Ourika Valley

Mosaics In Morocco

Ourika Valley Morocco

Whomever coined the phrase “getting there is half the fun” might have been inspired while taking the forty five minute drive from Marrakech to Ourika Valley. I am one of the lucky ones who has a picnic home in this lovely little Berber village. We were no more than twenty kilometers west of Marrakech when we saw the first snow blanketing Jeb Toubkal, the highest mountain in Morocco. 14,000 plus feet. I remember, more than thirty years earlier when I heard there was skiing on the mountain of Jeb Toubkal, in Okaimden, I went to see for myself.

They had donkeys pulling a poma rope type of lift to reach as high as they could on the side of the mountain. Now, they are building the biggest and most luxurious resort in Africa, in the same spot.

Morocco is flourishing with tourism from all over the middle east and Europe. The country has remained politically neutral and open to all friendly visitors. They are an inspiration in detente. Americans love Morocco and are still their best friends. America’s treaty of friendship with Morocco is our longest unbroken treaty, signed in 1787. The treaty we value so much was actually derived from extortion. The Moroccan’s captured an American ship named “The Betsy.” It was a gentle capture but the Moroccan King told President Washington they would release the ship, only upon the signing of a peace treaty. George complied. At a different time President Washington also pleaded to the king to help stop our ships from being fired upon, in the Mediterranean. The king complied. A copy of the two correspondences can be found at the end of this message. We are, by far, their best shoppers. In Morocco they say “The French come and buy beautiful scarves, skirts and purses. Whatever it takes to make the ladies, even more, lovely. The Spanish, even though they have their own beautiful leather, Buy bags, belts and other trinkets. The American’s buy ten rugs.”

As we began rounding the mountain curves leading into the valley, the Ourika River appeared on the left. This beautiful rock bottom river originates from the mountain lakes, where the government has built beautiful dams, and from natural snow runoff. There have been many flash floods over the years and hundreds of lives have been claimed in the torrents. For these gentle natured but rugged mountain berber’s, the Ourika River and what God does with it is just a way of life.  More than once, homes, close to ours, up and down the one road that runs through the village, were washed away. Fortunately, our home, which sits right on the river has a natural protective barrier, just up stream. On this visit, I saw where the river got high enough and fierce enough to rip an iron gate off of our patio wall. The river is crossed mainly via rope bridges. Not only must you step between large gaps between the few boards that haven’t yet broken, you have to put your weight from each foot directly over the center steel cable. Countless times I have had to lean to the side and cling to the hand cable, like any other terrified tourist, to allow the Berber children to run past me at break neck speed.(no pun intended). It’s their laughing, all the while, that really get’s my goat.

The dry desert terrain that we left on the other side of the mountain entrance to our valley gave way to lush green pastures and apple orchards, one after another. Fields of tomatoes, corn and every vegetable that it takes to make the food of Ourika so famously delicious throughout Morocco, were all growing in fields on the left side of the road. On the right side of the road, allowing for space to park a small car, is a straight up mountain face, broken up by little enclaves bearing a house or local store or vegetable stand. Young boys sell strawberries along the roadside, that come packed in hand woven and hand sealed baskets. There is so much water in Ourika that it oozes from places in the mountain and runs down the cliffside in sheets. The locals have carved small grooves in the cliff face, under the water sheets, where they cool Cokes and other drinks to sell to the tourists.

If you go the few kilometers from our home to the village center and take a thirty minute hike-climb, you will come to four beautiful waterfalls on top of each other. It’s the hang out for the local swimsuit crowd…understandably so. If you turn south for less than a kilometer, halfway down from the falls, you will come to the Shrine of Sitti Fatima, a Berber Saint. Put religious convictions aside and enjoy the serenity of this small shrine tucked into the side of the mountain. I didn’t have time for a trip to the falls this visit.

But, let me not overlook the most important reason of all for the fame of Ourika food…..The bread of Ourika Valley will go down in the annals of Moroccan history as “unmatachable.” There is a reason. I’ve taken a few photographs of my day in Ourika so the thousand word phillosophy of pictures may further intrest you in our tour. The old, river driven, mill grinding wheel is operated the same way as was practiced a thousand years ago.This mill, itself is older than the villager’s can remember. It produces the freshest flour possible. The stone grinding wheel  can be adjusted up or down, slightly, depending on the size of the grain. The direction of the wheel can be changed by a wooden slat gear type of device, guided by a rope pulled foot peddle. The wheat and other grains are stored in pots, ready for kneading and baking in the mills indoor-outdoor kitchen. The kitchen was old world, but impeccable. The  beautilul, hand pounded silver searving trays and kitchenware made me think about my own kitchen and feel totally uncivilized.

Tour busses from Marrakech come through the valley regularly so the typical camel rides and local tour guides await tourist’s at every stop. Self titled “merchants”, who are mostly runners from the smaller villages up the mountain, walk the streets with cardboard boxes, hawking  hand pounded silver and metal “Alladin lamps” and other jewelry and trinkets. Occaisionally, an old daggar or other treasure can be found in the mix, so I check them all out. Artifacts ancient in the western mind are only used stuff to them. These people were living this same way for centuries before our country was born. It’s a way of life that works for them. Whether by choice or, most likely not, the Ourika Valley Berber life is one of less stuff in exchange for for less stress. I’ve found, in every country, rural people, with a life more concentrated on the basics, are pretty similar. It’s city people who differ so greatly.

My home, Villa Sarmi Taylor, is in an area of Ourika called Akbalou. It’s a concrete structure that was one of the oldest survivors of the valley’s punisher, The Ourika River. There is a front facing salon room, with a much used fireplace, that leads to a patio and down the steps to the river. We used to take the rugs we bought and put them into the river with big rocks holding them down. They washed naturally and the moving water prevented any die runs. We would then hang them on the side of the villa to dry and the tour busses would honk and wave at us on the roof patio. God, I love tourist’s. They’re so happy.

The kitchen, bedrooms and bathroom are located toward the back of the house, which is, actually, the front, looking at it from the street side. I took the first fountain I purchased to Ourika and put it into an entrance hall in the home, where they will decorate around it with benches, pillows and exotic Moroccan textiles.  Outside the entrance, a stairway leads to the roof top, where I spend most of my time. Here I have a good view of what’s going on up and down the river and road. When night falls in the valley and the only lights you see come from the lanterns winding down the mountain side in the hands of the local’s, many of whom are groups of singing children, the stars look almost reachable. The peace I feel at night in Ourika is only interupted by the slightly chilly to downright freezing feeling standing outside at night brings.
Ourika Valley is a special place in Morocco and on this planet.