TRAVEL|MOROCCO

Marrakesh

Marrakesh Express was stuck in my head

Getting there

It may not have been the fastest route, but it was a pleasant drive. We arrived in Marrakech (Moroccan spelling) early afternoon. Just out of El Jadida, we missed the freeway entrance and came via the donkey trail, driving through a few little villages and seeing dozens of donkeys and carts as well as a few crazy drivers.

We were pulled over by a very cute policeman for speeding. Smiling sweetly, he gave Stacey his number. I actually don’t believe we were speeding, as our car’s GPS alerts us with a warning beep every time the speed limit in an area is exceeded. Though, Stacey did speed when we approached a narrow bridge. This was a matter of life and death. We needed to make it across before encountering a truck coming toward us. She talked her way out of a ticket. He asked to see her passport and actually looked where she had been. Thank goodness she got a new passport this year or we’d still be there! Stacey is quite the traveller.

Finding our accommodation

We had chosen to stay in the old city again. Our car’s GPS managed to take us into the old medina. We followed it obediently until it placed us almost inside the grounds of the El Badi Palace. Stacey parked illegally next to the palace gates and left me in the car while she went to find our riad.

Using her wits, she realised our accommodation must have backed onto the palace walls along the parallel alley. She drove us as close as she could and instructed me to take “biggie” to our accommodation while she parked the car. Riad Carina was about 200 metres down a narrow alley, but not narrow enough to prevent motorcycle riders speeding through. From the outside, the riads are unassuming, ochre-coloured rendered walls, but on the inside, wow!

Riad Carina

All of the rooms open inwards to a tree-filled courtyard three storeys high. Riad Carina’s rooftop terrace even sported a pool. Not a huge one, but definitely big enough for all guests to cool down in summer. The temperature was a balmy 21C, not really hot enough to have to swim, but after climbing the stairs all the way up, it was tempting. I filled out the required paperwork and sat in the atrium waiting for Stacey. After drinking the mint tea that was offered and giving up on Stacey coming anytime soon, I had to ask to be shown to my room. Up one flight of narrow stairs to a lovely room with its own balcony. The last extra-high step was almost the death of me — on several occasions.

Riad Carina actually has three inner courtyards and ours was the third one. Lanterns were placed in the niches up the staircase so I was careful not to let my backpack knock them as I shuffled past. “Biggie” was waiting for me in our room. I hadn’t even noticed he had gone. I lay down on the very comfortable bed to await Stacey’s arrival. Eventually, she came in puffing. She had to park the car miles away, took a wrong turn, and walked an extra kilometre after having loaded herself up with every single item we could possibly need over the next two days.

Jemaa el-Fnaa, Marrakech’s world-famous square

After regaining her composure, she enticed me to come with her to Jemaa El-Fna, the square and marketplace in Marrakech’s medina. It remains the main square of Marrakech, used by both locals and tourists. We were there on the eve of Morocco’s Independence Day so the locals were out in force, as well as the usual throng of tourists (us included).

We wandered around checking out the performers: Stacey was fascinated by the snake charmers, whereas I maintained a safe distance. Cobras are not my favourite creature. Everyone from children to wizened old women was selling something: it’s their livelihood and you can’t help but feel sorry for them. But you can’t buy everything!

Jemaa el-Fnaa Square, like most of Morocco, can only be described as an assault on the senses. It is a conglomeration of stalls selling everything from spices to shoes. From smooth goat-leather handbags and slippers to rough intricately woven wool carpets; from beautiful aromas of delicious food cooking on open fires and the fragrance of the spice stalls burning frankincense to the intermittent stench of the sewers; from towers of brightly coloured powdered spices and candled glassware to pollution-haze pink/orange sunsets; from sounds of traditional Moroccan instruments strumming/drumming their beats and snake-charmers playing their songs to every Tom, Dick and Harry harassing you to “just look” at their wares while the mopeds that speed up the souks beep you to get out of their way. Needless to say, this experience is unlike any other I’ve had

After walking around the entire square, we climbed up to a crowded terrasse overlooking the square to watch the sunset. After buying a Coca-Cola in order to enter, we found a table. Stacey surreptitiously added some really good Scotch whisky (we’d bought it at the airport on our way to Iceland) into our bottles of coke. I was starting to relax.

When an undercover table became available, we moved in, ordered dinner of turkey, beef and sausage kebabs, salad and chips and sat overlooking the square and watching the performers and listening to the music. I was fascinated by the blue lights being thrown into the air and caught. There seemed to be a competition going on between three guys as to who could throw the highest and catch it. The object of this “game” was to sell the objects to the hundreds of tourists. Probably five times as many locals and Moroccan tourists milled around the square because of the long weekend.

After dinner, we made our way back to Riad Carina through the never-ending souk street, head down, determined look on my face, not stopping to look at anything or engage in any sort of possible conversation. We made it!

Stacey’s comment to me, “You can walk fast after all.”

My reply, “When I have to.”

The Bahia Palace

After breakfast, we headed off to the car to get our dirty clothes. Riad Carina had agreed to wash them for us, but we got sidetracked on the way there and visited the Bahia Palace. Bahia actually means palace, so we were visiting the Palace Palace. It was pretty palatial. It was a maze getting into it, and fortunately for me, there were signs pointing out the way every few metres, otherwise I would have become totally lost.

I actually just followed the signs but lost Stacey along the way. When I called her, (my phone actually worked this time), she said I was in the wrong place and to come back to Le Grand Riad as that’s where the exit was. I was pretty sure I was at the exit, but so not as to waste valuable talk time, I agreed to go back to the courtyard where she was waiting. And then she followed me back to where I was before. I knew the way pretty well by this point.

We still hadn’t reached the car (and the dirty clothes) when Stacey said she wanted to check out the Dar Si Said, a museum of Moroccan weaving and carpet making. There was a bench just inside the entrance so this is where I plopped myself for the next hour or so. She really enjoyed herself, even being taken to a “secret area” by one of the guards. Of course, he expected compensation for his kindness, so she popped him 20 dirhams. The building itself was once a palace so was similar in many respects to the Bahia, but without the crowds.

We finally reached the carpark, put all out dirty clothes in “Littlie” aka Carrie or Lucky and headed back to Riad Carina, thinking it is probably too late to get them washed. It wasn’t. I headed to our room while Stacey headed for the roof and messaged me to come up, as there were sun lounges there and I could have a snooze.

By the time I got there, (I lost count of the steps), she had left, but I lay down in the sun anyway. She was off to El Badi Palace, which was right next door to us, but I couldn’t summon the willpower to walk that far! And I knew she wanted to head back to Jemaa el-Fnaa Square tonight, so I decided to recuperate.

Jemaa el-Fnaa again

We walked to the square via the street and the park, thereby avoiding the souk street. As you’ve probably guessed, I am not a fan of souks. If you even glance at something, the seller insists he sells it to you at a “good price”! It’s difficult to explain you’re “just looking.” When we became tired of arguing with men who wanted us to have dinner at their little kitchen stall in the middle of the square, we accepted an invitation and sat down.

Stacey ordered couscous and I ordered prawns and calamari, but first, they put bread and olives onto the table. Oh, those olives were the yummiest olives I had ever eaten so I ate the lot. I think I was hungry! A lady from California sat at our table and in the course of conversation, we found she was travelling alone. She ordered a big meal, but hardly touched her olives so before they had a chance to clear the table, I ate those too.

When Stacey paid, she found out we had been charged for our bread and olives, so it was just as well I had eaten them all. I felt I had my money’s worth. So the cheap street food didn’t end up being as cheap as we expected, but my prawns and calamari were nice, but 4 prawns and 4 calamari rings hardly constitute a meal. Luckily I had eaten two whole plates of olives!

The souk

Stacey decided we’d walk through the UNESCO heritage listed souk. I had seen the map of the souk — a labyrinth-like maze that you can easily get lost in, where people hire guides to ensure they come out in this lifetime — so wasn’t keen, but I wasn’t keen on walking home on my own either, so followed her, actually clung to her for dear life and direction. I definitely didn’t want to get lost here! We came across an ancient souk, double-storey, like a mini plaza, with some amazing paraphernalia around… it would have been great to see in the daytime but they looked like they were packing up for the day. After this brief reprieve, we walked back into the main labyrinth. Amazingly we walked and walked and walked and she found her way out of the souk without once stopping to consult a map.

We arrived back at the square — I have no idea how — where we stopped to admire some pretty lamps. The salesman provided me with a chair while he and Stacey haggled via calculator. In spite of my asking how she was going to carry them for the rest of our trip, she bought ten! Eventually, both were happy with the price, and he carried her purchase all the way back to our riad to be paid. He ended up being a nice guy just trying to make a living to improve his lot in life. We Aussies just don’t know how lucky we are.

Months later, those pretty glass lamps arrived in Australia. Every single one was broken, as was the clay tajine she bought in Fès. She was heartbroken!

A few months later, the pandemic struck. Here are a couple of Jillian Amatt - Artistic Voyages stories of being stuck in Morocco.