Amizmiz, a Tamazirght ('Berber') village
Trip Start
Sep 16, 2006
1
18
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Trip End
Sep 16, 2007
Amizmiz,
Morocco
Thursday, November 30, 2006
We ate a final, delicious breakfast at ''Universe of D'elicious'': avocado smoothies and oily honey bread, bid farewell as Kurt took off for a side trip up and over the Atlas Mountains to Ouarzazate and the valley oasis while we headed South and West into the foothill Berber villages and the coastal town of Essouira. The good bye hug and peck on the lips proved to be a traumatic experience for the passers by and the gentlemen standing and staring at us, as any sort of touching in public is absolutely forbidden. After 4 days of abiding by said mores, we really wanted a final hug good bye though.
the ride...
After 3 or 4 days of hanging out in the city, Anna and I felt like slugs even in the flats, heading toward Amizmiz. The surrounding views along this dusty road are spectacular: the high high Atlas mountains, craggly snowy peaks, dusty plains, smooth rolling dunes, old men farming in lonesome fields, people on donkeys waving at us, red clay dirt mounds, and Ksar after Ksar (village compounds of the 'Berber' Tamazirght people). Passing through the settlements is always an adventure, or a game of 'please don't throw rocks at us'. It's a fun game for the local kids, but generally when we ring our bike bells and greet them in the Berber language, they back off. The kids are incredibly curious and usually jump on their rusty, creaky, bikes, call to their posse, and escort us through town- sometimes for many a mile. It makes you feel like you are in a parade!! At the end of the day it feels exhausting though, as fun as they are, these kids are really constant and require lots of attention... For example, through one berber village, a little entourage encircled us, chatting with us, beaming big smiles, and as we climbed the double arrow hill out of town, the bustle of kids got confusing, one thing led to another: Anna swerved, and next thing you know she is crashing off her bike, slow motion. Some kids laughed, but they mostly looked worried. This marks fall numero 2 for the Annapillar.
The village of Amizmiz was recommended as an off-the-beaten path Tamazirght town, simple and non-touristy, but it turned out to be a pretty non-eventful, dusty, small town of evil, evil teens who heckled the hell out of us in hordes as we rolled in like pack mules at dusk.
Humiliation ensued!
The small towns are usually better for us though, because though the locals stare like you are a dolphin out of water, they are genuinely curious and friendly, and sincerely appreciate our attempts at their language. Plus, in non touristy towns the people don't pelt you with tourist treatment, so you feel a bit more like you fit in, well... considering. Only one funny 'guide' incident in Amizmiz; we asked a guy on the corner where the hotel was and he sleazily offered to 'guide' us to it, and after much polite refusal and rejection of his insistant offers, he turned annoyed and pointed about 100 feet away at the hotel we had just passed (because, ofcourse we wouldn't have found it ourselves).
We settled into our tidy little room, exhausted, and walked about town and felt sad when we learned that everything, including the bright town carnival and neon glowing ferris wheel, had shut down for Friday night at 8pm! sadly. Also sad was the fact that there was literally no food that didn't have meaty stuff in it anywhere in this town, which is unusual as the veggie and lentil stews are pretty commonplace everywhere in Morocco. But not in Amizmiz, just goat blood and your choice of hanging carcasses galore.
In the morning we shimmied out of town unnoticed, heading toward Imi-n-Tanoute in the mountains.
