Wednesday, August 13, 1997 - the sixth day
Cascade of Ozoud - Marrakech
Marrakech , at 21.45. Two corpses are sitting on the terrace of Cafe de France restaurant in Djema El Fna is us. Despite apparently we are d ue beautiful forties, we pressure to 15 and we are in a state of apathy / aphasia starting to get worried.
From here, overlooking the famous square where thousands of people eat, dance, play, sell, buy and if stared at her. This view, this waste of energy with a temperature of 38 degrees is enough to kneel. We are asking ourselves about the possible causes of this situation. Elio not want to hear about age. reviewed in mind the events of the day just passed.
After the alarm to ' hotel du lac, we first breakfast at the hotel. And as we waited stinking up your mind. At the restaurant there are two company dam engineers may have come down here to check if the dam has some injuries. We realize that this night we slept under the dam risking Vajont 2. Has stayed above us a huge lake.
(I write these lines the pool of Safir Hotel Marrakech Elio while studying our next destination, Essaouira, rebuilt by engineer speaking Cornut )
But back to yesterday morning. After breakfast we move to the most fascinating place that exists in the area: the Cascade D' Ozoud. a beautiful place, according to our sacred texts.
The heat is getting hotter and the road sprouting here and there, bambi ni and girls who sell strange things bushes, rocks, bags of munnizza. Occasionally we come across small groups of family members or cronies simply strolling taking advantage of the beautiful day of scorching heat and ply between a rock and a red-hot withered bush. We move from
Azilal , a village ideal for summer vacations. In fact, some photos, which show the country the snow-capped in winter, we infer that it is cold here in winter and hot in summer. As is the usual call from Elio cumm , Goofy wanders the streets and burning of Azilal notice a guy sitting at the bar did not make the change of season and wearing a heavy jacket with bavero imbottito alzato a protezione del collo. Elio dice che in effetti questo è un buon metodo per ripararsi dalle temperature roventi del deserto. Intanto , però, mette al massimo l'aria condizionata.
Finalmente arriviamo alle cascate. Dopo avere trattato con i piedi una guida, ci godiamo un caffè in un bicchiere sporco. Tanto sporco che Elio non beve. In cambio , per non dare nell'occhio, chiacchiera con l'hotelier locale. I due si trovano d'accordo su tutto e alla fine diventano amici.
Le cascate sono stupende. Più dall'alto che dal basso. Qui , infatti , si viene a contatto con la lordìa e il bordello. Man mano che si scende si attraversano accampamenti di villeggianti locali che hanno in comune il fatto che non si lavano e buttano immondizie ovunque. Per passare sull'altra sponda ( che appare meno sudicia) , usiamo un traghettino a tre posti costruito artigianalmente con tavole di legno e bidoni di plastica.
Lo conduce un Caronte locale che alla fine della giornata diventerà ricco. Ci divertiamo ad osservare giovani marocchini che si lanciano da grandi altezze. Pippo decide di bagnarsi. Elio non ci pensa neanche. L'acqua è gelata , torbida, melmosa e sicuramente satura di mitseriosi germi patogeni
At 16 o'clock ( comme d'habits) again towards Marrakech. Undecided about which way to go go over three times from the same junction. At the end we decide for a more tortuous route, but shorter, encouraged by a young French couple who advises us to do the opposite. arrive in Marrakech at seven past and now we are forced to reject n driving the cabinet. He follows us everywhere, but our experience allows us to sow it.
we find the Hotel Safir. 
After a satisfying dinner at Cafe de France, take a walk to the Jemaa el Fna Square D . We drink an orange soda ( cold last) and eat some almonds, fruit that is used here for food and ornamental as it is in the Plateau of Taza .
Pippo is showing signs of mistrust and of malaria. It is strong and listens patiently to the story of an old Arab storytellers who gathered around him a crowd of idlers.
Then the two are seeing a sketch two local comedians who stamp their feet. Everyone laughs, except the two of us, not for racism but for pity's sake!
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