Marrakech 2025
A report by Ian Bloom
with photographs by Quentin Kopp
*
For the fourth consecutive year members of the Orwell Society visited Morocco in the late autumn to walk in the footsteps of Eric and Eileen Blair who spent almost seven months there, mostly in Marrakech between early September 1938 and late March 1939.
And, as before, the group benefited from the research of tour guide Kevin Carter, the readings of Richard Blair from the works of his parents, the organisational skills of Liz and Quentin Kopp and the driving masterclass of Ismail Medhane whose ability to navigate a small bus or a large car through crowded traffic was jaw dropping.
After retiring as a diplomat in 2015, Kevin spent 6 years researching what the Blairs did in Morocco – where they stayed, where they went, what they saw, what they wrote, what they ate, how they felt about the people they met. His research has been prodigious and has just been published as a heavily illustrated book – George Orwell in Morocco (available here). Kevin and Sandra are kindly donating any profits to cover the cost to the Society of the 2025-6 Teacher and School Award. This is a wonderful gesture.
The book launch in Taddert
Tabitha Hayward wrote an excellent diary of the Society’s trip in 2023. It is available in the archive section of this website. Our group followed the same route between 5th and 11th November but benefitted from the additional information Kevin had uncovered in the intervening two years.
5th November
An afternoon arrival at the modern Marrakesh Menara airport around 6 km from the city centre. A smiling Ismail and relieved Quentin shepherded us into the transport. We’re not staying in the city centre though, but at the Hotel Wazo on the northern outskirts. Ismail bobs and weaves and gets us there. It’s something we become familiar with. Some of the group of 15 have arrived; others have yet to land. Peacocks and small cats roam freely in the gardens. Dinner is served in the hotel. As far as we can tell, it does not include any of these resident animals.
6th November
We start at the nearby Oued Tensift and inspect some scrub land and a dried riverbed. It wasn’t like that in 1938. Richard reads an excerpt from his father’s account.
Beside the Oued Tensift with the original bridge in the background
Two brave ladies ride a couple of patient dromedaries. They are so well trained, they seem to smile for the cameras (the animals, not the ladies). Then it’s off to the Mohammed Vl Water Museum, a modern (opened in 2017) educational and historical facility full of imaginative exhibits detailing how water management has developed down the centuries in this largely desert country. The Blairs never saw it, of course, but we could imagine Eric being intrigued if he had. Dinner on the balcony of the Café de France after an eye-opening walk through most of mankind in the souk to get there. And so to bed.
The view from the Café de France
7th November
We’re getting into our stride now. Ismail takes us to the original railway station where Eric and Eileen arrived on the train from Casablanca. It’s old and tired, like pre-Beeching country stations in the UK.
The Station at which Orwell and Eileen arrived
Round the corner is a shiny new railway station. It reminds us of a much smaller version of Grand Central, complete with MacDonalds, Starbucks and KFC. Who said you can’t eat well in Marrakech!?
Next up, the Médina to see the brothel (allegedly) where Eric and Eileen stayed, their pension at Chez Madame Vellat and then the Mellah, the Jewish Quarter, and the still functioning synagogue. The first surprise is that there is less security than at most UK synagogues nowadays. The second is that it is a little jewel of a building and, in rooms off the internal courtyard, showcases exhibits detailing the thousand-year history of the Jews in Morocco.
The Courtyard of the Synagogue
There are only around 200 living nearby; there were 13,000 when Eric visited. Nearby we examine the beautifully tended Jewish cemetery. Surprisingly, there are no familiar headstones, just small anonymous concrete grave markers.
After lunch, whistle-stop visits to the former British Consulate, the Hotel de Ville and L’Hôpital Mauchamp where Richard reads from Eric and/or Eileen’s letters or diary entries. As we looked around, we heard their reflections on the same sites over 85 years earlier.
8th November
Ismail drives us to Guéliz. We walk in the Jnane el Harti, the public gardens, just as Eric and Eileen did, all those years ago. More readings from Richard. Then it’s a glimpse of the exterior of the Hotel Majestic. Sadly, it’s far from living up to its name. It’s just a dilapidated shell and the nearby Cine Palace, also looks sorry for itself. The Post Office and the Café les Negociants are in better shape. Since Eric and Eileen visited this cafe, we just had to as well. The coffee was pretty good.
The bookshop
More to see as we take in what was once Martin’s (now Chatr) an excellent bookshop (English copies of Animal Farm on the shelves – hurrah!), the Military Quarter, the Civil Hospital where Eileen was treated, and the European cemetery.
Dinner at the second Al Fassia restaurant in Guéliz run and staffed by women who have escaped abuse is excellent.
9th November
One of the highlights of this tour came today. After an early morning 150-mile drive to Casablanca, we’re the first OS group to arrive in time to visit the extraordinary Hassan II mosque, perched on a promontory overlooking the eastern Atlantic Ocean. Full of intricate arches, internal fountains and a towering minaret, the numbers alone are impressive. 6 years to build (1987 to 1993); an internal capacity of 20,000 male worshippers and 5,000 females with 80,000 more on the concourse; 6,000 workers engaged in its construction. It’s the largest mosque in Africa and third largest in the world. We wandered around, amazed at its beauty and the intricate craftsmanship of the marble, cedarwood and zellige (handcrafted tiles).
The Mosque
At lunch afterwards in Rick’s café (where else?), we were still buzzing at the splendour of the mosque – until Richard read a previously unknown and unpublished essay* allegedly from his father, written in 1945 and called Back to the Future in which he described events in 2025, and presented a copy of Round up the Usual Suspects, a book about the making of the film Casablanca to Kevin.
A photo opportunity at the main square and a glimpse of the nearby statue of Marshall Lyautey, the first resident governor, who made Casablanca the country’s economic hub, before we surrendered to Ismail for the drive back to the hotel.
10th November
A day off. No formal Orwellian sights to see or places to visit. The party dispersed. The lucky ones visited the Secret Garden (Le Jardin Secret) in Rue Mouassine in the Medina, itself a narrow, crowded alleyway full of tourist stalls, passages leading off to small courtyards and fast (Moroccan) food outlets. The walled garden itself is a recently replanted oasis of exotic plants reached through a restored old palace. The 360-degree views over Marrakech from the roof are well worth the climb.
Others in the group visited the Yves St Laurent museum and the adjacent Jardin Majorelle and the Marrakech Museum – and since the city, now Morocco’s fourth largest, is 1,000 years old, there’s plenty to see.
Dinner was at Chez Lamine. It’s had Gordon Ramsey’s seal of approval and claims to be the country’s most famous lamb restaurant. 5 kilos were ordered for 14 of us at the table (including one lone vegetarian). It all went. As did the chicken supplements. Maybe that one-time junior footballer does know a thing or two about cooking after all!
11th November
The last full day so its back to Eric and Eileen. They celebrated Eric finishing the first draft of Coming Up For Air in January 1939 by travelling north and east to Taddert in the High Atlas Mountains. Naturally we had to follow suit. Lunch at the now sadly dilapidated Auberge des Noyes where they stayed and where Kevin declared his book George Orwell in Marrakech to be formally and finally and officially published. Cue Richard’s celebratory handshake and a round of applause. When they visited, later in the winter, Eric rolled in the snow – and promptly fell ill. We were all older and wiser. And there was no snow.
A view from the rooftop terrace where we had lunch
Back in Marrakech for ultima Cena, the last supper, at the original Al Fassia restaurant in Aguedal. Probably the finest meal of all the memorable eateries we visited.
Al Fassia Gardens as we left
12th November
Departure day. One by one, or two by two, the heroic Ismail drove us to the airport for our onward journeys. Eric and Eileen stayed in Marrakech for over half a year: we seemed to have relived most of their Moroccan sojourn into one action-packed week. If the trip is repeated, do sign up. It’s great fun.
*
Back To The Future or As Time Goes By written by George Orwell in 1945 and thought lost for 80 years.
Eileen said I should thank Kevin for his fantastic work in guiding the usual suspects around Marrakech and following in our footsteps. She turned to baby Richard and sought his agreement. Being a precocious lad, naturally Richard nodded. I shrugged. Ah well. Two against one. I was more used to being outnumbered on the battlefield. I had said to George Kopp a couple of years earlier, “George, it’s getting dangerous here. There’s too many of them.” Then I was shot.
But when we reached Morocco and first Casablanca, I was disappointed. “I came for the waters” I told Rick, the bar owner who looked remarkably like the young American actor Humphrey Bogart. “Monsieur Eric” he replied, “there are no waters in Casablanca.” “I was misinformed,” I grunted.
I asked him for some transit papers for Marrakech. He said he was not a travel agent and that travel agents were a racket. He directed me to a nearby café called the Blue Parrot. When we arrived, an oleaginous and enormous fat man waddled up. He looked like trouble, so we returned to Rick’s, where a jolly black pianist was playing a plaintive tune, I couldn’t quite recall the title. “You must remember this,” smiled Eileen, giving me a quick kiss. I tipped my glass to her in mock salute. “Here’s looking at you kid,” I said.
Rick came over. He asked if we were eating. “What have you got?” Eileen asked. “Beans,” replied Rick. “In fact, we got lots of ‘em. A whole hill of beans.” We had beans.
Then we turned to Kevin, and I asked baby Richard, who had suddenly grown considerably, to present the indefatigable tour guide leader with a token of our appreciation. He wanted to sing the Marrakech Express, but Eileen persuaded him to hand over a book instead. And when he did the usual suspects all applauded.
The unknown essay ‘Back To The Future or As Time Goes By’ written by George Orwell in 1945 and thought lost for 80 years. Read by Richard Blair in Rick’s Café in Casablanca on 9th November 2025
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Note from Quentin Kopp
Ian stood in to write the report when poor Dominic succumbed to a very nasty bout of a stomach bug or falafel sandwich…
Dominic has, however, manfully also written about his experiences, which will not be illustrated with photos!
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