The Winding Road to Marrakech

Driving through the Middle Atlas Mountains is like riding a roller coaster through space and time and we found ourselves in such surreal surroundings that it seemed appropriate to eulogize our experience poetically.

Up and away we gallop over the Atlas
While Berber mules plod timelessly on
And washerwomen launder their smalls at the village pump…

An octogenarian troglodyte with a twinkly eye
Beckons us to her mountainous cave
And treats us to a tea dance with her water pail…

The rocky desert, desiccated by day and frosted by night
Gives reluctant succour to a million sheep
And a lonesome shepherd dreams of verdant lands faraway

Mountain springs feed cool azure lakes
And enable the Berber farmers
To wrest a living from this arid land…


We resist the roadside pedlar’s sugary temptations
Of pomegranates, oranges, honey and dates
Until a sweet arbu seller snares us with her smile…

Time shifts ever more backwards as we climb
But winter approaches; the snows are coming
And the mountains will soon turn to alpine pistes…

And then our magic carpet takes us to a new land
Where time miraculously swings to our millennium
And we discover Switzerland in the mountains’ midst…

Yes – Dear blog reader – Nestled amid the medieval villages of Berber peasants and subsistence farmers in the heart of the Atlas is the alpine resort town of Ifrane. It is known as the Geneva of Morocco with its wide, clean boulevards, swanky chalets and expensive French restaurants. It could be a mirage - but it is not.

And the winner of the thousandth blog comment is Abigail Gossage of Ottawa, Ontario. A second prize also of “Slow Train to China” goes to Jean McLaren of Gabriola who posted her comment just a few minutes later. Congratulations to both.