Rock the Kasbah

My plan for the day was the head to Marrakech and look for a painting to hang in my living room. However, after chatting with some of the hotel employees, the idea of visiting a small Berber village called Imlil about 30 miles away started to sound very intriguing. The hotel had arranged for an early dinner at the only restaurant in town. So I threw on my skinney jeans, a trendy blouse, and one of my favorite pair of heals, I wanted to dress appropriately for dinner. 

The drive to Imlil was stunning. The scenery was a cross between Colorado in the summer and Arizona in the winter. The Atlas mountains are the oldest mountains in the world so these Berber villages are over hundreds and hundreds of years old. Of course there are modern updates such as satellite dishes resting on top of every mud hut. 

Here comes the real plot to this story, I arrive at Imlil via a windy, steep dirt road high up in the hills. The driver who escorted me points to a building lower in the mountains and explains to me that "to get there you need to take that path there and aaaaahhh, it will take you 20 minutes." Lets see how I can best illustrate the trail I was about to take. Have you ever been mountain climbing? It was kind of similar to scaling Mt. Everest without climbing equipment. Remember how I wanted to dress appropriately for dinner? Skinney jeans, 3 inch heals? I couldn't turn back so I just started my climb down the side of a dusty, rocky mountain thinking, well at least my headline will be talked about Girl Falls Off Mountain in Morocco while Climbing in 3 Inch Heals and Designer Jeans. 

Unfortunately I have now stolen the thunder to the true purpose of this post. I finally arrived at the Kasbah Du Toubkal, a small Kasbah (hotel) with 360 views of the Atlas Mountains and the surrounding villages. The Kasbah is run by a local Berber couple. It seemed to be the only real business in this small village. I was served dinner on the rooftop of the hotel. Again words cannot describe. I have been to many rooftop venues but this one is worth talking about. The entire time I sat there just listening to mules, chickens, and kids playing. They could have been miles away for all I know. I couldn't help but to wonder about these people's lives. Do they appreciate the beauty that surrounds them? How knowledgeable are they about the outside world? From what I could see there was no distinction between economic class...everyone had a mud hut, a mule, and a smile on their face. 

I was told an interesting piece of Moroccan culture during dinner that I will share. Apparently this coming Tuesday is the Moroccan Christmas. The tradition behind the Moroccan Christmas (still cant remember the name) is that every mother and father is supposed to kill a goat for every child they have. Basically they are making a sacrifice for their children. It reminded me a lot of the holidays with my family! So many Americans are consumed with the challenge of what gift to give their loved ones during the holidays. We should all make a mental note that in some cultures, all it takes is the slaying of a goat! 

A Moroccan Morning

I can't start with my Moroccan Morning without acknowledging what I had to go through to get here! I traveled for 2 entire days to get to where I am now. 36 hours, 4 plane rides (with delays,) a few hours napping under the Eiffel Tower, and an hour drive later I find myself high, high up in the Atlas mountains at the Kasbah Tamadot. 

Lets start with the drive to the Kasbah Tamadot. The drive was slow. I clearly hadn't left my American habits at home because I wanted to tell the driver to put the pedal to the metal. However, as soon as we got to the mountains I didn't think it was possible to go slow enough. I felt like I was being taken to Hogwarts, School or Witchcraft and Wizardry, or something similar. I was on a long and very windy, road that I would consider to be one lane. I could barely see anything but was well aware that there was a very steep cliff with no railing just a few feet from my car. At a distance I could see some light,which I assumed was the hotel but it looked like it was hanging off the tallest cliff.  What I loved so much about the drive was being able to see the endless snowcapped mountains glowing from the moonlight. I arrived at this very humble but stunning resort and just knew that come morning, I was going to be blown away. 

The kasbah Tamadot is wildly romantic. My reservation clearly shows one person, myself. However, I was escorted through the most romantic hallways, strewn with candles. The door to my room opens and guess what...more candles! There were rose petals and lit candles strategically placed all over one of the most gorgeous rooms I have ever seen. I appreciated the line of rose petals leading to my bed. I was so tired that had they been there I probably would not have found the bed on my own. As for the rose petals scattered all over my bed, well I just pushed those aside but loved that they left a lingering aroma. 

Now back to my Moroccan morning: How many of us check the view from the window immediately after entering your hotel room for the first time? I always do. However, I didn't bother checking the view when I first checked in because it was dark. Come morning as I was brushing my teeth, I wandered over to the window thinking "I am probably in what they consider a standard room with a standard view." The reality was that this view was of those views that make you forget what home looks like. At that moment, standing on my balcony I had completely escaped to this Moroccan moment. There were mountains, valleys, rivers, and mules, yes I could see and hear mules. The only thing I didn't see were people. 

During this Moroccan Moment I put down the pain relievers because my muscles and joints no longer ached from traveling. Because of one Moroccan morning and a glimpse of something that I had never seen before, I felt completely rejuvenized, almost as if it didn't take me 36 hours to get here.