After the long morning on camels, we had an extremely welcoming kasbah. So welcoming, in fact, that Derrell nick-named one of the owner’s Glue Guy, since he was never more than 3 feet away.
The Kasbah Mohajut was pretty. It is reminded us of the Santa Fe adobes. The outside walls the desert red sand color were topped with some open designs just at the edge of the flat roof that doubles as a terrace and sleeping area, if you decide your room is too hot. (As we left the next morning, we discovered all of the hotel staff sleeps on the ground outside the kasbah on foam mats with a blanket at the entrace-exit of the building, a.ka., shady side.) The kasbah opened onto small gardens that supplied the hotel with bay leaf trees, tomatoes, onions, corn, squashes and random other plants. The gardens came complete with a kitten that stalked the guests as they wandered to and from the rooms. I felt a bit bad that the kitten had ear mites and there wasn’t much we could do for it, but otherwise it looked fairly spunky and well-fed (an somewhat amazing thing for a cat in Morocco).
The Berber rugs that hung on the walls looked as if they could have come from the American Southwest. Whoever had decorated the place had a good eye for matching tiles, furniture, lighting and linens. Add that to the walled gardens that kept out the dust storms, you finally felt like you were in an oasis from the desert.
Upon arrival and after a long shower with cold water, we sat down for a cold Coca-Cola and huge litre of water and immediately had three of the hotel staff join us for what we now deem the famous Moroccan pastime of the ‘Word Game’. Being exhausted from the morning ride, we didn’t really hold our own on learning any new Berber or Arabic words, but I think they picked up a couple from us.
I made the fatal mistake of stretching and mentioning my back being quite sore from the camel ride. Our glue guy offered a massage so adamantly that I couldn’t really turn him down without it being a gigantic rebuff. Derrell was off to one side and had that raised eyebrow look that says, you opened your mouth on this one, let’s see you get out of it. Well, getting out of it consisted of getting a good 10 minute back massage which I sort of recommend after a camel ride. I returned the favor, and this may have been the binding moment for me and glue guy. He was never more than three feet away from us for the rest of our stay. We headed back to our room, and he came by to offer a fan (and a very good fan it was in that baking heat). We sat outside in the shade of the garden and he directed us to a better seating area. He brought us mint tea, pillows, a small table. Are you sort of getting the idea on this? We had a special plate of cucumbers brought out pre-dinner. Finally, he popped the question… we could see this one coming… were we married? I had to break his heart and let him know that his masseuse wasn’t available.
It was at this point that we considered the number of local women that we had seen in the kasbahs… a fine goose egg of zero. I asked a few of the men about their families and the families all lived in either Rissani, Erfoud or Er-Rachidia. It didn’t sound like anyone was married. Given the long weeks running the kasbahs at the edge of the desert, I can imagine finding a partner must be a rather daunting task.
Well, we survived the heat in gorgeous surroundings and Derrell stood on the terrace looking out at the huge sand dunes while the sun was setting, and had a full geek experience of calling his dad on his cellphone using a bit of a delayed satellite connection. Not too bad of a connection for a call from camel utopia to Hawaii. To add a tinge of perspective, the area still has a sign saying 50 nights to Timbuktu (that’s in camel trekking days to Mali).
