Driving in this country is quite a sight to witness. I’m writing this hours before we arrive in Rome, so I’m sure I’ll start to feel this road style is normal by next week, but for now I’m in shock. The road between Casablanca and Marrakech is fairly common. Dual carriage way, some tolls, a couple lanes for ease of passing. But as you arrive to either city, the real fun begins.
Traffic slows so you can take time to observe the surroundings. Taxis dominate the lanes and few of those cars hold less than 7 adults piled in. Motorbikes weave around the lanes in all directions and honk if you have the audacity to try to pass them! The motorbike also seems to be the “family car,” with dad driving, mom behind and the younger child wedged between the two. The older child, probably only 8 from what we saw, sits behind mom facing backwards and holding on to the underside of the seat for dear life. And then they pass you on the shoulder and honk…
Motor vehicles aren’t all that takes up the road. Even in the city center, the donkey pulled carts jar for space on the roundabouts. They a loaded up with goods and produce for the markets, or maybe heading back home with their shop for the week done.
Lanes are clearly optional in Morocco. Even sides of the road become a suggestion as you wind closer to the medina. Pedestrians are reckless–they don’t care that you’re a SUV with a green light coming at them at 40mph, they go when they want, were they want, and yell at any car, bike, or animal that doesn’t weave out of their way.
As you head into the Atlas Mountains, the road only get smaller and windier. The driving is exactly the same–motorbikes are king, lanes are optional, speed is the goal. I think the country is finally realizing the people won’t change and trying to upgrade the mountain pass to accommodate the reckless travel…but that progress has made the mildly tolerable roads in part into diverted dirt roads that stop the traffic for an hour at a time to blast rock from the side of the cliff and make a wider path. Luckily, the curves are lined with little shops to browse colorful pottery and jewelry–and I love any excuse to shop!
The real fun, however, came as we bounced our way out of the Saharan dunes. The car (which had 3 men lying beneath it not an hour before fixing some undisclosed problem I told myself was just a flat…) struggled to make it up a small sand hill. The wheels spun a few time and then the engine cut out. Our driver and guide have each other a side eye and rapidly spoke in Arabic. The the driver stuck his head out the window, stuttered the engine to a start again and slammed us into gear. Par for the course on a desert day? Apparently.
favorite wanderers 