Our Magic Carpet Ride-Marrakesh!

Old May 23rd, 2017, 07:40 AM
  #1  
Original Poster
 
Join Date: Nov 2006
Posts: 2,813
Received 26 Likes on 5 Posts
Our Magic Carpet Ride-Marrakesh!

Travelers: Myself and DS (20). Home from Uni for a couple of months, and with his carefree coed days winding down, we thought a Mom-Son adventure was in order. The plans were grand at the beginning: we were going to wander the ‘Stans for a couple of weeks, but miserable transit connections and hoop-jumping visa requirements nixed our nomadic notions. A walkabout of Wales piqued our interest, as well; that is, until we looked at Welsh weather history. Finally, over breakfast one morning the tickets to Marrakesh were purchased. Soon enough DS was eager for an African stamp in his passport; and I, for a new living room rug.

Airlines: Austrian Airlines. Two pleasant flights, as always. Their Economy seats can accommodate my 2 meter+ DS comfortably; the meals are quite worth eating; and the Veltiner isn’t too bad, either. The outbound we dubbed the Austrian Party Plane—our fellow passengers may have traveled the Hashish Express in their younger days and seemed to be heading for a reunion of sorts. Open Ottakringers and lots and lots of laughter in the aisles, and plenty of applause when the wheels hit the tarmac.

Did I mention we neglected to check Marrakesh weather history? Though I packed linen this and breezy cotton that, I think I gasped audibly when the pilot announced, “The temperature here in Marrakesh is rather warm, 46ºC." Maybe wet and windy Wales was not such a bad idea, after all, we both thought.

Immigration and baggage collection at RAK was a breeze, the only breeze we would experience on our three-day holiday. The Riad we had reserved arranged for a driver, so we confidently walked out of the terminal…and did not see our driver anywhere. Coming from Vienna, where Spring and its mild temperatures only deigned to visit but a couple of days before we left, the arid heat of Marrakesh was stifling, so perhaps my mood was not as pleasant as it otherwise is when travel situations go awry, for I caused several headscarf-covered ladies to look in my direction when I replied to the Riad owner on the telephone, “THIRTY MINUTES FOR THE CAR?”

With little options available, as the baggage area at RAK did not have a Bankomat for me to withdraw taxi Dirhams, DS and I waited for the driver…a whole ten minutes! Apologies poured forth (from both of us) and within moments we were sitting in an air-conditioned chariot on our way to the Medina. The Medina is closed to traffic from early afternoon to early morning, our driver explained. But not to worry! The Riad had sent someone to bring our baggage; all we needed to do cross the road into the Medina and follow the valet.

The part about walking into traffic was conveniently left out. Ditto for the zebras; the Marrakeshi zebra is just a state of mind.

Our valet deftly wove the wheelbarrow with out baggage across the road, stepping in between moving cars, buses, donkey carts, and Tuk-Tuks. And around a camel. I had been to Cairo with its award-winning traffic (though safely within a vehicle), so crossing this crazy camel path on foot fascinated me, and on two occasions DS had to shout, “Mom! Keep moving!” while I took snap after snap. Such a killjoy.

Our valet turned left and right and left again through the terra-cotta colored labyrinth that is Marrakesh’s Medina, down a little lane and past a hundred kitties, to our Riad. We were warmly welcomed and invited to sit for a mint tea before formally checking in.

To be continued…
fourfortravel is offline  
Old May 23rd, 2017, 04:24 PM
  #2  
 
Join Date: Aug 2010
Posts: 701
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes on 0 Posts
What a great read! Looking forward to the next chapter.
KathBC is offline  
Old May 24th, 2017, 06:58 AM
  #3  
Original Poster
 
Join Date: Nov 2006
Posts: 2,813
Received 26 Likes on 5 Posts
Here a Souk, There a Souk, Everywhere a Souk!

Refreshed, not only by the mint tea, but by the full-blast air-conditioning in our room, and changed into breezy linen clothes, we attempted to head out for a little exploration when the Riad owner waved us over to his desk. Was there a problem? Not at all. In addition to sharing the (mentally) delightful news that the temperature had cooled to 39ºC we were given what is probably the standard lecture on where to go, where NOT to go, and basically, how not to be swindled by a Berber.

“I’ve got this,” says Eagle Scout DS as the owner handed us a map that was so not-to-scale it was comical. And off we set. Did our Riad guy just whisper a prayer to Allah for our safe return, I asked myself?

Wending our way out of the rabbit warren we surfaced in Jemna el Fna, the main square of the Medina. The Medina is the ancient part of Marrakesh, where the locals shop and tourists attempt to barter in the souks and get their picture taken with mistreated monkeys and de-fanged cobras (neither of which we did). 

One snap of the square reveals raw Marrakeshi life: donkey carts overflowing with fresh, aromatic cantaloupe for sale; two large men in billowing caftans riding one scooter with a flat screen television balanced on their heads; toothless old men selling knock-off cigarettes; women in hijabs and niqabs and burkas selling everything from pocket tissues (for the WC) to silvery bangles; and the occasional sheep passing through. Just glorious.

On this first afternoon we dipped into one of the souks just to absorb the character. Now, DD and I have been to Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar and Cairo’s main souk, so my Resting Rebut Face is solid. I’ve got the 100-yard stare behind my shades, and can swish a, “La, shukran” or “Merci, non” off my tongue like nobody’s business. As we walked deeper with the labyrinth, though, I discovered my intrepid traveler son looking a little shell-shocked. The banter in a Marrakeshi souk is hard core, and I had tossed him in like a mama bird nudges a fledgling out of the nest. The sights, the sounds, and the barrage of, “Come, come. To look is free.” “Bonjour! Have a look in my shop for free.” “Where are you from? Germany? Guten Tag! My store is free to look.” was taking its toll.

“Don’t point! Don’t point!” came the desperate admonishments from DS. This was my sign to follow the bread crumb trail we had left back to our Riad for dinner on the terrace. Except, well, that bread crumb trail had run out about 1.000 steps prior and now we were nowhere near to seeing the light of day. As the Eagle Scout began triangulating our position using sun shadows and movements of kitties he swore he’d seen near the square, I spotted The. Rug. I pointed and the carpet men swarmed. DS slumped with exasperation. The saving grace was that I had not enough Dirhams on my person to buy a rug of my desired size, and so I whispered that we would return. DS almost wept with relief.

While luxuriating over our savory tajine of chicken, lemon, and olives on the roof terrace, with the evening calls to prayer in the background and the sounds of the square below us, DS found his voice.

“What you see is the Middle East. What you hear are the sounds of Africa. And what you eat seems French and Mediterranean.”

By this hour exhaustion had enveloped us, and so we slipped into our air-conditioned room for the night, dreaming of magic carpets...
fourfortravel is offline  
Old May 24th, 2017, 01:54 PM
  #4  
 
Join Date: Sep 2012
Posts: 3,130
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes on 0 Posts
Wow! What a fascinating report so far. I love you writing and cannot help but be encapsulated by it. Marrakech sounds like an assault on all the senses that only come to mind when I think about India, although I've traveled to neither. Hoping you eventually found that rug of yours...
tripplanner001 is offline  
Old May 24th, 2017, 02:58 PM
  #5  
 
Join Date: Jan 2003
Posts: 4,038
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes on 0 Posts
You have a SON who is a coed ? How very strange.
Bedar is offline  
Old May 24th, 2017, 09:58 PM
  #6  
Original Poster
 
Join Date: Nov 2006
Posts: 2,813
Received 26 Likes on 5 Posts
KathBC and tripplanner001, thank you for following along! There's more to come, I promise.

Bedar, thank you, as well, for sending me into a grammar panic attack. I had intended the word "coed" to be an adjective (referring to a, "coeducational system"), but after diagramming the sentence I now see how the double adjectives "carefree" and "coed" might be alternatively interpreted. If our SON did identify as a "coed" (noun, referring to a female student attending a coeducational system), however, I would have written, "Our son, a coed home from Uni for a couple of months..."
fourfortravel is offline  
Old May 25th, 2017, 07:23 AM
  #7  
Original Poster
 
Join Date: Nov 2006
Posts: 2,813
Received 26 Likes on 5 Posts
Haggling with Habibi

Over steaming Beghrir, hot coffee, and honeydew melon sweet enough to render a honeybee diabetic the following morning, DS and I rehearsed our well-researched strategy for bringing home a magic carpet. After all, I did not travel to Africa in 40º weather to bring home just any old rug. I prepared to haggle like it was my dissertation defense; I committed to memory, “How to Spot a Fake Berber Rug,” articles. I drilled myself on converting Dirhams to Euros quickly in my head during the haggling process, and polished the “qalilan” of Arabic that I think I know. I devoured 1.001 blog tales of buying a rug (a few of which did not end well.) I needed just one final piece of data (well, that and a stack of Dirhams): the “hard sell” prices on which to base my negotiation, and for those we walked over to the Ensemble Artisanal, the government-sponsored workshop where carpet weaving is learned. The Artisanal complex is pretty in its own right and worth more than the time we spent, but I was a woman on a mission now, with no time for idle shopping.

Pleased to discover that what I had learned on the Internet about rug prices was within an acceptable margin of error (that being the imagined height of DH’s raised eyebrows when I messaged him the cost), we left the Artisanal and walked confidently toward the Carpet Souk, via the Bankomat, naturally.

Rats. The Berber in the lane recognized the two of us from the afternoon before, and we were whisked inside to the back room to meet, “Mustafa,” a roundish Ali Baba-looking gentleman with turban but no pointy gold slippers, just sandals. The room had the same aroma of one of the weaving workshops at the Artisanal, a good sign, I thought. Warm greetings were exchanged, and we were gently peppered with questions. “Where are you from?” (Always tricky. Mustafa assumed we were German, so we ran with it. In fact, not once on this holiday were we addressed as the Americans we are.) “Is this your first time in Morocco? What kind of rug are you looking for?” And here I made the one and only rookie mistake. “A large rug,” I answered, much too quickly, and in the periphery could see his two attendant’s eyes twinkling over the roast lamb feast they would prepare from the commission.

Mustafa ushered us to comfy seats and asked my color preferences, waving to one attendant and then the other to unfold rugs before me. DS and I had rehearsed our spiel well, and the decision about an hour later came down to two rugs the attendants patiently held up for me to examine. Then the real business began. Mustafa offered the predictable exaggerated price, complete with stories of how his grandmother’s tears had helped to dye the wool. I countered with how much I loved the rug in my heart, but not so much in my pocketbook, and offered the expected lower price. The faux shock-and-outrage went back and forth. I held my ground and Mustafa eventually relented. We shook hands and the adrenaline rush hit me: I JUST BOUGHT A RUG IN MARRAKESH!

Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or perhaps hiding Durhams in every zippered compartment of my pocketbook and tote was not the most brilliant of ideas, but when I stepped aside to count my cash, I had come up short! I slipped DS my Bankomat card and told him to make haste. Suddenly Mustafa looked alarmed and asked to where DS was going. I replied, “Oh, just to get some air. He is a little bored.” But Mustafa thought DS was up to something and ran out of the shop after him! Let’s just say a 20-something in Bermuda shorts is faster on the move than a pudgy Ali Baba in a long robe and sandals, and the chase ended quickly. Within this amusing interval I recounted my Dirhams and found that I had what I needed, thankfully. By the time DS had returned from “catching some fresh air,” Mustafa’s attendants folded the rug and had hand-sewn a burlap-type cover over my one (and only) Moroccan souvenir, even adding a handle. The Dirhams were handed over. Hands were shaken. I had just bought a rug in Marrakesh.
fourfortravel is offline  
Old May 25th, 2017, 09:03 AM
  #8  
 
Join Date: Sep 2012
Posts: 3,130
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes on 0 Posts
Sounds like you found what you wanted quickly. Glad there was a happy ending to the story.
tripplanner001 is offline  
Old May 25th, 2017, 11:53 AM
  #9  
 
Join Date: Oct 2011
Posts: 1,112
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes on 0 Posts
Congratulations! I am also American (solo male) and bought my own rug last spring in Fes. I am no novice to buying "oriental rugs" in the better stores here in Minneapolis but buying a rug in the Fes medina was a whole 'nother adventure. I started at a reputable store but there rugs were all Berber in style and I was definitely looking for the more traditional Persian style with more jewel-like colors. The owner of that store had me escorted to another store much more deeply into the medina where I was greeted by a gentleman similar to your Ali Baba. After a visit to their rooftop to see the medina and some mint tea, the show began. I eventually had 3 rugs kept out (knowing the red one with the Persian medallion ws the one I wanted. I'm sure my guy knew this all along!) The rug is approximately 5'x7' and his initial offer price was the equivalent of $1800. At that point I made my one mistake and countered with my first offer of $900. I knew immediately I should have gone much, much lower (perhaps even $300?) but it just didn't feel right to do that even though I knew that's part of the game. In the end, I paid the equivalent of $1200 which, considering many blogs say you should end up paying about 50% of the initial offer price, meant I only overpaid by $300. The rug is beautiful, looks terrific in my apartment and is a constant reminder of my adventure deep in the Fes medina. Like you, they packaged it into a burlap-like case with handle and carried back to my riad for me. I never let if out of my sight for the rest of my trip.
MinnBeef is offline  
Old May 29th, 2017, 03:07 PM
  #10  
 
Join Date: Mar 2007
Posts: 191
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes on 0 Posts
Enjoying your report!
Keiracaitlyn is offline  
Old May 29th, 2017, 10:42 PM
  #11  
Original Poster
 
Join Date: Nov 2006
Posts: 2,813
Received 26 Likes on 5 Posts
MinnBeef, isn't haggling for a rug a little bit of an adrenaline rush?

Keiracaitlyn, thanks. There is more to come; I've a little bit of a writer's block at the moment...
fourfortravel is offline  
Old May 30th, 2017, 06:06 AM
  #12  
 
Join Date: Jan 2003
Posts: 6,811
Received 0 Likes on 0 Posts
Enjoying this report, too! Planning a trip next spring, so this is very helpful to read.

And your writing is delightful -- hope the writing block passes quickly!
progol is offline  
Old May 30th, 2017, 06:40 AM
  #13  
Original Poster
 
Join Date: Nov 2006
Posts: 2,813
Received 26 Likes on 5 Posts
Newton’s Fourth Law: Marrakesh. Where Equal and Opposite Forces are at Peace while in Motion.

Marrakesh’s charm is that it is chaotic and calm, and raucous and reticent all at the same time, and no travel blog or guide book I consulted truly captured this essence. Hence the writer's block. The Bucket-List Millennials blogs relied heavily on their Roget’s app to describe this former Silk Road post, as “Nightmare!” “Crazy!” and “Insane!” while the formal guidebooks dove a little deeper into the adjective pool, with “Intoxicating” (an odd choice of word to describe a dry country) and “…dazzle, frazzle, enchant,” and yet they, too all came up short. The most creative, though still incomplete description I read was that Marrakesh is, “…like an array of colorful and loud butterflies.”

Jemaa el Fna rises and sets with the sun, and quite literally every blink of the eye offers something new. The calm of the early morning blends unnoticeably into what suddenly seems like an oversized flashmob by midday, with locals, cyclists, donkey carts and tourists full-speed ahead on a collision course, when in fact it is the opposite: everyone is actually heave-ing and ho-ing visibly and predictably. It all just works. As the afternoon gives way to the evening, an elderly Habibi takes his place by the post box, sharing the day’s wisdom with the many, many other Habibis who wander past. “Pop-up” vendors offering henna tattoos approach passersby gently. The shoe-cleaning men appear, ready to buff DS’s topsiders for a mere €2 equivalent. The chilled African men hold out their tray of knock-off Ray Bans, knowing they won't make a sale. By now the snake charmers and monkey men have staked their places, too, along with whatever happens to pass for the evening entertainment. Then the food vendor’s routine commences: construct the stall, wash the tables and prepare the food…and proudly display skewers of raw meats and who-only-knows-when fried fish(?) alongside gorgeous salads and buckets of snails crawling around with nowhere to go but a steamer basket.

“No Diarrhea Here!” shouts one of the stall vendors as DS and I walk the gauntlet in our attempt to scope out the elusive Stall #93 (the “tourist-friendly” stall, so I read) for a possible dinner one evening. The stall vendors, it seems, have been reading travel blogs about the intestinal misfortunes that befall those visitors who eat the skewered chicken livers and curled sausages left to bake in desert heat, and it took every ounce of respect not to burst out laughing at this social media-savvy entrepreneur. We skipped the queue of men at the stalls offering roast lamb heads (sans eyeballs, thankfully), as well. Try as we might, we never found Stall #93 and had to “settle” for a couscous dinner on a restaurant roof terrace overlooking the square that night. Perhaps next time. No, perhaps never.

Inside the Souks an old Marrakeshi in a thawb reads his Koran outside his shop while a younger man wearing jeans zips past on his scooter, dangling two whole chickens on the handlebars (feathers and all) and with a young son clinging to the handlebars. The heady, almost-headache inducing aromas from Mellah, the Spice Souk in the Jewish Quarter where vendors charge unsuspecting visitor’s nostrils with handfuls of various organic matter and ask, “Do you know what this is?” compete with the minuscule Olive Souk where vendors let glossy mounds of the earthy fruit gently speak for themselves. Neither Souk is a place for the gastro-sensitive, and neither are the side lanes of what appeared to be the “Meat Slaughtering Souk” we stumbled upon, where roosters and presumably stray dogs yip and yap at one another for the carcass bits that hit the ground. Here in Vienna I no longer do a double-take when I see entire sides of animals hanging in the Halal butchers, or sheep heads lined up in the butcher’s cases, or even whole unskinned rabbits and pheasant and duck when I am at my favorite Turkish market to collect the perfect lamb cutlets for dinner, but the scene, and the aromatics, on a 40º was an altogether different sensation.

Many "guides" saddled up alongside, offering to take us to the Tannery. "It is Berber Day! You can meet a Berber!" they shouted with excitement. With all due respect to these fine people, DS and I could not imagine heading into a Souk rife with the stench of bird extracts (one of the dye compounds) and animal hides to meet anyone on any day, much less one as hot as this day. We politely declined. And politely declined. And politely declined.

But step outside of the Souks, or climb the stairs to a restaurant or Riad roof terrace, and exotic Marrakesh unfolds. Our Riad hosts brought a pot of mint tea to us on the terrace oases, from where we could watch the centuries old spectacle unfurl on the square. The serene courtyards of palaces and the Ben Youssef Madrasa, lush with green and thick with silence wrap around you felt heaven-sent in the afternoon desert sun; and the Jardin Majorelle, almost Disney-esque in the escapism from the Medina it affords its visitors, makes one never want to leave. But when you’re ready to return to the Medina, it’s just a taxi-fare haggle away.

Coming next…final notes. Thank you for reading.
fourfortravel is offline  
Old May 30th, 2017, 09:37 AM
  #14  
 
Join Date: Sep 2012
Posts: 3,130
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes on 0 Posts
Thank you for giving the famous square life. While many of us, myself included, have seen photographs and videos of the Marrekechi square at some point or another, it is one of those places that we don't seem to know until we experienced it. Your writing certainly helped give shape and depth to it and allowed me to get as close to it other than going there myself.
tripplanner001 is offline  
Old Jun 6th, 2017, 03:03 AM
  #15  
Original Poster
 
Join Date: Nov 2006
Posts: 2,813
Received 26 Likes on 5 Posts
tripplanner001, thank you. I hope that you can experience Marrakesh one day. In my folly I had originally dismissed the city with, "It will be just like Cairo." And I was wrong. "Too much like Doha," was my next justification for not diving into this city, one that I am certain I haven't even come close to describing.
fourfortravel is offline  
Old Jun 6th, 2017, 03:07 AM
  #16  
Original Poster
 
Join Date: Nov 2006
Posts: 2,813
Received 26 Likes on 5 Posts
With apologies, I write sheepishly. A planned getaway with DH to Dubrovnik and Kotor interrupted my final notes on Marrakesh.

Postcards from Marrakesh

Ben Youssef Madrasa Islamic College
A blissful escape from the heat and the noise of the Souk, and not crowded on our visit. Very near is the Café Jad Jamal, where we sat before visiting the Madrasa for the day’s special of falafel sandwiches. The roof terrace was of calming turquoise tiles and dark wooden tables accented with silver; and the sandwiches were excellent, with no skimping on the handmade and perfectly fried falafel.

Dar Si Said and Bahia Palace
Like the Madrasa, both of the palaces excelled in providing cool and calm spaces for the spirit, colorful feasts for the eyes, and swoon-worthy Instagram photos for your friends.

Saadian Tombs
Some are underwhelmed with this visit; others, like DS and myself, found the shimmering colors and columns a tranquil place to reflect on the Moroccan dynasty and its 12 pillars of glorious Italian marble. And laugh at the German –speaking visitor in front of us at the less-than-10-minute queue to view the tomb who groused, “Sie sollten uns freies Bier geben.” (They should give us free beer).

Jardin Majorelle
Tourist-dense on our visit; but if you are lucky enough to snag a table at the café beforehand (and we were), your time in the garden is well spent. The café menu is noteworthy, the salads especially, albeit somewhat pricey by Marrakesh standards, but so goes a captive audience. With neither of us having a design-based background by any stretch of the imagination, we wandered freely without casting a critical glance anywhere, taking equal delight in everything from the koi ponds and the exotic cacti to the strike-a-pose selfies in front of the Moorish “Majorelle Blue” house. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.

And that is all there is to write. Once again, thank you for reading.
fourfortravel is offline  
Old Jun 6th, 2017, 04:59 AM
  #17  
 
Join Date: Jan 2003
Posts: 6,811
Received 0 Likes on 0 Posts
Love your report - I'm now planning a trip for next spring, and you have most definitely whetted my appetite for the madness that is Marrakech!

I've enjoyed your writing a lot - you have quite the flare for style!
progol is offline  
Old Jun 6th, 2017, 09:19 AM
  #18  
 
Join Date: Sep 2012
Posts: 3,130
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes on 0 Posts
Thank you again. Did you find that you had enough time in Marrakech to get a good overview of the city or did you feel you needed more time? Good luck on the planning for Dubrovnik and Kotor, two other places on my list where I've yet to venture.
tripplanner001 is offline  
Old Jun 7th, 2017, 01:34 AM
  #19  
Original Poster
 
Join Date: Nov 2006
Posts: 2,813
Received 26 Likes on 5 Posts
progol, thank you. I hope you enjoy Marrakech as much as we did!

tripplanner001, the time we allotted was ideal for our itinerary. Though we had wanted to visit the photography museum, the heat of that particular day had withered any and all interest, but we have no regrets. If our itinerary had been one day longer, we would have taken a long day trip to the shore; there were several excursions available that all looked appealing.
fourfortravel is offline  
Old Jun 22nd, 2017, 09:25 AM
  #20  
 
Join Date: Jan 2003
Posts: 1,472
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes on 0 Posts
Thank you for your wonderful description of Marrakech. Your writing is beautiful and very evocative. I will be there in mid October for 3 nights. I am both excited and apprehensive. I'm staying in a riad in the Medina. They will arrange a driver to pick me up and deliver me to the airport, so no need to stress over getting there. I have arranged for a private, personal half day tour of the most important sights the afternoon I arrive and then a half day tour of the souks the following day. He sent me info on a cooking class and the best hammam for my last day there. I am a seasoned traveller, but as I will be doing this solo, I have been feeling a bit of trepidation. I think with the guided tours and a cooking class, I will be just fine. Any thoughts on safety and my biggest fear - getting lost in the tangle of tiny streets/lanes.
Barb is offline  

Thread Tools
Search this Thread

Contact Us - Manage Preferences - Archive - Advertising - Cookie Policy - Privacy Statement - Do Not Sell or Share My Personal Information -