As we (Zach and myself) were flying into Marrakesh I was stressing
about the little black pills in my pack. They are just cranberry but if
they searched my bag would the custom officials beleive that? Then I
was worried about the fact that I had not learnt my typical basic
frases in the local toung. I find it a difficult language to get my
head around and just to confuse me that much more my 'Lonley Planet'
had the example phrases written differently through out the book (later
we found that this was just the different dialects of the different
regions). Zack had done a much better job in preparing and I am sure
was getting frustrated with me bombarding him with questions like "how
do you greet people again?" and "right and what is the response to a
greeting again"? Once I got to the customs official my worries were
briefly washed away as not only did the offical not speak to me, he did
not even look at me as he took my passport and ignored that I even
existed. He simply scribled some stuff down, chatted with his
collegues, stamped my pasport and that was that.
After exchanging a bit of money, which was a rip off as
you have no choice at the airport but the one little stand (and you are
not allowd to take Moroccan money 'Dh' in or out of the country so have to
do it when you get there), we had the task of finding our way to the
city. We decided to try the bus and ended up chatting with some English
girls, one of whom had been to Morocco before, and gave us some useful
tips. As we waited at the bus stop, which is conviniently located
directly behind the taxi stand, numerous taxis pulled into the bus stop
and tryed to convince us that they were giving us a great price so we
should go with them. When that did not sway us they told us that the
bus was no longer running. Next it was that the bus had been in a very
bad accidedent...right. One guy actually got angry and spat at toward
us, swore, hopped into his taxi and sped off.
Our persistence prevailed and along came the bus. Then the fun really
began. This was our first experience with the the traffic and it was
interesting to say the least. The driving in Marrakesh (and perhaps all
of Morocco, we will find out) consists of drivinging on either side of
the road or down the midle, and squeezing your way into the flow of
traffic. If you don't fit, make yourself the space to fit seems to be
the attitude ha! We got off at the main square in the Medina and and began our treck to
the Riad (Riads are traditional Moroccan homes converted into guest
houses and hotels. I should also mention that a Medina is the old area of a city which is surrounded by a wall and where all of the Souques, narrow streets lined with shops, are located) that Zack had booked for the first two nights. The
problem was we had no idea where it was and we were arriving into a
city at its peak chaoticness, at night, and as we have found there are
no maps that can help you in the maze of souques. We wanderd around for
an hour and a bit with our pack, in the muggy heat, in our warmest clothes(It had been cold in London. I should have taken Zach's
advice and changed). Hungry sweaty and confused we were just about to
head into an internet place for directions to our Riad when a friendly
local offered his assistance...as I had read all about the faux guides
and all their charm and tactics, I was unimpressed and reluctant when
Zach happy to be able to put his french skills to use and started chatting
with the guy and decided to follow. I guess I should mention the three main languages in Morocco are
French, Moroccan Arabic which is a blend of Arabic and French, and
Berber which is used mostly around the Sahara. So we followed the guy and all I could think of
was how discusting and drenched in sweat I was and how much is our 'new
friend' going to ask for when this is over. I really should lighten my
attitude and accept people's help but I also know I have a fairly good
instinct. Another hour of wandering and we
decided to cancell our reservation and go with out 'new friend' to a
place he knows about (as we have been finding everyone has a freind
that has a shop or a restraunt or hotel and the list goes on haha).
Anyway after 2 and a bit hours we had a place to stay and thats when
the bomb droped. Our 'new friend' suggested that we give him a couple
of hundred Dh for his assistance. We Gave him Dh20 and after much
insistance that was all we had he thanked us and we were finally able
to realx. But let me tell you...this was not the last we saw of our new
friend during out stay in Marrakesh and when we did run into him again
and he wanted to take us to his shop and when we refused he then asked for
the rest of the money from before Zach turned the tables and pulled the
ultimate line...'but we are friends now' and that seemed to work
wonders! Ha, Found away to mess with the faux guides system!
