It is already Wednesday and I think my body has finally caught up on the sleep that it needed to recover from this weekend. While I am only 25, sometimes my body, and my knees especially, feel like that of a 75 year old woman. While tired and sore, if you asked me if I would do it again- the answer would be an unconditional yes.
Friday after work I boarded a 4.5 hour train bound for Marrakech. With many cheap flights to Europe, Marrakech has become a veritable boom town for European visitors on weekend holiday to do some shopping and to go clubbing. This weekend trip was in honor of my new friend Emily, as it was her birthday weekend, and we were going there to explore and celebrate. My travel mates were two ex-pats, both about my age, one who worked at the American embassy and the other who worked at MCC (the American government side).
As our train pulled into the station, I was awed by the ornate magnificence that displayed the city’s new found wealth and popularity as a tourist hot-spot.
Marrakesh Train Station
We fought to find a taxi driver that would use the meter and eventually found an old man a block from the station, who only “semi-cheated” us by taking the long scenic route into town and then proceeded to demand a tip. I had warned about aggressive taxi-drivers and shop sellers that try to swindle tourists in Marrakech, shrugged it off, so we thanked him, and gave him exact change with a smile. As we made our way to Djemaa (the main square), I was taken aback by the neon lights flashing and huge number of people buzzing about on the avenue. I had strong sense of déjà-vu, much like the experience of pulling up onto Koh San Road in Bangkok for the first time, after being out in the jungle. We weaved our way through the chaos to a meeting point where someone from our riad was to meet up with us and take us to our place (there is no way you would be able to find it on your own!).
Djemaa El Fna
Mustafa arrived and weaved us in and out of the dimly lit streets of the medina, where we tried vigilantly to pay attention to route so as not to get lost in future. The medina is confusing during the day, but at night it is nearly impossible to navigate. Landmarks like “brick wall” and “pile of trash” don’t really help, as the medina consists almost completely of brick walls and piles of garbage.
We arrived at Riad Quenza, a charming little family-run hotel with a nice terrace and tasteful decorations. Moroccans use plenty of vibrant colors and Moroccan design contains lots of interesting flavors and textures, but often times it can be over the top, frilly, sequiny, poofy, and straight up blinged out.
The train ride had been tough on our bodies and the journey had felt quite long after a full day of work, so a steaming pot of mint tea was welcomed with open hands and eager bellies. I love Moroccan hospitality.
After we set our bags down and got settled in, it was nearly midnight, but we were determined to go out and explore a little bit before going to bed. Mustafa offered to accompany us, as he didn’t trust the combination of our navigation skills and Moroccan men, and led us back through the labyrinth and out onto the square. What had been a flurry of lights, food, people, and activity just an hour or two earlier, was now settling down to a peaceful moonlit calm as the vendors packed away their things and people made their way home. Friday is the holy day in Morocco, with many people saving their energy for the bigger, more popular Saturday night, so late-night activity is limited to expat hangouts. We weren’t particularly hungry and didn’t feel like dancing, so we headed back home, content that much of Marrakech was doing the same.
Mustafa pouring tea
The terrace
Birthday breakfast
The next morning we awoke and had a lovely breakfast on the terrace, complete with rose petals and a giant candle to commemorate Emily’s 25th birthday. Saturday was a shopping frenzy. We spent nearly the whole day in the medina, browsing and haggling and finding little treasures. I ended up with a mirror, a woven basket, a pair of slippers, and a few presents for friends back home. (If you have any specific requests..be sure to email me!)
Shopping in the medina
Tajines and colorful pottery
I forgot what this was...
Ali Ben Youssef Medersa
Maison de la Photographie Marrakech kitty
Koutoubia Mosque
Snake charmers, monkey handlers, women selling henna, teeth pullers, juice makers, argon oil peddlers, and anything else you can imagine is all located in the Djemaa El Fna. We spent a good deal of time in and out of the Djemaa, as it is the center of life and soul of Marrakech. For about 30 cents you can get a cup of the best fresh-squeezed orange juice you have ever tasted, or for a few more a freshly made kabob. The ladies were bold and decided to get a heaping cup of snails, boiled in a spicy broth. Being a fervent vegetarian, I went for sorbet instead.
In the Djemaa
Emily getting her teeth pulled
Dried fruits The nut man
Jus d'orange!
Me and the juice man are homies
Slurping some snails
Chame-chame-chame-chameleon
Fatima, Aisha, and Hadija- Berber Princesses
Saharan Vogue
As the evening rolled in we headed back to the hotel to shower and primp ourselves to go out and hit the town. Because it was Emily’s birthday, she got to choose the plans, which included Lebanese food and dancing. Lonely Planet had recommended a Lebanese place located way on the other side of town, but being a hummus lover and a desire to be a good friend, we agreed to make the trek. The ladies and I battled furiously to find a cab, but after we arrived, we became instantly delighted. The restaurant was small, but the food was amazing! And the babganoush…good lord….sooo delicious! I have been having food daydreams about it ever since I left!
The power went out in the midst of eating (a small reminder that we are still in fact in a developing country) but it only added to the romantic atmosphere of us three ladies stuffing our faces with fresh Lebanese fare. After our dinner was finished, our cute waiter asked us where we were heading to. It was a bit early to hit the clubs and he recommended a good bar around the corner that we should go to before dancing. Since our birthday girl was single, we invited him to come along and show us where it was. It was a cheesy little dive, with too much smoke and overly loud Moroccan music, but it was a fun little interlude until we made it to our final destination- Silver.
All Dressed up
Evening chaos
Dinner by candelight
Happy birthday!!
Stepping into Silver is like stepping into another world that seems much less like Morocco and more like Ibiza (which the place is modeled after and many of its attendants are frequent visitors of). The place had a hip interior and a sexy crowd. The live band was great, playing a fun mixture of top-20 American songs, pop Arabic, and Moroccan gnawa music. When the belly dancers came out, the crowd went crazy. As they swiveled their leopard clad hips, scantily dressed Moroccan women (who I later learned were high class prostitutes) joined in. It was such a strange dichotomy and bit shocking at first, the conservative (in comparison to the US, but not to the Middle East), Muslim exterior of Morocco is very distant from the rich, sultry playboy atmosphere of Marrakech’s club scene..a major reason why many young Moroccans flock there on the weekends to party. After the belly dancers left, we headed downstairs to the adjoining club, Jad Mahal, where we danced away to the dizzying beats of the DJ until the wee hours of the morning.
The next morning we slept in and took a late breakfast out on the terrace. We met up with our waiter friend from the night before to visit the historic sites around town. We visited the Bahia Palace, Badii Palace, and Saadian Tombs, all of which were grand, very old, and quite interesting (at least to me anyways). After sight-seeing in the sizzling Moroccan sun, we bid farewell to Marrakech and headed to the train- exhausted, happy, and ready to get back to a less touristy and chaotic Rabat.
Good morning ladies!
Badii Palais
Crazy stork nests at the Badii Palais
Bahia Palace
Saadian Tombs
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