Morocco: Shukran For the Memories...

I need to write something non-academic for a bit, so let’s finish-up on the Morocco trip, shall we?

For my last day in Marrakech (11 March 2012) I knew that I wanted to do something beyond sitting at the hostel and relaxing (as delightful as that was). Fortunately, JE, another member of the Djellaba Crew, was starting to feel the impending end of her trip as well, and so we made plans to go out and do a couple of touristy things.

However, before I get to all that:

I woke up early on the morning of the 11th, and so I decided that ‘now’ was as good a time as any to head to Djamaa el-Fna on my own. You see, I had yet to successfully navigate the twisting streets of the old medina on my own, and I wanted to do it at least once…and I succeeded!

From a distance / Brett is watching yoooooou...

Koutobia Mosque and Minaret (built 1150-90), one of the 'big three' minarets built by the Almohads.

Now, you probably noticed that the first photo was from a distance. There’s a reason for that: if any of the street performers (e.g., the guys with the cobras) notice you taking a photo that’s even remotely in their direction, they will demand payment. And since there are so many of said-performers, you practically have to stand in Algeria to get a decent shot. As such, any hope I had of snagging an iconic shot of Djamaa el-Fna was foiled—you can find one taken by someone else here, however.

Similarly, I wanted at least a photo of one of the souqs before I left. Again, I had to practice a bit of subterfuge to get this, and so it’s not great. Also, because it was so early in the morning most of the shops weren’t open and there wasn’t much foot-, bike-, and cart-traffic. Nonetheless…

(More representative photos, taken by others, can be found here and here.)

After my brief foray to Djamaa el-Fna and the souqs I returned to Waka Waka, where I enjoyed a yummy breakfast of coffee (about six cups—my goodness it was tasty!), crepes, and more apricot jam! M’mm, m’mm, good!

Once JE and I had both finished breakfast, we set off for our sightseeing excursion. Since I had to be at the airport by around 5:00 PM, and it was already noon, we didn’t have time to do too much. So, we decided to pay quick visits to El Bahia Palace and the Saadian Tombs…

It took us a while to reach El Bahia Palace for two reasons: first, many of the people we asked had no clue where it was; and, second, if they did know, they would only offer generalized directions so that we would inevitably have to ask someone else (e.g., ‘go down this way, make your first left, and then turn right’…without mentioning the three alleyways in between).

Regardless, we finally reached the palace…or, at least the small part, because the main section was closed for construction. Now, I can’t say too much about this—or the tombs—because all of the signage was in Arabic and/or French…and neither JE or I can read said-languages (though I did learn how to say both ‘thank you’—شكرا / shukran—and ‘no thank you’—لا شكرا / la shukran—in Arabic by the time I was done in Morocco).

Sadly, there’s also not too much information about the palace online either, other than what’s to be found at Wikipedia. Nonetheless, it was quite pretty—in particular the courtyards and gardens:

The first of many courtyards

 From El Bahia Palace we headed to the Saadian Tombs. Much like the palace, however, there’s not much information on the interwebs about them—just that they are the resting place of about 60 members of the Saadi Dynasty, and they date back to the late 1500s—and this time there wasn’t even signage for us to attempt to read. Again, though, they were pretty:

As near as I could tell, the triangular things on the ground are like headstones.

No camera manipulation here--this was the 'natural' lighting in this chamber.

 By the time JE and I left the tombs, my time was almost done—I only had about two hours left before I had to be at the airport. So, we stopped at a café near the Mellah (Jewish quarter) for a drink before heading back to Waka Waka so I could get my stuff. While at the café, however, I was able to snag some decent photos of the Atlas Mountains looming over the rooftops, as well as some pix of these giant birds that made their nests along the medina walls.

The Jewish quarter, with big birds and mighty mountains!

Finally, it was time…

Back at Waka Waka I grabbed my gear and bid a sad adieu to the Djellaba Crew—I really hope I cross paths with each of those wonderful folk again in the future! 

I made my way out of the medina, and arranged a cab ride to the airport for the low cost of 20DH / 2€ and a cigarette—clearly, I got much better at negotiating by the end of my trip. En route, I had a wonderful chat (in very broken English) with the driver about how beautiful Morocco was, and we even got into a bit of a discussion about Islam and Christianity: he initially assumed that I did not like Muslims because I am American and think they’re all like Bin Laden, and I told him that such was not the case, and how it was just as unfair to judge all Muslims by the actions Bin Laden as it is to judge all Christians by the hateful attitudes of Evangelicals. All-in-all it was a very nice conversation, and I walked away hoping that I had—at least in one person’s eyes—helped to dispel the notion that all Americans are like the Religious Right.

And on that positive note, I sadly bring a (textual) close to my time in Morocco. I can’t thank Nic enough for sending me there, and enabling me to take one of the most holidays of my lifetime! 

Palm trees and snow-capped mountains...

Goodbye Marrakech, Morocco!

Morocco: Getting There is Half the Battle!

I should really start blogging about my Moroccan experience, don’t you think? So, here goes…

Technically speaking, my journey began on 7 March 2012. I say this because I woke-up at about 8 AM that morning so that I could start working on some last minute things (like, you know, packing and figuring out how to get to Stansted Airport from where I’m living), and I didn’t go to sleep again until the 9^th. But more on that later...

Nerves prevented even a brief nap prior to heading out for the airport, so that when I arrived at Stansted at about 3:30 AM on the 8^th I was already tired. Nonetheless, I successfully checked-in, passed through security (after being told to throw away my hair gel for security reasons), and worked my way onto the plane for a 6 AM take-off. 

(Yes, I’m one of ‘those’ people who gets to the airport at least two hours prior to a flight—this is, in part, due to a bad experience coming back from Ohio once wherein I almost missed my flight and lost a Whoopie Goldberg action figure while rushing down the concourse…but that’s a story for another time.) 

For the record, sleep did not come on the airplane either. Again, nerves were a factor—but this time there was the added ‘bonus’ of screaming, kicking children in the seat next to me and Ryanair’s insistence on promoting their ‘buy on board’ program over the P.A. system. Whatevs.

At any rate, about 4 hours later the plane was descending toward Marrakech. I was able to snag a few photos of the African landscape before one of the stewards snapped at me to turn the camera off. (I guess I missed the announcement that all electronic devices had to be turned off). Sadly, this means that I was unable to capture the most amazing image that I saw on the way in: the Atlas Mountains stretched out alongside Marrakech. Nonetheless, I love the photos that I was able to get, one of which you can see below:

The Moroccan landscape near Marrakech.

Upon arriving at Menara Airport I breezed through customs, and quickly made the switch from Euros to Moroccan Dirham (DH). Yes, I know you shouldn't convert money at the airport, but it's almost impossible to find someplace that will 'legally' convert to Dirhams in London—

As a quick side-note about the money: I sucked at using it effectively, namely because I was always having to convert prices in my mind into Euros and from there into US Dollars. This shouldn’t have been as complicated for me as it was—especially since 1€ = 10DH—but I was working on very little sleep the entire time! And this was on top of having to haggle over most prices, which I’m equally inept at. So don’t judge me when I start discussing some of my…less advisable financial decisions in a bit.

—At any rate, despite the fact that breezed through the arrival and visa process really quickly, it actually took me about 30 more minutes to work up the nerve to actually leave the airport. 

Yup, you read that right. 

In fact, I was so intimidated at that point by what might happen (I foolishly watched the AbFab ‘Morocco’ episode an hour before leaving for the airport) that I legitimately contemplated never leaving the airport.

What did I do during those 30 minutes you ask? Well, first I walked around the shops. And then I made my way out toward the taxi stand…but chickened out and circled back. Next I found a place to get some food and a map (which I never used). Then, finally, I made a second attempt at getting a cab. This second attempt at grabbing a cab was a bit more successful. 

However, all of the cabs were being coordinated by a single man who, after finding out where I was going, set the price at 200DH (20€; $40). This might not have been a bad price…if I was going more than 6km. Nonetheless, I was tired and lost, and so I agreed. (For the record, I tried to talk the driver down while en route, but to no avail—he wouldn’t go against the other man.)

The ride toward the hostel wasn’t bad. My driver was moderately fluent in English, and was able to point out sites as we drove around, and the contrasting imagery of brown buildings, palm trees, and distant snowcapped mountains was incredible. 

Two things worth noting about the ride, however:

(1) The road was clearly divided between incoming and outgoing traffic…but there weren’t any (visible) sub-divisions, meaning that each side had about three lanes’ worth of traffic (cars, buses, motorbikes, pedestrians, and donkeys with carts) weaving in and out amongst each other. That was a bit disconcerting at first—but I can honestly say that I didn’t see any accidents, and it all somehow worked.

(2) As we pulled up at one of the only stoplights between the airport and my hostel, and the driver was pointing out the wall surrounding the medina quarter (the older, fortified section of Marrakech, in which I was staying), there was a tremendous explosion!

Yes, explosion!

It was so jarring, that the driver and I both dropped in our seats and covered our heads (and probably loosed an explicative or two)…only to realize a moment later that we were stopped next to a construction site using dynamite. Sigh. Some kind of warning would have been nice, but at least it added an interesting side-story to the start my adventure. 

[NB: This is not my photo!]

Following that bit of excitement, it was only a few more minutes until the cab pulled to a stop. Now, we weren’t quite at the hostel yet, but cars are not allowed into the medina because the streets are so narrow and densely packed. 

But, I was prepared for this, and had directions from the hostel telling me how to get there from the drop-off point...

Unfortunately, the cab driver had other ideas, and whistled to a friend of his that was ‘conveniently’ standing not far away.

My driver told the man where I was going, and instructed him to take me there. I was also prepared for this eventuality, though, having read on another traveler’s blog about a similar experience that wound up costing them over 200DH. So, after paying for my cab and grabbing my bag (before the second man could throw it into his cart), I told UnwantedGuide-Man that I was not in need of his services and that I knew where I was going. 

But UnwantedGuide-Man nonetheless took the lead (headed in the direction which I knew I, too, had to go), and kept telling me that his services were free and that he would just show me where to go. No charge. 

(Sounding familiar? Perhaps you’re finding this reminiscent of my experience at the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur? Me too.)

In hindsight, it’s probably good that UnwantedGuide-Man was there, because even with directions I would have probably gotten lost. At the time, however, I was merely annoyed by his presence because I knew where this was leading (in both the actual and metaphorical senses). I kept telling UnwantedGuide-Man that I really didn’t need his services, and that I didn’t have the money to pay him.

‘No, no, no—it’s free! Come, come…’

M'mm-hmmm.

Sure enough, 5 minutes later we were standing before the door of my hostel and he was demanding 200DH. 

Regretfully, the entrance to my hostel was tucked into a very tight, very dark alleyway, and in that moment I was pretty intimidated since there was no one else around, and UnwantedGuide-Man was very physically imposing—also, it was taking forever for someone to answer the hostel’s door. I reminded UnwantedGuide-Man that I didn’t have the money to pay, but he kept pushing. Eventually, I (very reluctantly) parted with 100DH as a means of finally getting rid of him…and of course, the door just so happened to open at that exact moment, too. Funny that.

So, there you have the beginning of Moroccan experience—it gets a lot more fun and a lot less extortiony soon, I promise!