Where to begin with my tales of the beautiful and intriguing
Marrakech! I found myself thrown into the chaos of the city, deposited on a
sidewalk in the bustling Jemma el fna square, the intense and draining heat,
chaotic traffic and mass of people an overload for the senses. Fortunately the
family run riad (guesthouse) my cousin Sade and I had booked was an oasis of tranquillity.
From here the hustle and bustle of the outside was left behind and I was able
to relax and unwind, revitalising myself before the next adventure outside.
The city provided a constant contrast with women on the
street dressed in full head to toe burka’s walking alongside another female
friend dressed in jeans and a nice top with their hair uncovered. Wide, paved
streets housing designer shops and expensive hotels in the new city were in
comparison to the old city where horse drawn carriages showed tourists the
sights and donkey carts transported local goods.
Cobble stone pavements wove their way into the narrow, twisting,
turning souks where I found myself lost many times! Anything you could want was
to be found in the souks, from leather, spices, animals, jewellery, rugs,
mirrors, crockery and much more. Finding your way in and parting with money was
easy, finding your way out was another matter altogether!
A camel safari to the Zagora desert to explore outside the
city was a great way to see some beautiful sights such as the Atlas Mountains and
learn about the traditional Berber people but a word of advice to anyone
thinking of doing a camel safari where you will be sitting on it for more than
20 minutes. Make sure the seat is comfortable and positioned well otherwise
like me you will find it difficult to sit down for a few days after and your
walk will turn into some weird sort of swagger!
My favourite memory of Marrakech however is by far the Jemma
el fna square in the charming old district. During the day it was an open sauna
with no shade, the sounds of the snake charmers could be heard loud and clear.
At night it was a busy hub, full of locals and tourists, drums and dancers,
story tellers, henna artists and other goods sellers and of course the open air
food stalls manned by the lovely, cheeky boys doing their best Aussie accent to
get you to eat at their stall ‘look and me Kim, look at me’. At all times of
the day however it was a danger zone of scooters whizzing by from all
directions. I managed not to get hit, although very nearly on some occasions,
and for that I will go back to Marrakech one day to see once again the
beautiful city full of its beautiful, friendly people. Next time I will go with
an empty suitcase and a full wallet.
