Siroua Inn On the way to the High Atlas

Hopping from taxi to taxi, I navigated the route from Taliouine to Zagora via Agdz, Ouarzazate, and Taznakht, en route to Agadir. This mode of transportation proved both efficient and economical. It’s crucial to secure a seat near the front to avoid motion sickness on the mountainous turns, particularly in the classic Peugeot 504 station wagons. On one leg to Taznakht, we were a cozy dozen—four per bench. I found myself upfront, beside the driver who masterfully steered, while his companion shifted gears, all to the nostalgic soundtrack of Berber tunes from well-worn cassettes. Despite Morocco’s notorious roads, we journeyed on, entrusting our fate to Allah.

By serendipity, I arrived in Taznakht amidst the bustle of market day, plunging into a scene straight out of a cinematic masterpiece or an adventurous Tintin comic. A brief half-hour wait for my next ride afforded me a moment’s respite and the chance to savor a scrumptious 20-dirham tagine on a bistro terrace, surrounded by the vibrant hues of carpet vendors.

At last, Taliouine. Nestled on a quaint side street off the main avenue, the Siroua hostel welcomed me through its grand glass doors. Inside, I reunited with the proprietor, Mohammed Gheris, and his two companions: Monssef the artist and Hamid the philosopher. Together, they sat, comfortably ensconced in the spacious dining hall, musing over tea and biscuits. Sharing meals, strolls, and conversations with these three distinct personalities was a delight; I felt akin to d’Artagnan joining forces with the Three Musketeers.

Mohammed, affectionately dubbed “Med,” wears multiple hats as a hospitable innkeeper and a university professor in Marrakech. Residing in the metropolis with his wife Samia and their two children, he envisions a Morocco that embraces modernity and global openness. His traits—curiosity, impartiality, honesty, and a touch of naivety—resonate with those of my father, making his invitation all the more cherished.

Monssef, an artist and thinker, ushers us into his unique, almost surreal worldview. As a congenial travel mate, he promised to join us for a segment of our journey. Hamid, the elder, radiates a calm serenity, seemingly making way for the younger generation. His presence alone was enough, and with his myriad connections in Marrakech, his past as a hotel receptionist in Ouarzazate lent him an air of distinction.

Despite the arid climate, Taliouine’s surrounding valleys burst with verdant life, and the villages teem with activity. Children’s laughter and women’s industriousness warmed my heart at every encounter. Occasionally, men lounging on café terraces would beckon me to partake in their couscous feast.

Winding along the narrow dirt paths, we meandered from village to village, fording the river where women laundered clothes and a lone man ambled by with his mule. Post-picnic, beneath the blossoming almond trees, Mohammed revealed a charming synagogue and a forsaken Kasbah ripe for restoration—a project progressing promisingly.

En route to Marrakech, we paused in Taznakht at the abode of a second-hand dealer, a friend of a friend. Concealed behind a draped rug, his home was a sanctuary where tea flowed among intimates. Beaming with pride, he showcased a Berber djellaba from the 19th century—a treasure of considerable value. In this place, hospitality was heartfelt, untainted by the veneer of commercial tourism.

Merely kilometers past Ouarzazate, a discreet turnoff leads to Ait Ben Haddou, where an imposing Kasbah sprawls across the hillside. Mohammed introduces me to the proprietor of “La Kasbah” hotel, which boasts a stunning panorama of these ancient edifices. The main thoroughfare is a hive of activity, lined with boutiques peddling souvenirs and relics to a global clientele. Abderrahmane Tebbou, the hotelier, graciously offers me lodging for the final leg of my Moroccan sojourn. His establishment is a haven of tranquility, a perfect interlude between the continents of Africa and Europe.

Prior to ascending the lofty peaks, we pause at Ahmed & Catherine’s guesthouse for tea and confections. This Franco-Moroccan duo has crafted a haven on the mountainside, complete with a terrace that affords a breathtaking vista of the valley. Inside, the decor is meticulously arranged, and a quaint courtyard adds to the guesthouse’s allure.

In Marrakech, Mohammed Gheris’s hospitality is unparalleled, and our four days together are nothing short of magical. His family’s warmth is infectious, and I relish the time spent with each of them. Saloua, Mohammed’s sister, and Samia enchant us with their culinary prowess and delightful company. Their father, a retired Colonel, is a fount of knowledge on North African history. Engrossed in discussions about Egypt’s pivotal nationalization in 1956 by Nasser, I’m reminded of my grandfather’s fortunes, lost in Cairo’s Hôtel de Paris—a grand palace that once hosted the elite.

A short stroll away, my friend Khalid resides. Together, we explore the Medina’s enigmatic corners, undeterred by the bustling crowds or the nesting storks above. Khalid shares tales of his youth in Canada and his impending journey to Jakarta, where an architect friend awaits. His insights and stories make for enthralling conversations.

The following day, Mohammed arranges a guest lecture for me at the University of Commerce in Marrakech. Addressing his students, I share my business insights and discuss “L’Etoile.” Engaging with two classes for half an hour each, I’m thrust into their world, gauging the resonance of my perspectives. The students’ eagerness and inquisitiveness are palpable, their zest for global engagement inspiring. This exchange proves to be yet another enriching chapter in my Moroccan adventure, courtesy of my gracious host !

Siroua Hotel Inn at Taliouine, Taroudant Province, Morocco - Map