Magical Marrakech

Marrakech has a larger-than-life reputation. It is either magical, mythical, manic, friendly, dangerous, authentic, touristy, a bargain, a rip-off, or all of the above, depending on what you read or who you talk to. It’s kind of a love it or hate it place. We, of course, loved it!

The city itself is nestled in the valley below the Atlas mountains with a population of just under one million people. There are palm trees and dusty roads filled with the hustle and bustle of traffic, a mix of pedestrians, bicycles, motorbikes, cars and buses, as well as residents going about their daily lives.

Where the city comes to life for those of us just visiting is in the Medina, the old walled city built nearly a thousand years ago and which is now a UNESCO World Heritage site. It is here that Marrakech earns its reputation, in particular at Jemaa el-Fna, the loud and vibrant square with the circus-like atmosphere. With its monkeys, snake charmers, henna ladies, fruit juice hawkers, touts, costumed-locals and horse-drawn carriages, it is a jaw-dropping sight to behold. And that’s just in the daytime.

In the evening, dozens of pop-up food stalls magically appear all hawking local delicacies such as tagines, couscous, grilled kebabs, seafood, sheep’s head and Moroccan salads. The square gets smoky and the crowds, locals and tourists alike, stream in from all directions. The smells, some good and some not so good, waft through the air. And the noise! OMG, the noise! Drums beating, people yelling, food touts touting (“lifetime guarantee, no bloody diarrhea!”) horns blowing, music blaring and flutes warbling. It is a never-ending, mind-blowing spectacle.

It’s easy to understand how people get overwhelmed here because it’s a lot to take in. If you stand around looking confused for too long, before you know it, you’ll have a snake around your neck and a new “friend” trying to help you, all of them with their hand out. (I was extremely firm with the snake man when he came at me.) If you can keep your wits about you, stay focused and not take it all too seriously, it’s a fab place to hang out!

We tried to plan our stay in Marrakech in a way that would help lessen the sensory overload. First, we stayed at the full-service Le Relais de Marrakech campground 11 kilometers from the city. It was a lovely, peaceful retreat when we’d reached our limit. Just a great place to relax and meet other travelers. Second, we did not drive into the city, we instead took taxis. Although this added a bit to our overall costs, it saved our sanity. I found absolutely nothing appealing about driving in Marrakech. Third, we hired a guide one day for a few hours to take us around and help us get our bearings. It can be a lot to tackle by yourself. And finally, rather than try to see it all at once, we visited the Medina and souks, the massive covered markets, multiple times over several days.

After hanging out at our campground for a couple of days, we planned our first trip into the city to Jemaa el-Fna square on a Saturday night to see the sunset. As you might imagine, Saturday is the busiest night in the square. Our plan was to ensconce ourselves at a table on a restaurant patio above the square and watch it come to life from a safe distance. But damn, there was no shade up there and we arrived two hours before the sunset! Temps this week have been in the 80s, so it was hot and glary. We moved on to Plan B, which was to venture out into the square and try not to look lost. Of course, with all that was going on around us, we had our cameras out taking photos. We quickly learned that if we snapped within 50 feet of an “entertainer”, they were on us in a flash with their hand out for money. One guy insisted I delete a photo, which I did happily because I didn’t realize when I took it that he featured so prominently. Taking photos in the square soon became a stealthy endeavor, but we managed.

We decided to eat at one of the food stalls, so we looked for one where there was no sheep’s head involved. We finally decided on the one where the guy guaranteed we would not experience bloody diarrhea if we ate there. Along with seeing locals at the table, that seemed as good a selling point as any. Steven had the “meat” (beef) tagine and I had grilled kebabs. They didn’t tell me what kind of meat and I didn’t ask. We enjoyed olives and grilled veggies and Moroccan salad. All the food was delicious, and so far, their guarantee is holding up as promised! As dusk spread across the square, we hailed a taxi and headed for our calm oasis, basking in our successful first visit to the city.

The next morning we were back in Marrakech to meet up with our guide, Mohammed. As we were waiting for him, Steven realized he had left his phone in the taxi. Under any other circumstances chasing it down would have likely ruined our day, but the taxi driver works with the campground, so we were able to call and have him circle back around to us with the phone. He pulled up just as Mohammed arrived, so we were soon off on our tour!

Tourism is important to Morocco’s economy, so they take it very seriously. As such, official guides are required to wear badges. I’m not sure what qualifications are required of them, but our guide spoke several languages and had a good grasp of the county’s history. We heard a lot of this as we were walking, but with the loud traffic, we didn’t always grasp everything he was saying. Also, he’s a fast walker.

Among the highlights of our tour was the Museum of Marrakech, housed in a 19th century palace and former residence of the King, within the Medina walls. I was surprised to learn about the Jewish influence and population in Morocco. In Libya, where I grew up, there were no Jews, that I recall, so I assumed it would be similar here. Mohammed said, “live and let live”. He didn’t say that in a flippant way, he spoke genuinely and affectionately about Morocco’s tolerance of all people.

All guides, even official ones, will take you to shops along the way so you can buy things, particularly spices and Berber rugs and Mohammed was no exception. Some people don’t like this about guides, but we enjoyed our stops. At the rug place we were served “Berber whisky”, which is actually mint tea. As the boss man stood by and educated us on rug-making techniques, several other men were merrily grabbing rug after rug off high piles and unfurling them with great exuberance right at our feet. Our saving grace was that we live in a camping car and we used that excuse for our lack of purchase very liberally. These salesmen, though, they are a tough lot and they have an answer for everything!

Us: We live in a camping car, so we have no room for a rug.
Him: We will ship the rug to your house in the United States!
Us: We don’t have a house.
Him: We will hold the rug for you until you get a house!

You really have to stand your ground.

Our next stop was to the spice store, and let me tell you, I did not realize how incredibly healing spices and oils are! No matter what ails you, a remedy can be found at the spice store. We did not escape unscathed here, as we walked out with some Argan oil and Ras El Hanout, a lovely spice concoction. Later, when we got home and upon further inspection, I was sure I was given paprika instead of Ras El Hanout, but on a return trip to the souk the following day, Steven actually ran into the spice seller on some random street corner and he happened to have the spice in his camera bag! The guy confirmed it is Ras El Hanout, to which I will say I do not like his recipe! It’s too paprika-y!

Both the rug and spice stores were cooperatives, a kind of government-run nonprofit, which helps provide jobs and assistance with selling goods for the craftsmen and women. But the truth is, when there is a middle man involved, those artisans and their families get less of the profits than if you bought directly from them in their small village.

I wanted to go to the tanneries, but Mohammed refused. A lot of folks won’t go there because of the smell, and indeed, when you do go, they give you a sprig of mint to hold under your nose. But it seemed we would not visit the tanneries on this trip. (I’m guessing Mohammed did not have a deal with the vendors there, but I don’t know for sure.)

We said goodbye to Mohammed after he dropped us off at The Grand Hotel Tazi where the restaurant serves alcohol. I guess he figured we’d need some! Once again we had a delicious meal,
with a view from the balcony and, when done, we headed back deep into the souks once again. Medina? Souk? What’s the difference? The Medina is the old walled city, the souks are the marketplaces. There are 18 souks in the Marrakech Medina and you can get well and truly lost in there if you are not careful. But in our experience, they are certainly not dangerous places. In fact, when you get away from the sellers of goods, you find the craftsmen; cobblers, tailors, the guys with sewing machines who can fix anything, and they are the kindest, most helpful people of all. They will help you find your way out of the deepest corners of the souk.

On what was to be our last full day in Marrakech, we split up. I had signed up for an all- day cooking class and Steven was heading back into the Medina for some more photographs. The cooking school provided transportation for a small additional fee which was perfect, as it was nearly an hour away from our campground. I spent a very relaxing day preparing traditional Moroccan bread called Batbout, three salads and a tagine of lamb and prunes. I could have eaten a boatload of those prunes, they were out of this world!

In the middle of the day I received a text from Steven that said, “I am at the tanneries, LOL, long story.” Turns out he picked up a “guide” in the square who promised he wanted no money, only to hand him off to another guy once they reached the tannery. He could have easily walked away at that point, but here’s the thing – if you want to go and hear what they have to say and see what there is to see, just agree on a price beforehand. Steven had a great time taking photos in a place he didn’t think he’d visit, he learned a few things and then happily paid the guy when it was over. Although I was a little miffed I didn’t get to the tanneries, I was more than thrilled with my cooking class, so I guess we’re even!

Even though it turned out well for Steven in that he got to visit a place we wanted to see, upon later dissecting the situation, there’s no denying that he had fallen victim to one of Morocco’s famous scams. At the time the gentleman first approached him, Steven was on his way to the Museum of Photography, which showcases black and white photos of Moroccan culture. When Steven told the guy this is where he was going, the guy responded, “Oh, it’s closed today! Today is a Holy Day when the Berbers come down from the mountains and bring their goods to sell to the craftsmen.” Steven believed him and took off with him to the tanneries!

Of course, hindsight is 20/20, and when we talked about it, it seemed so obvious. He felt sure he would be able to recognize the situation if it happened again and not fall for it. The following morning, he left Bijou and headed to the campground bathroom. The next thing, I get a text from him saying, “Get out here! I’m outside on a horse!!!” 

The absolute last thing I would have ever expected to see Steven do is don a robe, crawl up on a horse and be paraded through the campground. And yet, there he was. Of course the man pleaded for money, showing Steven that his horse needed new shoes. The entertainment value was worth it, but he still can’t quite piece together exactly how it all happened. That just goes to show how good these guys really are and how you have to be on your toes at all times!

NEXT UP: I don’t even know, we’re kind of winging it.

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