A Kaleidoscope of Sights & Sounds: MOROCCO

It's hard to explain the culture shock we experienced the whole time we were traveling here.  First of all, people speak Arabic (woah) and also commonly French... hmm.  So we often found ourselves speaking Fr-engl-anish-iano.  

We stayed in a beautiful Riad, which is a traditional Moroccan house with an interior garden or courtyard.  The word Riad comes from the Arabian term "ryad," meaning garden.  The outside was nothing special.  With no windows and crumbling mud brick walls, it looked more like a fortress than anything.  Upon entering through massive doors, we found ourselves in a gorgeous private space.  

Our host was so kind.  Although he barely spoke English, he offered a traditional Moroccan dinner to us on our first night.  His wife cooked a feast of soup, chicken, vegetables, and cous-cous.  We soon learned that Moroccans love their cous-cous.

Authentic serving dishes

To cleanse our palate, we were given "Orange Salad" for dessert.  We didn't know what to expect, but it turned out to be a plate of sliced oranges with cinnamon sprinkled on top.  Delectable.  A treat that we are planning on making back in the States! 

The entire Riad was elaborately decorated with fancy mosaic tile work, paintings, exotic plants, quotes from the Quran, and several fountains with floating flower petals.

Dillon trying to catch a bird that floated its way down onto a ledge

Looking down off the balcony into the central atrium space

Outside our refuge:

Marrakech was by no means a glamorous, clean city.  Upon returning, I realized that my photos don't quite capture the complete experience.  That's because when we felt uncomfortable or lost in the dirtier places around town, the idea of taking pictures never came to mind.  Our trip started off in a fraught manner.  We hopped off the airport bus and found ourselves in a completely vacant plaza (which we later we learned was Djamaa el Fna).  The sun had just risen.  Other than a few carts led by donkeys, there weren't many people lingering around at that hour.  We inspected our maps, trying to get acquainted with our location and determine how to get to our Riad.  

The ratings for the Riad were great, but they all said that it was practically impossible to find at first without the help from a local.  I had read up on proper etiquette when it came to tipping locals to help tourists find locations (very common here, since the narrow old streets are beyond confusing!).  Two men in their late thirties approached us, testing out a variety of languages.  "Bonjour?  Hello?  Hola?" etc etc.  We ignored them for awhile, but finally realized that there was no way we could find the Riad on our own.  They seemed to be alright - but we were paranoid about being ripped off or led to the wrong spot.  They could tell that we were uneasy (we had every reason to be).  We followed them through a labyrinth of narrow streets and alleyways.  

At one point, one of the guys disappeared.  My fists were clenched.  I was at least reassured when I noticed that Dillon was just as on guard as me - he repetitively demanded to know our location on the map to make sure we were on course.  Paranoia is a good word to describe how we felt - "what if this is a set up?!"  Things got weird when about ten minutes later, the other guy randomly shows up to meet with us from a side street.  After exchanging fake names and stifled small talk, we were more than thankful that they had indeed delivered us to our Riad!  I started knocking on the huge door to the building.  No answer.  The man proceeded to demand from Dillon ten times the amount that is customary to tip adults who escort foreigners.  The air got tense again.  Dillon tried to say no, but it wasn't worth arguing over.  The man attempted to snatch Dillon's bag, saying that he was going to bring it back to the plaza where he first picked us up.  We were still locked out of our place, so we had no other choice but to pay the amount so the men would leave.  Sure enough, all they wanted was a big tip and they scattered afterwards.  Within a few minutes, the massive doors shook open and we were ushered into our lovely accommodations.  It felt so good to collapse into the safety of our room to comfortably breathe for the first time.

For the remainder of the trip, we were super alert, not trusting anyone for fear that they were just trying to scam us.  Tourists really stand out here (there was no way around it), so we were constantly being hassled by people trying to make money.  We were able to dodge the myriad number of burka clad women practically forcing henna tattoos on us and the persistent men who demand money after their monkeys climb on you.  People were just trying to make money at every moment.

It was hard for me to handle the amount of poverty here.  I've never seen so many women with infants and small children, begging on the streets.  Dillon and I were standing at one of the orange juice stands in the Medina when we noticed a little boy of about 4 started approaching us.  He was selling cookie-like pastries made by his mother.  When he was about five feet in front of us, he tumbled, his cookies spilling out of the box onto the dirty pavement.  The boy clumsily rushed to stuff the cookies back into their respective positions, and stood up to face us with the most earnest eyes.  He raised the box to us, seeing if we wanted to buy any of his treats.  Dillon gave him a coin (about the equivalent of one US dollar), but said that he didn't need a treat.  I'll remember the smile that stretched across the boy's face for a long time.  He was so grateful as he skipped his way back to his Mom and proudly displayed the coin.  Before we knew it, he was back again at Dillon's feet, pulling on his shirt.  Dillon squatted down and the kid gave him a kiss on the cheek before shaking our hands, the smile still in place.  It was simultaneously the cutest and most heartbreaking experience.  

Our Riad served as a true oasis to return to in the evening after a head-spinning day of activity.  

When we dared to venture out again, it was astonishing how much had changed in just a few hours.  Suddenly, all of the narrow and winding alleyways were filled with hoards of people and speeding scooters.  Thick smoke polluted the air as women in burkas would speed by, just inches away.  Stray kittens littered the streets.  Then there was the main plaza - packed with snake charmers, monkeys that did flips, drummers, dancers, donkeys that carted items around on large carts, bicycles, questionable food stalls, storytellers, horse carriages, fortune tellers, men who sold exotic spices, acrobats, and fresh orange juice stands.  It was all rather intoxicating to the senses.  

Palais El Bahia was really beautiful.  It was built in the 19th century, and its name means "brilliance."  

We learned that the architecture was built to capture the essence of Moroccan and Islamic styles.

There was an amazing interior courtyard with a lush garden - a pattern we began to see in Moroccan housing

Cheesin' by the Fountain

One thing we loved about Marrakech was the sunny climate... it was ideal.  Sunny and in the 80's every day - a big jump from Prague!  

Intricate Mosaics and Door Frames:

More stray kittens.  Dillon wanted to rescue ALL of them.

... but Natalie's feline hatred prevented this endeavor.

Outlandish Plants

We continued our adventure on foot, trying not to consult the map too much (so it looked like we knew what we were doing).  There were many lovely rugs on display, such as these:

Burka Babes on Bikes

Donkeys aside to Trucks

A cart of rugs

Rubble

One of the many Mosques (didn't get to enter any, you have to be Muslim)

Lamb Gyros / Shawarma

The BEST fresh OJ on the planet

Snake Charmers (this did not seem real)

Monkey Man

We took a caleche (horse buggy) from the main square to Jardin Majorelle, a private garden that was created by the French artist Jacque Majorelle.

It was bumpy but such a fun ride.

Almost there...

The garden proved to be an oasis from the craziness of Marrakech... suddenly it felt like we were a million miles away.  

Very zen.

Ribbit

Mr. Majorelle was a plant collecting fanatic - the garden contains plant species from five continents.  

Tree of Life

A Row of Silhouetted Turtles 

Devouring a juicy pomegranate after the garden

[Bottled water only]

isn't Arabic pretty?

As soon as the sun starts to set, Djamaa El Fna becomes a carnival of activity.

We ate dinner from a terraced restaurant (chicken & cous cous again) and watched the sun go down and the people come out.

The square began to swarm with movement

Are all North African sunsets this phenomenal?

An Unreal Glow

The souks were a crazy maze of endless stands selling everything imaginable: scarves, door knobs, hookahs, tea pots, decorative plates, clothing, soaps, spices, bags, lanterns, shoes, teas, wood carvings, jewelry, rugs...

 It was fun to watch Dillon bargain with the locals.. he has it down to a science.  We came back with a few treasures :)

Dirhams: 

We were on our toes at every moment, but it was a fantastic trip.  

Marrakech: truly a magical city - a kaleidoscope of beautiful colors, sounds, and an intriguing atmosphere.