February 22
Well, I'm here. In Morocco. I mean… WOW. How cool is this? It's one a.m. so technically, it's actually February 23. The flight was pretty good. Cintia and Jess flew down in the morning and Lindsay and Jessica flew with me. We all flew RAM (Royal Air Maroc). Definitely one of the best landings I've been through. The most ridiculously comedic thing happened when we got off the plane. A shuttle bus was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. We get in and it literally drives forward and then does a U-turn and we get out. It was absolutely ridiculous. Al Menara airport is the name of the airport we landed at by the way. Going through customs was a breeze, as was baggage claim. We exchanged Eurodollars to Moroccan Dirhams at the currency exchange booth, where I was told, in French, that if I wanted to talk in French to talk to that girl [Jessica] and to speak Arabic. I don't speak Arabic and the man at the currency exchange booth definitely spoke French much better than I do. (The exchange rate is about 8.9 times, stronger the Euro if you're wondering.) After he repeated "cent- cinquante, cent-cinquante" several times, I got my cash and we went outside to look for a taxi. Marrakech airport is served by two types of taxis: "grands taxis" (shared intercity taxis) and "petits taxis" (city cabs). A "grand taxi" (usually a Mercedes) takes up to six passengers. This type of taxi is not allowed inside the walls of the old town. "Petits taxis" (beige-coloured minicars like the Peugeot 206) take only three passengers. We were swarmed by a group of taxi drivers awaiting the passengers from our flight. We luckily stumbled upon a local bus, number 11, a short walk outside the airport. The bus travels along the Avenue de la Menara, where the swank four-star hotels are located. The bus driver was such a nice guy. We were dropped off by the central square, Djemma El Fnaa. The market was dying down by now but still gorgeous. Unreal oranges, dates, unsalted cashews, seasoned almonds, grains of all types and kinds, dried apricots, and more. We asked a policeman for directions. He pointed us in the direction to walk and said to just wander around and ask people as we go along. We asked a vender for directions after a while. A man approached us and asked for money to show us the way. Sketch. We said no. He said "okay, fine I'll show you anyway". Sketch. Deal! Jessica spoke to him. Her French is best of myself and Lindsay. Anyway, he lead us down a side street. People stared as my suitcase wheels make noise on the cobblestone roads. We turned left down a dark alley. The man whistled and the streets got darker and more shady. We arrived at the hotel. Hotel not hostel. Apparently, it's a hotel not a hostel. At first, I thought maybe the man led us to the wrong place but Cintia and Jess came running down the stairs. It's gorgeous and very Middle Eastern. It's called Rabha Riad Hotel. Love. The family that runs this place is so so incredibly sweet and helpful. Really nice people.
[cintia looks for a genie in the lounge.]
[stained glass.]
Breakfast at the hotel became an expected and well welcomed morning ritual. My breakfast usually consists of me sipping coffee or tea while rushing to a class. The hotel served the usual circular breads with apricot jam and cream butter as well as freshly squeeze orange juice and cinnamon-flavoured coffee every morning. It was a very simple meal but very tasty, like much of food served in Morocco. The bread and a dish called tajine will probably be what sticks out in my mind as Moroccan cusine. The bread is very plain and always circular shaped and, dare I say it, comparable to Parisian breads. A tajine is a Moroccan dish as well as a special pot for preparing this dish. Tajines dishes are slow cooked meats and vegetables at low temperatures.
Jostling crowds, the piquant tension of debate, space in perpetual motion - the minute you set foot in the souks you know you've arrived somewhere very different. The souks are basically…amazing. They totally reminded me of the movie Aladdin. They are narrow cobblestone ways overflowing with shops of all types. Bartering with sellers can be difficult at times but you can get an item for about half the asking price almost always. There are a lot of good deals with the exchange rate. I picked up a couple of gifts for my mom and sister for their birthdays as well as a Berber coat, a necklace with the palm of Fatima, and a leather bag.
[random rain on the first day.]
[fuck electricity.]
[THIS! this is the punk that got pissed because i wasn't answering him when he spoke to me in Arabic. i don't speak Arabic and i clearly said bonjour, ça va? him and his brother decided to scream at me in Arabic, English, and then French saying that they were saying "welcome"... his family has a very lovely shop.]
One of the best things I liked about Marrakech was how talented the people were with languages. Sellers speak Arabic and French perfectly but they are also able to speak some English and Spanish. Supposedly some of them are able to speak half a dozen languages.
Hammams are Morocco's public bathhouses. Most hammams are open some hours for men and some others for women, but others have separate rooms. Inside the Hammam you get a steam bath and then an exfoliating massage. You can also try the Turkish massage, a rather violent massage that can make each and everyone of your bones squeak. We never ended up going to a hammam despite the wishes of some of the girls.
There are so many stray cats in Marrakech. It's slightly ridiculous how many there are. They wander even in the restaurants.
Tea is an important part of Moroccan culture. Cinnamon tea is especially popular but I preferred the mint tea.
[tea shop.]
The hand of Fatima is a symbol which protects against evil eye.
We visited a marrackshi palace.
Morocco is not exactly the place to go to party. What I'm trying to say is if you're looking for a week to get wasted and dance till you drop at a nightclub, hit up Barcelona. I was told that alcohol is sold at only three locations in Marrakech. (I was offered hash on my last day in the city though.) Regardless, Djemma El Fnaa really comes alive at night. Surrounded by shops, kiosks, an elaborately decorated bank, restaurants and pavement cafes, the nearby Koutoubia Mosque, and the many streets that lead off the square like misshapen bicycle wheel spokes, the tiled paved square is the focus of events for locals and visitors alike. Known as the city marketplace that never sleeps, nocturnal drama appears every night of the week – especially on Saturday and Sunday nights. Outdoor restaurants are set up, snake charmers, old women doing henna, musical performers, a very annoying man who wants you to touch his monkey (it's an actual monkey), and fill the square.
One of my favourite parts of the entire stay in Morocco was our expedition to the Sahara desert. It was the five of us went with three American students and a gay Mexican guy named Daniel. We first drove for 8 hours through the Atlas Mountains. Then upon arriving in Ouarzazate we departed on a two hour camel ride into the desert. We reached a small camp run by a group of Berbers. The Berbers have lived in North Africa between western Egypt and the Atlantic Ocean for as far back as records go. The earliest inhabitants of the region are found on the rock art across the Sahara. They have lived in Morocco before the Arabs came into the valley area. I'm not Berber by the way. When we arrived at the camp, the people got very excited to see me. Once again, haha I am not Berber. (I'd get a lot of questions why I speaking in French not Arabic by the sellers. I'm not Arab either.) The people were so incredibly friendly and a lot of fun. The night sky I saw that night was simple amazing. I think it was the most beautiful night sky I will see in my entire life.
[cameleons not placed on me by choice... he wanted money afterward. i knew it.]
The journey back was quite interesting and drama appeared. Oh, did it ever. The vehicle was in repair and so we had to wait for 10 hours at a nearby hotel. It was a pleasant day but still. The tour guide left with the other group and when we spoke to him on the phone, he told us we had to pay 400 dirham for repairs or the driver would not take us back to Marrakech. Our driver named Yosif was a odd man. Nice but odd. He may or may not be a drug dealer (he made a lot of random stops in shady neighbours on the way home). He didn't really speak. Almost never actually. He did, however, have a habit of playing music from the early 90s on repeat for hours. I think I've heard Michael Jackson's "Heal the World" enough times to last my entire lifetime. I actually didn't mind the cheesy ballads though. lol I think I would just daze out and fall asleep. Maybe it was the amazing coffee he let me sip. It was probably the best coffee I've tried. I was probably drugged. The vehicle broke down just 5 minutes away from our hotel. The driver decided to get into a taxi that was passing by and leave. If you're thinking "OMG?!?!" then we think alike, my friend. Don't worry, he came back with oil. I ended up having to push the vehicle back onto the main road. What a crazy experience. I can't help but burst into laughter when I just think of it.
I really loved my stay in Morocco. I want to travel to more and see more things and speak more languages. I want to learn Arabic now!! It really is incredible now big the world is…
[the tower of a mosque that marks the Djamaa el Fnaa.]
[posh shopping area of Marrakesh.]
This week has been and will be very stressful. I'm leaving for London on the weekend and have many papers to finish before. But I'm happy. I'm so happy right now. I feel as though my life is beautiful. this.
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