From The Old Capital to the Red City - 15th January 2009

Its probably about 5:30 am when you hear the first one. A noise that at first sounds like the sacrificing of an extremely loud goat. Then another one. 2 goats in stereo, dying very slowly. As I was awaking and my senses were catching up with the strange noises around me it became apparent that there was some form of tune to these early bellowings, or at least some variation in tone, and that their origin was in fact human. The calls for Muslim prayers, played loudly on speakers, rally the city to a wake up for the first prayer of the new day.

Fes to me, seemed very much like a city where time has stood still for hundreds of years. At night the narrow alleys bustle with activity as the local market stalls sell everything from Moroccan spices, carpets, and furniture to the amazing array of food – some looking great, some looking like salmonella on a stick. Sheep's heads lined up for 1 lucky buyer, and a small boy helping his mother carry the shopping home by carrying a live chicken by the feet are two sights that stick in the mind.

Our early start meant we could experience a small part of the city before we hit the road again. A local guide took us to the tanneries where animal skins are died in a process that probably dates back to the origins of the city. The skins are dipped in giant pots of natural paints before being laid out to dry, to form coloured leathers and furs for fashion and furniture. The smells surrounding the process are quite shocking, but the sight of this age old process is impressive. Absorbing any modernisation to this process is something that is clearly rejected in Fes, which makes the whole thing more astonishing and quite endearing.

Another short wander around the alleys and it was time to go. To Marrakesh

The quickest route south between these 2 cities is via the motorway, but the much more impressive drive would take us through the Atlas mountains on a meandering drive. Not far out of Fes and you see the lush green start to fade into the more rocky orange terrain of drier land. Bouncing through the pot-holed riddled local towns started to put the cars to their first proper test. So far, so good.

It wasn't long before we started to ascend the mountains and came across the most amazing scenery of the snow covered fields and mountains. To our surprise that's now snow in every country so far, and lots of it here. Snow piles 4 feet high by the side of the road seemed completely out of place compared to what we seen just an hour earlier. We were pulled over once for over shooting a Stop sign (written in Arabic), where the police demanded a 40 EUR toll. A slow and nodding conversation involving a lot of “sorrys” and “Je ne parle pas francais”, and we managed to avoid this blind attempt at bribery.

Although this drive would take us longer than the motorway route, the staggeringly awesome scenery justified the choice. As we began our descent onto the plains that would take us to Marrakesh the white snowy mountains soon turned into dusty towns again, and the closer we got, to a deep red sand.

After our experience in Fez we had a sneaky feeling that navigating a successful route into Marrakesh would prove to be a challenge. Even though, we weren't quite expecting the chaos that was about to ensue. After trying our luck without a guide for some time we seemed to be driving in circles around the part of town we wanted to stay in. Each major junction providing more wacky races style driving manoeuvres, as we bustled through these hugely over populated roads.

Eventually we seemed stuck in the narrowest of one-way systems and asked a policeman if he could direct us. He told us to turn around and go against the flow of the oncoming 1-way traffic. Doing a 3-point turn in our Volvo in a street as narrow as this was obviously going to be tricky, but PC Fez seemed insistent it was the right thing to do. In some weird Austin Powers parody, we eventually completed our 11 point turn and drove towards the traffic as he manoeuvred them to one side of the road, to allow us to continue with one side up on the curb.

Our own police escort lasted about 100 yards before we were pulled over by 2 other policemen. Clearly outranking PC Fez, he soon disappeared, and we were left... how do you say... dans la merde. Handing over all sorts documents and driving licences didn't seem to be getting us in the clear. After a few moments it became apparent that we weren't getting the driving licences back unless we provided a small tip for the local law keepers. “Je ne parle pas francais” seemed to be working as he drifted through frustration at our reluctance to hand over any money, and eventually gave up, letting us continue against the onslaught of beeping Moroccans wondering what the hell we were doing.

Finding our way to the right road (with the help of another guide) we had to sweet talk another policeman to let us go down the road we needed and found the hotel, overlooking the Djemaa El-fna square in the heartbeat of the city. This hotel is certainly a step up on last night. Big spacious rooms, and a truly fantastic location.

In and out in a matter of minutes and we were soon tucking into some market stall food on the square. A little unsure as to what we were ordering, I believe we ordered pretty much everything on offer. The food was excellent. Mainly kebabs, and curried meats, served with couscous.

Before I came to Marrakesh I had heard that this square is predominantly a tourist attraction. Maybe its the time of the year we are here, but the bustle of activity as far as I can see is all Moroccans. Snake charmers and Moroccan street performing bands attract large crowds, few of which are tourists. This is very much the centre of life within the city and it is obvious the people of Marrakesh enjoy the square, if not the same, then much more than the tourist population.

One difficulty post dinner in this Moroccan mekka is identifying a proper drink. Alcohol is forbidden on the square, or any bar overlooking it. One nearby bar we did find was a dark and dingy place with an atmosphere like Mars. So we jumped into a taxi to the new town. Trusting the local cabby combined with a twinge of recollection of a name of a bar in the Lonely Planet, we arrived at a bar called Montechristo. With overpriced beers and distinctly older male clientèle combined with 2 glammed up girls sitting on their own, we realised this wasn't the bar we were looking for.

We did find one bar with a very buzzing atmosphere, and 100% Moroccan. It was great to have stumbled upon a bar like this where we were clearly the only tourists that night, and a good bet the only tourists they've had there in some time. A real insight into the Marrakesh way to have a few drinks! A few beers there listening to the Moroccans try their hand at the microphone, and we were done for the evening. Another early start tomorrow.