The unpredictability of travel has a way of making me feel alive. I’m in a new place, with different cultural norms, and it’s up to me to navigate it all. As Helena and I were sitting in the back of a taxi at the Marrakesh airport, we shared the feeling that we missed the mark on navigating this one. Why are we at the airport? We wondered in confusion as our driver got out of the car, yelling back at us that he was picking up a friend and would be back. A strange detour, given we arranged (after much struggle) for a direct drive to Imlil, a small mountain town 1.5 hours from Marrakesh.
Knowing we wanted to get to Imlil, we first walked to a taxi hub to ask around about pricing. In typical Marrakesh fashion, the price starts unreasonably high. After some back and forth, the haggled price was still more than we wished to pay, so we set off to check the bus instead. After 30 minutes of waiting on the minivan bus on our own, we had a broken English conversation with the driver of the bus, trying to figure out when we were leaving. Using Google Translate as our guide, we eventually figured there was no set time, and the bus would leave when more passengers arrived. Weighing the cost vs time difference, we decided to go ahead with the taxi. The interesting thing was watching the locals haggle - something that I had already observed in Marrakesh was being demonstrated here. Firstly, the men speak in loud voices and it appears like they’re shouting at one another. They also make big gestures, and it often happens with talks of money. Everyone wants a piece of the pie - a couple dirham coins here and there. But it’s not out of anger, it just seems to be more cultural and passionate, sometimes coming off as aggressive even if it might not be. In this case, the bus driver felt he was owed some money from the taxi driver because he’s the one who brought us to the taxi. Then, the first taxi driver we spoke to also felt he was owed because he first spoke to us. Even though neither drove us anywhere, in a country where haggling is common, it was okay for both of them to demand some of the taxi fare from our driver.
Now here we are in the parking lot of the Marrakesh airport, confused by the stop but not worried. After waiting in the car for 45 minutes, the driver arrived back with another passenger who was also traveling to Imlil. Onward we went (like that detour was totally normal) as the bustling city of Marrakesh faded in the distance. With each turn, we grew closer and closer to the mountain range, until eventually we reached a part of the road that opened up like a gateway into the mountains. Driving further up the snow capped mountain, we reached the town of Imlil- a small mountain town outfitted with plenty of hiking gear shops, hiking tour companies, a few small restaurants, and food stalls selling nuts, dates, honey, fruit, and vegetables. We arrived at our accommodation which was another few minutes up the steep mountain.
Upon arrival, our eyes went wide and our jaws dropped open at how nice and cozy our accommodation was. For only $13 each, we would be staying in the warmest mountain guest-home, equipped with a fireplace that would later prove to be vital.
We immediately noticed the sound of a strong stream rushing by quickly underneath our balcony. Even with the door closed, we could hear the sound of soothing water flowing beneath us. We were greeted with some mint tea on the terrace, and cherished the warmth it brought to us at our new high altitude. The chilly air brought with it smells of sheep, goats, and farmland. We took in the quiet sound of animals roaming below us, and it already felt like a far away land compared to the motorbikes, cars, and shouts of haggling prices in Arabic and French that we were so used to hearing in Marrakesh. We later took the long walk into town to look around. The comfort that comes along with a town this size felt like a warm blanket. It brought with it a sense of familiarity, like I knew my way around all the streets after only an hour of exploring. We stopped for some fresh oranges - these are everywhere in Morocco and always a mandatory stop because of how fresh they are. We also decided on getting some freshly churned nut butter (almond and argan oil) because we were tiring of our carb heavy breakfasts. The breakfast in Morocco is a lot of bread (always homemade) with jams (usually orange and strawberry), and olives, olive oil, and cream cheese. If you’re lucky, maybe there’s 1 hard boiled egg included. Although very good, some protein added on our morning bread gave us something to look forward to.
Right as we were finishing our visit into town, the rain began and we started the march up the big hill back to our accommodation. Feeling the coldness in the air mixed with the light rain, we decided we would ask to hitchhike up the hill from the next car we saw. To our luck, we immediately found someone! On the quick drive, we mentioned it was our first day in Imlil and wondered if they had any hiking recommendations for us. “Well, with my 16 years of guiding experience in Imlil, I certainly have some suggestions” said the passenger in the car. And just like that, we had a plan for what we’d do tomorrow.
The rain started coming down harder, and our accommodation turned bitterly cold. I quickly changed out of my wet clothes and sat on the couch with some blankets wrapped around me. The fires were started, and I sat reading my kindle as I tried to get warm. We kept our blankets on as we ate our warm dinner, finished with coconut cake. My sweet tooth has been sad to find out that dessert isn’t a big thing in Morocco, so this cake was a welcome delight. A great first day in Imlil was finished as we fell asleep to the sound of the crackling fire in our room.
Gallery
