Marrakesh Express (June 27-June 30 and July 6-July 8, 2011)

We were in Marrakesh twice during our time in Morocco: June 27-30 after Tinerhir and again July 6-8 before our flight to Rome. One of the first things we noticed about Marrakesh was that there were many more tourists here than anywhere else we visited. This meant that prices were reasonable, hotels had amenities like wi-fi, and that Nora felt modest in a knee-length skirt and tank top next to the many inappropriately dressed European tourists. It also meant that shopkeepers and restaurant workers were very aggressive. Every time we walked past a shop (which was almost constantly) the shopkeeper shouted something like "come see my shop – just for looking," while actually showing interest in a shop resulted in a firm arm grab and an attempt to physically pull us in. In the main square of the Medina, the Djemaa el Fna, food stall workers danced in front of us trying to block our path long enough to get us to look at a menu, a woman selling henna tattoos grabbed Nora’s hand and squeezed henna on it before she could yank it away, and street musicians demanded money if we stood anywhere near their performances.

All that said, it was easy enough to escape this by getting away from the Djemaa el Fna. One afternoon we braved the stifling Marrakesh heat to visit the Saadian Tombs (tombs of the families ruling Morocco from 1554-1669) in the southern part of the Medina. Another we ventured into the northern Medina, past the major tourist souks, and found ourselves the only tourists walking among the workshops of leather and wood workers and metal smiths crafting their goods over torches and small, extremely hot, fireplaces. We also stumbled upon a tremendously crowded leather auction where hundreds of fresh hides from the tanneries were for sale.

Even the Djemaa el Fna became manageable once we learned to move quickly away from the musicians and laugh off the food stall workers. It was in this square that we felt most in the center of Morocco. If the country could be boiled down to one place, this would be it. There are snake charmers and men with monkeys on leashes; women and children begging; street musicians and performers of all kinds; men from other parts of Africa selling their goods with demonstrations involving live birds, ostrich eggs, lizard skins, and other exotic props (we could never figure out exactly what they were selling); people flying by on scooters and mopeds; and hundreds of people, like us, taking it all in. Food stalls set up in the square each evening also sold all types of Moroccan food: 40 cent Harira (bean and noodle soup), goat head stew, grilled meats, pastillas, and snail stew. Our favorite stalls were those selling orange juice: squeezed fresh and only 50 cents, we often stopped for more than one glass a night.

On our last full day here we ventured into the rug souk and had a truly Moroccan experience: rug buying. Pointing to one small rug sent the shopkeeper deep into the piles, throwing rugs all around us at our feet. Eventually we found a small rug we liked and the haggling began, with both sides writing down offers on a pad of paper until eventually he accepted our offer. On completing the sale the shopkeeper brought us mint tea, and told us about the rug souk, his shop (his grandfather first owned the shop), and excitedly showed us his favorable write-up in Frommer’s guidebook. Like all Moroccans we met, he was excited that one of us had a "Moroccan" name. It turns out Nora, which means "light" in Arabic, is a common Arabic name, and everyone we met had a sister, a cousin, or a niece with this name. The name, plus Nora’s haggling skills, led the shopkeeper to claim that she must be part Berber.


Click the photo below for our Marrakesh photo album.