Marakech again

Tuesday, June 28 Marrakech
Our return to Marrakech has confirmed my feelings that one can never again have a first impression of a place. This time we are more relaxed, more confident….seasoned even after just one week of travel.
The heat of Marrakech hit us hard the moment we stepped off of the bus from Essaouira. Immediately we found ourselves yearning for shade but more importantly air conditioning. We stopped at the closest hotel only to find the cost of comfort beyond our purse strings. As we departed the cool lobby of the sterile hotel, we were hot and fully loaded with our backpacks. Before any semblance of a plan was constructed, a man from the hotel raced up to us on a moped. He said that he knew of a riad in the medina that would match our budget. He quickly hailed us a taxi (which cost considerably less since he hailed it) and we were zipping through the Marrakech madness to an unknown destination.
We were greeted at the riad by a kindly man who spoke a bit of English. He offered us a warm glass of mint tea…not really what I wanted on this 110 degree day, but ok. We were sold on the riad within seconds of walking into the sparse room during our brief tour… not because of the price, nor because of the very interesting bathroom that doubled as a shower. I was sold when I saw the air conditioning unit on the wall. The best part was that it was not just a fixture for show as it was in our first riad but it was blowing precious cold air. We found our home for the next 24 hours.
Just as I sat down in front of the coveted a/c unit, we heard what sounded like a parade marching down our street. Once again, we found ourselves racing out the door to find out what in the world was going on. We encountered an exuberant group of mostly women, happily singing and dancing and banging drums down the street. The smiles were beautiful and warm and they approached me to dance and join them. Why? With a few inquiries, we learned that the whole Arab world was celebrating because women had gained more rights. I nearly cried with joy. To be mixed in with such an exuberant celebration and then to learn the reason why, oh, how profound. I felt so privileged to be a part of this day.
Since we were out, we ambled our way through the streets and we found ourselves once again in the Djemaa el-Fna (a word I’ll never figure out how to pronounce). This time it seemed different. We knew not to watch the snake charmers as money would be demanded. We knew not the get suckered in by the women painting henna, we knew where to find the best fresh squeezed orange-juice and we knew where the best bread was made. Duarte could defer the hagglers in the souks by saying now in his limited Arabic…”not today, maybe tomorrow, Allah willing.” They liked that response.
Duarte did have one purchase in mind though. We had noticed some hand-made panniers being crafted in the souks. We have seen them on many a moped and bicycle during our time in Morocco and Duarte thought that this would be the treasure he would take home. Amongst all of the scarves, and leathers and metals and wooden crafts, there were four vendors fabricating panniers. It was impossible for me to imagine how they were sewing heavy duty fabrics in such heat and dust and darkness. They apparently enjoyed taking a break to talk with Duarte and I. We eventually emerged with an amazing set of panniers all for the amazing low price of $10. Every souk proprietor stopped to comment on his purchase. Duarte was giddy with pride.
And now our final day in Marrakech…. There is much to do and to experience. Layer upon layer of culture and difference, feed our curiosity. I don’t want to leave the magic and mystique of Morocco, yet I do long for my children. It’s time to go home. I will return again soon - there are many more treasures to be sought.