Marrakech, Morroco

Mon 28th April - Fri 2nd May

"I can help you find! I can help you find! This way madame! This way!"

If there's one thing I learned in Marrakech, it's that you should never look lost. The trouble is, it's virtually impossible not to be lost in Marrakech. Picture the maze of streets that is Venice, then remove all of the street signs and throw in thousands of people who are willing to help you find your way for a very good price.

We arrived in Marrakech on Tuesday morning feeling exhausted and sticky after leaving the van in Spain and taking a ferry from Tarifa, then a night train from Tanger to Marrakech. Not a bad train journey at all -- it's only 11 hours and you board at 9pm then arrive at 8am so there's really nothing else to do except read a book and go to sleep. Walking out of the train station, we said goodbye to our Polish friend who had shared our sleeper car and watched him confidently walk off heading west to find his hostel in the Medina. We had no accommodation booked, no guidebook and no idea which direction to walk, so we asked inside the train station and they pointed us east. Feeling a bit bad for our comrade but hopeful that the train information desk was correct, we started walking east.

Our first morning in Marrakech was a mixture of running across roundabouts hoping that we hadn't overlooked a scooter screaming towards us, wandering narrow mud streets and praying that we wouldn't be peed on by a passing chicken, then wondering why on earth we didn't invest in that Morroco Lonely Planet guidebook back in Spain for 28 euros. But being cheap can eventually pay off and in our confusion, we stumbled across one of the most comfortable and beautiful guest houses I've ever stayed in for just 70 euros a night - Dar Rayhan.

Oooh la la - this riad (a.k.a. guest house) was heaven! We had the place to ourselves which included a roof deck with cushions in a large tent, a balcony with curtains to block the sunshine and last but not least, a dipping pool in the courtyard. After checking in and taking a cool shower, we decided to hit the town. Our host only spoke French and neither Bevan or I can articulate past "bonjour" so we were on our own for directions again. Fortunately the first book store we stumbled across had a Lonely Planet guide for Marrakech in English, and a very friendly French woman who was kind enough to point out where we were on the map. Yes! We had landed within the Medina - tourist central!

So we had a map, a list of highlights to see and even a dot to indicate where we were standing. You'd think that this would be all we needed to take Marrakech by the horns and tick off each tourist attraction within a few days... The saying "it's all about the journey, not the destination," couldn't be truer in Marrakech. While the architecture and museums were stunning, my most vivid memories will be the experiences we encountered whilst wandering around trying to find them.

One of our first stops was the Djemma El-Fna, a large square in the centre of town filled with Morrocan street performers and the site of a massive evening barbecue. But in order to get there, we had to pass through the souqs which is a winding maze of covered markets packed with everything from spices to carpets to designer handbags. The hilarious bit is how the guidebooks so blatantly make no effort to help you negotiate the most confusing parts of the city. We even had a larger "detailed" map of the souqs which looked more like a plateful of spaghetti with no road names. Within 1/2 block we had completely lost our orientation and any reference as to where we were standing on the map. But despite the slightly panicky feeling in your stomach when you know you're lost in a strange city, you can't help but stare in awe at the chaos and energy surrounding you. Thousands of locals and tourists swarm down the streets shouting at eachother to negotiate prices, when suddenly a scooter comes screaming out from behind a crowd yelling for you to get out of the way and you're jumping into a shop to avoid getting hit while a donkey cart mosies past.


A long 45 minutes later, we stumbled out of the spaghetti pie and somehow landed in the big square. Within 30 seconds, Bevan was dragged off, draped with snakes and posing for a photograph with a very smiley snake charmer. I snapped a picture, mostly in complete shock that Bevan was allowing his photo to be taken and then the whole charade changed very quickly. Evidently taking a photo with snakes is a very expensive proposition in Morroco and the man started demanding 20 euros for the privelege. We laughed it off but he was completely serious and wouldn't stop grabbing Bevan's arm and shouting until we pulled out our wallets. I offered 50 euro cents and he was very unhappy as he had a very large family to feed. We quickly did the math and realised we'd already paid him twice the cost of an earlier lengthy taxi ride so clearly 50 cents was A LOT of money to pay for a photograph. We scurried away from his shouting, convinced not to go near any more snake charmers.

No such luck. I made the mistake of looking at the map again when someone grabbed my arm and pulled it straight. I presumed it was Bevan dragging me in the right direction, so you can imagine my shock when something warm, fleshy and furry landed on my inner elbow... EEEK - It was a monkey's ass and I nearly dropped the poor thing when I tried to yank my arm away from the man who held the other end of his chained leash. What on earth could be entertaining about seeing a poor little monkey being dragged around the square by a chain around his neck?

Next stop was the most recognisable landmark in Marrakech - the Koutoubia Minaret just across the big square. By sheer luck, we happened to be walking past when the call to prayer started, which is a special treat as it's one of the few mosques that still uses a live singer rather than recorded music. We stopped to listen for a few minutes, enchanted by the echoes of the surrounding mosques across the city.

Back when we were securing our valuables in Spain, we made the strategic decision to leave our laptops behind from fear that they'd be stolen and / or pretty useless in Morroco due to the lack of internet connectivity. What a mistake! While wandering home for the day, we stumbled across the Cyber Park - a massive landscaped oasis from the city that is completely covered with free WiFi. I could see Bevan nearly clawing at his skin in regret and he insisted on lying on a bench in the park just to soak in the atmosphere, even if we felt pretty sheepish for undermining Morroco.

Clearly we had a lot to learn about this country and unfortunately it would be all through trial and error. Learn from our mistakes:

• Never pull out your map in public. Risk opening the map, and you'll instantly be surrounded by locals who will follow you offering directions until you finally pay them to leave you alone or lead you to the nearest tannery owned by their cousin.
• Morrocans are incredibly language adept. Stating "I don't speak French - I am Chinese," will only prove that you don't speak Mandarin.
• Shopping in the souqs is fun, but allow at least 1/2 day to find your way back out again.
• Don't freak out if you find yourself in a strange neighbourhood. Spot a tourist and follow them from at least a 200 metre distance until you're back in the Medina again.
• Bring your own alcohol or buy it in duty free on the way there. It's hard to come by and when you do find it, prices aren't listed on the menu. A few pints can cost as much as 3 times more than your meal so don't plan your bachelorette party in Marrakech.
• Just because it's cheap, doesn't mean the food is bad and just because it's pricey doesn't mean the food is good. Our most expensive meal was fairly average at the Afric'n Chic club and cost over 60 euros for two people (although it did include 3 beers each). Yet our cheapest meal at Alahbab Fast Food on Prince Moulay Rachid Ave near the big square was incredibly tasty for just 8 euros for two people.
• No matter who is asking, no - this is not your first visit to Marrakech.

Marrakech Photo Album