13 Feb 2002
I haven't quite yet been able to relax my type-A personality, so we've just been hopping around non-stop from place to place. Well, there's no way I could constantly do this, so we might as well continue until we're too tired to move everyday.

The Hammam Experience
The first challenge with a hammam (Turkish bath) is actually finding one. I had a map with the location clearly marked on it, so you wouldn't think it would be a problem. But after wandering around the same stretch of street for a couple of minutes, I finally spied a woman and daughter with a bag of towels. I thankfully followed them down a dark hidden door into a wide hallway. They immediately began to strip down, so I followed suit.

At this point, an older woman approaches me – my masseuse Kareena – and beckons to my bikini top, which I had neglected to remove. Apparently, all you're allowed to keep on is underwear! After paying, I relinquish my clothes and am given 2 buckets with a scooper. Inside the bathing area proper, there are 3 different rooms, each warmer than the next. Kareena and I settle in the warmest room, which has got to be one of the more amazing sights that I've seen. I'm in a large steamy room with a marble floor, surrounded by 30 or so happy laughing women. Some sit on stools, some are lying down.

It's a huge social scene, with women scrubbing their girlfriends, mothers washing their babies, girls just sitting and chatting with each other. I can't get over how happy everyone is in here. Kareena finds a spot on the floor for us, and she fills up my buckets from the communal faucets. After a quick splash to clean the floor where I'm sitting, she proceeds to give me the most thorough washing of my life.

The first step is the exfoliation. I am given some red pasty stuff which I rub all over my body (but not the hair, as I discover from the laughter that follows that action). She scrubs me all over with a loofah hand mitten. Next is the shampoo. I had neglected to bring my own, so Kareena borrows my neighbor's. Finally, I get soaped down all over (even in my belly button!) and she lies me down for an oh-too-hasty 5-minute massage. The last moment of indignity comes when 2-3 bucketfuls of water are dumped over my head for the final cleansing. Warm, happy, and with baby-soft skin, I leave the hammam along with several fully-robed women. It's quite difficult for me to reconcile the friendly laughing women inside, with these demure ones who leave with only their eyes showing.

One last thought as I leave the hammam: "Oh I guess there aren't hot tubs to soak in as I'd expected."

The Atlas Mountains & Sahara Desert
We left Marrakech on a minibus, driving for many long hot hours through the Atlas Mountains. The countryside in the middle of Morocco is a desert, getting drier and drier until you are in the Sahara proper. The main exception to this landscape are the Dades and Todra gorges, which run through the "Valley of a Thousand Kasbahs." The scenery is spectacular – everywhere you look is the red clay of ruined castles surrounded by lush green fields of alfalfa and date palms. The almond and peach trees are all in blossom. The red walls of the gorge somewhat resemble the American Southwest.

The next night, we arrive at the Erg Chebbi sand dunes at sunset. Due to the magic of Hollywood (The Mummy, among other movies, was filmed here), it's exactly how I'd pictured the Sahara Desert. We rode on camels through the sand dunes to our Berber (Bedouin people of North Africa) camp. The camel was actually quite comfortable, although I wouldn't have wanted to spend much more than the 2 hours on it. I might have gotten a humpless camel; however, as everyone else was complaining about their sore rears. It was wonderfully peaceful, rocking away on my camel through the dunes that slowly changed color as the sun went down. Josh and I climbed the huge sand dune behind our camp, and I alternately rolled and ran back down. The experience more than made up for the bits of sand I'm still finding all over my body.

Fes
A grueling 10- hour bus ride later, we arrive in Fes. And no, no one here wears fezes, except for one British family we saw.

Entering the medina in Fes is like stepping back into a time portal. It seems both much larger and older than Marrakech. We wandered through the winding streets, surrounded by the throngs that only make way to the cries of "Barak!" ("Watch out!") from the mule drivers who want to get through. There are little shops that specialize in spices, metal work, lanterns, baskets, everything under the sun that you could want. I got completely lost after a couple of hours, but soon found some good indicators of where we were – I would encounter cries of "konichiiwa" and "chinois!" from the places that we hadn't been to yet, and smiles and laughter from the places we'd already circled around, especially once I announced "Nous sommes perdus" (we are lost) with a broad smile on my face.

We visited a fascinating tannery in the Fes medina. After the entrance-way, you walk through piles of festering cows heads to a central courtyard. The courtyard is covered with 30-40 brick pits of lyme (to bleach the hides) and red henna dye. There's also a turning wheel thing that removes the fur from the animals. Treated animal skins, in various stages of the process, hang around the walls of the courtyard. It's truly a fascinating process to see this tannery working in much the same way as it's been for hundreds of years, as fathers pass down the trade to their sons.

Meknes & Volubilis
We arrived in Meknes this afternoon and haven't explored much of the city yet. Its medina is considered to be less sprawling and crazy than those in Fes and Marrakech.

We did, however, visit one of the best-preserved Roman ruins around: Volubilis. The countryside around Meknes is gorgeous, very lush, with green rolling hills reminiscent of the Napa Valley or Tuscany. The ruins are on the top of hill. You can see the arc de triomphe and many of the columns still standing. There are faded mosaics of various Roman gods and goddesses, that are still visible after all these years of sun-bleaching. Watching the sun fall over the horizon, we could easily have been in Europe.

Bienvenue a Morocco
The most amazing thing about Morocco has got to be the people. I've never met anyone so friendly. Everyone we pass on the street smiles and wishes us a "bon journee" or "bienvenue a morocco." Everywhere we stop for a few moments, people will ask us if we're lost and if they can direct us anywhere. On every bus and train, people will just come up to chat with me and share what food they have.

Questions?
If you want more information about this area you can email the author or check out our Africa Insiders page.