To escape the dirty madness of Marrakech, Andy and I opted to go on a day trip to a village in the mountains to see a few waterfalls. We found an advertisement for the trip outside a rundown building about a block from the square. We reluctantly walked in and followed arrows painted on the once white walls, up the stairs, to a small office where two women sat waiting to fool innocent tourists. She told us a tour was leaving the next morning at 9am and would be back in Marrakech at 4 in the afternoon. It would take us on a short journey to a small local picturesque village in the mountains with multiple waterfalls overlooking the tiny town. We looked at one another with that, “Is this too good to be true” look as Andy handed over the 400 Moroccan Dirham to the scamming lady.
The next morning when Andy and I woke we got dressed in shorts, tee shirts and flip flops, then walked to meet the tour bus. When we arrived at the meeting place a 12-seater junk mobile was waiting for us. It probably would have been safer to stick a few lawn chairs in the back of a semi-truck and go bolting down I-95 during rush hour traffic, but we kept a smile on our face looking forward to seeing the “stunning breathtaking waterfalls” of Marrakech. And in true Moroccan fashion the 1 ½ hour trip took 3 hours as the driver stopped off at all his friends' roadside markets selling the same crap being sold on every street in the city! If there was a random vendor on the side of the road we stopped because it was his “best friend”. Then we arrived at the, oh so not, picturesque village.
As we all got out of the dirty gasoline fume filled van, we were faced with the derelict shabby little town selling more clay pots, cheap sequin slippers, and rundown restaurants with food I wouldn’t even feed my dog! But before I could wrap my head around this rural mess, a young man was running up to our group claiming to be our guide to the waterfalls. Not wanting to be scammed out of more money, Andy and I said we would just follow the trail and see the falls on our own until the guide said, “Not good idea. Come with me then decide if you want to pay at end” Ahhhhhhhh fine! So we went with the rest of the group.
I was soon counting my lucky stars we decided to go with the tour guide when he began to lead us on a path filled with jagged wet rocks with the incline increasing every few feet! As the rocks got bigger and wetter, we were guided to cross extremely rickety man-made log bridges bound to collapse into a quickly flowing stream, all while wearing flimsy flip flops! If it weren’t for Andy catching me and the tour guide literally lifting me up over a rock, too big for me to climb, I would probably still be floating down that stream in the Moroccan mountains. When we finally got to the waterfall and I was sure this disastrous flip flop rock climbing hell was over, the tour guide told us we had a hour and half to go and the hardest part would be over soon… right after we climbed a wooden ladder (which was just leaning on an 8ft wall of rock and probably made by the rickety bridge maker)! I immediately whipped my head around to Andy and gave him the glare of death!! He knew right then he was best to steer clear of me for the rest of the hike…. If only the poor tour guide knew the same! Lets just say as I slipped and fell down the mountain we just climbed, I gave the tour guide quite an earful! And even with the little English he knew, he learned quickly this was not my cup of tea!!!
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