Arriving in Morocco
And once again, flight has been delayed. Only a half hour this time, but then I spent nearly an hour to get through customs. Not any problems, they just take long with each person, and I apparently chose the slowest worker of all to stand at the back of the queue of. My friend Liz has another good friend, Zakaria, in Marrakech and put me in touch with him before I came. He’d asked if I’d like him to meet me at the airport, to which I said yes to help avoid getting ripped off by the taxi and to help find where I was staying. I hadn’t heard back for sure whether he was going to be there or not, but he was, even enduring how long it took. Big ups to Zak! And I’m sure glad he was there to help, because the address and directions I had to Riad Rahba where I was staying were wrong. After wandering through the souqs a bit trying to find it, he and his other friend Mohamed went off on their own to find it while I stayed at a café for a coffee. Once found, I dropped off my stuff. the decor inside was very nice, in the traditional Moroccan style. Long bench-like sitting around the perimeter, with traditional coverings and tapestries, and an open courtyard area in the middle.
From there we went back out to Djemaa el-Fna, the main square in the old city Medina. What a site! I’d read about it before, and heard accounts from other friends who’d been to Marrakech, but it’s still something you can’t really understand until you see it. Many smells of different foods coming from the stalls the get set up at night, a constant haze of smoke from the grills rising, illuminated by the lights. Music everywhere… and circles or people forming around them. Many drums, zummara’s (an oboe-like instrument… think snake charmers…), krakebs- a strange type of hand cymbal, sometimes a fiddle or guitar, one guy had a banjo plugged into an amplifier and distorted, creating a very unique sound… and people gathering around to watch or sing along. The groups were mostly Moroccans, but clearly tourists would come and see as well, whom they would often offer an upside down drum to in hopes of receiving a contribution of some money. In addition, other performers were out… some doing tricks with fire, others doing acrobatics, women offering henna tattoos. There’s commotion everywhere. Walking past the food stalls, each one will try to entice you to come over and sample their food. Some have workers out with menus to show the people as they pass. At first, this may seem as a disturbance, especially to Westerners. But, I found it makes for a lively atmosphere. Moroccans are very open people, always willing to talk. I found myself sitting at some of the food stalls just talking with the guys working there, whether I ate anything or not. Many Westerners say they feel uncomfortable in the society at first, as if everyone’s trying to get their money. And while, yes, people are trying to in some way, it’s no different than in any other culture or society. It’s just done differently. While they may be getting you to come eat at their restaurant, it does not mean they’re trying to scam you. They’re just legitimately doing a sales pitch, but also interested in talking to you. They like to talk with foreigners and find out what things are like in other parts of the world, and also love to tell you about Morocco. And so many have a great command of languages. Everyone speaks Arabic and French, but many also speak English and Spanish, and some German. And what’s most amazing is that they do it all within Morocco. It’s very difficult for Moroccans to travel outside the country because their money isn’t worth much (10 dirham = €1), and obtaining visas is a process. So many are able to speak so many languages purely by practicing with whomever they can. With Zak, I spoke English, but Mohamed didn’t speak it as well. However, he was decent at Spanish and also knew some Dutch because he lived in Belgium for a bit. And luckily, we seemed to be at about the same proficiency level of each, so our conversations were a very strange mix of Spanish, English, and Dutch… usually even in the same sentence, choosing words from whichever language we knew them in. Spanglutch, if you will. It made communication fun. When not wandering through the square, we sat at a café on the side, their favorite. It became a central location during my time in Marrakech. They were friends with everyone there, which also meant I ended up with free coffee or tea at times. It was very cool to have an immediate “in”.
Around 1.00 in the morning, things die down in the square as the food stalls pack up, loading everything into man or donkey-pulled carts. I went back to my riad to sleep. For 60DH, I got a dorm bed, which just meant sleeping on one of the “couches” in the main floor level. They’re made entirely of foam, and actually decently comfortable. The common building design in Morocco is to have a square building of a few levels, with the rooms on the sides and an open courtyard area in the middle. There’s no roof over this area because the weather is so constantly nice, however the riad did have a covering that they could put over in case. The first night was a little chilly because of the opening, but not too bad.
In the morning we were served Moroccan bread with butter and jam and tea or coffee, and I went to the roof terrace to see what kind of view we had. Now, Marrakech isn’t exactly what most people would call a beautiful city, but it’s an interesting view from above. With all the clay buildings, I understand why it’s called the Pink City. From above, you see many satellite dishes, laundry hanging to dry, plants, and power lines, but also palm trees and the minarets from various mosques reaching up, and the mountains in the distance, brown and dirty in one direction, snow-capped in the other.
I was to call Zak in the morning after I was ready to be out and about, but I wasn’t able to get through. I kept getting a message in French, which I didn’t understand, as I don’t speak French. I tried a few times throughout the day with no luck. I wasn’t too worried. I knew it would work out. So, I spent my time wandering through the souqs, the huge market area. This is a whole other aspect of Marrakech… the souqs are madness. Winding around, shops everywhere, smells of spices, food, and incense changing constantly as you walk. It’s easy to get lost if you don’t pay attention to which way you turn. The shops themselves are within buildings, but the narrow roads are sometimes covered or partially covered with makeshift roofs of wood or plastic, stretching from one building to the other. I’ve realized I didn’t get many pictures of either the souqs or Djemaa el-Fna at night, partly because I didn’t wanted to be targeted as a tourist, but also, taking photos of some people often results in needing to give them some money. Not that I have a problem with that as long as I know, but it means needing to have small change to be able to give away, which I didn’t always have. After spending time walking, stopping for lunch and tea, walking, more tea, meeting up with some other Moroccans I’d met the night before for a smoke, and more tea, I ran into Zak and Mohamed in the souqs. I knew it would all work out. Turns out I had the wrong phone number written down. Oh well.
Tags: Africa, Marrakech, Morocco, Travel
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