Getting to know the rose valley was one of the biggest surprises in Morocco. Nestled in the mountains and still not on the radar of tourists lays a valley in full bloom boasting the best hospitality experience in the country.

One year before going to Morocco I stumbled upon this image below and I said to myself ‘I have to be part of it!’ I need pink on my photographs.

Whenever I taylor a route I think about colours and diversity. I look for different landscapes and people. As for Morocco, it wasn’t an exception. Amidst beige, orange and brown I had found pink.

Rose valley is the valley of Assif n Imgoun river, tucked into the heart of berber culture,  between the Atlas mountain range and the Sahara desert. The region is the biggest producer of rose oil and water in the whole country, thus receiving the name rose valley.

Both rose oil and water are fundamental to local culture and economy.

In this part of Morocco berbers are the main ethnic group. Kasbahs (traditional earthen clay mansions or fortresses) abound. Traveling through this are is like getting to know a different country.

Damask rose grows wild. There are no specific areas to plant them. Rose bushes are everywhere mingling with other crops along the valley.

Rose sent is sweet and overwhelming. You can feel it from afar. The rose season starts in middle April and goes up to early May. That’s the reason I decided to venture rose valley at this time.

Speaking of roses, I have an interesting story to share with you.

Do you think it is easy to spot women picking roses and photograph them? Rose bushes are scattered around the valley and being able to find women picking roses at the right bush you are passing by is just part of the challenge.

Every morning until 10 am, women go to the fields to pick roses. To find them you have to get into the valley as well, and cross your fingers to find women at work.

The region is not highly exploited by tourism, plus rose picking represents a big chunk of a family income during the season. People are reserved and religious. Local belief states being photographed is having part of your soul taken away.

On my second day, I decided to go out and find a woman picking roses. I wanted to talk and photograph them during the process.

As soon as I entered the fields of wheat I spotted two of them. I suddenly got really excited! I thought it would be harder to find them – on the previous day I strolled for hours and had no success.

I crossed the fields and approached them. They immediately hide. Against all the odds, I tried to communicate with two local women.

I started speaking French, and got no answer. Then I tried Arabic; no answer back. They spoke Tamazight (Berber language) only.

After many gestures of ‘please’ and ‘photograph of hands’ I and Lufe finally got the approval we were wishing for. However, only one of them accepted to pose backwards and quickly. ‘One’ photo she signed with her finger.

I took the photo and showed it to her. I said ‘beautiful!’ in Arabic and pointed to the sac of roses. I wanted to also photograph the sac full of buds. She accepted it and handled it to Lufe. However, he didn’t realise the sac was actually a piece of fabric held together to gather the roses. As just as he opened it all the roses and buds fell on the ground.

I blushed!

I was so ashamed for interrupting her job leading to such an awkward moment that I thought she would get mad at us (two white western tourists and photographers).

It turned out she laughed at us. We said ‘sorry’ and helped to put back the flowers on the makeshift sac.

Once roses are picked up, women take them to a place to be weighted, sold and transported to Kelaat Mgouna.

At Kelaat roses are taken to cooperatives, where they are separated according the purpose being rose oil and water its main usage.

Do you  know how many roses does it take to yield 1 litre of rose oil? Five tones! *gasp* That is because there is only a small amount of oil in each rose.

Speaking of oil, after extracted and gathered it becomes extremely concentrated. The quality of the rose is measured by the stage of bloom and oil concentration. 90% of the key odor we associate with rose is present in less than 1% of the oil quantity of a flower.

Extracting rose oil and water is quite simple. Petals are poured into a cylinder. Water is added and then boiled. Vapour goes through petals and grabs oil with it; once condensed water and oil are separated.

After being filtered both rose oil and water are ready for being incorporated into cosmetics.

We bought shampoo, soap and rose water. Everyday we used them on shower. We even brought some back to Brazil and presented them to dear friends. They are good-value local products capable of recalling good memories from our 30-day stay in Morocco.

If I close my eyes and sprinkle rose water I am immediately taken to Morocco. What a treat!

To celebrate the crop, every year the rose valley helds the Festival of the Roses in Kelaat Mgouna. During three consecutive days on early May the city hosts the biggest festival of the genre in Morocco. The cooperatives open its doors for visiting, there are plenty of traditional music, dance and food. A must for any tourist passing through Kelaat Mgouna.

Where to stay

We didn’t rent a car. However, we wanted to stay on the rose valley, in a small village very close to the rose bushes and the river. After a good research on the internet I stumbled upon Kasbah Ben Ali at Ait Gmat.

To get there, you either go by car or catch a grand taxi/mini bus at Kelaat Mgouna.

Me and M’bark, the owner, had exchanged a few emails. I didn’t know what to expect from Ait Gmat since there were not many images either on Google or on his website.

Little did I know that this would be the best hosting experience of the whole travel…

Chances are high that once you get to Ait Gmat streets are empty. We got to the village, followed the signs and arrived at Kasbah Ben Ali. The hotel is built using earthen clay, straw, wood and traditional materials.

Just like in Japan, expect to remove your shoes whenever going into a house.

Rule of thumb: wear slippers to walk through the house and take them off when walking on carpets.

Upstairs there is beautiful carpeted room where I laid down to rest, drink tea, gaze at the carpet’s patterns and wait for lunch.

This room is a favourite among guests of Kasbah Ben Ali.

Speaking of lunch, meals at Kasbah Ben Ali are something to remember. Soups, veggies, chicken, preserved lime, beef and dried prunes tagine, couscous, olives, Moroccan salad and fruits. The food is delicious, plentiful and meant to be shared.

Did you know that Moroccans eat fruits as desert? I mean, wherever you go if you ask for desert they will bring you fresh fruits from the season. No chocolate nor cakes.

Breakfast with homemade marmalade and amlou (almond paste, honey and edible argan oil – it is known as the Moroccan Nutella), olives and fresh bread.

Carved spoons are omnipresent.

After lunch we met M’bark, the owner, and chatted a little. His name is M’bark Amzil and he is a true artist. Everything on the photo, including the house itself, were build by his hands.

Each corner of Kasbah Ben Ali is full of history. This old and already jaded purse was his grandfather’s.

The hotel is small and cozy. It has enough rooms to transport you to a family house.

In one of the days we were there M’bark’s aunt Zizi and his two cousins stopped by to visit the family. We told them about Lufe’s project Life by Lufe, in which he travels around the world photographing creative people’s houses. His cousins looked at each other and whispered some words in Tamazight. ‘Do you want to visit an original house unchanged by time?’ – one of them asked me.

We nodded our heads in approval and went straight to the house. One of the cousins said it was their home and they had spent many years of their life there. After they moved to France, they kept coming back from summer to summer.

Today it’s is empty. But still, the house retains an important share of the Amzil family’s history.

After showing all the rooms Zizi had a surprise for us. We went to the kitchen where she used to stay for hours years ago. She lit the fire to emulate the old days.

What a perfect way to get to know the Amzil family.

How to commute on the rose valley

If you don’t have car to yourself there are two ways to go up and down the valley. You either hop on a small bus that goes from Kelaat Mgouna to Bou Thrarar whenever it’s full; or you hail a grand taxi on the way.

Close to Kelaat Magouna’s main roundabout there are plenty of grand taxis bound to Bou Thrarar and nearby destinations. Mini buses are available at the same area and depart whenever full.

Bou Thrarar

Bou Thrarar is one of the last cities on the rose valley and it is famous for its hiking trails. The way to the city is beautiful. You can spot the lush green dotted with earthen clay houses turning into shades of brown and orange before abruptly changes to blue.

On a certain point of the valley we pass by the kasbah where M’bark’s mother was born and raised.

Each time we passed in front of it I wondered how life was at the time the kasbah was in full bloom.

Look at the second line. Berber language (Tamazight) is written from left to right and with a distinct alphabet.

Get there

The easiest way to get to Kelaat Mgouna is starting in Ouarzazate. Check Ait BenHaddou – a Moroccan treasure and learn how to get there.

If you are going to the rose valley – Ait Gmat among other villages – you can either get there with your own car or hopping on a grand taxi/mini bus once you arrive at Kelaat Mgouna.

By car

From Ouarzazate get the N10 road bound to Tinghir. Kelaat Mgouna is on the way, impossible to pass by.

If you hired a driver I suggest stopping by and spending a couple of days there. I had a wonderful experience with Wild Morocco exlporing Erg Chigaga desert – check it out at Erg Chigaga – expedition into the desert.

By bus

From Ouarzazate, hop on a CTM bus bound to Tinghir and hop off at Kelaat Mgouna.

Grand taxi

Grand taxis are shared cars that travel between cities. They are generally parked in a certain square and all you have to do is to get there and start looking for the right car. You either pay for a place and wait until it’s full, or you pay for all the seats depart right away. A grand taxi may take up to six people plus driver. It might feel a little claustrophobic, but if you are on a budget it might come in handy. Sometimes grand taxis are the only option to get from on place to another.