So once my accommodation fiasco was sorted… annoying as that was… I could finally relax and enjoy everything that Marrakech had to offer.
I have to admit… I really do love the hustle & bustle of this vibrant city. I love how exotic & completely foreign and adventurous it feels to be here. Or at least, I did at the beginning… after four days, unfortunately, I was whistling a different tune. Don’t get me wrong. I DO love Marrakech… it’s just a lot to take.
I should probably paint a more accurate picture ~ Marrakech City and the Marrakech Medina are two very different places.
I was in the Medina.
This “Old City" is the historic heart of Marrakech and a labyrinth of narrow, winding streets, ancient architecture, bustling souks and rich cultural heritage.
Like most other tourists & travellers visiting the medina, I fell captive to the enchantment. The vibe is energetic, magical and very alluring. The air is warm and fragrant, filled with a blend of spices, citrus and smoke from street food stalls and traditional tagines cooking everywhere.
I allowed myself be completely enthralled. The first couple of days, I took a million photos… and meandered my way through all the alleys.
Not missing a sight.
Not skipping a beat.
I wish more than anything that I was blessed with unlimited funds… I would buy absolutely everything and ship it home. The temptation was strong.
I ate couscous and tajine… a lot of it. In saying that, I have officially converted to vegetarianism. Actually, no, I’m not a full fledged vegetarian. Not yet, anyway. I’m a pescatarian. I don’t know how long it’ll last, but I feel that it aligns with some of my values … especially when traveling.
I’ve also taken to partaking in the traditional practice of drinking Moroccan mint tea. This ritual definitely fosters relaxation amidst a frenzied environment… and I need that.
Believe me… there are vendors everywhere in the Medina… selling everything from blankets to jewelry to masks to pottery to clothing to trinkets… and beyond. There are also storytellers, snake charmers, juice makers, herbalists, metal workers, antique dealers, tour guides, musicians, acrobats, tea sellers, pastry bakers, aromatherapists, henna artists, spice sellers… It’s a lot to take in. To say it’s ‘hustle & bustle’ is an understatement. This swarm of activity is chaotic. It’s a buzz worth experiencing at least once in your life.
I honestly don’t remember this many people from when I was here 25 years ago. It has definitely taken an upward spiral in the tourism industry, no doubt due to the power of social media.
Anyway…
Take every person and profession that I mentioned above and combine it with hordes of tourists, bulky backpacks, locals, children, motorcycles, bicycles, carts, buggies and more… and squeeze them all into an incapacitated alleyway…
Ya… it was a “keep-an-eye-on-your-phone-and-money-at-all-times” kinda feeling.
You get over the magical ambiance real quick. That enchanting vibe has a way of rapidly twisting into claustrophobia and frustration.
At least it did with me.
Now… if you look at some of my photos, it doesn’t look as helter-skelter as I make it out to be. Blame the time of day and my miraculously good photography lol.
Of course, in any market town, you are bound to get ripped off. Sometimes I feel like haggling and sometimes, I really don’t. When I don’t, or I forget to barter, I only end up getting upset with myself because I feel like I’ve been cheated. Then I stress out and I can’t stop thinking about it.
Ok… get this…
I bought a caftan for 350 dirham.
Expensive.
Very expensive.
That’s about $50 Canadian. The truth is that the fault lies entirely with me. I didn’t even question the price. I should have. It’s bizarre that I didn’t… and even more bizarre that I didn’t even make an attempt to bring it down. In my defence, I don’t think I’d truly worked out the exchange rate in my head yet. There was nothing in my head. This guy was just so convincing in his price. He suckered me. Oddly enough, it just seemed reasonable. He kept repeating it was a “special price for me.”
I got swept up in the moment.
Why?
I have no idea.
As if I could walk into a vendor and suddenly warrant a special price. Absurd. Must have been my glimmering eyes, my dazzling smile or my enormous boobs. Yep…
On my afternoon tea stop for tea, directly after I had paid this astronomical amount, I met a couple of women who had paid almost half of what I did.
200 dirham.
Seriously. so now every time I wear it, I’m bound to be annoyed. My ire was further elevated upon seeing them for sale for 100.
And then 50.
And then 30.
Errrrrrr….
I’m an idiot, but I have to let it go. That’s not such an easy thing for me to do though.
From then on, I was ragin’.
I felt ripped off for everything… and… I was.
The smallest bag of laundry cost me the equivalent of $26 Canadian. I argued with the laundromat attendant about the cost, but he just kept pointing at an Arabic written sign with pricing that I could hardly understand.
It was ludicrous.
It’s not like they went down to the river and pounded it on the stones. It’s not like my clothes were Egyptian linen.
$26.
You’re kidding.
He was not.
Normally, being a diligent & enthusiast traveler, I do my best to ensure that I know everything that each city has to offer when I’m preparing to venture somewhere new. I take the time to pinpoint particular places on my Google maps as to where I want to go and why. It’s a thing.
I think everything through thoroughly and I always have a plan… unless the plan is to not have a plan. Of course. I consider myself more of a traveller than a tourist, but sometimes travellers just have to see the touristy stuff too! I know how tickets work, I understand supply & demand, capacity and I’m very well versed in knowing how nauseatingly busy things can get… and it’s extremely rare that I just decide to visit a popular & notable site, willy nilly
That being said… on the third day, I did just that.
I’d seen photos of the Jardin Majorelle and figured I simple must go! I had to see it. It’s not so much that I wanted to see it, but I desperately needed to escape the chaos of the Medina. Spending some leisurely time in a peaceful garden seemed the obvious solution.
Operation Garden Plan was set in motion. I walked to the edge of the Medina, hailed the first taxi I saw and before long, I was on my way to enjoy a harmonious blend of art and nature.
The only trouble?
While I was on my way to art & nature… so was everyone else.
I took a taxi all the way there only to get back in a taxi and go straight back to the Medina. Tickets for the day were sold out.
Of course they were.
My luck…
So ya… I then booked tickets for the following day, like a smart & diligent traveler. In addition to paying the entrance fee, I had to get another taxi ~ there and back ~ plus calculating in the taxis I’d hailed the previous day.
This garden was draining my wallet.
To top it off, it was teeming with tourists… and quite boring, if you ask me. Enjoying a delightful garden experience was out of the question because you couldn’t lift your arm up without hitting someone. We were all herded through like cattle and ten minutes later, when I reached the exit, I realized I hadn’t taken any photos.
It was then I knew I was done with the Red City. Don’t get me wrong, I do love it… but I was about ready for a break.
Sooooo… so long, Marrakech 🤎
Till we meet again!
Wonder what the jungle has in store for me…
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