Morocco: Marrakesh, the Medina and Jemaa el Fnaa
Although the place we stay in is listed under 'hotels' on your booking.com and hotels.com and whatever.com websites, it doesn't come close to what we perceive as a hotel in a western sense. We are grateful for that.
The medinas, or old cities, of Morocco are so remarkable in that you never know what could be behind each door in those narrow alleys. The walls outside look so insignificant, what could possibly lurk behind each door except for a block of flats, maybe a place to store your things, if you have a business?
We ring the bell on our door, supposedly the riad we booked. Doesn't seem like it. From the outside, it looks no better than our apartment door in Germany. Once we open the door, a new world flashes before us. There is a patio with a fountain in the middle. Surrounding the patio are high balconies, each of these lingering over arches that are just stunning in their engineering and artistic detail. Remember, though, this is just one of many riads. In the States, this would be an historic monument with the supporting funds to go with it.
There are two little turtles creeping around the ground floor - the kids call them Tatiana and Tony - and we continue to gawk at the arches and the balconies, wondering whether we actually deserve to stay in such a place. Our room is a two-storied affair with a ceiling almost 15 feet high, it's almost like you can build a squash court in there. We take the stairs to the top of the roof, and there are chairs and tables, but mostly photo opportunities of the city and the Lower Atlas Mountains in the background. This place rocks.
As it so happens, we happen to be in Marrakesh for the Aid el Kebir, which means every house has a sheep due to be slaughtered to ensure the status of 'blessed' for their abode for another year. We already see sheep being carted off, their snouts muzzled and their horned heads tied down firmly to avoid any last minute mutiny. Our first day in Marrakesh is a chapter from 'The Walking Dead'. Everywhere the alleys of the Medina are empty. I've never seen anything like it. Can you imagine Times Square being cleared out? This seems just as unlikely.
Usually, the medina is teeming with activity, you'll hear the roar of motorbikes through the alleys and need to step aside, otherwise you'll get run over - see Amsterdam and bicycles. Today you could drive a tank through the medina and meet with little resistance. Just like the western world has Christmas and turkey, the medinas of Morocco have the Aid and their sheep.
On the next day, business is back to normal. Who otherwise is there to rip off the tourists? Who is going to buy their garments, their chessboards, their souvenirs? The medina thrives on tourist activity. If this were a small town in Morocco, the business might survive and barely pay its bills. Millions of tourists who don't know how to bargain ensure that the stores in the medina remain profitable year round.
We have our picture taken with a snake charmer. That cobra has so clearly been defanged it's not funny. That cobra tries to bite a python that's crossed its path, but this is like a pitbull, well, with no teeth. That black cobra is huge but harmless. The snake charmer is pissed off when he sees we only pay him 20 dirhams for his efforts. Sorry, at that time that was all the cash we had.
Meanwhile, we get to my favorite activity in the medina: bargaining with the merchants. As usual, they see the white tourist with the pin wheeled hat, a person just begging to be ripped off. Once they see I speak plenty of Arabic, their stances soften, although they also know that this entails a lower purchase price. I don't budge when I negotiate, eventually the merchants do. Heck, it's really something they would sell to one of their own, wouldn't it?
We have a tagine at the Cafe France and enjoy the view from the second floor. Liebi is searching for the water guy, a fellow wearing a flamboyant red costume with a goofy hat. This man's function is to pour water to the dehydrated tourists...and pose for pictures, which is far more profitable. Liebi had her picture taken with the water guy in the year 2000, she was hoping for a reprisal 18 years later. The guy is nowhere to be found.
We are beckoned by the merchants at the orange juice stands. All those years later, the juice is still as delicious as advertised. The difference now is that they've added other fruits to join the smoothie craze rocking the globe. All the while, there's music playing at Jemaa el Fnaa, the atmosphere is so unreal.
It is fitting, then, to end our Moroccan trip in Marrakesh, although we actually buy very little. We buy a couple of masks for Bash, since he has recently decided that he's really into masks created by African tribes. Other than that, it's rest and recreation before our plane takes us back to the west with medinas that are equally unique in their own way...but far more predictable.
The medinas, or old cities, of Morocco are so remarkable in that you never know what could be behind each door in those narrow alleys. The walls outside look so insignificant, what could possibly lurk behind each door except for a block of flats, maybe a place to store your things, if you have a business?
We ring the bell on our door, supposedly the riad we booked. Doesn't seem like it. From the outside, it looks no better than our apartment door in Germany. Once we open the door, a new world flashes before us. There is a patio with a fountain in the middle. Surrounding the patio are high balconies, each of these lingering over arches that are just stunning in their engineering and artistic detail. Remember, though, this is just one of many riads. In the States, this would be an historic monument with the supporting funds to go with it.
There are two little turtles creeping around the ground floor - the kids call them Tatiana and Tony - and we continue to gawk at the arches and the balconies, wondering whether we actually deserve to stay in such a place. Our room is a two-storied affair with a ceiling almost 15 feet high, it's almost like you can build a squash court in there. We take the stairs to the top of the roof, and there are chairs and tables, but mostly photo opportunities of the city and the Lower Atlas Mountains in the background. This place rocks.
As it so happens, we happen to be in Marrakesh for the Aid el Kebir, which means every house has a sheep due to be slaughtered to ensure the status of 'blessed' for their abode for another year. We already see sheep being carted off, their snouts muzzled and their horned heads tied down firmly to avoid any last minute mutiny. Our first day in Marrakesh is a chapter from 'The Walking Dead'. Everywhere the alleys of the Medina are empty. I've never seen anything like it. Can you imagine Times Square being cleared out? This seems just as unlikely.
Usually, the medina is teeming with activity, you'll hear the roar of motorbikes through the alleys and need to step aside, otherwise you'll get run over - see Amsterdam and bicycles. Today you could drive a tank through the medina and meet with little resistance. Just like the western world has Christmas and turkey, the medinas of Morocco have the Aid and their sheep.
On the next day, business is back to normal. Who otherwise is there to rip off the tourists? Who is going to buy their garments, their chessboards, their souvenirs? The medina thrives on tourist activity. If this were a small town in Morocco, the business might survive and barely pay its bills. Millions of tourists who don't know how to bargain ensure that the stores in the medina remain profitable year round.
We have our picture taken with a snake charmer. That cobra has so clearly been defanged it's not funny. That cobra tries to bite a python that's crossed its path, but this is like a pitbull, well, with no teeth. That black cobra is huge but harmless. The snake charmer is pissed off when he sees we only pay him 20 dirhams for his efforts. Sorry, at that time that was all the cash we had.
Meanwhile, we get to my favorite activity in the medina: bargaining with the merchants. As usual, they see the white tourist with the pin wheeled hat, a person just begging to be ripped off. Once they see I speak plenty of Arabic, their stances soften, although they also know that this entails a lower purchase price. I don't budge when I negotiate, eventually the merchants do. Heck, it's really something they would sell to one of their own, wouldn't it?
We have a tagine at the Cafe France and enjoy the view from the second floor. Liebi is searching for the water guy, a fellow wearing a flamboyant red costume with a goofy hat. This man's function is to pour water to the dehydrated tourists...and pose for pictures, which is far more profitable. Liebi had her picture taken with the water guy in the year 2000, she was hoping for a reprisal 18 years later. The guy is nowhere to be found.
We are beckoned by the merchants at the orange juice stands. All those years later, the juice is still as delicious as advertised. The difference now is that they've added other fruits to join the smoothie craze rocking the globe. All the while, there's music playing at Jemaa el Fnaa, the atmosphere is so unreal.
It is fitting, then, to end our Moroccan trip in Marrakesh, although we actually buy very little. We buy a couple of masks for Bash, since he has recently decided that he's really into masks created by African tribes. Other than that, it's rest and recreation before our plane takes us back to the west with medinas that are equally unique in their own way...but far more predictable.
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