Kasbah Central

Spring snowmelt rushing down the southern side of the Atlas Mountains keeps Moroccan valleys there lush and green.

We took a 90-minute detour on a steep, winding road built by the French to see the very picturesque Dades Gorge.

Afterward, we followed the Route of 1,000 Kasbahs (Ersatz Highway would be more fitting), to Ouarzazate, Morocco's "little Hollywood."  Does the Taourirt kasbah look familiar?  It should, if you've seen "Lawrence of Arabia" or "Gladiator."

Our city guide dressed the part but had an impenetrable accent.

Adobe bricks for continued restoration dried in the sun.

We also stopped at an herbalist where a credit card snafu prevented me from buying these dried flowers.  Morocco basically operates as a cash economy.

Improved accommodations, if not swimming weather, awaited us at the Berber Palace.

I took full advantage of the hot water and terrycloth robe.  That said, our overnight stay in Mergouza, when Thom wore a camel blanket to keep warm under the stars, was more memorable.  Location, location, location.

The next morning, gray and drizzly, I took a photo of Ed, Jean and Vicky with Ait ben Haddou in the background.  They're Australians from Melbourne.  Jean just graduated high school.

Ruth and Norma are very fit Scottish lasses who've been friends for decades.

Only a few families still live in Ait ben Haddou, a fortified village mostly occupied by tourist vendors.  

We climbed to the top.

This man scowled when I took his picture, but I couldn't resist.

This Berber artist paints with a sugar solution that caramelizes and turns brown when he holds the paper over a fire.

I bought the finished work for 100 dirhams ($10).

The view from the top, just before it started to rain.  I recognized it when I re-watched Bernardo Bertolucci's 1990 adaptation of "The Sheltering Sky," a much better book by Paul Bowles.

#kasbahdogs! giving each other a look.  "Shouldn't we get tipped, too?"