 Morocco
From the
Atlas Mountains to the Mediterranean Sea, Africa, Spain and Gibraltar rub
shoulders with sunken ships and the Straits of Gibraltar.
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here for map
What
were we
supposed
to do again?
It's hard to stay focused there's
so much to see in Morocco
Left: Pit Managing Editor
Chris Grant
on
the balcony of the Hotel Palais Jamai,
an historic but disintegrating
Fez landmark
within the gates of the old city.
By
CHRISTINE R. GRANT, ELI DAVIDIAN and GEOFF DAVIDIAN
of
The
Putnam Pit staff
IN
THE MOROCCAN SAHARA -- It's
nearly morning and the blowing sand beating against our rudimentary shelter
-- jackets over our heads, wrapped in sleeping bags -- provided the drum
roll that kept us in anticipation of greater things to come. 
And come they
did, in magnificent shades of blue, pink and flowing brown as the sun,
arriving fresh from China and India, from Egypt, Libya. Tunisia and Algeria
and shining on this ground sanctified by the French Foreign Legion and,
more importantly some might argue, Humphrey Bogart.
Below:
Driving over dried lake beds and faults all night,
Putnam
Pit Tennessee Bureau Chief Eli Davidian gets his payoff --
walking
barefoot as the sun casts a constantly changing
shadow
beyond the blowing sand.
We
had come to SCUBA dive in the waters of Morocco, from the Atlantic in Agadir
[on the way to Mauritania in the south] to European Gibraltar, across the
straits where the Atlantic and Mediterranean mix their bodily fluids
between Africa and Europe.
But
water is water – This was Morocco, and man, it's hard to stay focused in
this country. By the time we left we didn't remember what we came for.
Cookeville
City Council's penchant for annexing land over the opposition of those
whose lives would be affected is a characteristic not looked kindly upon
by Moroccans. Moroccans are Berbers, an ancient race who, throughout history,
have seen their country invaded by a succession of foreign powers.
Here are
some links you may find informative.
Morocco
by bike
By Andrea
Casalotti
[Andrea
is a guy's name in Italy.]
At the
airport FX counter, the two Gibraltar sluts change a grand. The guy doesn't
accept my card, so I tender stg 70, all I  have.
I must see if a hotel can advance some money (banks are closed). I enter
the walls of Marrakech: immediately I am engulfed by stalls, shops and
colours. I get some money and mandarins and I set off on the desert plain.
The Atlas stands majestically and magnetically in front of me. I pass herds
of goats, an attractive kasba and a dam. By now I know that I will not
make it before dark. A sense of fear is soon dispelled. The sun sets in
a flourish of red and I keep on pedalling. It is only when I arrive at
Cafe de France in Amizmiz, that I realise that I pushed a bit hard. I feel
feverish, but still able to enjoy my first Moroccan meal: tajine was the
name , but I am served first a big tomatoes, peppers and sardines salad, then
an omelette, followed by a lamb tagine and a side order of chips. A few
mandarins conclude the feast eaten in the garden and washed down by my
first and last beer.
Airline:
Royal
Air Maroc
Fatal
Events Since 1970 for Royal Air Maroc
Outstanding
Hotels:
Fez: Palais
Jamai
Marrakech:
La
Mamounia
Africaguide
Ferry
between Morocco and Spain
Morocco
back roads
Morocco
Human Rights
[Click
for large map]
Putnam
Pit
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