Wanderlust Notes

Mesmerized by the tinted glass and mosaic pattern, I had become entranced by the hundreds of lamps that murmured in the Arabian night. Even in Jemma el-Fnaa, a public square where instruments play in harsh union while the mosques call evening prayers, the flicker of thousands of tea lights can quiet the intensity of the vigorous marketplace.

Underneath the bamboo shade, eager shopkeepers call tourists into their cluttered stalls. “Bonjour mademoiselle” or “Hah-llo,” they echoed behind me. Inside a lamp stall, the shopkeeper fiddled with his cellphone. He jumped at my arrival. It was early and shopkeepers had just finished setting up, giving them some leisure time to chat with neighbors.

Among the dangling lamps, I spotted a dome-shaped, golden lantern with intricate metal carving designs. I could imagine the stained glass reflecting on my walls while drifting into deep sleep. Instead of asking the price of my dream lamp, I fixed my eyes on a similar larger lamp at the top.

“How much for the big silver one?” I asked.

The shopkeeper touched the lamp with his hand, “450 dirham,” the keen shopkeeper replied. I flinched, then pondered near another medium-sized lamp of similar style. “400 dirham!” he cried.

I waved my head, “Too much.” His eyes rolled, as I repeated the same line for a smaller lamp. Finally, I went to the lamp I wanted, for which he quoted 300 dirham.

“I don’t know,” I frowned, “How about for 200 dirham?”

“Come,” he said urgently. He took the lamp to a dark closet, igniting a lighter inside it, which illuminated the colored panel designs.

“It’s beautiful, but too much,” I affirmed.

His shoulders lowered as he humbly looked into my eyes. “Okay – real price: 250 dirham,” the shopkeeper said sincerely.

I waved my head no and said I would think about it. His hands gestured assuring, as he repeated, “This is the real price.” I took a breath, then proceeded to walk out.

He jumped in front of me, “Okay, 200!” My eyes smiled in triumph.

I didn’t pay fair prices for my souvenirs from Marrakesh. I paid $20 for a water bottle-sized lantern. I could be upset for getting overcharged – but I’m not. Every time I ignite a tea light inside my lantern, I remember getting lost in the souks, meeting charismatic shopkeepers, puzzling over the dried iguanas, slipping away from city chaos on café rooftops, listening to the chants of morning prayers, and the adrenaline of haggling.