Fear and Loathing in Merzouga

Day 66
Tuesday 1st September 2009

Apparently nine years ago Hilary Clinton did a similar tour to the one we took this morning which was through the oasis which acts like a front lawn to the dunes. Funnily enough it's a fresh water source underneath the dunes that maintains the oasis and there is a very organised irrigation system which feeds water into the residents alocments on a rotation basis so they can grow their dates, chillis, almonds, mint, cummin, figs, apricots, aubergines and tomatoes amongst other crops for consuming and for sale at the markets.  

Our guide was Ilhan who was a nephew and a university student studying French Lit. The only person at uni from the village. After the oasis we learned how village homes were constructed. A change in attitude was needed in the construction of homes after a flood wiped out many residence in May 2006. Stone instead mud was the main difference I could work out. Over the years there has also been a change in attitude to families. 'My grandparents didn't know how many children they have. They have many. If one dies no problem we have others,' Ilhan said. Ilhan himself had eight uncles alone and only three siblings.

We were to later to learn that households still exist that hold 40, 50, 60 family members. One famous house in Zeragona holds 120 of the buggers.     

After the tour it was onwards to Todra Gorge and a completely different Morocco to the desert. We managed to haggle a guy down in Rissani who was heading in that direction. He picked up his mate and two kids and we set off on the 200km trip west to the gorge. The driver was a laid back kind of a chap with big aviators and a foot out of the window approach to driving. His mate in the passenger seat was bubbly and obviously adored his kids, a boy and a girl who were lovely. 

You could practically feel the temperature drop a degree for every 20km we drove and the landscape changed beyond recognition into baron scrub with the Middle Atlas mountains as the backdrop. 

Our driver was a real character who didn't think much to the Moroccon police. 'Scumbags' he shouted when they came into site which sounded very un Moroccon. Then as we passed them he saluted at a surprised looking officer and shouted 'To the King' out the window at him. The rest of the car were in stiches. 

We said our goodbyes at Tinerhir the closest town to Todra Gorge and waited for a taxi we had organised to take us to our preaaranged accomodation. It never came and,as the sun set, it looked less and less likely of arriving as everyone geared up for their Ramadam meals and the square which was previously packed to the rafters turned into a ghost town. We decided to roll with it and sat down at the nearest cafe and ordered some Ramadam soup which was absolutely delicious and cost five Dirham (around 38p) for both. 

In the meantime Mohammad our taxi driver turned up and took us the final 14km into the gorge and to our accomodation. Here we got locked into a price war as the quoted cost of our room was increased on arrival to double. We got them down and they changed it once again. The place was run by a shifty mob and, had it not been for the amazing decor in the riad and the roof terrace which looked over the gorge we would have walked. They weren't going to get a penny more out of us though.