Marakech

Friday, June 24, 2011
Morocco

I’m ashamed that I ever spent any time wondering whether or not it would be wise to travel to an Islamic country. My Christmas gift from Duarte last year was 2 round trip tickets to Marrakech, Morocco. The idea of travel is always exciting, yet within seconds my thoughts went to whether or not I would actually go. As a mother of two, how could I leave my children for a week, travel to a different country, to visit what I believed to be a violent culture who despised Americans? With time and research, I eased myself into the idea of the trip and set my mind on going…yet, admittedly my concerns were vaguely lingering.
Upon arrival to Marrakech, the differences in culture seasoned my every sense. The dry, arid heat drank up all of the moisture from my body. The straight lines of every structure conveyed rigid conformity. Yet the ornate metal with the rolling designs adorning the structures hinted otherwise. The streets were utter chaos…or so it seemed. Zipping past our petit taxi, literally in every direction where ancient mopeds. Upon the mopeds were whole families. The men some of whom wore tunics, others not, had their wives on the back wearing anything from Burkas, scarves or western clothing. An infant often was tucked in between the husband and wife and perhaps an older sibling clung on behind the woman. It wasn’t uncommon to see women driving their own mopeds, often with another woman riding with her on the back. In addition to the taxis and the mopeds were horse drawn carts and donkey pulled carts and tall vans with roof racks and bicycles and of course the regular array of cars that I am more accustomed to seeing.
Our riad was tucked away within a muslim “neighborhood” far away from western hotels and deep within the medina. The narrow streets that couldn’t fit a car were quiet and mysterious to me. Women fully covered from head to toe walked with their casually dressed children through the labyrinth. Above us towered a tall minaret of the closest mosque. Frequently, there were small “stores” that were filled with the essentials…shampoos, diapers, bread, cigarettes, drinks, etc. The one attendant leaned over a counter while the customer stood outside and requested what he/she wanted to purchase.
Our taxi driver led us knowingly through the streets to a heavy wooden door. He knocked twice and the riad was opened by its caretaker. We were welcomed into the interior courtyard of the square-shaped structure. Looking up, I saw the tall courtyard was covered with a peaked canvas. The entire interior was ornate with metal and tile.
Our room was exquisite. Deep greens and reds colored the tiny room. The handmade wooden and straw furniture invited us for a sit. Intricate and elaborate carvings framed the ceiling. All of this for $65 per night.
Out we ventured through the streets of the medina. Without any sense of the people around us or what to expect…we wandered. Cautiously we looked at our map and attempted to navigate our way into the Djemmaa el-Fna – the main market place of the medina. We were unsuccessful initially and decided to sit in the first restaurant we encountered to enjoy our first tanjine of the trip. A tender stew of chicken and vegetables nourished us for the next stage of our exploration.
Asking for directions with limited French, we did get oriented to head into the main square. Aha…this was the magnificent Marrakech, westerners know about. Snake charmers, henna artists, belly dancers, story tellers, men with dancing monkeys, trained pigeons, orange juice stalls…. This and more filled the huge square. I was overwhelmed and thrilled and amazed. The energy in that place, oh, and the spicy smell, and the color and the sounds….would take so much more than words to describe.
Not wanting to be out too late, we found our way back to our Riad. I couldn’t calm my mind enough to sleep. I lay awake all night…my thoughts overflowing with the newness of all that I had observed and with eager anticipation of the next day. At 5:30am, the long and soulful prayer call being beautifully sung from the nearby mosque stirred me to give up any hope of sleep. I was ready to see and feel some more.