Imouzzer

Thanks to good ol' George Washington, today we took a road trip to Imouzzer, stopping along the way at Hassan's village. We headed off pretty early this morning and got to Hassan's village around noon, just in time for chicken tajine. Hassan's mother is really lovely -- she's a slight, colorfully dressed, wizened old woman with exactly the same number of teeth as English words in her vocabulary: none. The last time we went to visit her, she gave me my cat, Poops. I like her a lot.

After pulling an eat-and-run, we headed off to Imouzzer with me in the driver's seat, thank goodness for my fragile tummy. I can only handle so much of Lahcen's testosterone enhanced driving, and after stuffing myself with tajine I insisted on taking the wheel for fear of blowing the proverbial chunks. That would not have been nearly as pretty as the neon yellow pee I had earlier drizzled down the side of the mountain.

Along the way we admired the awesome vistas so generously provided courtesy of the Anti-Atlas Mountains. The almond trees are in bloom at the moment, standing out in pale pink against the greens and browns.

We arrived around 2:00 or so, the perfect time to enjoy the sunshine and check out the waterfalls Imouzzer is famous for. Ambushed upon arrival by various and sundry peddlers hoping to rope us into buying some jewelry or carved marble trinkets, we put on our steely faces and strode past them determinedly. It didn't matter that we had no money with which to buy said trinkets, or at least that's what I'd like to believe.

We hiked up to the main waterfall (there are several during rainy times), braving some slippery stepping stones. The pool at the bottom of the fall is a brilliant shade of blue, and we were told by a man they call Tarzan that the pool is 45 meters deep. He kindly offered to dive from the top of the fall into the pool if we paid him, but we declined. Again, no money.

Abdellah was brave enough to take off his shoes and wade in to some of the shallower pools, and I could've sworn I heard him singin' the Berber version of "Thank God I'm a Country Boy" (see this post earlier).

Next time we go I will insist on following the original plan of packing a pic-a-nick lunch and eating it on a rock under the fall. It was beautiful. We took gajillions of photos, which I've posted here on Photobucket.