I'm a big fan of the village people

Jamal serves tea! Mint tea! The really, really good stuff!

I really, really, really hope my guide Saide doesn’t give me a test at the end of the tour.

Morocco is rich in history and this tour encompasses a lot of it. There are conversations every day — multiple times a day — on Islam, on Moroccan culture, on the difference between Berbers and Bedouins. I get multiple language lessons because, depending on where we are in the country that day, we are speaking Arabic or Berber. Sometimes French and English as well.

I’m going to go home from this trip and it will take me many weeks to process this incredible experience. Today’s adventure was steeped in history, although that history is being played out in real time. We did a seven-kilometre gentle hike in the Dades Gorge. If you’ve read anything about it, you’ll know the scenery is spectacular. Our hike was through agricultural plots, deserted villages and inhabited villages but nothing like any village I’ve seen at home.

Our hike started at Ait Ayoul, a thriving village. We walked into the valley and were immediately immersed in agriculture. Almond trees and apricot trees just beginning to flower. Alfalfa coming up. Wheat and barley showing their green. We walked on raised rows of dirt and it was clear the rows separated the different plots. Our local guide explained how the crops were rotated (with corn) and how fig trees are a new addition to the plots because figs are now in demand and fetch a good price. The plots are small and, although I’m positive my guide told me the exact size, it escapes me right now. I do remember him saying plots stay in the family and are passed down through the generations. The law used to be that sons inherited more land than daughters but laws have changed so inheritance is divided equally, no matter the gender.

Our guide also explained how the crop irrigation worked. Each family has an assigned time on an assigned day of the week. If you miss your time, you might find people kind enough to allow your plot water after all others have been watered but, if no one allows you to water by squeezing you in, you would have to wait an entire week to water, which may ruin your crop. 

Water comes from the river and is allowed to flow to a certain section. Access to the plot is by a small opening that is dug. The access is stopped by placing a stopper in front of the access — a large rock or lump of dirt. The blocker is removed, water flows onto the land and the blocker is replaced when watering is complete.

Planting and harvesting is done by hand. It’s been this way for centuries and there is no reason to change. Fertilizer is organic: ash from fires and manure. In some ways, it’s similar to gardening at home but on a bigger scale. Walking through the deserted villages with their mud walls, walls that are still standing today, I walked through history. I breathed in the present and exhaled the past. Walls that held Berber inscriptions. Walking further, we enter a village that looks deserted but has inhabitants. That becomes very clear when my group almost gets “ballacked” (run over) by a donkey carrying a basket of manure on its back. For the most part, we don’t see many of the village residents: a few men in the fields, a woman taking her laundry to be washed in the river. A child or two smiling shyly, big brown eyes wide open saying bonjour. This is real life in some of the remote villages in this region. People accept strangers but refuse to have their photos taken. They live traditionally. The end of our hike took us to a meeting point to wait for our driver, Sameer. He drove us to the next part of our tour: lunch in a Berber home with a Berber family.

The family that welcomed us into their home in Ait Arbi was warm and welcoming. There are 13 people in the household: three brothers, their wives and children. 

Jamal welcomed us to his home and into the area where we would feast. (Quick note: pronunciation is key when it comes to Jamal’s name. Get it wrong and you’re calling him a camel.) A traditional Berber meal means sitting on carpets on the floor with pillows behind your back, food served on low tables. Before we ate Jamal prepared mint tea — real mint tea, not tourist mint tea. Not gonna lie but, until I drank his tea, I thought the tourist stuff was good. 

The preparation of the tea involves several steps and it’s always the men who prepare it. I thought I’d be going home and making mint tea like a pro. I now see I’ll need to move here and hang out with a guy who knows how to do it instead.

Along with the tea, we were served walnuts and almonds from Jamal’s farm. 

And then ... the meal! A simple salad, similar to pico de Gallo, to start and then a bubbling tanjine of barley couscous, veggies and chicken.

I was at a table with our guide, our driver and our local guide. They had no plates and I asked how they were going to eat. The reply was “the Moroccan way,” which means digging in with your spoon. I shrugged my shoulders and ditched my plate and ate this fabulous meal the Moroccan way. These local experiences — being able to dine with local families, enjoying home-cooked meals — works for both the travellers and the families. We get to connect with the locals and they earn money from hosting us. We all win and I like that.

We said goodbye to this lovely family because it was time to get back to the hotel. Back at the hotel Laurel the Aussie, I hit the lukewarm tub with a beer. We had a great conversation but it was punctuated several times by “can you believe we are in Morocco?” I cannot. After supper, my day ended with a massage. Not going to lie: I’m kind of getting used to stripping down in front of strangers AND getting my butt massaged. Apparently any shame I had was left behind in Fes in the hammam! Now it’s time for sleep. Goodnight and my love from the girl under the spell of Morocco