We started writing our Morocco post on a bus to Chefchaoun,
it was then on this 4 hour journey when we started brain dumping thoughts that
we knew it would be impossible to write Morrocco in one post and to show all
the pics, so we have decided to split it over 3 –if we can find the time. Morocco
is so big, so diverse and every morning brings a new place to explore, more
sense filling moments, another long days journey and another day fending off
sellers with “non merci” “no thankyou” or “lay shukran.”
A quick photo from the road - Simon having a straight razor shave, they are famous for doing it properly in Morocco. Apparently it was one of the best he's ever had, the guy wanted about $4 for doing it, so we doubled his money he deserved it!
The plane from Barcelona to Marrakech is completely sold
out. We are asked if we want to check any hand luggage for free given the full
flight. To us this is bizarre as we didn’t think it would be a super popular
route. We soon find ourselves surrounded with black and white jerseys. The FC
world cup is on in Marrakech and the plane is full of Brazilians who have flown
12 hours to see their club play in Marrakech against the Casablanca Raja FC.
They boast and talk big about a 5-0 win they expect. As the plane lands they
burst in the club chant and clap and cheer. We join in, why not get caught up
in the excitement?
In our last post we said we were staying at a beautiful
riad. We had a beautiful room that in typical riad style opened to the internal
patio over the central courtyard and pool. The open roof to the courtyard is
covered in clear plastic letting the sun in but keeping out the birds and rain.
To look at from the outside you see a red washed building with a solid wooden
front door. You couldn’t imagine the peace, quiet and tranquillity inside from
the hustle, noise and chaos outside. But Morocco seems to do bi-polar well with
its outside craziness and inside peace and tranquillity on a scale unimagined.
Finding ourselves in our heavenly riad, we decide to
maximise it by lounging around drinking Moroccan mint tea, blogging and
planning our trip to Italy. It’s amazing what we can achieve in one day – an
entire two week trip to Italy researched, planned and booked. Even spending a little
time on the rooftop lounge to get in our Vitamin D. Stepping outside only to
enjoy our first Moroccan meal at lunch, then we headed back to the riad and
dined in house for dinner by the fireplace.
Ok day 2 is here and relaxation over, and now that our bodies
have officially de-stressed a cold has found its way to Amy – she blames it on
the sardine style Barcelona transport. Breakfast in our riad is a delicious and
unique experience with everyone only speaking French and Arabic, this is an
issue because saying hello, thankyou, counting to ten and being able to say
‘the cat’ doesn’t quiet cut it. Every morning bread is served at breakfast, its
different to the bread we have had across the sea in Europe. Msemen is a sweet
and stretchy dough that has been cooked on a flat grill before we eat it making
it even softer. Tasty to eat on its own or with some butter and jam smothered
on is great, we will try and make it when we return.
While on the hunt for our first stop of the day we found a
gorgeous photography museum housing some of the very first photos ever captured
of Morocco from the 1800’s. Set in a beautiful riad, this place transported us
to a very different time, far away from tourists roaming the streets hunting
for the best bargain.
We made our way to Ben Youssef Madrasa which is now an
abandoned former Islamic school. People visit for the architecture and it is
gorgeous, every form of Moroccan craftsmanship is on display.
Next to Ben Youssef is the Museum of Marrakech, at only 10
Dirham ($1.40) each entry we couldn’t resist – entry fees are so cheap in Morocco.
Everything was in French and Arabic but the architecture in this building was
reason enough to visit.
The afternoon was spent exploring the famous souks, it is
like a choose your own adventure for grown ups with new and exciting ally ways
appearing. Often we would do rock paper and scissors to decide to go left or
right. Of course after about 2 hours of looking at beautiful things, being
pulled this way and that, fending off continual “come into my shop, good price”
we were completely lost. Luckily there are signs above to point you to main
areas, and we just kept following them for what felt like a good 30 minutes
until finally we were out. To be honest the whole point of the souks is to get
lost, its great, if you ever get the chance just embrace it and enjoy it.
As you walking through the medina colours pop at you,
carpets, shoes, scarves, everything is a kaleidoscope of colour. Little holes
in the wall filled with silk scarves of every colours. Poofs (the foot rests)
line the walls like a round tapestry of interlinking colour. There is
brightness and colour in everything from the womens traditional clothing to the
slippers worn under the robes of the men.
While you take it all in, a motorcycle or cart is there again on
your tail, you’re lucky if he slows down for you. At first it takes some
getting used to, but there is a rhythm to the dodging and weeving, a dance that
the locals know well, its effortless for them. We find our groove and tune in
our ears to hear them coming and make a quick step to the right – always move to the
right side in Morocco if you want to live another day.
It goes without saying that the Moroccans are known for
their spice markets; fragrant spices and some of other natures best offerings
are available at every second store. Argean oil (Moroccan oil) is the new big
thing and every tourist wants a piece and the locals know it – if only we could
have bought some. Additionally, the dried fruits and nuts are plentiful, divine and cheap, you can see Simon making a purchase.
You may be asking why is there a picture of a bunch of cats?
Cats are everywhere, you can’t go a
minute without seeing them, let alone eat outside without at least 6
surrounding you. We have been told that
it's OK because they keep away the mice. They are Morocco’s gift to visitors
and we should feel free to take one home with us remarks one shop keeper.
You step out of your riad and all your senses are fully
engaged. There is touch, you are always being pulled a pushed and brushing up
against someone in the medina and especially in the souk. There is the sound,
the hussle and bussle around you and noise from the cars beeping and the
motorbike behind you just about to knock you off your feet as it flies through
the souks, of course there is the hassling “please madame come into my store”
continuously. There is sight, so much to see, so many colours, patterns, beautiful
wares, people, donkeys, the meat hanging outside of open air butchers, and people selling their own veges on the ground so you need to dodge them before you step on them or in a pile of rubbish. Then there is smell, it
can be described as pungent always present, but not always pleasant. The scent
varies depending where you are but it seems to come like a wave enveloping you
where you have nowhere to run and hide but to hold your breath and carry on.
Whether it’s the pile of rubbish on the corner, the waft of a donkey, walking
past the open air butchers or fish market on a warm day, or just the occasional
smell of urine - nothing prepares your nose. However it’s the taste that makes
it all worthwhile, the fresh orange juice for only 60cents a glass, the boiling
hot tagines and cous cous, the amazing mint tea and Moroccan flat bread in the
morning.
One of our favourite photos from Morocco is this one. Where
else would you see this, a goats head with a chameleon just hanging out on its
head?
None of this sensory overload compares to when you enter Jemaa
El Fna or ‘the square’. By day (see picture below on top right) this square is relatively empty
except for the carts by the dozen all selling their delicious fresh OJ. By
night this place comes to life! Apart from all the food vendors desperate for
your business, there are monkeys dancing around (photo for a fee), henna
artists grabbing at you, boxing matches, music, and constant motion and
activity, then there are taxis bussling through and you have no idea who is
giving way to who. Just when you think you’ve
nearly made it through there is another 6 cobras on the ground dancing for
their charmers. This is the worst because their charming instruments block your
senses and you suddenly are watching every footstep afraid of stepping on a
snake, but thankfully some of them have hawks ready to pounce should a snake
roam free. There is no quiet corner, no space to think, everything and everyone
is in your face – nothing is free and don’t stop to look or else you’ll end up
with a snake draped around you and paying for its removal or so we saw.
You see here some beautiful bright cactus fruit. Thats right they grow on cacti, the inside looks like beetroot and stains your fingers the same way. The fruit is cool and refreshing even in summer, sweet, but with loads of pips. A great tasting experience for only 20cents.
Amy is a novelty over here, the blue eyes, blonde hair and
fair skin really has heads turning and it can be uncomfortable when people look
you up and down from head to toe on a 10 second basis. Young girls look and
stare as if they are having their own cultural experience, this is endearing
and sweet. Men and teenage boys stare for all the reasons they shouldn’t, and
women stare sometimes offering a smile and polite remark such as “you have
beautiful eyes”. Going back to the riad always offers a welcome break from the
constant eyes outside. Having Simon by her side is more than helpful, Moroccan
men are a lot more respectful when they understand you are married, although
Simon is frequently told by the local men that he is a lucky man.
Over the speaker it comes Allah Akbar, here it is again
another minaret call. At least today we slept through the 5am call. It always
seems to come at an inconvenient moment and can be a real mood or sleep killer,
it stays for about 2 minutes (although it feels like longer). We wake to tackle
another day.
We head out to our next adventure but with the football in
town the cabbies have free reign to charge what they want. The usual fare of 30
dirham is doubled or more depending on who you ask to take you. They won’t
budge from 70 dirham to take us to the train station until we threaten to walk
and it drops to 60. Fine. With the chaos going on around with the wild football
fans filling the streets inside a cab is not a bad place to be.
I go to put my seatbelt on, but alas no seatbelt, the taxi
driver laughs and says “no seatbelts, you’re in Morocco” – I laugh nervously
and think to myself isn’t that exactly why I need the seatbelt? Our knuckles
are white as we hang on so tightly, dodging what we think are near misses every
20 seconds, all we can do is laugh and enjoy ‘the experience’. Out of the
windows it is madness mobs are walking on the side of the road either waving
banners for Raja or Brazil. Cars are packed with people all wearing green for
Raja and the windows are down flying the team flag proudly as they beep their
cars.
We find ourselves in Jardin Majorelle, which offers a
wonderful break from the chaos outside, it is cool and refreshing. This garden
boasts vibrant coloured pots, incredibly diverse succulents and cacti from
around the world and a memorial to YSL.
I make the mistake of wearing green on football day, so I
get suspect looks from the Brazilians, and the Moroccons excitedly nod and wave
the Raja flag at me. Half way through the day I finally put this all together
when someone says “ah you’re going for Raja”, a frazzled look comes over my
face and he says “youre wearing green”, I look down and laugh “oh I didn’t
realise, I just put this on”, followed by a sheepish grin.
We visited the Saadian tombs where the princes and royalty
of the Saadian dynasty are buried, again we find ourselves in tranquillity behind
high walls, even though it is mayhem outside these walls.
In Morocco there are so many unhelpfuls trying to be helpful
– or is it the other way around? We make our way back to the riad for a break,
then we see him, “the road is closed” he tells us. Everyday he says the road is
closed. This is the 3rd time today he has told us the road is
closed, he doesn’t even remember us, there’s obviously been a lot of tourists he’s
tried to hustle today. We laugh at him as he moves towards us, and before he
opens his mouth we smile and say “we know we know the road is closed” and brush
past him into the ‘closed road’. We wonder how many people fall for this, were
sure he just guides you to his cousins shop. The best one we have heard is “you
cant go down here there is a mosque, so you cant go, come with me Ill show you
another way”.
Ahh the gorgeous old gem of Palais de la bahia. At its peak
this was a palace of Moroccan dreams, but now it has been left to deteriorate,
leaving only your imagination to piece together its majesty. Orange trees grow
where the giant pools once were, and storks have made the top of this palace
home for their giant nests. The best part its only $1.50 to enter and even
though these are ruins you can feel free to climb and explore – no preservation
in Morocco. We climb its towers and watch the sunset over the city of
Marrakech.
Footy night is upon us, we are told that it is wise to be
back at the Riad by the time the game finishes and things will get a little
crazy out there. We head to the square for dinner, its quiet out here, even the
snakes and their charmers are home tonight.
Just as we sit down Morocco scores a goal – the radios are
on everywhere for those who have to work, but work is furthest thing from their
mind tonight. Cheers and clapping rise up for Raja and their goal we cant help
but be swept up in it as we raise our hands to clap Raja’s success. The
atmosphere in the street is electric, we can only imagine what it would be like
at the game – football we think is the second religion to Islam here. Walking
back to the riad we see locals huddled around small tvs in local restaurants.
We stop to ask the score to a young man streaming the game on his laptop at the
side of the street. He invites us over to the laptop and proudly shows us the
score on the screen 2-1 Raja is in the lead. He is thrilled, and we smile back
and say “Go Morocco” as we all cheer together.
The Close Call
Lately, it seems, it wouldn’t be a Amy and Simon blog
without a drama of some kind.
We book and pay for a taxi through our riad to pick us up at
12 our train departs at 12:55. 12 rolls around, no taxi, we wait, 12:10 the
riad manager is concerned waiting with us on the street, 12:15, nothing, 12:20
we need to go. She says he’ll be here in 5 minutes, we give it another 5, 12:25
rolls along and we need to quit waiting, it’s a 15 minute ride on a good day.
We hail a cab, even though we have paid for one, its tiny, we cram everything
in, and somehow wedge ourselves in. We get in the cab and say “train station,
fast, fast, hurry, hurry please”. The cab driver doesn’t know what’s going on,
but he can see our faces and that says 1000 words. To his credit he puts pedal
to the metal but that doesn’t help in bumper to bumper.
We stop suddenly in the
traffic and a motorbike hits the back of us, ‘this is it’ I think, ‘now we are
going to have to stop because we’ve been in a crash’. Snap out of it we are in
Morocco, the driver barely blinks, and as the motorbike goes around us the
driver winds his window down to give a mouthful in Arabic to the kids on the
bike. No insurance or detail exchange, just a quick ‘you boys are
idiots’, we keep driving. We are sweating we can see the train station, but we
are stationary in the traffic and we can’t run quick enough with the packs to
make it worthwhile getting out. All we can do is stare at our watches and pray.
We get there and in our hurry to get out we throw money at
the driver – far too much in Moroccan terms but we don’t have time for change
as we scramble our bags together and chuck them on minus the usual care we take
not to damage our backs. He apologizes that he couldn’t get us here sooner, its
not his fault I tell him its ok and not to worry. The man has seen us at our worst. He has done
what he can nearly crashing several times with his admirable insistence not to
let anyone ahead of us.
We are sure weve missed it, its 12:54 we bolt, running with
thongs on and 18 kilos on ours back on a tiled floor – don’t try this at home.
I grip tightly with my toes, it hurts, I don’t care, we run desperately. The
train is still there so we run through the gate, a hand is stuck out in front of
me “tickets, tickets” he yells, Simon franticly hands them to him as we see the
train 100 meters in front of us. We keep running at any second the wheels will
start turning, we are on, we breathe, we find our seats and sit quietly still
shaking. We are on for only seconds and the wheels start turning.
Simon & Amy xoxo
(We forgot a selfie, guess we were too busy running for the train)
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