T R A V E L
From the Atlas Mountains to the Mediterranean Sea, Africa, Spain and Gibraltar rub shoulders with sunken ships and the Straits of Gibraltar.
Click here for mapLeft: Pit Managing Editor Chris Grant
What were we
supposed to do again?
It's hard to stay focused there's so much to see in Morocco
on the balcony of the Hotel Palais Jamai,
an historic but disintegrating Fez landmark
within the gates of the old city.
By CHRISTINE R. GRANT, ELI DAVIDIAN and GEOFF DAVIDIAN
of The Putnam Pit staff
IN THE MOROCCAN SAHARA -- It's nearly morning and the blowing sand beating against our rudimentary shelter -- jackets over our heads, wrapped in sleeping bags -- provided the drum roll that kept us in anticipation of greater things to come.
And come they did, in magnificent shades of blue, pink and flowing brown as the sun, arriving fresh from China and India, from Egypt, Libya. Tunisia and Algeria and shining on this ground sanctified by the French Foreign Legion and, more importantly some might argue, Humphrey Bogart.
Below: Driving over dried lake beds and faults all night,
Putnam Pit Tennessee Bureau Chief Eli Davidian gets his payoff --
walking barefoot as the sun casts a constantly changing
shadow beyond the blowing sand.
We had come to SCUBA dive in the waters of Morocco, from the Atlantic in Agadir [on the way to Mauritania in the south] to European Gibraltar, across the straits where the Atlantic and Mediterranean mix their bodily fluids between Africa and Europe.But water is water – This was Morocco, and man, it's hard to stay focused in this country. By the time we left we didn't remember what we came for.Cookeville City Council's penchant for annexing land over the opposition of those whose lives would be affected is a characteristic not looked kindly upon by Moroccans. Moroccans are Berbers, an ancient race who, throughout history, have seen their country invaded by a succession of foreign powers.
Here are some links you may find informative.
Morocco by bike
By Andrea Casalotti
[Andrea is a guy's name in Italy.]
At the airport FX counter, the two Gibraltar sluts change a grand. The guy doesn't accept my card, so I tender stg 70, all I have. I must see if a hotel can advance some money (banks are closed). I enter the walls of Marrakech: immediately I am engulfed by stalls, shops and colours. I get some money and mandarins and I set off on the desert plain. The Atlas stands majestically and magnetically in front of me. I pass herds of goats, an attractive kasba and a dam. By now I know that I will not make it before dark. A sense of fear is soon dispelled. The sun sets in a flourish of red and I keep on pedalling. It is only when I arrive at Cafe de France in Amizmiz, that I realise that I pushed a bit hard. I feel feverish, but still able to enjoy my first Moroccan meal: tajine was the name , but I am served first a big tomatoes, peppers and sardines salad, then an omelette, followed by a lamb tagine and a side order of chips. A few mandarins conclude the feast eaten in the garden and washed down by my first and last beer.
Airline: Royal Air Maroc
Fatal Events Since 1970 for Royal Air Maroc
[Click for large map]