The Desert Princess Does Morocco

Bearing brown sugar and chocolate chips, the Smurfs and their Desert Princess arrived in Morocco early in April. We welcomed them with open arms and wasted no time immersing them in Marrakech. In contrast to the rainy, cold weather that greeted the Smurfs upon their arrival in Vietnam, the desert sun burned bright right from the start this time around. We got busy cramming all the sights and sounds of Marrakech into five hot days in the medina with brief breaks for kitten playtime and dips in the frigid apartment pool.

The princess set to her Marrakech shopping mission right from the get-go with Papa Smurf and his credit card in tow. If it was sparkly, pink, turquoise, or shiny it needed to be felt, evaluated, and tried on. Two days netted two Moroccan “princess dresses” and ignited the quest for the perfect matching shoes.  The medina is a treasure trove of magical trinkets, mysterious boxes, and glittery gems. It’s a seven-year-old’s sensory heaven. Add the princess vibe to the mix, and it became necessary to strategically plot routes from one point to the next – taking us through residential sections of the medina rarely seen - in an effort to avoid the non-stop tactile temptation presented at every turn. We balanced medina shopping with old palaces, stinky tanneries, and tasty Moroccan treats.

Weaving a Moroccan Carpet

First tajine on the terrace

City Fishing

Princess Palace

Looking down on the Spice Market

Snail sampling in the medina

Smoke  and Lights: Jemaa el Fna at Night

After five days in Marrakech, the Smurf crew took off for a desert adventure of their own to Ouarzazate, Zagora, and the Sahara. Charmed by the enchanting image of a desert camel trek, we were reluctant to burst their blissful bubble. I had hinted at the challenge of riding a camel – possibly even stating that it was one of the least comfortable experiences of my life. Alas, you can’t come to the Sahara and not have the dromedary experience. However, there is no good reason to ride a camel for more than five minutes. Papa Smurf will now attest to that. When the crew returned to us three days later, bubbling over with desert adventure stories, Papa Smurf had a distinctly different gait. For the next two days he grunted and groaned about his camel muscles and the “special kind of pain” inflicted by Wally the camel. Mama Smurf muttered something about trauma to her nether regions and flashbacks to childbirth.

We gave the crew a day to recover from camel related suffering, and then Andy and Nolan led them to Seti Fatma in the Atlas Mountains for a day of cool rivers and hiking. The Desert Princess smoothly transitioned from city shopper to mountain goat - deftly navigating suspension bridges, rock hopping through streams, and scaling a ladder for good measure. The camels grazing near the river now held as little intrigue as a Holstein chewing her cud in a Vermont field.

Lounging by the river

The Smurfs headed off for another adventure – this time to the seaside city of Essaouira – where they enjoyed wind, sand, sunshine, seagulls, and, of course, the requisite goats in argan trees. In two weeks, this crew managed to pack in a lot of Morocco. On their final day in Marrakech, we made time for henna for the princess and a final shopping tour of the medina. It was a full two weeks of adventures, but just a taste of the magic of Morocco. With camels out of the way (and probably forever checked off the list), I can now look for other ways to tempt this crew to come back for another visit next year.

Browsing the henna design catalog

Ta Da!

Reunited with Yoka the lost desert Bunny,
we celebrated!

Three weeks of visitors has provided lots of activity on the home front, and it seemed oddly silent when I climbed to the roof to hang sheets out to dry once everyone had gone. Then, as if on cue, the call to prayer began – first at the closest mosque, and, then, one-by-one, mosques around the city joined in the chorus. I smiled to think that Morocco was taking care of me – reminding that I was not alone. An hour later, when I returned to the roof to retrieve the laundry, somebody scored in the Barcelona-Madrid soccer match that was showing in every café in town. The entire city erupted around me – cheering, clapping, and honking came from every corner. I smiled as the truth sunk in; you are never alone in Marrakech.