From Marrakech to Erg Chebbi desert, crossing the south-east of the country. Trip to Morocco

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On the horizon I looked imposing and majestic Sahara desert.
A vast expanse of sand was lost beyond the boundaries that the human eye can capture.
My heart throbbed and mind fantasized experience that I would soon experience.
I was in Merzouga, Morocco, a place that exudes a sense of limit, border.
Merzouga Erg Chebbi ends where it begins: a barrier of sand dunes 30 km long and 10 wide, the magnificence of its mountains made of red and orange grains come close to selling 160 m. in height.
Waiting for me there was a caravan of camels led by two fascinating and mysterious "Tuareg" that would lead me through the rugged dunes, the tented camp in the desert, where we were camped.
On the way, I felt that I was sending in a place that leaves any contact with civilization to catapult into a reality from dream to live, at sunset, in symbiosis with breathtaking landscapes made of soft lines and colors from bright colors.
The feeling of infinity and loneliness that fills you (in fact, the Sahara is an Arabic word meaning loneliness) joins you almost to a divine presence.
Living then at night, bivouacing next to a fire, sipping mint tea or enjoying delicious dishes such as "tajien", with tales of the Tuaregs, which makes it even more surreal and evocative atmosphere, photographing the stars and wait for the dawn to grasp the subtle colors of the early and see the surprise in the sky with a brilliant crescent Venus side, almost as a symbol of Islam reminder, here is the religion practiced.

My trip to Morocco was started from the charming pink of Marrakesh where his spectacular square Jemaa El Fna teeming immerses you in an atmosphere of "Thousand and One Nights," a large open space where every day you can watch of all sorts, acrobats, jugglers and snake charmers, and where every night the same, you see it turn into a giant open-air restaurant where fumes and smells of food are mixed with the chatter of people.
A few dozen meters from the square is the heart of the Medina: the souk, this is the place where ancient customs and traditions are combined since ancient times, a magical place where it is normal to accept the tea offered by the vendor or haggle on the price of an object sold.
The time is marked by calls of the muezzins from minarets across the city to the overlapping voices of Marakech.
But Marrakech is a city of openness to Western culture, it can be seen from the large hotels that have replaced the most characteristic "riad", but it can be seen especially in the way of dressing of Moroccan women who, for the most part, have abandoned the traditional "hijab" leaving clearly see their beautiful faces.
Leaving Marakech reached, on board of a school bus, the village of Ait Ben Addou crossing the Atlas mountain range.

Ait-Ben-Haddou is founded as a fortified city along the caravan route between the Sahara Desert and the current city of Marrakech. It is located on a hillside along the river Quarzazate.
The fortress or Ksar is protected by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site.
The thing that strikes you is its typical architecture of southern Morocco with its buildings made of mud and clay, the same color of the surrounding valley, and surrounded by high walls.
Climbing up to the highest point of the fortress have been able to enjoy a breathtaking panorama of vast expanses of red earth and, to a frame, some colored reliefs of a thousand hues. In the distance you can see the part of the village used as a location to shoot several films, from "Lawrence of Arabia" to the more contemporary "Gladiator".
The vision of these scenarios is something unforgettable, memorable as is the breeze on the face or the pungent smell of dust and earth that creeps between the nostrils.
The modern state grew out of the Ksar and now only a few people living in the ancient town.

My journey continues along the path of "the valley of a thousand Kasba" ... ... from the palm gardens, rolls out the path to the city of roses: thousands and thousands of roses that perfume the air of El Kelaa M'Gouna.
Arriving in Ouarzazate, crocievia the surrounding valleys, I venture to Tinghr where about fifty kilometers away is the valley with its spectacular gorges Todhra, a place that seems to be positioned at the end of the world: two sheer cliffs, with a jump of 300 meters, separated only by a narrow corridor.

But before I get there I decided to stop at the picturesque souks of Erfoud, the vital center of the oasis of Tafilalet, with its hundreds of thousands of date palms. Here in October, wrapped in a special light striking, there is the "Feast of dates."
The souks of Erfoud has nothing to do with that of Marrakech, its benches of raw meat and vegetables exposed to open air, are assaulted by a huge amount of sense that flies by hygiene leaves something 'to be desired. The children, in their "put" simple, wander playing among the dusty streets. But it is just to Erfoud, far from any western influence that shines through the Berber culture contaminated by Islam. The dress code strictly Moroccan men "qamis", a long shirt / tunic is worn with a crocheted hat called "Chaco", and women with their "giellaba" and veil to conceal his face. The aspect that most impressed me in the dress of these women is the use of dark colors in their clothing, which contrast with the festival of colors around them (quite different from the women of the countryside and mountains, mostly Berber, which dress in gaudy clothes and shake her hair in a scarf knotted around his neck, not so much designed as a veil antiseduzione, but as a practical tool to collect the hair.).
And 'to Erfoud that my driver Mustapha native of this place, invites me to lunch with his family. Even on this occasion I was able to savor all the Berber culture: served on the dining tables of the ground level, only in courses from which to draw by hand, the fact of eating sitting on the floor on carpets and folk-decorated back of the pads from us, but other disconcerting aspect for us Westerners: lunch was served only by men of the family, women were not being seen in public since.

One last step before the end of my trip is the visit of argan oil mill located on the Middle Atlas Tizin'Tichka.
Here is the scenario that I was open to women sitting on a mat on the floor fast and repetitive movements that crush, using a stone, the shells of the argan stone. The dough is then
pressed in a small home windmill made of two rotating stones.
The oil d 'argan oil for its healing properties and virtuous is used both in cosmetic and food. The tree which yields the fruit of this land is endemic and represents a substantial source of income for local people.
Of course in this factory could not miss the purchase of precious oil, I did buy up thinking to give it once in Italy with my dearest friends as if it were a trophy won in battle.

Now that I'm back