Skoura, Morocco
After feeling slightly discouraged from our trying time in Marrakech, Dave and I were wary of heading to the mountains for our week in Skoura. We didn’t know exactly what to expect.
We drove four hours through the Atlas Mountains to get to Skoura, where our hotel was located. After driving through the mountains, our driver veered off into narrow alleyways and beaten dirt roads. We soon came to a river, which our driver proceeded to drive through. At one point, Dave and I turned to each other with a nervous look in our eyes.
“Do they really have wifi here?” he asked me.
That’s exactly what I was thinking, and I shrugged. “That’s what they tell me.”
He just shook his head. Our driver wound through more narrow roads and stopped finally in front of a big wall of mud and straw.
“Here is your hotel,” he told us.
Looks, of course, can be deceiving, because behind this wall of mud and straw was the most incredible hotel Dave and I have ever stayed at. The boutique hotel, called Dar Ahlam (House of Dreams in English), only has twelve rooms with a stunning garden, pool, and Kasbah. We had our own villa with no TV, no phones, and, yes, wifi. It was the perfect getaway.
After settling into our villa, we went to have dinner. We didn’t realize that one of Dar Ahlam’s specialties is their food, all prepared by a French chef, and served in a different location every day. Our first meal was served in a large room with around 70 candles lit on tables and candelabras. We were wowed. The food was equally exceptional, and the hotel didn’t disappoint us with gorgeous breakfasts in the garden and romantic dinners in private rooms for our entire stay.
We could have stayed the entire time at Dar Ahlam, but of course we didn’t. Our first excursion was to an oasis (or palmeraie) in the desert. Our driver took us to the top of a plateau in the desert and we hiked our way down to the oasis. It was a beautiful hike.
Our tour guide was a man named Mohamed (everyone is named Mohamed in Morocco because it’s a tradition to name the firstborn son after the prophet). He was a deep thinker, quoting us Voltaire and others along our hike. Dave got into a deep discussion regarding theology with him, and after several days and over tea, I think he had convinced Mohamed to go buy himself a Bible.
Our second excursion with Mohamed was to the Valley of the Roses. The roses wouldn’t bloom for another month, but the drive was still incredible. The neatest part of our trip to the Valley of the Roses was our opportunity to see the nomadic Berbers and their caves. The nomadic Berbers live in caves in the winter, and head to higher ground for the summer. I cannot imagine living in a cave any more than I’m sure the Berbers can imagine New York City. The life seems so simple but difficult. The nomads were incredibly welcoming, offering us mint tea (which we couldn’t accept because of the typhoid risk in Morocco), cushions to sit on, and a free tour of their caves (not much to see and not enough room to even stand up straight) and livestock. They had some baby goats that had been born that very day they showed us. They were so adorable!
After driving through the Valley of the Roses, we went to the Dades Gorges, the most famous gorges in Morocco. They towered high above us; it must have taken the river ages to cut through rock that deep.
Our last excursion was to the Sahara Desert. I don’t know how to put this incredible journey into words. I almost didn’t write about because I didn’t know how to describe it. I can give you the facts of the trip, but I don’t think it can begin to capture our experience.
Getting to the Sahara Desert from Skoura takes about five hours. We stopped once along the way for a picnic lunch in a palmeraie. We had an audience of young sub-Saharan Berber boys watching us eat with fascination. They were excited when we took our bread and offered to share with them, and they tried to talk to us, but unfortunately I only know a few Arabic words and the French I took in college is nearly gone. Fortunately, a smile and food cross all cultures.
The long drive definitely heightened our anticipation of what awaited us in the desert. We weren’t the least disappointed when we came upon a private campground set in the sand dunes of the Sahara. The Sahara is nearly the size of the United States, something I couldn’t fathom as I looked over the endless sand. We were just touch the tip of the iceberg, but it seemed so huge from what even I could see.
The Sahara proved to be a giant adult’s playground, and Dave and I spent our time until dinner jumping off the sand dunes and playing with insects. No, I’m not kidding. The sand was so soft and fine, and you literally melted into it. You could get knee deep without even trying. Scarab beetles populate the Sahara, and they are the coolest insects. They spend their days climbing up the dunes. If we pushed our foot out and created an avalanche of sand, the beetles would somersault down, stand back up, and start climbing again. We could bury them in a pile of sand, and they would just dig their way back out.
We watched the sunset and then stared at the brightest stars I have ever seen in my life. I remember seeing bright stars in the Boundary Waters growing up, but it doesn’t compare to this. Nothing and no one lives in the Sahara. I have never seen so much blackness, nor heard so much silence. It was awe-inspiring.
We ate dinner by a campfire, drank some mint tea (Berber whiskey, it’s nicknamed in Morocco), and went to bed to get some sleep before the sunrise.
When we got to the Sahara, I was too warm in my t-shirt and jeans. When we went to bed, I was a little chilly, and when I woke up I was freezing, even in my fleece. We went barefoot onto the dunes that were so warm the day before, and I could barely walk they were so cold. I felt like I was walking on ice. It reminded me of tiptoeing outside to get the dumb dog (some of you know which one I’m talking about) to come back in because he won’t listen to me. I couldn’t believe how cold the sand had gotten overnight. Of course, the sunrise warmed the sand and by the time we left the desert a few hours later, I was too warm in my t-shirt again.
Our time in Skoura was incredible, and Morocco was an amazing experience. I was nervous going there because I had heard there was a lot of crime, but the one thing that stuck out to me about Morocco was the incredible hospitality. Everywhere we went, we were met with a smile and a “bonjour.” We were often offered mint tea, and the children all waved at us when passing us. Men came up to shake our hands. Women, still quite oppressed in the society, are not to talk to strangers, so we didn’t have any encounters with them. Maybe there’s something more pure about the smaller towns that the experience we would have had in, say, Casablanca, but I could safely recommend Morocco to anyone.
We drove four hours through the Atlas Mountains to get to Skoura, where our hotel was located. After driving through the mountains, our driver veered off into narrow alleyways and beaten dirt roads. We soon came to a river, which our driver proceeded to drive through. At one point, Dave and I turned to each other with a nervous look in our eyes.
“Do they really have wifi here?” he asked me.
That’s exactly what I was thinking, and I shrugged. “That’s what they tell me.”
He just shook his head. Our driver wound through more narrow roads and stopped finally in front of a big wall of mud and straw.
“Here is your hotel,” he told us.
Looks, of course, can be deceiving, because behind this wall of mud and straw was the most incredible hotel Dave and I have ever stayed at. The boutique hotel, called Dar Ahlam (House of Dreams in English), only has twelve rooms with a stunning garden, pool, and Kasbah. We had our own villa with no TV, no phones, and, yes, wifi. It was the perfect getaway.
After settling into our villa, we went to have dinner. We didn’t realize that one of Dar Ahlam’s specialties is their food, all prepared by a French chef, and served in a different location every day. Our first meal was served in a large room with around 70 candles lit on tables and candelabras. We were wowed. The food was equally exceptional, and the hotel didn’t disappoint us with gorgeous breakfasts in the garden and romantic dinners in private rooms for our entire stay.
We could have stayed the entire time at Dar Ahlam, but of course we didn’t. Our first excursion was to an oasis (or palmeraie) in the desert. Our driver took us to the top of a plateau in the desert and we hiked our way down to the oasis. It was a beautiful hike.
Our tour guide was a man named Mohamed (everyone is named Mohamed in Morocco because it’s a tradition to name the firstborn son after the prophet). He was a deep thinker, quoting us Voltaire and others along our hike. Dave got into a deep discussion regarding theology with him, and after several days and over tea, I think he had convinced Mohamed to go buy himself a Bible.
Our second excursion with Mohamed was to the Valley of the Roses. The roses wouldn’t bloom for another month, but the drive was still incredible. The neatest part of our trip to the Valley of the Roses was our opportunity to see the nomadic Berbers and their caves. The nomadic Berbers live in caves in the winter, and head to higher ground for the summer. I cannot imagine living in a cave any more than I’m sure the Berbers can imagine New York City. The life seems so simple but difficult. The nomads were incredibly welcoming, offering us mint tea (which we couldn’t accept because of the typhoid risk in Morocco), cushions to sit on, and a free tour of their caves (not much to see and not enough room to even stand up straight) and livestock. They had some baby goats that had been born that very day they showed us. They were so adorable!
After driving through the Valley of the Roses, we went to the Dades Gorges, the most famous gorges in Morocco. They towered high above us; it must have taken the river ages to cut through rock that deep.
Our last excursion was to the Sahara Desert. I don’t know how to put this incredible journey into words. I almost didn’t write about because I didn’t know how to describe it. I can give you the facts of the trip, but I don’t think it can begin to capture our experience.
Getting to the Sahara Desert from Skoura takes about five hours. We stopped once along the way for a picnic lunch in a palmeraie. We had an audience of young sub-Saharan Berber boys watching us eat with fascination. They were excited when we took our bread and offered to share with them, and they tried to talk to us, but unfortunately I only know a few Arabic words and the French I took in college is nearly gone. Fortunately, a smile and food cross all cultures.
The long drive definitely heightened our anticipation of what awaited us in the desert. We weren’t the least disappointed when we came upon a private campground set in the sand dunes of the Sahara. The Sahara is nearly the size of the United States, something I couldn’t fathom as I looked over the endless sand. We were just touch the tip of the iceberg, but it seemed so huge from what even I could see.
The Sahara proved to be a giant adult’s playground, and Dave and I spent our time until dinner jumping off the sand dunes and playing with insects. No, I’m not kidding. The sand was so soft and fine, and you literally melted into it. You could get knee deep without even trying. Scarab beetles populate the Sahara, and they are the coolest insects. They spend their days climbing up the dunes. If we pushed our foot out and created an avalanche of sand, the beetles would somersault down, stand back up, and start climbing again. We could bury them in a pile of sand, and they would just dig their way back out.
We watched the sunset and then stared at the brightest stars I have ever seen in my life. I remember seeing bright stars in the Boundary Waters growing up, but it doesn’t compare to this. Nothing and no one lives in the Sahara. I have never seen so much blackness, nor heard so much silence. It was awe-inspiring.
We ate dinner by a campfire, drank some mint tea (Berber whiskey, it’s nicknamed in Morocco), and went to bed to get some sleep before the sunrise.
When we got to the Sahara, I was too warm in my t-shirt and jeans. When we went to bed, I was a little chilly, and when I woke up I was freezing, even in my fleece. We went barefoot onto the dunes that were so warm the day before, and I could barely walk they were so cold. I felt like I was walking on ice. It reminded me of tiptoeing outside to get the dumb dog (some of you know which one I’m talking about) to come back in because he won’t listen to me. I couldn’t believe how cold the sand had gotten overnight. Of course, the sunrise warmed the sand and by the time we left the desert a few hours later, I was too warm in my t-shirt again.
Our time in Skoura was incredible, and Morocco was an amazing experience. I was nervous going there because I had heard there was a lot of crime, but the one thing that stuck out to me about Morocco was the incredible hospitality. Everywhere we went, we were met with a smile and a “bonjour.” We were often offered mint tea, and the children all waved at us when passing us. Men came up to shake our hands. Women, still quite oppressed in the society, are not to talk to strangers, so we didn’t have any encounters with them. Maybe there’s something more pure about the smaller towns that the experience we would have had in, say, Casablanca, but I could safely recommend Morocco to anyone.
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