I don't even know where to begin.
This past week has been so many things - exciting and eye-opening, scary and frustrating, bizarre and beautiful. Everyone should visit Marrakech if they are given the chance. Here I will do my best to recount my adventures in The Pink City.
Thursday, March 13th 2008, Jordyn, Mike, Miguel and I arrived wide-eyed and clueless in the Marrakech airport. We stepped outside and crossed the street to a parking lot where a group of dusty beige Mercedes were parked. These are the city's taxi cabs. We tried to communicate the address of our Riad to the driver (Riad = traditional Moroccan house), but he only spoke French and Arabic. After a few minutes of repeating the address loudly and with a hopeless Arabic accent, I gave him the phone number of the place and he called and got directions straight from them. When he was done he smiled and said "Okay, good!" and we hopped in.
We were silent as he drove, watching all the donkey carts and motorbikes weaving through the surrounding cars. It was over eighty degrees, but all the women were covered from head to toe. For a while our taxi was straddling the line that separated the two different lanes. There were barely any traffic lights, and we squeezed each others' hands when the driver temporarily veered into the lane of oncoming traffic just so he could pass the person in front of him. Then he turned into the thick, pink wall which encloses La Medina, or the old city, and the streets got significantly narrower. After coming close to grazing the walls and also some pedestrians, the cab came to halt. We started to get out, but he gestured for us to stay in the car. Turns out he was lost, and had only stopped to ask for directions. We drove some more and stopped again. Now the road was too narrow for the cab to fit. We got out, and the driver gave the address of our place to a random man on the street who would walk us the rest of the way. So we followed this skinny, toothless guy for a few minutes until we arrived at the door to our Riad where Said, its owner, was waiting to greet us.
I must pause and mention how incredibly uncomfortable I felt during that walk. I'm pretty sure we were all in shock. The walls were lined with people just sitting on the ground, and I could not tell if they were peasants, or just chilling. A woman whizzed by on a bicycle, dressed completely in black robes, with only a slit for her eyes. Everyone was staring at us - its not a particularly touristy neighborhood. I have never felt so white in my life.
We gave the toothless man some money for his help, and went inside. Said is the sweetest man ever. He has a nice complexion, big cheeks, and a warm smile. He spoke good English and welcomed us with mint tea (I was astonished upon taking the first sip - it was spectacular!) and a bowl of figs and dates. Then he gave us a map of the city and explained to us how to get to the main square. The Riad was beautiful, consisting of about six rooms branching off a central courtyard. The decor was modest and elegant.
After putting our stuff down in our rooms and relaxing for a little while, we headed out into the city. I noticed as we were walking that the air felt warm and thick. You can taste the pollution. The sky was a uniform white color. No blue in sight.
We were only walking for a few minutes when a young Moroccan guy approached us and asked where we were from. He seemed friendly enough. His name was Abdul, and he was a University student in Gueliz, the new city. He showed us the way to the Souks, the major shopping area of the city. It was kind of a far walk, with lots of twists and turns. I don't know how anyone could ever learn their way around La Medina - it's like a giant pink maze. He said he was going to show us the tanneries, where they prepare animal skins to be made into leather. We turned into a gate and were suddenly confronted by a terrible odor. Yep, we were in the tanneries. Abdul introduced us to another man there, who handed us each a couple springs of mint leaves to hold under our noses ("It's gas mask!"). We asked this new guy what his name was, and he said "Abdul."
Abdul #2 took us for a little tour of the tanneries. He showed us how the skins are rinsed in tubs of water and pigeon shit (the source of the pungent smell). He also took us up to a ledge so we could view the complex from above, which was pretty cool. Then he took us out the gate, down the street, and to a colorful store. Abdul #2 disappeared, and we were left with the storeowner, whose name I don't remember, but he was very friendly and spoke great English. He also had a limp. He limped over into the back room, told us to sit down ("Big welcome, America!") and showed us some beautiful leather cushions. He explained in detail how each type of dye gives rise to each specific color, and he also clarified the difference between a camel (2 humps) and a dromedary (1 hump). Then he had his assistant bring us some mint tea. It was hot, so he gave both me and Jordyn a child's shoe in which to hold the tiny class so we wouldn't burn ourselves. Mike and Miguel didn't get the shoes. They're manly. They can handle the heat.
Then his assistant started unrolling dozens and dozens of rugs. The storeowner explained enthusiastically how each rug is unique, made by hand by Berber women as part of their wedding ritual. We each bought one. Mine's yellow.
We exited the store, and Abdul #2 was waiting for us! He took us to a nearby spice shop, where a very intelligent pharmacist explained to us the various uses of each spice. Then, to demonstrate, he wrapped a pinch of this one dark grain in a thin cloth and shoved it up each of our nostrils, one by one, to show how it "cleared the sinuses." We coughed and our eyes watered. Jordyn, Mike and Miguel each bought some tea from this guy. I took some pictures, and then we went back outside, where Abdul #2 was waiting. We thanked him for his help, but then he asked for 200 dirham from each of us! "For what?" we asked. He rattled off a list of things: "For the tanneries, and the peectures, and the pigeon shit, and the tanneries, and the store, and the spice shop, and the peectures..." To make him shut up we gave him 150 dirham (between the four of us, not each), but he still wanted more. As we were arguing Abdul #1 (who liked us a lot, I think) showed up and told Abdul #2 to leave us alone. Then we got out of there.
Next stop was Djemma el Fna, the heart of Marrakech. It's a giant square, full of street vendors, blind beggars, snake charmers, and food stands. However, it's impossible to walk through the square as a tourist and not get hassled. One woman ran up to Jordyn, grabbed her hand, and without a word started applying a henna design to her palm. Jordyn repeated over and over again, "I don't want this!" and when it was over, the woman was furious when she wouldn't hand over any money.
It's even more impossible to take a photo in the square. As soon as you hold your camera up, the subject shouts "No Photo" or hands out his hat for you to put in money (and if you don't, he yells and chases you for at least two minutes). I really wanted to get a good shot of the black, rubbery cobras in the snake-charmer tents, but it was way too difficult. You have to learn how to be discreet. After a while I just started shooting from far away, and doing my best with the zoom. (Which was fine, in a way, because I didn't want to get near the snakes. I have this weird phobia of them, yet at the same time, they totally fascinate me.)
It's a shame you can't enjoy the more touristy parts of Marrakech without feeling harassed. Overwhelmed, we retreated to the rooftop terrace of a cheap Moroccan restaurant and ate the traditional dishes of tajine (a sort of beef stew) and couscous. During dinner, I realized I had accidentally stolen the glass of tea/child's shoe from the rug store! I must have absentmindedly thrown it in my purse. Oh, well. Anyway, we had a nice view of the square, and it was cool to observe silently from above. It grew dark, and all the lights went on, illuminating the smoke rising from the food stands. It was so surreal.
After dinner we were tired so we headed back to the Riad. We got pretty close to finding it, but we couldn't remember the last few turns, so we warily asked a storeowner for directions. He sent us off with a boy who was about eleven-ish years old. Great, now we were going to have to pay this kid. We accepted this and followed in his tracks, but as we walked, some of his friends joined us. They asked us where we were from and said "Welcome!" which was nice, but with each turn more and more kids joined the party. By the time we arrived at the Riad we had at least twenty children at our heels. Said opened the door, surprised, and forty tiny hands grasped at us for money. We paid the original kid and rushed inside, exhausted. One of the kids made it inside with us, though, and stood with Said at the counter, crying because he hadn't gotten a coin. We explained to Said that we paid the original boy, but this one kid wouldn't stop crying, so we threw him a couple dirham. What a baby!
We fell asleep quickly (the boys in one room, me and Jordyn in the other) but at 5 am we were awakened to a booming, male voice that chanted Arabic. It was the call to prayer. The chant lasted for about half an hour, during which neither Jordyn nor I could go back to sleep, so we had a long conversation about religion with our eyes half-closed. It was kind of eerie to hear the prayer while alone in bed in the dark. I don't really remember falling back sleep. In the morning, the whole thing seemed like a dream.
Speaking of dreams: that night I had a lucid dream. It was the first one I've had since I've been abroad. Basically I was at home in Miami with Vicky and Joanna (not Sarah, for some reason - sorry!) and we were talking, when suddenly I turned to them and said, "You know what I just realized? This is a dream." Then the room started shaking loudly. Realizing I could control everything around me, I jumped up and started swimming through the air, but I couldn't see my own hands. (This is common in lucid dreams.) Then, I told Vicky and Joanna all about the first day of my trip - it was like we were at home chatting, and I was explaining to them that my sleeping body was all the way in Morocco. "That's so cool!" they said.
Weird.
Anyway, this post is long enough already, and I'm tired, so I'm going to finish it tomorrow. Good night.
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