It got old very quickly for me.  Fez was more my style.

The central market was just what movies hint at.  Snakes, acrobats, monkeys, hanna tattooists, fruits, nuts, horse and carriage rides, etc.  Cafes with rooftop patios (“Consumption Obligatory”).  A huge area in the middle with small, claustrophobic eateries.  We had dinner at one.  Ben, being a native, got a special small plate of cow brains, cow tongue, and goat’s head. I tasted each.  And I was sober!  Tasted like chicken I guess.

My room is tiny.  Have squeeze between the sink and wall to reach the toilet.  It’s what I get for being a junior member of the OAT family.  The rooms improve as your number of trips increase.  That said, the hotel is a perfect example of a prevailing culture: the interior is very decorative, the external looks like a halfway house.

“God, Country, King”. Ubiquitous.

The high point of the mountain pass. In meters.

Camouflage homes.

At a rest stop.

Immediately outside our hotel door.

Spice shop. This is only a fraction of their collection.

I stayed far away. A charmer thought I was distant to avoid paying an expected tip for snapping picture. Truth is I am scared of snakes.

Cow brains, cow tongue, goat head. Yum. (Sarcasm)