Mange Elaine! Mange MANGE!!

Now imagine this scene:  Were sitting on the floor around a table.  On the table is a giant lamb and vegetable Tagine (see photo), and seated with us are four Morrocan women and two kids (one with serious ADD).  Food is splattered across the table and Elaine has a mouth full of lamb, a piece of bread in hand with half a potato on in and a totally confused look on her face as our host says "eat Elaine! Eat EAT!" and passes her another chunk of bread the size of her head.  This comical situation began with the purchase of a Sprite.

The day before had started in a freshly sprouting wheat field.  A farmer had offered us a small corner of his property to put our tent for the night.  They knew nothing of English or French, we knew next to nothing of Arabic.  The message was picked up when they noticed us poking around an empty field behind some trees at sunset and confirmed with our few words of Arabic "Ano nez kaiton.." (I sleep tent..).  We headed off at sunrise, rolled into the town of Oued Zem, had a coffee with an omelette, olives, cheese and bread (18 dirhams or 3 dollars) and rode off towards Marrakesh which was another three days down the road.  The road crossed barren lands as it decended slowly down to the river at the base of the Atlas Mountains.  We cruised along at 25km\hr and covered 118 kilometers before pulling in to a village called Oulad Ayed.  Not really feeling like 15 kilometers of switchbacks, we stopped at a small shop, bought a couple Sprites and inquired about local hotels.  "Ahhh oui il y a beacoup!"  There are many he said... just not here, they're all up and over the mountain.  We explained our situation, and he suggested we should try asking the guard at the parking lot in the small gated community across the road.  He might let us put up a tent in the parking lot.  So we wandered over, found the guard and sure enough, he provided us with a nice covered parking stall for the night. 

Our wheat field tent site

With an audience of older men we set up our small tent, hung a light off the stall roof and set up the stove.  The men were amazed...this was obviously not our first time sleeping in a parking lot.  The men wandered off in search of ciggarettes, we cooked and ate a couscous dinner and prepared to get some shut eye.  Then one of the men reappeared.  "Ramasser tes chose, et viens avec moi."  Pick up your stuff and come with me.  We didn't argue, we were either being moved to a better spot or into a house.  He took us to his home, dragged the bikes into the courtyard and introduced us to his three daughters, his wife and his two nephews (8 and 9).  From there there was only one thing on everyones mind... feed them.

Now we had actually eaten already.  We had a good feed of couscous and vegetables and really weren't hungry.  They asked if we wanted to eat something, we said no were not hungry and out came a massive omelette (at least six eggs) full of chunks of lamb and the only utensil to eat it with was bread used as a scoop.  It was delicious, but we were totally stuffed trying to squeeze it all in while the family would say "Mange Steve Mange Elaine....mange!"  When we finally got every last bit in, they offered us some Moroccan soup.  "Non, je suis plein merci."  Out came bowls of tasty and hearty soup and again, we found space for it with the family encouraging us the whole time.  We sat up late that night, our stomachs slowly grinding away the mass of food we'd eaten, chatting with the family about theives on the road; Moroccan weddings (they would dress Elaine up if we stayed long enough) and the ADD 9 year old who was trying constantly trying to either have me take him with us or trying to extort money out of me.  We went to bed after being informed that breakfast was obligatory.

The tagine...open and closed....and sideways..

The next day was more than a bit chaotic.  The two boys had become comfortable with us and Elaine had become the center of attention for the women.  She went to the bathroom and when she stepped out there were three women standing there asking if she needed anything.  They brought us bread and tea and began creating a tagine for 'breakfast'.  It would take until the early afternoon to get into it and until then it was "Elaine vien vien Elaine".  All the while I was doing my best to keep the boys from sitting on our bikes, going through our panniers and trying to get dirhams out of me.  When the tagine was finally ready, everyone dove into it with chunks of bread, the ADD kid threw a temper tantrum and Elaine was fed about double what she can normally stomach.  It was another great experience in Morocco.  Usually we only meet the men in the family as not many older women speak French.  Here we got to hang out with four french speaking women who were delighted to take care of a couple travellers.  It was tough to leave.... they wanted us to stay the rest of the week..

The road  to Marrakesh