Marrakech

Walking through the streets of Marrakech is an adventure. With the sound of the call to prayer in the background, overshadowed by cat calls from vendors- "

hello fish and chips

" - one winds through the alleyways, dodging motorcycles and donkeys, careful to look at the color and wonder of everything, and nothing for fear of being dragged into a shop and leaving with something you don’t quite need and definitely didn’t want.

Alice and Courtney exploring some Moroccan ruins.

Exploring the souks and alleyways.

Marrakech is certainly a colorful city. In every way, from the colors of glass and shoes and bags that spill into the streets and shops, to the food, fresh squeezed juices and the people, with their colorful clothing and conversations and personality. There is never a dull moment on the streets of Marrakech. Rather, one finds solitude and peace and an escape from the chaos of the city, in the gardens or a ruined palace, and within the home.

You are Berber now" He put the hat on my head and transformed me.

Unlike most destinations, in Marrakech the ‘tourist’ spots were my favourite part of the city. I found the palaces incredibly beautiful and peaceful, a welcome break from the sensory overload of the streets. As February is off season the ancient palaces and gardens were near empty and allowed space to relax, think, and appreciate a different culture while being surrounded by an architectural beauty and detail which no longer, or rarely, exists in buildings and projects today.

In the gardens of Bahia Palace

There is a hidden beauty in Marrakech that can only be found in exploring the tiny, winding streets, by stepping across the threshold of a home, or

Riad

, which from the outside can look simple, plain and maybe even worryingly inconspicuous.

Mint tea from the rooftops of Marrakech.

The food stalls in the main square are incredible. Fresh squeezed orange juice, dried fruits, and in the evening hot street food. Moroccans gather around make-shift tables, made by adding benches to carts or trailers as they eat soup or a bit of chicken. Tourists, cannot walk through the stalls without being confronted by two, three, ten men telling you (not asking you) to eat at their shop, grabbing your arm and guiding you to a seat at their tables without your consent or agreement (and even when you disagree). Personal space is not a concept here, and one definitely needs the ability to be firm and say "No". And then say "No" again. And then one more time so that they hear it, giving you time to walk away, even if it hasn't quite sunk in to them yet.

I ate snails. And I liked them. "Escargot"

As one would assume the best food shops are those frequented by the Moroccans. Lentil soup and some curried chicken was our first evening meal, and all for less than two pounds. The next night saw snails as an appetizer (yes, snails – my first time! And they are good, salty, but good. The hard part is getting over the act of actually digging a snail out of its shell and putting it into your mouth), the snails were followed by a meal from one of the vendors surrounded by tourists, over-whelmed and talked into sitting down from one of the 'salesmen'. The food here was noticeably less good, and we paid a lot more for it. Boo. I recommend stalls #6 (snails), #72 and #31/32 for good food. And of course, #42 for juice!

Our favourite juice stall. He invited me back for a photo, and on day two gave each of us some free juice!

A gate in the ancient city wall

More rooftops. This time, lunch, and sun!

Marrakech is truly a magical place. From snake charmers to dancing monkeys and sunny rooftops, I was expecting at any moment to see Indiana Jones running around the corner, chasing some Bedouins, whip in hand.

One last glance at the streets of souks of Marrakech.