Marrakesh

Last stop!

We arrived in Marrakesh tired and ready to fall asleep, but we quickly got a cab--it was easy, they were all clamoring outside the airport--and payed 15 euro (a horrible steal, as we later learned) to meet our friend Charlotte, who had arrived earlier, and Djmaa el Fna, the main square.



A quick breakfast of honeyed bread...stuff...and tea and a nap at our hostel on Dar el Bacha later, we were ready to explore the souks.
Marrakesh is...ridiculous. It's not like I haven't only been the west--I stayed in Japan for a month--but Morocco is something completely different. Firstly, I didn't take as many pictures in Marrakesh as I did in Portugal, mainly because I didn't want to draw any more attention to myself, and I couldn't really get completely over being the white exploitative tourist girl: yeah, sure, I supported the economy by buying LOTS and LOTS of cheap amazing stuff, but when every word you hear is "gazelle" or "petite fille" or "you want to buy?" you don't really want to whip out a camera too often. It felt...tacky. But anyway, to continue. Marrakesh is full of sights, sounds, and smells: of spices and cooking and jasmine, but also of pollution, exhaust, beeps from mopeds weaving through the narrow market streets; and men EVERYWHERE--the women just kind of seemed to fade into the background, especially as an unveiled young Western woman tends to attract lots of catcalls. And, of course, when it rained and I didn't have a hood I would loosely drape my scarf around my head: like that, most of the calls would stop, or at least I felt less unwanted attention towards myself. The souks in Marrakesh are filled with everything: untold amounts of jewelry, mounds of spices and nuts, leather slippers, vendors selling anything from shampoo to individual cigarettes to grapefruit. It was sensory overload.




Shopping in the souks was at once tiresome and awesome. For one, you couldn't even sweep your eyes over anything as you walked for fear of having someone yell out "les gazelles! est-ce que vous voulez acheter quelque chose?" ("les gazelles! do you want to buy something?"), let alone stop and calmly peruse. Although, on the other hand, we had a fun time in one stall looking at jewelry for 20 minutes while the owner was helping us pick out stuff, and it was great to be able to haggle over prices: with tourists, Moroccans hike up the prices twice, or maybe three times the original price--it was endlessly empowering being able to look at a bracelet, shrug at the original price, walk away, and have the shopkeep run after me asking what price I was willing to pay. And I got SO MUCH STUFF (a large part of why I have absolutely no money right now): two bracelets, a necklace, shoes, a block of jasmin (and I will tell you why), harem pants...insane. We also learned just how much everything revolves around money here, especially when Western tourists are involved: when lost in the souk, we'd seek a kid to lead us out, which cost money. The first time, a teenager led us to Djmaa el Fna and I gave him 20 dirham because I was tired and my friend wanted him to break a 20 (that...would not have happened); the second, two adorable young kids in keffiyehs, pushing a massive bike, led us to the main square. They'd weave ahead of us through the teeming mass of people, stopping every so often to look back and make sure we were there, even waiting as we stood and pretended to peruse a run-down store selling used electronics as we waited for a man who was hounding us to leave.



Although, on the bad side, you couldn't just ask for directions: one kid, even after telling him we knew the way, thanks, still insisted on walking with us, or ahead of us--when we finally just got a cab to get rid of him, he hung on to the open window for dear life, insisting we give him money. We did not. I'm sorry, kid. Better luck next time.

The second day in Morocco we had planned to go to Essaoira, 3 hours away on the coast; however, since it was already 10am by the time we had coffee and we had been told to go earlier or at least stay overnight, and it was a beautiful day, we opted to stay in Marrakesh and go out on Saturday. It was really nice: instead of just staying in the souks we were able to wander around and see some more sightseeing around Marrakesh. Before heading of to the medrasa we stopped for a bite first: near our hostel in Dar el Bacha we stopped a tiny little restaurant on our way to Djma el Fna: not only were we the only women, we were the only tourists, which definitely meant this place would be delicious. And oh my god, it was the most delicious food ever: lentils, beans, curry, spices, bread, all served with hot and sugary mint tea. Definitely perfect.





After the deliciousness, we headed off to the medrasa near Djmaa el Fna...I'm not entirely sure what it was called Koutoubia mosque. But among the gardens and the orange trees; the men filing in and out to pray; and the sounds of the muezzin from the top of the tower, it was all very calming.



From there, we headed off to see El Badi Palace; sadly, it was closed, but in our wanderings around the massive castle walls and armed guards we met a Berber man who offered to show us the nearby Jewish quarter and synagogue for free. It was really amazing: the synagogue dated back to 1492, when the Jews were expelled from Spain and moved to Morocco.



Then, he gave us a tour of the area, and we stopped off to meet his friend, another Berber who sold a myriad of spices, herbs, powders, and perfumes. After giving us a tour of what was displayed outside, he welcomed us inside his tiny shop where his wife served us tea and he gave us a whole tour of his wares: rose hand oil; jasmin, musk, ginseng perfumes; khol; curry and cumin and saffron; paint powders; everything. He even gave us traditional Berber makeup: a little plate-shaped piece of brown-red clay that when leaves a blood-red ink on a licked finger, which you then rub on your lips and cheeks. I also bought a little block of jasmin perfume, to be used on your body or in your drawers for your clothes--I couldn't leave without buying anything, he was so nice.


Group photo. I had a Berber marking on my chin that our shopkeeper (I totally forgot his name, oops) drew in khol, which, although I wiped off later as it's a religious symbol, was pretty cool.

We then made our way to the Mederasa Ben Youssef and the Museum of Morocco, where I actually met an Ursuline nun--definitely an odd occurrence.



That night, after a nice long nap, we headed out to Djmaa el Fna to eat: at night, it turns into a massive open air restaurant, with waiters hounding you with menus from left and right, trying to get you to eat with them. That night we ate at a fairly touristy place, but it was delicious: sausage, olives, bread, chicken with couscous, vegetables, soup, and, of course, tea. The next night, obviously already locals, we picked a place where I ate this amazing plate of ground beef garnished with various spices and chopped onions, sopped up with ripped pieces of soft pita. We also stopped at a vendor where we bought these delicious honey-and-sesame coated peanuts. So. Good.

Phew! Okay! One more day! This is so freaking long. Please wait for another entry for Ourika Valley, thanks.