Ait Ben Haddou…or Do not. Your call.

I arrived in Ouarzazate yesterday rather late in the evening, on the bus from M’Hamid via Zagora.   I was happy that I knew exactly where I was going already, since I’d called ahead and talked to the guys at Hotel Baba about getting a room again and the hotel is only a few meters from the bus station.  Of course as luck would have it:  this time, I didn’t get dropped off at the same bus station!

So I walked for a bit, hoping I’d find my way relatively easily.  I ended up in a busy square of the town where people were starting to gather for the nighttime festivities that occur during Ramadan.  People were hanging out and meeting friends, getting food and buying things.  It was quite busy.  I did not know how to get from there to my hotel in an easy way and my Google map wasn’t being very clear about how long it would take to get to the hotel. Finally, I sucked it up, and got a cab.  Happily, the guy at the hotel was awake and waiting for me, even though it was after midnight by then, and got me settled in my room right away.

My main reason for stopping in Ouarzazate on my way back through to Marrakech was that I wanted to visit Ait Ben Haddou.  This is a city which dates back centuries and is still preserved today.  A walled city, it is kept mainly the way it was built originally, was named a UNESCO site, and is maintained now for visitors.  In addition, it has been used in the filming of many films, such as “Lawrence of Arabia,” “Gladiator,” and “Kingdom of Heaven.”  There is a big movie industry in Ouarzazate, actually, and studios one can apparently tour.  I wanted to see the actual historical city, however.

It isn’t located in Ouarzazate, though, but several kilometers outside of town.  To get there, I had to take a couple of taxis.  I got some good instructions from the guys at the hotel about how to get there and then headed to the taxi station.  I got a grande taxi to take me to the first fork in the road, a small town at a river called Oued El Maleh.  In the taxi was another woman who I believe was a local.  I thought she might have been a Berber.

When we got out of the taxi, we both headed over towards the other taxis and it became apparent that we both were headed in the same direction.  We tried to see if we could get another taxi to take us up to Ait Ben Haddou.  It being Ramadan, there was very little traffic going anywhere at all during the daytime.  Grande taxis are the ones in Morocco that run between towns on set routes, but only go when they have the full six passengers needed to fill the vehicle.  So she and I sat in the car, in the shade of the roof, doors open to try and get a little air, for a while.  She didn’t speak much English, nor I French or Arabic, but we managed to communicate a bit.  She had a store up the road a bit from Ait Ben Haddou, a jewelry and souvenir shop, I believe.  She was very nice and friendly, inviting me to her house to join her, meet her family, break fast with them that night, etc.  It was very kind of her, however, I really wanted to see that UNESCO site.   She gave me her business card, in case I changed my mind (or wanted to come to her store).  Finally, we had enough people to go in the taxi and we went the rest of the way up the road to Ait Ben Haddou.

The taxi dropped me off at the gates where the buses clearly parked for tourists.  Being Ramadan, however, there was almost no one there.  I read a couple of signs and followed them towards the walled city.  I had gotten some advice from someone I met in the tourism industry about entering the city by the side entrances, rather than by the main one by the bridge.  He told me there was some door I could go in where I wouldn’t have to pay an entrance fee and it seemed like something worth trying, especially given how few people were around during sunup in the holiday….

So I crossed the dry riverbed by foot, and walked towards the side of the city, looking for that door.  As I approached the entrance I thought that guy might have been referring to, I found a young man sitting on a wall.  He said hello, trying to engage me in conversation and figure out what language I spoke.  I smiled, but continued on, not wanting to talk.  He tried to beckon me through the doorway behind him, saying something about not entering the other direction.  I pointed to my camera, indicating that I was taking photos, and continued on.  I was still checking to see if there’d be a door beyond the one he was at.  When I realized there wasn’t, I headed back.

He was still there, and again tried to get me to talk to him, but I didn’t give him anything to work with, language-wise.  I approached the door, where I found a few more young men, and a sign requiring visitors to pay for entry to the city, which was not a big deal, as I had anticipated an entry fee anyhow.  The guys there tried to get me to talk to them as well, trying to guess where I was from.  When they guessed India (as I was dressed in a salwar), I said yes and continued on, refusing again offers of a tour.

Once in the city, I looked around a little bit at what appeared to be a bed and breakfast/terraced café, which seemed completely deserted, and the main building in front of me, which clearly looked like the way into the rest of the town.  I was just about to go one direction within the building when the young man from outside came and stopped me.  He said I was going the wrong way and that the entrance to the town was up some stairs he indicated.  Things weren’t marked at all, so I followed him up the stairs.  He took me to a rooftop and pointed out some things, showing me where the Kasbah was, and the direction of the rest of the city.  From where we were, I couldn’t really see the way off the roof to the rest of the city, but there were many twists and turns, even on that particular rooftop itself, and I assumed there would be stairs around the corner, leading back into the rest of the city.

He again asked if I wanted a tour guide.  I finally spoke, saying I had no desire to go on a tour and that, while I appreciated the offer, I did not want a guide.  He got pretty huffy and left the rooftop – a rooftop which I soon realized had no other exits, only the stairs we had come up.  There was no way to the city in the direction he had indicated from where he had left me!

So I went back down the stairs into the building. We had passed a few floors with different rooms coming off them and I systematically checked each one.   None of them had exits.  A couple of times, I could see and hear people in a courtyard just beyond the building I was in.  Some of them were foreigners clearly visiting the city.  I knew there had to be a way out of this building and into the main city, I just didn’t know where!

I went back down all the way, nearly to where I had started, and I could see the entrance I had come in.  The boys were all at the gate, and I had a suspicion they were all in league.  I was certain that the plan was to leave the foreign girl alone on the rooftop, after which she would come back to the entrance and ask them for a tour.  Whether I pay for a tour from the first guy who offered it or from the ones at the gate, I figured they’d all get a share in the profits.  They were probably working together.  I wasn’t about to ask them for help.  I went back into the building where I’d started before his interference.

The direction I’d been about to take originally seemed the best option, but it had led into a museum of sorts.  When I was in the museum during my first search, I had found all sorts of interesting items, and one or two sleeping men, but no one else.  During Ramadan, almost everything is closed during the day.  Apparently, this included the museum, as there didn’t appear to be another door in or out.  I couldn’t really ask anyone, as I couldn’t tell if the guys sleeping there actually worked there or were just people who lived there in the city.  It was all very sketchy….

I was just about to concede defeat.  I’d gone in circles through the museum more than once, and around that entire building, up and down.  I’d been lost for well over an hour, almost two.   While I had gotten some fun and interesting pictures, I was really angry with that kid and virtually certain he was colluding with the other ones at the gate.

I finally decided to try one door in the museum that looked like it would go nowhere, kind of near one of the sleeping men.  When I pushed it open, I was suddenly out in the main Kasbah of Ait Ben Haddou.  Looking back behind me, I realized that doorway was the original museum entrance from the city, which people might go through on their way out.  Since I’d come in the side door, I was going to be going through the city “backwards” rather than along the typical route, something I had anticipated, but which technically made no difference due to the lack of signage anyhow.  Still, serves me right for taking a “shortcut,” huh?  Nonetheless, I suspect there would have been similar “tour guides” at each entrance to the city, regardless of my direction.

Glad to finally be on the right path, I began walking up.  Ait Ben Haddou is built on a hill.  At the top is an old fortress, built over the city for guards and defense.  One can hike up there and then see out over the city and the valley beyond.  I had wanted to do that, but had lost a lot of time.   I wasn’t sure if I could.   Also, by that point in time, my main goal was to find a toilet.  However, I wasn’t about to trust anyone anymore.  I didn’t want to even talk to anybody!  After zig-zagging up the hill for quite some time, refusing the advances of many a shopkeeper – seems those guys still continued operating, even during Ramadan – I finally saw a sign for a pay toilet at a tea shop, a kind of balcony restaurant.  There was no one there, but the view was nice.  I used the facilities, and when I came out, there was a guy sitting there, who asked if I’d like to order something.  I said I’d love some mint tea, and he had me follow him downstairs into his carpet shop.

He was there with a couple (French, I believe), who were looking at some of his carpets and taking tea as well.  He made me some tea and we all spoke a bit.  The couple was very nice, although we had a bit of a language barrier, the Moroccan did a decent amount of translation for us.  I told them about what had happened and how fuming angry I was about it.  We all agreed it was a terrible thing how people tried to take advantage of travelers and that some locals were so pushy and would lead visitors astray etc.   The shop owner asked if I could identify the young man.  I could, and I think he would have gone with me to find him and actually yell at him, but I was still so angry I thought I might actually try to hit the guy if I saw him again.  I just needed time to calm down, not to get into a fight and possibly arrested!  Luckily, after the couple left, I sat finishing my tea, and the shop owner gave me some time while he went to have his afternoon prayers.  When he returned, he took me just outside his shop and indicated the route I should take to get to the top of the mountain and told me to come right back to him if I had any more problems at all.  He was just great, and I was so thankful for his kindness.

I made the rest of the ascent easily (aside from the fact that it was an uphill trip!) and I was very glad I did.  The little fortress at the top of the hill was really neat.  It had a couple of levels in it, and I was able to climb some rocks inside and make it onto the second story.  There were small windows, slots for shooting arrows, and the view all around the tower was great.  I relaxed up there for a while before coming down.  Only a few other people came by during the entire time I was up there.  It was beautiful.  Just as I was finishing up my time there, an entire tour group came to the top.  Glad I’d had the silence and solitude when I did, I headed back down the mountain.  There were some guys in shops playing gimbris and drums as I descended, a nice soundtrack to my journey out of the city.  I found my way down to the main bridge entrance and crossed out of the city without any more problems.

Then began the adventure of trying to find a grande taxi back to Ouarzazate.  The first person I asked where the taxi stop was offered to have his brother drive me back to town in his car.  He promised me a good price, of course.  I said no, I wanted to take the taxi.  After a couple more offers like that, I finally managed to get onto a taxi headed to the fork in the road.  It was relatively easy to get another taxi from there.  I’d originally entertained thoughts about stopping at the film studio on my way back into town, but by that time, all I wanted was to get back to the hotel.

I was so happy to be back in Ouarzazate and see the friendly faces of the hotel guys!  After relaxing for a few I went out to get some dinner.  I walked for quite a while, and managed to find the square from the night before.  It had been so lively when I passed through the night before that I wanted to see it again.  This time, I stopped for dinner.

My waiter was very nice.  After a while, we began talking, and I vented to him about the sucky guy at Ait Ben Haddou.  The conversation progressed and I told him I’d been having quite a few problems with overly friendly guys here in Morocco, citing the guy who fell in love with me on the bus as an example.  We had a good laugh about that.  One of the reasons it had come up in the conversation, however, was because as I was walking around the square that night, I had noticed a rather creepy guy in the square.  He tried to speak to me when I first passed him and then followed me through the square for a bit.  Using my cell phone, I acted like I was going to meet someone, and managed to elude him.    I went out from the square, looking for a restaurant, and then circled back when I didn’t find one.  As I crossed the square in the other direction, who should I see but creepy guy!  After, I again got him off my tail, I had sat to eat my meal.  Shortly thereafter, however, he sat at the restaurant near me, ordering something and sitting at a table where he could see me as I ate.  He had been talking to himself, which was enough to put the rest of my warning flags right up!  After a bit he left, and I thought I’d be in the clear, but then I noticed him still hanging around in the square outside the restaurant.

So I pointed him out to my waiter, and asked if he could keep an eye on the guy while I high-tailed it out of the square.  He told me the guy was harmless and that he spent most days in the square there.  Nonetheless, since he also gave me the impression that the guy was a bit mentally ill, I was happy when he said he’d check and be sure the guy was otherwise engaged when I left.  My empathetic waiter had reminded me of my friend Neel from Kolkata!  He’d helped me out with my male troubles here in town, seemed nice, and we’d exchanged contact info.   I thought he would be cool, and was going to keep things on the friend level.  …I received an extremely friendly email from him within 12 hours.  So much for meeting people here platonically.

I gotta get out of Morocco:  it’s definitely time.  It looks like my luck has run out here anyhow.  I’m leaving for Marrakech today and I’ll spend a few days there before I fly to the Canary Islands, which are actually a part of Spain (something I recently learned!), located to the west of Morocco.  Should be a welcome relief from the constant barrage of unwanted male attention!