I was in a
forest on a foothill of the middle Atlas when my phone rang. It was one of my fellow PCTs, checking up to
make sure that I was growing out some facial hair for the Fes trainees’
moustache competition (or, as we call it, the Stache-off). Almost simultaneously Eugene (my roommate
from Rabat, since we keep appearing in each other’s blogs we’ve decided to use
some names for each other) yelled from the front of our group that a troupe of
monkeys was approaching us. Of course, I
told the other PCT I had to run, but for a moment I was talking about growing
out a moustache while some primates with hair everywhere but their upper lips
cautiously inspected my friends and I.
As per usual, the only adjective I can think of is surreal.
We were in
the hills surrounding Azrou, a small Amizgh town nestled in the foothills of
the Middle Atlas. This weekend was one
of the only weekends where we PCTs were allowed to sleep out of cite, so a
bunch of us from Fes decided we’d explore this other region, which is about an
hour by taxi (two or more hours by bus) south of Fes. Shortly after our morning language session on
Saturday we caught a taxi to Ifrane, a town near Azrou and favorite vacation
spot for Moroccans. Ifrane is a weird
town, it was built in the 1920’s as a resort town for the French; Moroccans
weren’t even allowed to live there until the end of the protectorate. The architecture there is dramatically
different from other Moroccan cities. It
wouldn’t look out of place in Europe. I
now call it “Geneva-in-Atlas.” It’s a
fairly small town, after a few hours walking through the town and surrounding
hills and the obligatory stop by the stone lion that a German soldier carved
during World War II when Ifrane was a prisoner of war camp we caught another
taxi to Azrou, arriving just before dark.
Both drives
were spectacular. Fes stops very
suddenly; one moment there is city, and then the next there isn’t. Once outside, you drive through a broad and
bright green plain until you reach the edge of the mountains (the ones you can
just make out in the distance from my photos of the Medina from the Merinid
tombs a couple of posts ago). Up in the
mountains past Immozer, you pass through a strange lunarscape that reminds me
of Connemare in Ireland, rocky, barren, and breathtaking. When you reach Ifrane it looks almost Alpine,
though this perception could just be a residual reaction to the houses
there. From there you pass by a series
of spectacular vistas on the drive to Azrou.
It’s especially dramatic to do this drive just before sunset.
The word
Azrou is actually an Amizgh word meaning “Big Rock,” and the town is, somewhat
predictably, built around a really big rock.
With a crown on top. While this
might be the focus of the town it is far from the only giant rock in the
area. Sunday morning we started to trek
through fields full of similarly giant rocks.
We’d been told that to reach an area with the monkeys that live in the
middle Atlas we’d have to take a taxi and then hike on further, but the PCTs
who live in Azrou have a Moroccan friend who said he knew a shortcut up the
mountain through a forest. He told us
that in the forest we were just as likely to see monkeys as in the more touristy
spot we’d heard about. These were the
monkeys that found us while I was on the phone.
It was really cool to see them in the forest. Up in the tourist spot the monkeys have no
fear. They come right up to you with an
expression that says, “Hey, I’m a monkey, now give me a peanut.” In the forest they’re still cautious around
people, and children aren’t swarming them.
They’re also a whole lot skinnier.
We noticed just one at first, but soon a troop of three or four adults
and several babies came up around us.
They pawed at each other and played in the trees, and gave us just a
narrow enough berth. We spent several
minutes working on our National Geographic shots and edging our way closer to
them. Then we heard barking and a giant
black dog bounded out of the underbrush and started to chase them. They each rushed up the nearest tree,
taunting the dog by swinging just out of reach.
We looked down the trail and saw two donkeys bearing supplies and a man
climbing up. The dog was with him, meant
to keep the monkeys from bothering the donkeys.
We climbed on.
We had our
lunch up at the picnic tables near the touristy area. As I said before, the monkeys there are
brazen. One stole a whole bag of almonds
right out one of my friend’s hands.
While they let you get much closer to them I actually preferred hanging
out with the monkeys down in the forest; it felt more natural. From lunch we walked into a cedar forest, the
only one in Morocco. The forest and
vistas were amazing though our goal, Arz
Gorou, supposedly the oldest standing tree in Africa, was a bit of a
bust. While it is rumored to have been
standing for longer than any other tree on the continent it is long dead, the
bottom is covered in graffiti, and a terrible tourist trap of shops has grown
up around it. There’s even a road for people
too lazy to hike. Also, the signs around
it don’t give any specific dates or information, which makes it all a bit of a
disappointment. However, the route to
reach it is really pretty and once again, as in Moulay Yacoub, I got a chance
to play my ocarina while overlooking a dramatic vista, so the excursion was
worth it. From there we walked back to
town, got an asir avoca (avocado
milk), and caught the grand taxi back to Fes.
Short post
this time, but the pictures will do more justice to the hills around Azrou than
anything I can write. As a teaser I’ll
say that Monday this week was worth a post in itself. After morning class we spent our afternoon at
an extended kaskrot (tea time) with
most of our host mothers together and had a discussion (with our LCF helping
with translations) on gender roles, relations and child rearing with them. It doesn’t fit with this post, and I need a
couple of days to process it anyways, but for those of you interested in these
issues expect a post on it later this week!
No comments:
Post a Comment