Travel diary to Morocco march 2025

Here I am back in Morocco, this time in winter. There are 7 of us in the group, 4 men and 3 women, which is unusual because men are usually
in the minority. We will have bright sunshine throughout our stay, but we will have to weara light sweater because we are in the High Atlas
at an altitude of 1,554 meters. Jamal, our guide, told us that ithas rained heavily after a five-year drought. We land in Marrakech in the early
evening. The next day, we take a minibus to reach Boutaghrar, where we will stay at Jamal's cousin Mohamed's inn. On the way, we stop to
paint the village of Aït ben Hadou, clinging to its rocky hill. It blends in with it in its ochre colors. We arrive in
Boutaghrar on Monday evening around 6:00 p.m.

On Tuesday morning, we took a mule track behind our inn to meet Mohamed, the caretaker of the place. The motif was
a farm with its garden, below the path. We climbed the stairs leading to Mohamed's cottage. We spread out on the
steps to paint. He prepared us a delicious mint tea, the teapot of which was heated over the embers in a wheelbarrow.

The farm

In the afternoon, we set up our tripods in an alleyway in the village of Boutaghrar to paint a beautiful kasbah.
At the top of one of its towers, there is a huge nest with a pair of storks. They are common in Morocco, as we will
have the opportunity to see them in Marrakech. A swarm of children surrounds us, very interested in what we are
doing. We return to the inn and, after a good shower, wait for mealtime. The large dining room welcomes us.
A wood-burning stove is roaring, spreading a gentle warmth because night has fallen and it is cold. In the room,
I will add a blanket because the temperature drops to 6°. Moreover, there is a small convector in each room in case
of need.

A kasbah in Boutaghrar

Wednesday morning, head to Kalaat M'Gouna in the Valley of Roses, so-called because the Damascus rose is grown there, which is said to
have been imported by pilgrims returning from Mecca in the 10th century. Harvesting takes place in May and ends with the very touristy
moussem festival. It is still distilled there for perfume, soap, and cooking, but most of the production is distilled in Marrakech and Casablanca
to make soap and cosmetics.

It's market day, and business is brisk. We sit down to paint the stalls: fruits and vegetables, terracotta pots, steel basins, chickens and eggs
placed on the ground. We feast. Then we head to the hammam.

The market in Kalaat M'Gouna

Nine of us cram into a tuk-tuk as best we can. Jamal is clinging to the back and Olivier, our teacher, is up front,on the footrest next to the
driver. We buy a horsehair glove and some black soap from the shop across the street. Nothing like our black soap, this one is creamy and
caramel-colored. A large matron takes us in hand, rubs the horsehair glove with the black soap, and then shampoos our hair with her
shampoo. We emerge with baby-soft skin. We look for a shop where we can eat. Miraculously, we find one open because it's the middle of
Ramadan. There are chairs and a small round table. The cook is preparing crepes that we've reserved for her. We order cheese crepes.

In the afternoon, we have a choice of two motifs: a magnificent landscape with snow-capped mountains in the distance but in the wind, and
a typical downhill alley of the city. I choose this motif.

Typical street in Kalaat M'Gouna

On Thursday, we head to El Hot, where we'll spend the day. We walk for an hour to paint the great Kasbah.
Our muleteer with supplies joins us along the path along the river, just as we've taken the track. We settle down
along the path, with the great Kasbah in front of us.

The great Kasbah

Then we cross the ford to reach her. We enter the courtyard. Mohamed, our muleteer, has prepared a delicious meal for us, with a starter of
fresh vegetables, pasta, and pieces of mackerel, followed by a piping hot dish of white beans, followed by fruit for dessert.
A short nap is in order, then we paint the village of El Hot, which we overlook.

The village of El Hot with its minaret

Friday, we head to Abdou's house in Tallouit, overlooking Boutaghrar. It's an hour and a half walk, and it's steep. Halfway there, I'm already
fed up and turn back to join Marie, who's staying at the inn. I paint jugs in the courtyard, then stroll through the village. I reach Saïd's shop
where I buy three Berber pendants as gifts. Each of us will stop by to buy a souvenir. Saïd is a family friend.

The vases in the courtyard

Saturday morning we board the minibus heading to Aït Ahmed, half an hour away. It's a small village north of Boutaghrar, and it's market
day. Unlike Kalaat M'Gouna, this one is enclosed with a beautiful pointed arch entrance. After wandering among the stalls, everyone chooses
their spot to paint. We'll spend the morning there, then return to Boutaghrar. Our minibus becomes an omnibus. Soon there are fourteen of us
instead of nine. Stools have been added to the central aisle to gain space.

The afternoon is free, and everyone takes the opportunity to do their last shopping, as it's our last day at the inn In the evening, after dinner,
there's a concert of Berber music and songs to the sound of bendirs and castanets. These were exported during the Arab conquest of Andalusia.
The Spanish drew inspiration from them to create their own castanets.

Sunday morning we get up early to leave at 8:30 am because Denis has to be at the airport at 4:00 pm. We say goodbye to this endearing
family who welcomed us. Arrival in Marrakech at 3:30 pm. Denis takes his taxi and the rest of the group decides to visit the Jewish cemetery not
far from there. Jean-Patrick told us a ten-minute walk which turns into half an hour because it is much further than he had told us. We arrive at
5:00 pm, the cemetery closes at 6:00 pm. We just have time to read the signs and wander through a few paths because the cemetery is several
hectares. It is one of the largest in Morocco. I decide to do a watercolor.

The Jewish cemetery

We reach the restaurant where Jean-Patrick has reserved a table for 8:00 p.m. It's ten minutes from Jemaa el Fna Square, and we're far from it. We get lost on the way and walk for another half hour. We arrive early, however. 
While we wait, we enjoy an aperitif. The restaurant was recommended by Jean-Patrick's wife. We enjoy the meal despite the very slow service.

Monday morning free. We're hesitant to go see the Majorelle Gardens; it's going to be too crowded. Marie and I decide to stay in the riad's courtyard
and paint. Bruno goes to explore the medina, Michèle and Jacques visit the tombs of the kings, and Jean-Patrick has a slight stomach bug and
stays in his room. Mid-afternoon, the plane takes off for Paris. See you next time, Morocco!

The riad