On video: A journey around Morocco during the historic World Cup week (Walla system!)
I came to Morocco to participate in a tourism conference of the Association of Travel Agencies, hosted by the Moroccan Ministry of Tourism.
As fate would have it, this conference coincidentally took place during a historic week in the country, and the stay that was supposed to be short, turned into a magical journey across the country for me.
A journey that included a kind of roots trip, because my mother and her family were born and raised in Morocco, but most of all - a trip to a country full of madness as a result of the unusual sensation caused by its team's players in the World Cup in Qatar.
The conference was held at the Grand Savoy Marrakesh Hotel, with the participation of approximately 300 tourism consultants and travel agents from a variety of offices throughout Israel, senior officials in the tourism industry from Morocco and Israel and the leadership of the Association of Travel Agencies led by Chairman Kobi Karni and CEO Tali Laufer.
The conference included, among other things, speeches, panels, exhibitions, meetings, fascinating lectures by Dr. Eyal Doron and the journalist Ohad Hamo, and also a lot of fan.
For example, in the evenings there were celebratory Moroccan dinners, which included, among other things, the familiar Moroccan dishes such as couscous, spinge, mouflettes, a variety of special salads, and traditional cakes and desserts.
In the performance section, we enjoyed the music of local bands, Einat Shroff with her never-ending energy, Shimon Buskila - how not?, and also Neta Elkaim and her excellent band.
The Director General of the Moroccan Ministry of Tourism, Adel El Fakir, greeted the friends who came from Israel with the blessing "Welcome to you" in Hebrew, and said that Morocco "is your second home". He noted that Morocco is interested in seeing the continuation of the tourism boom from Israel to the country and revealed that in the last year they visited it About 70,000 Israelis. "The goal for 2023 is to triple this number and reach 200,000 tourists from Israel." I had the opportunity to talk with Mr. Al Fakir, but I was interested in one thing. Soccer, so what? Al Fakir revealed to me that he was Very interested in holding a friendly match between the national teams of Israel and Morocco.
Fans celebrate the victory over Spain in Marrakesh (photo: official website, Dror Zamir)
Want to see more tourism from Israel.
El Fakir and Karni at a conference in Marrakesh (photo: official website, Shlomi Yosef)
When I calculated the travel dates, before the World Cup started, I assumed that when I arrived in Morocco, the tournament would already be in the round of 16, the local team would have already finished its part and the players would be at home.
After all, they were drawn into a tough house, with strong Belgium and world runner-up Croatia.
Although I bet on her as the surprise of the tournament (who even imagined how much?), still deep down I didn't really believe in the Atlas Lions.
And oh how wrong I was.
Tuesday has arrived, the day Morocco plays against Spain in the round of 16.
The schedule of the conference included a tour of the Majorelle Gardens and the Yves Saint Laurent Museum. With all due respect to the gardens and the museum, I knew in advance where I would be during the game. In the central square of Marrakesh, Jemaa El Pena, with all the fans watching the game on the giant screen at the venue . There I met Abdel, the guide who will be close to me throughout my stay in Morocco. What is a guide? Brother.
After the tremendous victory and promotion to the quarter-finals, I decided to extend my stay in the country and experience the madness of the World Cup up close.
In Morocco it is better to travel with a local person, who knows the language and the culture and will know exactly where to take you in this huge country.
After the frenzy in the square, Abdel took me to the gala dinner held as part of the conference.
Of course I was late for her, and I didn't even get dressed and take a shower before.
I arrived directly from the square, sweating, wearing the team shirt I bought in the market.
Number 7, Hakim Zaish.
The best shirt for that evening.
And the Moroccans who were in the restaurant loved it so much.
Well what?
They were in the clouds.
A barbecue stand in the market (photo: Walla! system, Dror Zamir)
A man in his wheelchair is waved at the celebrations (photo: official website, Dror Zamir)
Order one beer - get two (Photo: Walla! system, Dror Zamir)
Sharks next to sardines in the market in Isvira (photo: Walla! system, Dror Zamir)
I told Abdel that I wanted to stay in Morocco at least until after the quarter finals and I would love for him to join me, take care of me and show me the country.
He didn't hesitate, built a plan for us that included accommodation, meals, travel and watching the games of course.
I told him that with all due respect to the obvious tourist sites, I would love to experience the "real" Morocco.
"Let me live a bit like a Moroccan," I told him.
"Take me to the real places. I want to taste what Morocco has to offer."
He understood my head and from that point I didn't have to say a word.
I let Abdul lead.
We arrived from Marrakesh to Casablanca, the big city and very different from Marrakesh.
If Marrakesh has class and a more traditional atmosphere, Casablanca is already an urban city.
for better and for worse.
There is a stunning sea with a beautiful and modern promenade, there is the impressive mosque named after Hassan II, and there is also the poor and broken side.
I told Abdel that if I'm already in Casablanca, I want to look for the house where my mother was born and raised.
We arrived at the place where he directed us, and found the famous cinema that was opposite the house.
The cinema is already closed but the building remains.
The taxi driver immediately understood what it was about.
The house itself?
Probably destroyed.
Well, almost 60 years have passed.
The Jewish quarter in Casablanca, what is known in Morocco as "Malach", looks very old and ruined.
Not in the entire city of Malach in this situation.
However, there is also something magical in all the dirt and disorder.
After Casablanca, we planned a route south along the coast.
Our next destination was Al Jadida - a port town with some fine fishing restaurants.
One of them, Snack l'mraissa, where we ate, turned out to be one of the culinary successes of the trip.
A pampering table full of Moroccan salads, sauces, bread and chips and of course fish plates full of a wide variety of what the city's beaches on the Atlantic Ocean have to offer.
eat with your hands.
Anyway, this is something I had to get used to in Morocco.
Cutlery is often given up here. Even when we ate kebabs for that matter, a fork and knife were not involved in the tin. We made small pitas from the bread that was served alongside the meatballs and ate the meat with them.
One of the best meals of the trip, Al Jadida (Photo: Walla! system, Dror Zamir)
Casablanca (photo: Walla! system, Dror Zamir)
Abdel told me not to speak English that would give away that I was a tourist
In the evening we went to see the World Cup quarter-final matches of Croatia against Brazil, followed immediately by the Netherlands against Argentina.
The locals in the cafe where we sat were divided.
Some wanted Argentina to win because of, of course, Messi.
Another part wanted the Netherlands and Croatia to win because they thought it would be easier for Morocco to face them later.
Wait, hello, are you already thinking about the sequel?
Did you forget that you have a quarter-final match against Portugal and Cristiano Ronaldo tomorrow?
We slept in a riad, the traditional accommodation for families in Morocco, a local AirBNB if you will, and continued from El Jadida south to the town of Iswira to watch the quarter-final match.
The bus to Essaouira had two stops, one in Safi, a beach town familiar to the surfers among us and another stop in a less familiar place - Sebat Gezola, his name.
Already from the bus I realized that we had arrived at a place where time stood still.
When we got off of it, there were already small children waiting for us who wanted to sell us handkerchiefs.
We were hungry and Abdel told me to follow him and not to speak English that would give away that I was a tourist.
Not everywhere in Morocco are you used to encountering tourists, and to somewhat lower the level of suspicion, even during the trip I had a blind understanding throughout our encounters with a multitude of characters.
He made a sign to me, and I understood how I should behave.
The Moroccan look helped me quite a bit to blend in with the locals.
If he threw me a word in Moroccan, some juicy h'zi (come) for example, I realized that I had to enter my "local" mode.
One such place was where Abdel took me to have lunch - a market I don't think too many tourists have come to hang out in over the years.
Progress didn't come here, and I found myself walking in the mud between the multitude of stalls.
At first I tried here and there to avoid him so as not to get my shoes completely dirty until I realized that it was impossible and there was nothing to fight.
Abdel went to buy meat from one of the local butchers, who cut and sliced a few pieces for him.
From there we walked a few meters to another position - the barbecue position.
Abdel handed the guy the meat he had just bought.
The guy cut, put in a grinder, seasoned and put on the fire while we sat down to drink tea with Sheba.
We enjoyed the meal that was served to us with pita bread and roasted vegetables, but from there we ran out of time.
We are at a stop, and there is a bus that needs to take us to Iseira.
Luckily Abdel met so many people along the journey, including the bus driver who called him and told him it was time to continue the journey.
Abdel didn't think twice, he stopped a boy walking around the market with a donkey and motioned for me to get on his makeshift "carriage".
We took a special "taxi" to the bus.
The not very fast donkey led us along the market, among the people while in the background we all shout to him "pot! pot! pot!"
(Come on! Come on! Come on!).
We reached the street, we got the right of way from a truck and in the distance I saw the bus that was waiting for us and a donkey so that we could reach it and continue our journey.
The unplanned stop at Sebet Gzola was one of the special moments I experienced on the trip.
This is what the "ride" on the donkey looks like through the market
In the video: between the stalls, on a donkey: the market in Morocco that no tourist has ever set foot in (Walla system!)
Svet Gazola (photo: Walla! system, Dror Zamir)
On the way to the bus on a donkey.
Svet Gazulah (photo: Walla! system, Dror Zamir)
Isvira - the city where my grandmother was born
The more familiar name of Isvira - Mogador.
origin of the name?
Portuguese.
How symbolic.
I have already written about what happened in Isvira after another unbelievable victory over Portugal on this website.
But wait, the Atlas Lions continue in the World Cup.
There is a semi-final on Wednesday.
I fly back to Israel on Monday.
But I have to stay here.
What to do?
Moving the flight of course.
I asked Abdel if he could stay with me for a few more days.
But how many days?
I really have no idea when this journey will end.
Morocco just reached the semi-finals of the World Cup.
I didn't think they would go up to the quarter, I didn't think they would even go up to the eighth.
What's going on here??
Maybe they will also reach the finals?
Maybe they will win the cup??
madness
Between the celebrations in the street, we went into one of the bars to watch the other game, because now we need to know who Morocco will play against.
England or France.
In any case it will be difficult.
The majority of Moroccans are indeed Muslim, but alcohol is not a rare commodity, as many lead a completely secular lifestyle.
The bar was full of happy locals, whose beer drinking culture is amusing.
You are always served two bottles of beer at once, and opened for you, together.
This is the tradition.
Who am I to argue?
We finished drinking our beers, in pairs of course, and went to bed.
In Isvira, the city where my grandmother was born, we went for a walk the next day along the beach.
It turns out that on Sunday the beach is full of groups of people playing football all along.
Some of the fans give the impression that their level is higher, and come to play with equipment accordingly, and the other part builds goals out of sand.
For sure, everyone has fun.
Especially since this is the day and time to play football.
I thought to myself that the one who ran next to me and "burned" the line must have felt Ashraf Hakimi for a moment.
Isvira's market is intimate and beautiful, it is located on the sea, near the fishing boats and the multitudes of seagulls that fly really low and help the photos come out much better.
At the fish stalls you can find sharks alongside sardines.
We chose sardines this time and like the previous market we were at, we bought the fish and immediately went to the nearby grill to enjoy a meal in the sunny market, overlooking the sea.
Later we arrived at Rabbi Pinto's synagogue in the city, where I met a lovely Israeli couple who had just visited there.
After a short conversation they told me that they have a musician daughter.
I asked who she was and they answered that she plays in Neta Elkayam's band.
I showed them a video I took a few days ago at her concert in Marrakesh, in which their daughter appears.
They were enthusiastic.
Small world, small Morocco.
We have a rest day from the games and on this day I knew exactly what I wanted to do.
I asked Abdel to take me surfing.
Although Morocco is known as a popular surfing destination, I didn't think I would be able to get to the real surfing beaches because of time constraints.
But fate - and the Atlas Lions - apparently wanted me to accomplish this goal as well.
The market in Esvira (photo: Walla! system, Dror Zamir)
Celebrating a victory in Isvira (photo: official website, Dror Zamir)
Everyone knows Ramsey (but not from 'Main Box')
We arrived in the town of Tagazot, where we slept in an apartment right on the sea.
Already when I arrived at the place I noticed the changing landscape.
Many tourists from all over the world came to surf, and even the locals have the familiar look of the surfers (with a top).
I arrived at one of the surf shops to get organized on a surfboard and suit.
I told the guys there that I was from Netanya and that the Moroccan surfer Ramsey Bouchiam won this year's world tour competition that was held in my city.
They of course knew the achievement of their friend in the water and were happy that there was someone from Israel who knew Ramsey.
After I got recommendations on some spots in the area, we set out to look for the wave.
We arrived at Anchor Point, one of the most famous beaches in the country.
A very long wave (point break).
It turned out to us that in the morning there was an earthquake that raised the sea and so it turned out that we got a high sea (2 meters plus).
The paddling was hard - 40 minutes to get back up, to the peak, after catching a wave.
I'm not in top shape to say the least, I ended up settling for one long and enjoyable wave.
Sounds little, but it's more than satisfying to me.
The surfing atmosphere blended perfectly at the beach with the country we are in.
Above, before entering the water, you look at the waves and the surfers, while in the background vendors walk around with sponge baskets and pitchers of mint tea.
When you get out of the water, on the beach, you walk on the sand between camels and horses.
An atmosphere that I don't think can be found anywhere else in the world.
In Taghazout I traveled in the car of Othman, a relative of Abdel, who came from Agadir and brought with him a friend named Walid.
We left the town and drove towards the mountains - the Atlas Mountains.
The long drive through the stunning landscapes, with songs in Moroccan in the background, was another highlight of the trip.
We arrived at a waterfall in an area called Imozer, not far from Agadir.
We waded a bit in the icy water, ordered some Tangines for lunch and continued to Marrakesh.
The plan was that Atman would drive us to a certain point, from there we would take a taxi to Marrakesh, and he and his friend Walid would walk back home to Agadir.
The reason for stopping for the night in Marrakesh was to get a little closer to the destination where we will see the semi-final match between Morocco and France - the capital Rabat.
Morocco is a big country and the distances from city to city include many hours on the road.
Surfing at Anchor Point, Tagazot (Photo: Walla! system, Dror Zamir)
On the way I told Othman that I thought I saw a policeman on the side hiding in the bushes and taking a picture of him.
After a kilometer we already saw a car that signaled us to stop.
It's the second time we've been stopped today.
This time the policeman had proof.
Othman was photographed driving 20 km/h over the speed limit, and now the policeman has informed him that he cannot drive anywhere, that his license has been taken away, and that he is going to be tried. His guide badge. "I will explain to them that I represent the Kingdom of Morocco!", he said. After a few minutes, he returned and motioned for Othman to go. "How did you do it?" "A lot of talk and a little old man."
Because the same policeman had drawn Othman's attention to the fact that one of the front mirrors in his car was burnt, he was afraid to turn around and go back to Agadir and possibly run into the policeman again, this time without Abdel to rescue him.
So he decided he was joining us in Marrakesh.
It was funny to see Abdel direct him to a side road into town, where there would be no policemen on the way.
Even when we arrived in Marrakesh, to a central square where there were policemen on all sides, I was amused by the hiding behind large taxis and buses so that they wouldn't notice that the mirror was burnt.
Abdel is an unpredictable person sometimes.
One day I arranged with him that we would take a shower and meet for dinner at one of the restaurants.
He arrived bald.
I said to him "Wow, where did that come from?", and he replied: "I decided to get a haircut like the coach of Morocco, maybe it will bring luck."
Abdel has been walking around with me for a week and so far he has only worn his traditional galabiya.
That's how I know him, it's the only look I've seen him in.
When we arrived in Marrakesh, everyone went to take a shower and we arranged to meet with their friends at a bar.
Abdel appeared - this time with a suit.
A tailored jacket, a stylish scarf.
Again, where did it come from?
In Morocco there are quite a few stray cats and stray dogs.
What caught my eye in the animals in the country is their calmness.
Most of them lie quietly, among humans, the dogs do not chase the cats but live together with them.
The cats do not run away in fear when people approach them.
It is not an uncommon sight at all to sit down to eat in a restaurant, whether outside or inside, when suddenly a cat, or several cats, approaches.
The locals will honor them between bites of their food, throwing a piece of food nonchalantly.
Abdel Bakhalifa (photo: Walla! system, Dror Zamir)
An enviable brotherhood
Like animals, so are humans.
One of the things that characterizes Moroccans is the evil that prevails among the people.
An enviable brotherhood.
They are just nice and kind to each other, even if there is no prior acquaintance.
Always smiling, always exchanging small talk, helping when needed.
For example, when we boarded the high-speed train (280 km/h) from Marrakesh to Fes, a journey of about 540 kilometers, we looked for a place to sit. We passed between the compartments, where each compartment has two benches with 5 seats, facing each other. We arrived at an almost empty compartment where a man was lying who was sleeping along one of the rows of benches. When we entered, the same man stood up in our honor, helped Abdel lift my suitcase and put it over the seats, then just got up and went to look for another compartment with a smile. He vacated the compartment for us. For Abdel, the situation was completely normal, and I thought to myself: "If Such a thing would happen in Israel.
What was good about traveling independently with Abdel, was that he met a lot of people along the way.
In every hotel or riad we stayed at, he made sure to remove the worry of checking out from our hearts, and our things stayed in the rooms until the time we had to continue to the next destination.
Another good thing about traveling with him is the flexibility and spontaneity.
There is a route, but it is not set in stone.
I noticed that because we left late with the train to Fes, we would be late to watch the first semi-final match between Argentina and Croatia.
I asked him if it was possible to get off somewhere else, at an earlier stop, so that we would have time to see the game.
Within 3 minutes and two phone calls, Abdel informed me that we would get off the train an hour earlier - in the city of Meknes.
He canceled the rooms in Fez, and closed a hotel in Meknes.
The plan changed, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
We'll have enough time to see the game, and we'll get to Fes tomorrow.
We met a friend of Abdel's in Meknes, got the rooms and put our things in the hotel.
We arrived just in time for the game's opening whistle at a local cafe, in an excellent location in front of one of the screens that were there.
Cafes in Morocco are mostly occupied by men who drink coffee and tea and smoke cigarettes.
There is no food.
With every cup of coffee you order, you will receive a bottle of mineral water next to it.
I quickly found out what kind of coffee suits me.
Coffee noir (black), espresso, and if I want to drink coffee with milk, I would ask for Nos Nos.
Nous Nous is a Moroccan version of a cup of coffee that is half espresso and half milk.
Stronger than a cappuccino or latte.
pleasure.
At the airport I saw a tourist who was confused with the language and had trouble ordering him a cup of coffee.
I approached him nonchalantly and ordered a glass of Nous Nous at the Moroccan.
As simple as that, like a local.
I felt proud of myself as if I had advanced a step in the World Cup.
Exactly the same deck of cards as my grandfather had.
The market in Casablanca (photo: Walla! system, Dror Zamir)
Celebrating in Rabat (photo: official website, Dror Zamir)
Its great advantage - its dynamism.
Abdel (photo: courtesy of those photographed)
Abdel - guide, brother, sometimes feels like a father
Wednesday, this evening the Moroccan national team plays in the semi-finals of the World Cup against the powerful France.
It hasn't rained here since I arrived in Medina.
Today he doesn't stop, since the morning.
Maybe that's ominous.
I'm still in Morocco, need a little superstition here and there, don't you?
We were at Fes and Spru, we talked to some fans about the excitement for the game.
We returned to Meknes to have lunch at a friend of Abdel's place, an event hall where preparations were being made for the mass viewing tonight.
They opened a table for us and served us a rich lunch, after which we were on a taxi on our way to Rabat.
As the storm only got stronger, the road could barely be seen, a bit of a scary drive to be honest.
For sure, we already understood that there will be no mass viewing in the square today.
The cafes were full to capacity, and everyone who came in to watch the game purchased an entrance ticket.
Really atmosphere of a football stadium.
I described what happened in the game on the pages of this website the morning after, but I will note that the burst of joy that came immediately after the disappointment of the loss sank in, was astonishing.
I felt almost as proud as a local, because I was here throughout the wonderful journey of the Lions in the early stages of the World Cup.
The police stood aside while the fans lit flares, fireworks, drummed, danced and sang.
They let them get the emotion out, didn't stop them for a moment.
They are also happy and proud of their team.
On the last day, Abdel and I woke up in our riad in the Medina (that's what the old part of the city is called, Medina) of Rabat, we walked around it a bit, we saw the King's Palace and from there we drove back to Casablanca, not before we bought some souvenirs to bring back to Israel.
The flight back home, which seemed like it would never happen, is happening.
I said goodbye to Abdel with a strong hug.
He was almost my whole world during these ten days, close to me very tightly.
A guide, a brother, sometimes even feels like a father watching over you.
I went to a tourism conference in Morocco for 4 short days, which extended into almost two weeks of a wonderful journey in a country caught in a historical dream.
An experiential two weeks that I will remember for the rest of my life.
Going to Morocco and interested in traveling with Abdel?
You can contact him here.
Whether you are traveling in a large group, a small group, a couple or like me - alone
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