Our Moroccan jaunt started ominously with our luggage being refused due to being too heavy. We then had to pay for an extra piece, once we’d sorted through (at the lovely counter full of people) and found an old canvas bag inside an outside pocket. This bag would not do up though and luckily for us there was a luggage plastic wrapper there, so it ended up looking like a big green blob but safe! B had taken the wine out of the cases due to weight and put the bottles in hand luggage without thinking. This meant we had to throw our lovely wines away at bag screening time much to my chagrin. No amount of “but they’re sealed with corks” would let them through. Then as we’re waiting at the crowded gate we learn that there’s no set seating and we’re at the back of the line. Sienna had suddenly got a bad fever as we waited at the gate to get on (cruise withdrawal).
Carried her crying onto the tarmac to walk for ages to the plane and got on, luckily with 2 seats together and 2 for B and Miki a couple behind. Sienna just slept the whole way in a stupor which was good but we desperately wanted the panadol from luggage. The assault on all our senses started on the tarmac in Marrakech. Very warm and busy. Inside the terminal, the wait for passport control was unbelievable with nowhere to even fit in a line – total disorganization and they were taking so long to do each passport. Sienna was hot and crying constantly and a French woman (they speak French and Arabic only here) asked me what was wrong. When I told her S was sick with fever she went to a guard and arranged for us to move to the front of the line to get her through which was great. However the dirty looks were overwhelming on the way (as if I’d care). Of course the airline had given us the wrong entry cards to fill out, so had to stand and fill 4 new ones out at the start of the line in front of grumpy faces. Then, we hurried to the security guard to get through to luggage and he wouldn’t let us through. Said we had no stamps on our passport from the passport man (who I saw stamp them). Brendan was about to absolutely knock him to the floor, and I could see a night in a Moroccan jail coming up with me coping with sick kids. He got the passport man to come over who yelled and screamed at the security guard and stuck the stamps in his face (they had been stamped on the back page) – he was livid – and we went through. Fun and games! Then once luggage came out we dug through to get panadol and got our little S some medicine (still crying and hot).
People had told us to make sure we get a meter on a taxi and of course when we get outside all taxis had no meters!! B was fuming by now. We just ended up paying what we had to and got in. The Kenzi Semiramis is listed as a 5 star resort. Well, maybe their star system is back to front! It’s probably a tired 3 star. Took about ½ hour to walk to our room and then inside, pubes on the toilet, bed half made and fridge frozen shut and no mini bar inside. Needless to say we complained and went to another room which is fine. This room was actually clean but some areas of the hotel are not good. We were starving and went to the “buffet” for dinner. This was fantastic for me, as it looked so bad that I couldn’t really eat anything and so I will definitely lose weight after the cruise here! I picked thru and ate a few boiled potato bits and beans, Miki, tomato slices and bread and B tried the meat. How could he? We’ve been here 5 days and I am vegetarian. Have only eaten veggies and bread and can’t face animal products. That was the last time we ate at the hotel, apart from breaky which unfortunately is included. Toast and tea is about the limit of what I’ll eat. The girls eat a bit of soft fruit and cereal and bread. We considered leaving immediately but have stuck it through and are quite used to it now. Was such a culture shock after the luxury of the ship.
Everyone in Morocco that even tries to speak to you wants coins “Barkeesh”. We had no change so of course the porter was fuming and once the hotel staff don’t get a coin for just saying hello they ignore you and are grumpy as hell. So we haven’t talked to staff for days now. And what’s worse, we look imploringly at the other guests (all French), as if to say, can you believe this place? And they look past us every time. No recognition at all. It’s as if we’re invisible and the rest of the world is grumpy! I have given up on French now and of course can’t speak Arabic so we’re in a world of our own – the Morter bubble.
We discovered the mini club here and the girls have been for a few hours here and there (the woman is quite nice but only speaks French of course). They quite like it as it has an outdoor playground. We have been around the pool a bit (it’s bloom’n hot) and have had a few swims but the girls think the pool is too cold (after the cruise) and are not happy with it.
Marrakech is in two parts. The old Medina which is situated within the old town walls from 1,000 years ago and the new, where our hotel is, outside the walls. We ventured into the Medina the first day after we put the kids into Mini Club. Everyone probably has a vision in their mind of the Moroccan market. And it didn’t disappoint and was worse than you imagined. We were accosted from all sides with people trying to take us somewhere or show us something and were plagued for coins. In the end B ran out and was adamant he was giving them nothing. We ventured closer to look at the snakes, eg twin cobras sitting up with the music man playing and a few ominous ones lying around. Before you could say “sh*t there’s a snake”, a death adder was placed around my neck by a dirty old Moroccan local. As I love snakes, it wasn’t a problem for me and I patted him and gave him a kiss (the guy had hold of snakie’s jaws the whole time). B was going spastic, as he HATES snakes and was trying to get a picture and watch anyone coming toward him with suspicious long items at the same time. Hence he only got 1 good picture. We hurriedly made our way towards the relative safety of the drinks caravan area where hundreds of caravans selling the same fresh orange juices all yell simultaneously to get your attention. We chose 1 and had the best orange juice ever!
With new fortitude we ventured into the undercover market area and of course were accosted by a new breed of seller. After looking at a few items and fighting the owners off by being as rude as possible, we hurried further into the maze of streets, careful not to look at anything except the filthy ground. We then ventured deeper and deeper into a labyrinth of streets and every step of the way you are accompanied by a swarm of the stickiest flies you could imagine. With the increasing flies, came increasing stench. They were pumping up fresh sewerage from underground around our feet along the way. Retching, we moved on quickly.
We were informed there was a “lovely leather market” just ahead and a man volunteered that he was going that way and would take us along. How kind! The “5 minute” walk took about ½ an hour and the streets got increasingly grungy (if that was possible) and small. Eventually we arrived at an open air LEATHER TANNING factory of all places. My goodness (for want of a swear word). We were handed an organic face mask which took the form of a huge bunch of fresh mint and with me saying to Brendan, “please let’s not do this”, we were ushered through the gate into a huge pit with many small pits containing dead animals and the most poisonous chemicals known to man. Men were scraping gizzards out of dead animals and putting them into pits of chemical and the smell was absolutely horrendous. They can only work l day a week or they would die much faster than is normal. We were allowed to take photos as if it was the Eiffel Tower and the surreal nature of it, coupled with the promise to make you faint smell, was almost too much. When it was over, of course, we had to pay for the privilege! Then we were ushered to the shop which sold the items made from the leather (about the size of your local milk bar only) and forced to view them. Of course we didn’t buy anything and rushed out horrified by the experience with expectant faces, devoid of money, looking after us. We couldn’t believe what we’d just been through and we had to find our way back! We kept saying Souk Souk (market in Arabic) and eventually found it, raced to a cab and the safety of our now, looking wonderful, hotel!
Amazingly, we still decided to return to the market at night with the girls and show them the snakes before escaping for dinner. They had snakes around their necks within 30 seconds of arriving and B stood away taking the photos. The girls are snake lovers like their mum. At night, the market transforms itself into a completely different environment – with Monkeys, snake charmers, Arab spiritualists, hand painting, praying, the whole lot and hundreds of make shift market cafés all appeared. It was mesmerizing. On the way in the cab, Miki suddenly got a fever and we had to pull over and she spewed out the door (had what Sienna had by now). She said she felt better and we kept going, thinking we’d give her some paracetamol at the market, which we did (in the only drink we could find - a glass of their famous fresh orange juice). That was after we had to pay the equivalent of $7 to allow the kids to pat a couple of monkeys. During all of this we are constantly being harassed by restaurant spruikers who present themselves as Gordon Ramsay or Jamie Oliver and try their damndest to push you into their establishments. We finally decided to go to a western looking joint on the fringe instead. After finding our way to the top of the stairs, as we were standing in front of 200 diners Miki said to daddy (who was holding her) “Dad I want to spit’ (which means vomit) and she bought back half a glass of fresh orange juice and assorted bits and pieces all over the restaurant foyer floor and B. Bye the way, there was no running water in the wash rooms and no toilet paper either. We thought it best to leave at that stage and headed home in a cab holding our noses (the driver didn’t know the difference) and very hungry. We noted, that the restaurant never attempted to clean up the vomit either, just kept walking over it!
Both Miki and Sienna have been fine after 1 dose of paracetamol each and successfully fought whatever germs they were getting. However B and I are constantly not 100% and I have a cold (not too bad). We’ve all had a bit of diarreah at times too, but we’re OK. Hopefully we’ll make it through to good medical care in Europe if anything gets worse! Won’t be visiting the “infirmarie” here unless we’re dead!
Things have been looking up the last couple of days. We found an excellent, down to earth cabbie who speaks fab English and he’s our regular transport and guide (making a fortune off us no doubt). We have also found a couple of lovely “western clean type restaurants” near the hotel and have enjoyed some lovely salads and veggies and stuff, so are Ok with the food there.
Today we took our cabbie (Ahmed’s) advice and went to the Atlas Mountains and saw how the Berber’s live. They were here before the Arabs and live on the side of mountains in the valley, 40 miles out. We had a tour of a local house – talk about living simply! It is built over running water so that the kitchen has a hole in the floor where the water runs through where you wash etc and little fires on the floor where you cook. Was very interesting (for a fee!!!!) We ate at a local restaurant too and I had my first “tagine” – I’ve been dying to have one. It was just vegetables cooked in the clay pot. Brendan had something that professed to be meat but was inedible and the girls – fried eggs which they love. We should be getting thinner!
Ahmed stopped at an ice-cream shop on the way home and the girl’s gorged themselves. The ice-cream in Morocco is the best ever. Eg. The vanilla made with real vanilla beans and sooo good. They seem to use original spices and flavors here and it makes a difference.
We love the spice shops with all the mountains of colored spices here but look uneasily at the butcher shops with whole dead animals and flies on carcasses still with their heads on etc.
Last night, since Miki was well, we tried again to go out for dinner at the Souk. First we bought the girls new runners. Sienna chose all gold Pumas (so bright) and Miki pink and white. We then headed through the throng to choose an outside market restaurant. They have all their food on show and trestle tables and benches. We looked longingly at the restaurant serving only braised cow heads which looked delicious, (aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh) but decided upon one serving a bit of everything instead. It turned out to be quite delicious with us trying little fish fillets and calamari, B trying meat skewers and there were delicious homemade tomato sauces and salsas and potato patties. As it was extra cheap and we have woken up this morning with no dramas, we’ll probably eat there again tonight. We are now trying to save every penny as are over budget and the Aussie Dollar is not good.
When we had arrived home, we suddenly heard a scream of “puppy, puppy, puppy” from Mikaela and she went racing in absolute grief and screaming through our room door, down the halls, into the lift (with me chasing her) and out to the taxis outside. She was crying puppy all the way. It seems she thought she lost her little black and white spotted puppy that she has taken everywhere and loves more than anything. She was trying to get to the taxis to take her to the restaurant to find him. I have never seem someone in so much grief in my life, it was scary. Not even at a funeral. She was beside herself with worry and I was starting to panic. Next thing, Sienna was by our side at the front of the hotel with puppy! Dad had put it in the backpack at the restaurant. Thank goodness. I don’t know what we would have done, she would have needed to be sedated. She grabbed him and sobbed for a while and was perfectly OK again in 10 minutes.
We have only 2 days to go and will probably lay low, though Brendan gets bored in about 10 minutes by the pool and talks me into doing something! We’ll probably take a camel ride or something. We’d love to go to the Sahara sand dunes, but they’re 8 hours away!
Next blog update may be from Mallorca (the Spanish island we are going for last 6 days).
