February 21-24
Bonjour! Salam! HELLO!!
Can you hear me over
the noise? The shouting match between rival minarets? The clanging
and banging of metal pots and pans? The desperate cries from the
street sellers? The strangled screams that apparently gets sold in CD
form as Moroccan pop music?
All of that. Just from
our rooftop terrace in a Marrakech side street.
That last blog, when I
mentioned calm and quiet? Envisage that, then picture the opposite in
your mind, and you may be part of the way to understanding the attack
on your ears that is Marrakech as evening approaches.
Though it may initially
assault your hearing, the buzz of the main square, called Jamaa El
Fna, is friendly in its nature. The 'square' itself isn't really a
regular shape, more an irregularly-shaped open space, and is boxed by
a variety of cafés and shops on most of its sides. One side is very
different from the rest, which I will talk about in greater detail
later.
Marrakech, and this
square in particular, has been the target of terrorist attacks
previously. A bomb exploded here three years ago, taking seventeen lives. On the whole, the city feels rather safe,
though obvious precautions such as protecting your pockets have to be
taken. Though you should be aware of the potential for a scam, it is
also important to remember that the vast majority of the local people
are inquisitive and, if they are trying to sell you something, will
do so in a genial and respectful manner.
During the day the open
space is occupied by a variety of performers and artisans. Some, such
as the female henna tattooists, are showcasing their skills and the
culture of the region. Others, including the men who drag helpless
monkeys around the square pushing for photos and dirhams, show a less
comforting side of Morocco. Then there are the male dancers dressed
as women; frankly, I don't know how to describe them. They may look
like women, but you can tell from the hands. Always look at the hands
and the Adam's apple...
Much of the noise
during the daytime, aside from the background hum of vehicles and
people, comes from the vast array of carriages selling orange juice.
The word carriage is used for a reason here. Dozens of men, young and
old, sell freshly squeezed orange juice from a stall on wheels
reminiscent of a Victorian coach. The fact that there are so many
stalls selling this most refreshing product – for a mere 4 dirhams,
or 30p, no less – means that they have to use special tactics or
tricks to get your attention. Most of them resort to hollering.
Loudly.
As for the juice itself
– simply amazing. Perfect to either refresh you after, or prepare
you for, going into the souks.
Marrakech is famous for
its souks. Depending on where you hail from or have travelled to, you
may know these as bazaars or giant markets. Only the Grand Bazaar in
Istanbul compares in size to the souk labyrinth that engulfs the main
square in Marrakech. It is certainly not for the faint-hearted.
There are innumerable
entrance and exit points. If you visit you will find it very
difficult, nay impossible, to start and finish at the same place.
That aforementioned other side of the main square is where most
travellers will enter. This approach is a sea of metals, woods and
fabrics, a rainbow of colour, and one entrance to a circulatory
system almost as complex as your own.
It is much easier to
show you the pictures rather than use words to explain the variety of
goods available. As you can see below, just about anything can be
procured!
It is best to leave
yourself plenty of time to explore as many capillaries of the body of
Marrakech as possible. Part of the joy of ambling aimlessly around
the souk is finding that special shop which has something different
to the rest, or a lovely and genuine owner who just wants to chat as
much as sell you that decorative plate. Besides, trying to quickly
navigate your way from top to bottom simply doesn't work; you'll only
get yourself stressed.
You may believe that
the souk is merely a collection, albeit a massive one, of shops. Not
true, folks. Exploring certain areas of the labyrinth leads you to
all kinds of workshops. From men tirelessly sanding their wood to
give their spoons and boards to give them the smoothest finish, to
young boys smiling as they smear dye over bone-dry leather, you can
enjoyably spend most of your day marvelling at the care taken to
produce the vast array of products.
The Marrakech souk,
particularly in the evening, can become slightly overbearing, as this
is rush hour. The clanging of pots and pans, the revving of
motorbikes which inexplicably attempt to zip through the narrow
alleys, the mass of movement and the gentle rolling of wheelbarrows
and pushchairs can induce a sense of mild claustrophobia. We were
caught in a slight crush when a moped and two pushchairs, each trying
to pass one another, caused gridlock within our small artery close to
the main square. It soon passed, but highlighted the potential
problem of crushing and pickpocketing within the souk.
After losing yourself
within the heart of the souk for a while, you'll inevitably be
hungry. Luckily, Moroccan food is famed around the world for its
distinctive flavours. The country's two most renowned dishes,
couscous and tagine, are readily available at any café, shop or
snack stand. I'm assuming you will know the former, so will briefly
take time to explain the content of the latter. It consists of meat,
potatoes cut into wedge shapes and the local available vegetables,
all steamed or baked in the oven within a distinctive cone-shaped
clay pot. Very good if you find a home-cooked one; fairly bland if
you get one from the square. The lower two pictures after this
paragraph will show you the difference between the two.
This leads me nicely
into the most fun and raucous activity you will experience in
Marrakech: the evening meal. I stated earlier that the Jamaa El Fna
is a vast open space. It is...in daylight. As the sun begins to hide
behind the minaret that looms to the east of the square, a
transformation begins to occur. By the time the alluring call to
prayer has finished blaring from the dusty red spire, the open space
has changed into a mass of white in the form of tents. with light
smoke billowing from within. Welcome to the food court.
The volume increases
markedly as the owners of these pop-up restaurants cook whilst trying
to convince you to eat at their stall, rather than the hundred or so
other food joints. The measures they take to persuade you go far
beyond the norm of just handing out a menu and saying 'nice price'.
Each restaurant has a unique number, and the owners try to use this
in the form of a snappy slogan in order to gain your custom. Examples
include 'Number two: no diarrhoea for two years!' and 'Thirty-seven:
cheaper than Ryanair!' They also use rivals' numbers to make you
aware of their apparent flaws. 'Number seven won't take you to
heaven' and 'twenty-eight, it's very late!' show the competitive
nature of their business. Their brilliantly specific English is not
limited to slogans. I was called Starvin' Marvin' a few times as we
examined the stalls for one we wanted to eat at. You can use the
competitiveness to your advantage. We were offered a free drink if we
returned to #12; we were sat down two minutes later.
Many tents sell the
same products but some, usually the ones packed with locals rather
than tourists, offer distinctive Moroccan food. A bowl of what the
French call 'escargots' went down very nicely, and the sheep head
meat had more taste than the usual fare of tagine and couscous, which
is bland here in comparison with the home-cooked version. However,
you eat here more for the concept than the quality. It is something
which may happen once a year in a Western city as part of a cultural
event; here it is a daily occurrence, and people rely on the custom
to survive.
Marrakech is a city of
contrasts. Peace and tranquillity is often located around the corner
from chaos and noise. The result is a place where you rarely feel
uncomfortable or bored. Morocco's main tourist hub has yet to fully
succumb to foreign cash and whims, and is all the better for it.
Love you all
Matt
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