My Riad's courtyard
Mohammed trying to sell me some carpet and showing me Moroccan hospitality.
Musical performance in the plaza!But I packed up my small backpack (thanks Ambesa!) and set of for an adventure, a day later than I planned. The train left about an hour late and I went in the first class car and got settled. There were two other Americans in the compartment. It turned out that one lived in Senegal and one in Tacoma Park, Maryland and both worked for the same NGO doing micro finance work in Africa. They were on their way to Marrakech to run in the marathon on Sunday. Oh, there is a marathon on Sunday! Good to know. They kept to themselves for awhile but I broke into their conversation at one point and once they heard my story about why I was in Morocco we started talking more. In fact, the one woman had less than a week before found out she was pregnant again after a couple miscarriages, so she wouldn't actually be doing the marathon after all. It was fun to talk about Lila's birth with them and about what her options were in Senegal.
I arrived to Marrakech and sure enough the madness began with "guides" approaching, taxi offers, etc. The folks at the Riad I had booked at were picking me up since they said I'd never find it on my own (and oh how true that proved to be later in the night!). I got dropped off at the edge of the medina (old city) and was met by a young guy with a wheeled cart and we turned off the main path and began a series of twists and turns down little alleys and I realized I was going to be spending a lot of time kinda lost and disoriented here. When we got to the riad, it had a little door you had to crouch to climb through. It was quite lovely, with a beautiful courtyard and three floors of rooms, terraces, lounges all in traditional style. Unfortunately, there was no one there who spoke English and the owner wasn't there and now (in retrospect) I realize that I didn't get the most out of my riad experiences in Marrakeck due to communication difficulties and a lack of the hospitality I had heard about and experienced later in my trip. But it was lovely and everyone was very nice, I just wish I spoke more French or Arabic! I had the first of what would be about 5 pots of Moroccan whiskey (i.e. mint tea) and a few small bowls of nuts, apricots, raisins, etc. And then was shown to my room. It was beautiful and the bed was so comfortable with the most amazing thick wool blanket. It was basically underground with no window, but big majestic doors opening into the main courtyard (which meant it was a bit noisy in the morning, but nice and dark for sleeping!). So much attention to detail was given in every place i stayed--by far, more interesting than any fancy hotel that costs the same or much more. And there was a great, hot, big shower!
After resting for a bit I was anxious to get out and see the medina and the infamousDjemâa el Fna square before it got dark. Getting to Marrakech at 3pm on a Friday wasn't the best idea as it didn't leave a lot of time to get oriented before the nighttime, but I figured I'd be okay. Another tip I'd give folks is to be sure you have a bunch of change and small bills before heading out. Once I was out in the world and realized I only had 100 and 200 Dh it was a bit hard to function in the streets and souks for small things and to pay the folks wanting a couple Dh for a photo, etc etc. I also realize it would have made a lot of sense for me to have mapped my way to the riad from the main street-they gave me a map but it wasn't very clear (as I found out later--don't worry, everything turns out just fine!)
So off I go, meandering through the medina, walking around smiling and practicing my ever-expanding Arabic vocabulary : ) I had brought a small keychain compass per the suggestion in Lonely Planet, but it didn't really help me much as it took me 2 days to figure out my orientation based on landmarks in the city. But I knew that I'd either find the edge of the medina and take a taxi or find the square or something would happen in the 2 1/2 hour I had til dusk. Walking through the souks (market) and the city was an assault on the sense...new sounds, smells, sights, sensations. The call to prayer ringing out through the alleys, the warnings to get the hell out of the way from the incredibly brave bicyclists and motorbikes, the clomping of the donkeys hooves pulling their loads through the labrinyth. Giant piles of dates, apricots, walnuts, almonds, lavender, tumeric, cumin, paprika, rose petals, henna appear around almost every turn, as do all kinds of animal parts and cuts of meat, and live chickens and piles of fish and shellfish and eels that I'll refrain from describing here-- sheep heads factor in big in this culture I'll just say.
Saw a few camel heads too.
I realize that I'm not really headed in the direction of the touristy souks but more in the everyday market. I've figured out a way to have my camera poised and ready within the sleeve of my sweater without it being visible and hanging out all the time. Over time I master the art of taking covert digital pictures as I walk, along with the plethora of photos I shoot out in the open. While I'm attracting a lot of attention, folks here are mostly leaving me alone or just greeting me with the standard "Salam malekum" or "Le bes" (how are you?). Then I turn a corner and it all changes, about 10 guys come up to me trying to convince me to go see the sights with them-- they don't want to be paid or anything--just to show me around. Sure...I manage to turn them all away but a few minutes later another guy comes up and we start talking in Spanish. That is the most frequent approach for me here-- hola que tal? or guapa or something like that. If folks aren't sure if I'm Moroccan they mostly at least think I'm Spanish. I give in and figure at least this guy can hopefully get me to a major landmark.
After winding through the medina for about 20 minutes we end up at a leather tannery. The tanneries are a smelly place-- there is a pile of mint by the entrance to help you get through it. This is not the pretty colored vats you see in the photos in the guidebooks. This is the grimy, hard work, end of the day, want to get out of here kinda vibe. The process used in Morocco has not changed much in the past several centuries and it is not particularly safe from a health standpoint for the workers. I find myself following my guide through the tannery, walking on the cement between the vats and get the up close and personal view of what the workers are doing. We chat with some of the workers, climb up on a roof above with a good view of the city and then of course I'm taken into a souk for the hard sell. At this point I'm not looking to shop yet (that frenzy comes later and once the seal is broken it is over my friends--so much for using the money for doing the birth for getting a much-needed crown--carpets and leather goods and pottery are much more fun!) However, my host, Mohammed, is very gracious and shows me the goods in his store, lays out a bunch of carpets for me explaining their differences, serves me some yummy tea and beseeches me to enjoy my time in Morocco even if I don't buy. There is such an art to bargaining here--and it isn't one of my best skills I must say, especially when I'm on my own. But I end up buying a cool bag made of old carpet remnant, for what I'm sure is way too much, but is at least less than half than what we started with. I leave and we are all happy.
After a somewhat heated exchange with my "guide" about giving him money --not for him-- but for the folks in the tannery, and trying to get pointed in the right direction for the square, I'm on my own again. I must say, it was fun to be speaking Spanish and to be understood, given my proclivity thus far for responding in Spanish to Arabic and French.
In spite of my guide not getting me all the way to the square, I find it and breath a sigh of relief. And then the real craziness begins. It is, to use the word that is most often paired with the Djemâa el Fna, a spectacle to behold. And it is cold! Real cold. This is the high desert (similiar to Taos, NM) and a cold spell that will continue for most of my time there has just blown in. As I circle the square (can you do that?) to get my bearings and take it in, I can feel the heat being pulled out of my body through my shoes. I have a good system in place though with my layers and my valuables, and I have to say that for as often as I was approached or greeted by men or kids or elderly folks looking for money, I never felt threatened or like anyone was going to try to steal my stuff or anything. In general I found that Moroccans are incredibly friendly folks, very affirming of my lame attempted to communicate in anything other than English, very willing to help and etc.
I get my first of about 25 glasses of fresh squeezed orange juice from the OJ vendors-- they all try to cajole to their stand with enthusiatic gestures and sounds. I love the orange juice in Morocco-- it is so sweet and robust and cheap! A 10 or 12 oz glass is only about 3 Dh (or 25 cents) in the square (but grapefruits juice is 10 Dh in case you were wondering). The snake charmers are at work, there is live music everywhere, the water sellers with their crazy get ups are rolling about, there are monkeys dancing, henna decorating, wares being sold. Strangely, I don't see too many tourists or travelers, and those I do see don't seem to speak English or aren't very friendly. I am wishing Christine was here with me right now, but take a deep breath and keep going. About every 10 seconds a guy comes up to me "Bon soir" "Ca Va?" "Hola, que tal?" "hello" "espanola? italiana? americana?" "welcome" "bienvendia" "do you need a husband?" "first time in Morocco" "Le Bes?" becomes the chorus of my evening. I practice my "la shokron" (no thank you) and "safi" (that's enough) and occasionally "sird" (get away), salam-ing away, trying my best to not be cold but not too welcoming either. It is all so amusing and annoying at once-which makes it hard for me not to smile because I love to smile. But that of course, exacerbates the issue as my smile attracts more attention. So I strive to master the art of "smiling on the inside" as Aurelia has instructed me. That helps some, but over the course of my time traveling here, I realize that if I every need a self-esteem boost on a purely superficial physical attraction level this would be the place to come.
I wind through the food stalls in the square, because I'm getting a bit hungry and because I have someone to seek out there per Trish's recommendation, and because I'm hoping that I'll maybe meet some folks or be invited to join someone for dinner or invite someone to join me, etc. I am equipped with the knowledge that I am looking for stall 42 or 142 run by a large (by Moroccan standards) woman named either Fatihah or Rhadiya. This, as it turns out, it more than enough information to zero in on my target! Rhadiya is a badass. She rules the roost of her stall and has about 10 men running around waiting on folks, helping cook, etc. I order a bunch of Moroccan salads, eggplant, olives, bread, and a veggie tagine and take in the scene. The food is yummy, and way more than I can eat on my own. My waiter is very sweet, perhaps overly affectionate, but I'm trying to just take in the whole vibe and roll with it. No other traveler types sit down with me and after a bit I decide to move on my way. But first I do notice a Japanese man with a Spearhead patch on his jacket and think about trying to talk to him, but the other guy he is with seems a bit tripped out on something (I find out later that the other dude is a local who is a drug addict and often does interpreting work for Japanese tourists as he lived in Japan for some time. And I am glad I stayed away from them).
I continue around the square and the greetings and solicitations from a spectrum of men continue. After about 20 minutes I decide I'm going to either hang out with someone or head back to the riad. A young guy who was particularly persistent and seemed harmless enough won the prize of my company for the evening. His name is Khalid, he's 26, from the medina, a cook for one of the hotels and a nice guy. He speaks minimal English but is trying hard to communicate. It is freezing outside at this point so we go to a cafe with heaters for a pot of tea and chat the best we can about his life, my life, why I'm in Morocco, our families and etc. It's a Friday night and he asks me if I'd like to go see some live music with him in the new city (Villa Nouvelle) and I thought "why not?" and got him to agree to get me safely back to my riad afterwards and that I didn't want to be out too late. So we walked the 30 minutes or so to the new city and through much of the new city to "Club Montecristo". It was a sweet place, swank but not overdone and very different than anything I'd seen in the medina. The band that was playing currently was covering "My Way" and then segued into a Zeppelin song and several other amusing covers of American songs. I'm sipping on my gin and tonic and noticing that "wow, these Moroccan women sure do wear a lot of makeup and get really dressed up!". I share this observation with Khalid who kinda blushes and proceeds to explain to me that the Moroccan women in the club are...prostitutes. Lovely. I look around more and start seeing fishnet stockings, and stillettos and very racy outfits and it starts making sense. He assures me that it is fine for me to be there because I'm with him. And to be fair, there are several other foreign women travelers around too. The band changes over and starts playing Gnawa music with a really good beat and it is time to dance a bit and forget about the surroundings for awhile. Again, this place is really nice--not seedy at all-- this is just one part of the culture as a result of the very strict rules regarding male/female relations in this country. It feels great to dance to this live music and I feel lucky to be exposed to this part of Marrakech's social culture as it isn't something I would have come upon on my own. But after another hour I'm ready to go and after a brief visit to the second floor DJ scene (where I boogied down to "Last Night a DJ Saved my Life"), we caught a taxi back to the medina and my riad. Which was easier said than done...even though I had a map, it was hard for the taxi driver to find the right place to drop us off. We must have driven around for over 40 minutes! I was not panicking but was getting a little worried. After consultation with several other taxi drivers we finally found the right spot! Hooray! And now, the next challenge-- finding my way (with the help of Khalid) to the actual riad through the maze of the medina. We followed the first couple turns successfully, but then missed a turn, hit a dead-end, backtracked and tried again. We did this about 3 or 4 times and right when Khalid was offering for me to stay at his house in the room with his mom and sister, we tried another way and I spotted the construction work that was around the corner from my place and with a big sigh of relief, the small door to my riad appeared. I thanked him for sticking with me, and he asked me to call him tomorrow, to which I replied "Inshallah"--if God wills--(the Muslim/Moroccan version of my Italian grandmother's "If God spares me") and happily returned to my lovely room and the best bed in Morocco.
