Tag Archives: Morocco

Ten useful tips for travellers in Morocco

I have been to Morocco three times now, and I feel I’ve seen enough of it to share a few useful tips for first time travellers to this country.

Despite my previous post, where I talked about how annoying it can sometimes be to be pestered by the locals, I would like to stress that I actually love this country, and I will keep coming back. But it does help to keep these little tips in mind!

1. Bargain over everything

bag shop Marrakesh
Me and Valentina bargaining over some bags

Yes, it’s OK to bargain over the price of a taxi. Or the amount you paid for your street breakfast. It is positively expected that you will have a lengthy ‘discussion’ over the price you are paying for anything you buy in a stall or shop, and it is just as much of a given that you will walk away having paid two or three times more than the locals.

On our latest trip to Morocco, my friends and I met an retired American man who spent six months every year in Morocco, and the other six in America. “I can get a bread for half a dirham, a tomato for another half a dirham, and I’ve got myself a  tomato sandwich for a dirham,” he told us, as we were paying 100 dirham (somehow??!) for our own breakfast, which wasn’t even that lavish. One dirham is around 7p to you and me…the same taxi that we paid 50 dirham for that morning cost him 11 dirham, he added. You just have to know how to push.

The only exception, it seems, is when the price is written down. “Fixed price”, they call it. I have never been to a Moroccan supermarket, but I imagine there isn’t much bargaining to be done there. Neither can you really bargain in expensive restaurants and the like. Everywhere else, it seems to be fair game!

2. Never agree to follow men on the street for directions,
even if you are mega-lost

When you first arrive in Marrakesh, prepare to be majorly overwhelmed. The place is a maze that doesn’t even make sense to the locals, and no matter how detailed the directions you are given by your hostel or riad, if you are staying inside the old city there is no chance you will find where you are staying within the first hour.

And guess what looks like easy money to young Moroccan men who can speak a smidgen of English? Tired and lost-looking tourists! Unless you are in a very central area with millions of other tourists around, the local boys will descend upon you like vultures. Don’t even think of following one of them for directions!  They will lead you around in circles for ages and then demand money when you finally get there.

Instead, try to ask women or old men, even if it means communicating with hand gestures. If you can speak French – use it! If you don’t, maybe brush up on your travel phrases before going. Some shop owners can be quite helpful as well, but try to avoid the young males. Consider ordering a good map before heading to Marrakesh, and also keep the phone number of the hostel handy. We have had to be rescued by the hostel owners once when we simply couldn’t find our way, and were being harassed left, right and centre by local boys trying to offer ‘help’.

3. Don’t buy sweets from a cart in the main square

main square Marrakesh

They don’t taste as good as they look! At all. In the evening, you will see men rushing around with these carts filled with local sweets, offering boxes of 12 for 50 dirham (just over £3). But they tend to be a bit stale and stodgy, and are probably best used as a table decoration than food (although we ate all the ones we bought on the first night there anyway).

Instead, find some chebakiya if you want some proper Moroccan sweets. They are the cheapest ones by far, and the tastiest! A big box, even in the most touristy area, shouldn’t cost you more than 30 dirham. You can find it being sold inside the main markets (souks) by dedicated merchants, or in smaller portions with tea in the main square in the evening. It’s essentially a pasty rolled up in the shape of a rose, deep fried until golden and covered in a syrup made from honey and rose water. It is divine! Although also very sickly, and definitely not at all good for you.

4. Bring some Imodium

eating Morocco
Me and Valentina really not looking forward to our dinner

The food in Morocco varies, but it is certainly not for everyone’s stomachs, and although it is nothing as bad as I would imagine India to be, you are quite likely to get a case of the traveller’s tummy at some point during your trip. You can buy Imodium in Morocco if you forget to bring it – all pharmacies should sell it, it has the same name and it isn’t particularly expensive.

Some tips I found useful to try and avoid having to resort to drugs include asking for no ice in your drinks, watching that anything with eggs is really well cooked, even if you prefer them runny, and same goes for meat. Also, probably best to stay away from the orange juice stands in the main square. But to be honest, if you eat street food (or ever end up in a Moroccan or Berber kitchen, for that matter), you will be exposed to a much larger variety of dirt and grime than you are at home. That’s simply a fact you will have to live with, unless you would rather splash out on a five star hotel with a five star restaurant for your whole stay. But that’s not my style!

5. Brush up on your French

People do speak English in Morocco, and many of them speak far more languages than you and I are used to in our insulated UK-based lives (probably not the case for those readers based outside the UK…) When we were climbing in Todra Gorge, many Berbers surprised us by being proficient in Spanish, and some Italian, on top of French, Arabic and English. But you will be better off if you remember some basic phrases, so you can ask for directions, and not confuse your right with your left when you are given them. Or make sure the waiter knows you definitely want your umpteenth cup of tea sans sucre!

I swear I spoke more different languages (that I didn’t even know I could speak!) during my week in Morocco in December than over the course of the whole year prior to that. And that’s considering the fact that last year saw me trying to hold a conversation with my climbing partner’s Italian grandma in Italian. Which I have never learnt.

6. Don’t be afraid of staying in hostels

But maybe bring a sleeping bag liner. You can get them mega-cheap from Sports Direct and they really give that extra sense of comfort when you are not quite sure if the sheets have been washed.

sleeping MoroccoNow, I have never stayed anywhere particularly posh in Morocco, as I’m the type of traveller who actually quite likes slumming it a little, plus the more money I save on accommodation, the more I can spend on other (probably unnecessary) things. But I firmly believe you will have a nicer experience staying in a hostel-style riad in the old city (the Medina), rather than a posh hotel in the new city. If you are not the hostel type, you can still find riads for a very cheap price. I wouldn’t pay more than £15/pp per night at most, but the hostels are easily a third of that price.

Just read the reviews on hostelworld.com and you should be able to pick something suitable. They usually have lots of private rooms for a low price, too. We stayed at Hostel Riad Marrakech Rouge and I thought it was really good value for money, and even included breakfast. It’s also very centrally located and easy to find from the main square, Jemaa El-Fnaa.

7. Have extra space in your luggage…

…because you will want to buy stuff! A lot of stuff. Stuff you don’t really need, or rather, never realised you needed desperately right until this moment. On my last trip, myself and my friend Valentina somehow managed to walk up to a lady selling beanie hats, just to look, and walked away with eight. Eight hats!! Three of them she just gave to us for free, because we clearly failed to haggle as hard as we should have done. (My beanie has come in useful lately though, after London plunged into subarctic conditions.)

“But hats don’t take up that much space in your luggage,” you laugh…Well, I also felt compelled to buy a framed painting for my flat, and something I can only describe as a Jedi cloak as a present for a friend. Which he loved, to be fair. Last time I went I came back with a Moroccan teapot and six tea glasses, following some epic haggling where I told the vendor I was a poor Bulgarian student. I even put on an accent, and all!

8. Travel outside Marrakesh

travel moroccoThere is so much to explore! I have been to Morocco three times, and each time I discovered new adventures. The first time I went with two friends to try out surfing near Agadir, and then visited Marrakesh for the first time. I actually covered this in a different blog (a loooong time ago), so if you want to give this a read here is the link.

The second time a group of us went to conquer Mount Toubkal – the highest peak in North Africa at 4,167m. We succeeded, but we were comically unprepared for the adventure, having only brought a printed version of someone else’s blog to guide us up the mountain. No guides. No map. No compass. And only a couple functioning head torches between nine of us, which came in rather useful when we got lost in the dark on the trek back down, having completely mistimed the whole descent!

9. And at the end of it all…have a hammam!

But I would splash out on a private one, rather than going to a public one. I’ve never actually been to a public one, but the private ones I’ve had are sooooo good! Especially after days of climbing or trekking up and down the Atlas Mountains. Last time we actually had two in one trip!

You are best off booking one of these in advance though, especially if you are going during quite a busy season, because we struggled to find one last minute in Marrakesh on our second night. In the end we managed, and I highly recommend the one we went to: Les Bains d’Azahara. It’s very reasonably priced, and though it is a little bit away from the main touristy areas, it is easy to find. The most basic hammam costs 150 dirham (under £11), while a package with an hour-long massage is 400 dirham. It’s super relaxing and really worth it!

The only thing I would warn you of, is that however careful you are to ask for the men and women in your group to be be placed in separate rooms, that is very unlikely to happen. Every time I’ve had a hammam in Morocco I’ve ended up in the same room as at least one of my male friends, which means that you are probably going to see a number of your friends sporting very skimpy disposable pants. You could always make a fuss about it, but I chose to just enjoy the hilarity of it. If anything, it will bring you and your friends closer. Or at least give you some good blackmail material!

10. Lastly, when you head home, print your Ryanair ticket…don’t rely on your phone!

Moroccan airports are some of the few globally where you still cannot simply show a bar code on your phone instead of printing off your ticket. They don’t have the technology yet, I think. Don’t worry if you aren’t able to print the return ticket before you get to Morocco though, as there are internet cafes in most places.

So on the penultimate day of our latest trip to Morocco, over the New Year’s holiday, we went to an internet cafe to print out our tickets. Imagine our shock when the check-in page told us the flight had already flown?! We looked at the date on the desktop, and with horror realised it said 5 January, not 4 January, as we believed it to be. For a few horrible seconds we genuinely thought we had somehow missed a day?!…..then it turned out the Medieval computer system had the wrong date setting, and the lady manning the store didn’t know how to change it. The check-in page was taking the date from the desktop (for whatever reason), so it wouldn’t let us check in! Eventually though, we managed to print off our tickets using her computer, which didn’t seem to be plagued with this problem.

I hope these little pointers help you on your next trip to Morocco. What else would you like me to write about? What destinations are you planning to check out this year? I would love to hear from you!

Also, for my Italian readers, check out my friend Valentina’s blog, where she has covered some of our adventure in Italian.

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Todra Gorge: The quest for the best climbing guidebook

Over the New Year’s holidays, myself, my climbing partner Valentina and our friend Gianni went to Morocco for a week to climb at Todra Gorge (and eat loads of cous cous!). You can read about our New Year’s Eve celebrations in my first blog about this, but the climbing itself, or rather our attempts to figure out the details, was a whole separate challenge!

We came to Todra Gorge with just a pocket-sized climbing guidebook that we found online, but according to reports we read online a man called Hassan sells hand-drawn topos for climbers on the spot for 250 Moroccan dirham (around £18). Our book was missing key pieces of information, such as the length of the routes, so we were open to the idea of getting another copy. We didn’t realise the search for a good quality guidebook would become such a mission and would teach us so much about the Moroccan ways…

As soon as we disembarked from the coach that took us to Todra from Marrakesh over 8 hours of windy roads, we were approached by a man asking us if we were climbers and whether we were looking for any ‘materials’. He recognised us from the safety helmet attached to the outside of Valentina’s rucksack, I guess, or maybe just the looks on our faces. We ignored him, of course, having already learned this useful tactic in Marrakesh, but he was very persistent!

After we checked in to our hotel (Hotel Restaurant Lakasbah in Tinghir, a town 15 km from the gorge itself), we went for a walk to explore the town and, surprise surprise, got approached by the same man. Yes, he had actually been hanging around waiting for us. I told you, persistent! Since online advice reassured us it was normal to acquire climbing guidebooks in such dodgy ways over here, we thought we would give this guy, who called himself Hussein, a chance. 

The first lesson we learned in the process is that nothing is quick in Morocco. It’s like they run on a clock of their own that’s out of sync with the rest of the globe. Hussein led us to a roof terrace in a cafe, where he offered us tea (one of many, MANY teas we have been offered in this country in similar situations, and which we obviously then had to pay for, including his portion). Time passed as we waited for a friend of his to turn up with, presumably, the books. However, once his friend turned up, he apparently didn’t actually realise we were looking for a topo and said we could only get the book the following day in Todra itself. Fine. We agreed to meet Hussein at 8.30am to go to Todra and pick up the guidebook.

The thing is, he didn’t leave us alone after that. First, he talked a lot. Then he offered us hashish. Then he told us he would show us around the “women’s market”. Then he suggested he would take us for food somewhere when we said we were hungry. We literally had to rush back to the hotel, saying we needed to change into warmer clothes, just to get away from him. But the Hussein saga was only just beginning.

Moroccans don’t like to leave tourists alone after they have made the initial contact and they know there may be something in it for them. And they really don’t understand the idea of privacy. That was the second lesson learnt that evening. Hussein was waiting for us by the main square and saw us as we walked back from our hotel in search of somewhere to go for dinner. He was evidently hoping for an invite so we would pay for his food too. He tried to follow us around until we literally stopped and said “thank you for your help, we’ll see you tomorrow at 8.30“. He sort of got the point then, and left us alone for the night.

Part of me felt bad for getting quite as impatient and angry at the locals for being pushy and annoying – after all, their culture is simply very different to our own. But by the next morning, I was way past being friendly to Hussein, as well as his slightly dim-witted friend, who had also been following us around. He kept telling us he normally lives in Holland and was just in Morocco on holiday, earning him the nickname “Amsterdam”.

The saga continues…

We met Hussein the next morning as agreed, after having breakfast at our hotel. However, he was convinced we were having breakfast together, despite us saying otherwise the night before. He clearly had a plan, and took us to Amsterdam’s cafe for tea, so he could have his own breakfast. Naturally, we had to have tea. We were given no choice in that. When he was finished, it was past 9am, and we were eager to go climbing. But Amsterdam told us the collective taxis to Todra weren’t heading out for another hour (a complete lie!), and we should check out the women’s market in the meantime. We tried very hard to decline, but he just said “Follow me”…and guess what? He took us to the women’s market, of course. If ever you are in Tinghir, getting ready for a day of climbing, never ever follow anyone who tells you about a women’s market!! It is an absolute waste of time and completely unnecessary.

Amsterdam led us to a house where a bunch of Moroccan women weave carpets. He kept telling us we were just here to look, and “not for money”. After a short explanation of what was going on there, he told us the women would like to offer us (more!!!) tea, and that this was Berber hospitality, which of course we couldn’t refuse. The women then, naturally, proceeded to roll out ALL the carpets they had in front of us. Definitely in search of some money. To give them credit, they were very pretty, but never in my life have I not wanted to buy a carpet more than at that point. Hussein, who had stayed with us, was of no help whatsoever and just stayed out of the way. Clearly, he had an agreement with Amsterdam to let him do his business. That was the point I decided it was OK to just be rude!

In the end, we had to literally walk out of that house and tell Hussein we needed to go climbing right now (well done Valentina!), because the shopping tour may well have continued for much longer. Miraculously, it turned out we could easily get a collective taxi to Todra whenever we wanted (surprise surprise).

Taxis TinghirIf you go to the big mini-van taxis and pay 8 dirham per person (around 70p), you just have to wait for the taxi to have six passengers and it will leave. It doesn’t seem to take too long to fill up, considering it’s the biggest town in the area, but you can always offer to cover the missing passengers by paying…another 70p per person. 

When we finally got to Todra…

Upon arrival to Todra, we had to refuse another offer of tea flat out. We were told Hassan, who makes the topos, was busy at that moment. Again, that was a lie, because he came out straight away after we made a big deal about it. 

As other bloggers have described him, Hassan is a tiny old man, with very few teeth, but at least he is clearly knowledgeable about the area. He hand draws all his books, which he sells for 250 dirham. They aren’t great quality, but they are quite a cool souvenir to bring back from the area. Also, with the limited information available from the web, we were convinced his topos were the only local ones we could get, so at (what we thought was) the end of this saga he seemed like a breath of fresh air.

But, on reflection, it turned out we shouldn’t have bought his book after all. As great as the effort he goes to is, he isn’t the only one who knows the routes and he does massively overcharge for the privilege. Besides, I hear he does more drinking than climbing nowadays…

So if you go to Todra, avoid Hassan, avoid Hussein, there are better resources on offer. Just act like you know what you’re doing, and hopefully the wrong people will leave you alone. 

How we discovered the other guidebook…

Despite the hassle of trying to get to Todra and get the topo for the area, we were extremely happy. We now had two climbing guidebooks, the weather was magical, Hussein had finally left us alone, and we had the most gorgeous limestone cliffs all around us. It was time to climb!

It took us a while to figure out where we wanted to go, but Hassan’s book was quite helpful, especially as it provides the general route lengths, which was critical for us, as we only had a 60 metre rope. Many of the routes in the area are over 30 metres long, so a 60m will often not suffice. If you are planning to go, I would strongly recommend bringing a 70m or 80m rope!

climbing TodraFor our first climb, we walked quite far into the gorge, to an area called Petit Gorge, where we found quite a few relatively easy slabby routes, loads of sunshine, and the Spanish climbers, with whom we ended up spending New Year’s Eve (read my previous post for my description of this marvelous experience!).

We also met their Berber friend (well…it actually turned out they met him for the first time that day, but they called him ‘amigo’), who had a completely different climbing guidebook…which looked more detailed than ours and had real photos, rather than hand-drawn diagrams!

Yes, did you really think the saga of the guidebook would end there?!

So we ended up buying that guidebook, too. For 150 dirham – cheaper than the first one. This latest acquisition gave us the length of the ropes needed for each route, making it far easier to figure out where we could and couldn’t go. Hassan’s book just gave the length of the longest route in any given area, but this wasn’t very helpful in places where the routes are quite different lengths.

Sufiane
Me and Valentina with Sufiane, author of the second book and star of my first Morocco blog

We now had three books. Never in my life have I had to acquire three different climbing guidebooks for an area just to try and figure out where to go and what on earth I’m climbing! But I suppose this is what makes this area that little bit more exciting, the fact that it’s only just being developed to global climbing standards now, and much still remains undiscovered and new.

Todra itself is a gorgeous place – red limestone cliffs overlook a winding road, with a small river meandering on each side of it. There is climbing on each side of the river, and taking my shoes off to cross it was my refreshing morning ritual. We could have spent far longer than three days here!

So we carried on climbing with three guidebooks, until on the last day…

…we met a local teenager, Mohammed, who took us to a climbing shop, owned by his uncle Abdul. This was after he watched us climbing for a few hours, so we offered him to climb a route. He did so, in one of our harnesses and his trainers. And he was better than any of us in our rock shoes!

The shop is situated in a small village around 15-20 mins walk from Todra back towards Tinghir, and can be seen on the left hand side if you take a taxi up from Tinghir. It has some gear hanging outside, including a life-sized doll of a climber in a helmet. It’s pretty hard to miss really, so not sure how we managed to do so for three days going up and down from Tinghir!

Abdul is unlike any other locals we met in the area. Firstly, he never tried to sell us anything. He simply waited while we took a look around the shop. He had organised a sport climbing competition that day, which we had heard about but chose not to participate this time, and he also told us he has put a lot of work into bolting up the area and renovating the existing bolts. This guy is putting a lot of effort into looking after the place and promoting climbing in the area.

And of course – yes, you guessed it! – he sells climbing guidebooks. And they really are pretty good quality ones, far better than the other three that we now own…they cost 250 dirham, same as the hand-drawn version by Hassan, but trust me when I say they are far more worth it!

So, at the end of the last day, we found the best topo…and then we had to leave! But when we go back, Abdul will definitely be the only one we go to for advice, guidebooks and anything else we may need. And if you are going, please support this guy by buying his guidebook, and refusing anything else the locals offer you. 

Summary and other useful information for climbers in Todra:

  • Guidebook:
    – Buy your guidebook from Abdul, who owns the climbing shop on the way up to Todra from Tinghir
  • Equipment:
    – Make sure you bring a 70m/80m rope if you want to be flexible in your climbing
    – Apparently some trad gear is necessary on multi-pitch routes, but they look awesome!
  • Accommodation:
    – If you want to stay somewhere with electricity and comfort, I would recommend Hotel Restaurant Lakasbah in Tinghir, but you will have to get a taxi every morning; the rooms are around £15/pp per night, pricey for Morocco.
    – Alternatively, you can stay in Todra itself. You will be closer to the climbing, it will be a third of the price, but the conditions may be pretty dire. Heating is not a given, and it gets pretty cold at night.
  • Food:
    – The food in the area is very samey and in many places it’s really not great! However, we discovered an awesome little place in Tinghir, just off the main square, next to the CTM bus stop, called Cafe Central. It looks like nothing special, but compared to the food we had everywhere else, this was genuinely incredible! I mean, it had flavour. You can’t imagine how important this becomes after a few days here!

An Italian version of this blog has been written by my climbing partner, Valentina. Even if you are not Italian, please check out her new blog here, you’ll find some cool stuff.

Climbing, cous cous and cold beds: a very Berber New Year

Have you ever massaged your food during the cooking process? Well, it was certainly the first time I ever witness such a thing, but apparently that’s the traditional Berber way to cook cous cous! Something Valentina and I found out at 10pm on New Year’s Eve, in a Berber kitchen in the middle of the Moroccan mountains, hungry and tired after a day of climbing and wondering what on earth was going on…

I don’t remember whose idea it was to go to Morocco for an end-of-year climbing holiday, but I loved it straight away, having been to the country a couple of times before and loved it both times. I originally suggested going somewhere like Costa Blanca, which apparently is a great place to climb in the winter, but the price of the tickets and the difficulty getting there, considering we were all going to fly from different places, had put us off. Morocco seemed to work for everyone, and more importantly, it is warm this time of year, and cheap all year round!

So, after painstakingly working out a day when we could all arrive within not too many hours of each other – me flying from Germany, Valentina from Italy, and Gianni from London – we finally had an itinerary.

  • Arrive in Marrakesh on 28th December
  • Travel eight hours by coach to Tinghir on the 30th
  • Climb in Todra Gorge for three days
  • Head back for Marrakesh on 3rd January, 2016!

That meant New Year’s Eve in the mountains, which was exciting and unpredictable, and we all loved the idea!

There is a saying in Russia, the way you welcome in the New Year is the way you will spend it. Well, we welcomed it in with a group of Spanish climbers, in a Berber house, having finally sat down to eat a HUGE dish of cous cous after – I kid you not! – three hours of cooking it. Which involved the said massage – something that had to be performed once after the cous cous was first rinsed, and again after it was cooked the first time. While it was steaming hot.

Now, apologies to all Berber people, because I am probably insulting you here, but isn’t cous cous the quickest thing in the world to cook? Boil water, cover the grains, leave them to stand for five minutes, done! Ok, ok, so apparently there is also this special non-instant cous cous that needs cooking for longer. But I saw the packaging, and it was exactly the same as the stuff we get over here (probably imported from Morocco)! And even if it had been, three hours?!!! Really??!

Let’s backtrack for a second. New Year’s Eve, 31st December, was our first day of outdoor climbing in Todra Gorge. We did not know what to expect in the slightest and had no plans for the evening. From the previous night’s attempts to discover evening entertainment or even acceptable food in Tinghir, a village where we were staying, around 15km away from the gorge, we discovered there was none. So we hoped a plan would materialise once we arrived at the crag, met some climbers and inevitably became great friends with them within half an hour (that is, after all, the way the climbing community works, right?).

And that is kind of what happened. We met two groups of climbers that day – three boys from Ireland and four climbers from Spain, and all of them invited us to join them for celebrations in the evening. They were all staying in Todra itself, which presented a problem if we wanted to go back to our hotel at night – unfortunately, Uber does not work in the Moroccan mountains, and the walk back to our hotel from Todra would be a grueling 3 hours in the bracing cold of night (well…colder than the balmy 22 degrees of the midday sun!). But we decided we should still come and party there, instead of staying in the town where we knew no one.

We chose to stay with the Spanish lot for one main reason – they were hanging out with a Berber man called Sufjan, who was also a climber, but couldn’t climb himself due to an injury. He provided topos for the area (more on this topic in a separate blog!), and also regularly housed climbers in his family home, where the Spaniards were spending New Year’s Eve. They invited us to join them, and we thought the experience was not to be missed. Well…I guess one thing is sure, we will never forget our Spanish/Berber New Year’s Eve celebrations!

After we finished climbing, we got a lift back to our hotel from one of the Spanish guys so we could shower and change, while he and Sufjan went grocery shopping in the town for festive dinner and some Moroccan wine – a novelty in a country as dry as Morocco. Not that wine is impossible to come across here, but it has to be bought from hotels and it is expensive by local standards (though apparently a bottle of the wine we had actually only cost €7). Anyway, around 8pm we got picked up again at our hotel and drove to the Berber house.

When we arrived it was past 8.30pm and Valentina very aptly predicted that the food would not be ready until midnight. I was convinced some vegetables and cous cous could not take so long to cook. After all, Sufjan had “forgotten” (skimped out on??) the meat, so we were in for a vegetarian meal! I was wrong. It really did take three hours. And on top of that, we were made to do all the work in the kitchen – either because we were women, though there was another girl there not participation, or because we expressed an interest in the Berber cooking tradition.

The cous cous was cooked in an aluminium contraption consisting of a pot at the bottom, in which the vegetables were boiling, and the cous cous in an aluminium sieve on top, with the steam from the vegetables rising to cook it over time. Except the device didn’t really work, so Sufjan used an old torn up plastic bag to seal the gaps between the two dishes, to allow the steam to seep through to the top. That I will also never forget. Then, at the crucial moment, the gas stove ran out of gas and we had to use a portable gas cylinder, except the dish would not balance on it without spilling over, so we had to crouch on the floor, holding it up from either side with a towel, to avoid burning our hands. It was around 10.30/11pm by this point. Simply epic.

Now you would think three hours of cooking would produce stunning results, with subtle flavours and delicate aromas, but unfortunately it did not. Which makes me that little bit more amazed at how long it all took. Because it was literally a mountain of cous cous, covered in boiled vegetables and a bit of broth, flavoured with a tiny bit of salt and cheap saffron. Luckily, Sufjan had some spicy sauce, which made it all more bearable. Apart from this masterpiece, we had the usual bread, which comes with every meal in Morocco, fruit and pastries for dessert, and one bottle of wine between nine of us. This was particularly surprising, since we chipped in €10 each for the groceries, an amount that usually goes a very long way in Morocco. But that’s a lesson learnt – do your own food shopping, no matter how little time you have and how badly you need a shower instead!

But it certainly wasn’t all bad, don’t get me wrong. For one thing, I managed to start working on one of my New Year’s resolutions right there and then – to go back to learning Spanish – as we spent the entire night speaking exclusively in that language. I understood…some of it. We also met some wonderful people. One of the Spanish climbers was blind (!), but climbed harder than us and was planning to do a multi-pitch with his friend the following day. The girl in the group had been climbing just over a year, but could comfortable flash a 6c lead outdoors. They were a cool and impressive bunch, and I’m really glad we met them!

And did you know what the Spaniards do as the clock strikes 12 on New Year’s Eve? They take a small piece of fresh ginger, chew it and swallow it while making a wish. It’s supped to bring good luck and good health. That was probably the most flavoursome thing we’d eaten all night! And we washed it down with a couple of shots of Mezcal, a distilled alcoholic beverage which comes from Mexico, made from the maguey plant. The blind man brought a bottle of the stuff with him, and at 41% alcohol it kept us toasty in the late hours. Because Berber houses don’t really have heating, apart from some coal burners or an old camping stove, and it gets pretty chilly in the Moroccan desert and mountains that time of year, so we had to resort to everything we could to keep ourselves warm.

We ended up staying in that house, as there was no way to get back to our hotel room, and spent the night dreaming about a hot shower and sheets that didn’t smell of goat. But looking back, I already cherish the memory of that experience. The simple joy of waking up in the mountains and taking a walk up to the bottom of a sheer sandstone cliff, glowing orange in the morning sunshine, ready for a day of climbing, cannot be spoiled by a cold bed and a badly cooked cous cous dish. Nothing compares to starting the New Year that way, and I’m grateful that this was the way I walked into 2016.

Addiction to adventure: in love with the pain

Every step I take up the steep winding steps sends shooting pains up my knees and thighs, and the worst thing is I know it will hurt twice as much on the way down. But I can’t help laughing at the crippled predicament I’m in, that we’re all in.

Slowly we shuffle up the staircase, wincing every time we put weight on our tortured limbs, all the time wide ecstatic smiles dancing on our faces. We made it to the top of North Africa yesterday!!! What’s a few extra flights of stairs?

There is something addictive, something so appealing and irresistible about the pain and struggle we put ourselves through in our fight to get to the top, to reach the finish line, to fight until we have nothing left to give. We are all drug addicts, who, having tasted the bittersweet poison of adventure, battle through our day-to-day activities like zombies in anticipation of the life-giving elixir of the next challenge, the next fight, the next push.

It is now nearly a year since a group of us hiked to the top of Mount Toubkal, the highest peak in the Moroccan Atlas Mountains (4,167m). The altitude and long hours of hiking took their toll on us. There were illnesses, arguments, and exhaustion, but what I remember most vividly now is the exhilaration of getting to the top, and the sense of accomplishment and deserved rest the following day.

I miss that feeling terribly, and I want to experience it again. And again. And again.

I want to push myself to the top of a mountain again, suffering the headaches, the nausea, the exhaustion. I want to be forced to search for those last reserves of energy to cover the remaining few hundred metres, to stand at the top and spread my arms out to the sides, breathing in the cold, crisp air. I want to feel like I’m on top of the world again. I don’t care if it will be physically painful, because I know it’s SO worth it!

People often ask, what it is about climbing and mountaineering that’s so appealing? Adventure sports is a drug that’s so much stronger than the chemically induced highs that keep people dancing throughout the night in clubs. It’s an addiction so powerful that no amount of going “cold turkey” could ever cure it. It’s feeling bright amid a nondescript grayness.

When I’m climbing a route outdoors, or scrambling up some crumbly scree, my mind goes blank, in a way I have never managed to achieve through any amount of meditation (I usually just fall asleep!). All the everyday worries, insecurities and petty annoyances just slip away, leaving pure focus. On the rock in front of me, the pebbles under my feet, the steel pieces of equipment in my hands, and the rope tied into my harness. Beautifully simple, the uninterrupted concentration on staying safe and making it up to the top.

That’s what I climb for – that inner calm and composure, more than the adrenaline, or even the gorgeous views at the top of a mountain or a multi-pitch route.

Falling in love with mountaineering isn’t a phase, nor is it an unhealthy obsession. It’s simply the elation of finally discovering what it feels like to be alive, and holding on to that feeling with everything you have. Because nothing else compares, and nothing ever will. And it’s worth all the money in the world.

So…….who’s up for doing a 5,000m peak with me? 😉