Mazes of Marrakech

Chugging into Marrakech, I awoke to the sun shining and still rather cozy despite only having a sheet on me (at this point that was one of the few nights I was warm). After getting my bunkmate's phone number - she offered assistance if I ever needed any while in Marrakech - I toddled off to find a taxi. Compared to Spain, I have found myself using taxis much more often and living a more costly day to day life, despite the seemingly cheap costs. In order to find a taxi that wouldn't gauge me, I exited via the side door and found an old man dropping people off - versus taxis waiting out front. After making sure that he was using the compteur, we were off and that's when I noticed the Marathon runners - I was a little suspicious of the foreigners in spandex until I realized it was an organized event! After a ten minute drive, we made it to the traffic circle that I had asked for, which had resulted in some confusion. The trend I'm noticing about studying city maps as a pre-arrival strategy is that elevation and distance are not properly or accurately identified, which makes translating the map information on-the-ground a little trickier.

Eventually we found the traffic circle, which turned out to be much tinier and dingier than I had anticipated. I hopped out, not quite sure if I actually was at the right place, and accidentally gave him a rather enormous tip - ATM and change bureaus typically only give out 200 dirams when the most useful are 5 & 10 coins, and 20 & 50 bills - and most people don't have change or they begrudgingly get it. So after winding my way to the street where the hostel was, I managed to do two laps of the main alley way till I stopped and ask a corner store (the Moroccan equivalent) where the hostel might be. He was very helpful and knew exactly where it was. I had to turn down a side road and then follow as it veered left then right until I reached a dead end and only found it due to its house number. There was a definite lack of signage (as in, none). As I got settled into the hostel, they invited me to have breakfast with the other guests. There was a group from Wales and a couple students on exchange in Holland. After breakfast, my room was sorted out, I had changed, and was invited to spend the day exploring the city with the couple of students.

I followed along with their itinerary as I hadn't set one out, we started by visiting two old palaces that were between ruins and a little past their prime. The King also has two palaces in Marrakech, as well as a residence, but they are closed to the public. Apparently in each big city through the country he holds two or three places -  seems a little excessive to me - but I guess that's what you get when you are a monarch. It seems that having practice reading maps and then losing myself within cities helped me find the places that we visited and oddly enough it felt relatively easy. After touring the palaces, as well as a modern art gallery in one of them and taking each other's photos, we wandered off to the spice market. Despite all the beckoning, the market was very colourful and aromatic with everything from tea to sandalwood (whole), as well as the standard jasmin, ginger, cumin, etc. After getting a 'nose-full', we headed for the main square in the old Medina for lunch. The place that we went to - and subsequently went to often - had good food at good prices with friendly staff, quick service, and no hassles. A typical lunch there included avocado and orange juice, an omelet, tajine or couscous (lamb or chicken), yogurt, and sweet mint tea (total 47-52 dirham plus tip = 8 CAD). Which is one of the reasons it has been harder to keep making my own food rather than eating out all the time, it hasn't helped that the kitchens in the hostels in Morocco tend to be smaller and somewhat segregated.

The Medina in Marrakech is very impressive, only once you get very deep into the small alley ways do you finally reach the end of the souks (markets). Most of the stalls in the Medina sell a combination of food: produce, dates & nuts, meat (cooked & raw), citrus juices, sweets & pastries; and bread; souvenirs: scarves, leather slippers, kafkans, metal lantern & light fixtures, and ceramic dishes (tajine pots); and clothing: shirts, pants, caps & beanies, pyjamas (lots), etc. There are also shops for electronics, phones, home goods, linen, and pretty much everything you can think of - there are also corner shops that usually have a a selection of water, pop, juice, yogurt, butter, jam, nutella, chocolate bars, bread (fresh), and an assortment of other (usually) edible. The only thing I dislike about the souks is that they all try and get your attention - "hello", "excuse me", "where are you from", "lady gaga?", "student? OK I'll make you a good price", etc - which gets tiring after a while and makes me less inclined to go into that particular shop. I've even gotten into the habit of responding while I carrying on walking - whoever is trying to get you do buy or do something will give up once you leave his area, as well as avoiding unnecessary eye-contact.

Another fun and unique feature about Marrakech, and most of Morroco, is learning to dodge all sorts of traffic. Not only does crossing the street or round-a-bouts require some talent and constant vigilance, but the tiny alley ways are full of pedestrians, merchandise, donkeys, horses, carts, bycicles, and mopeds. If there is something that is well used in Morocco that is horns - as warnings, requests, let's goes, thank-yous, and welcomes. Despite the seemingly chaotic scenario, I never felt worried about getting run over, despite the honks and occasional sounds of displeasure - as a given vehicle or animal is coming in your direction - they gave you warning and are very adept at dogding people, things, and other moving objects. Due to a lack of need, space, and resources, personal cars were rare sights. Vehicularly, the streets are filled with petit & grand taxis, scooters & mopeds, buses, donkeys & horses, tourism vehicles, police & military vehicles, and bicycles.

The nice thing about staying in hostels is not only are they cheap, but you get to meet a lot of people - as with most houses, the hostels here have nice seating areas on the roofs, which make great social areas, until it gets a little chilly and then people usually pull out the blankets. Unfortunately, quite a few days in Marrakech ended up being rather chilly and rainy - things Moroccan homes are not built for. A couple of the days, most of us huddled in the indoor seating areas, under blankets, reading.

As my last full day in the city was one of those dreary days, I didn't end up going to get my bus ticket to Essaouira the day before, which is advised. So on the day of, after having breakfast, I got a cab (not my top bartering example) and paid a much-inflated price to the station. Once I got there, I found out the next bus was sold out so it would be five hours later. After hesitating and asking if there was somewhere to leave my pack, I bought the ticket and paid for my bag (found out later, you have to pay even if you just want the bag put under the bus). Again, another benefit to having a smaller pack and why I want to swap my day pack for a collapsible one is that I could have brought my pack on board and not have to worry about it getting snatched from below. As I had almost five hours to spare and pack-less, I decided to walk back into town. I stopped in the cyber park - free Wifi - and spent some time on the net. At that point I had noticed the police and military members who lined the streets and had remembered that the King was going to be in and around Marrakech that day. So when I reached the main city mosque and saw a crowd starting to form, I decided to stop and watch the festivities. In the end, seeing the King lasted about 10 seconds, despite being at the front of the barricade (with a Moroccan flag and a headshot of a much younger King). Watching the festivities and crowds had been much more interesting, exciting, and educational. It had been interesting to see that there always seems to be a "female-area" develop - waiting in Gibraltar for the ferry all the females were on the same bench (except me) and at this event a gaggle of women formed around me and another lady who got much closer to me after her friends left. Once he had arrived, I scooted off to quickly grab some lunch (at my go-to restaurant) before dashing back to the bus station. However, as buses tend to arrive and depart (30 min+) late, as well as other means of transport, so there was a good wait before heading to Essaouira.

I finished this entry while sitting on the six hour bus ride to Casablanca so far it's been an uneventful ride and my biggest hope is that my bag is still there once we pull in (really who would want to lug it away anyways...). And I did make myself pack my lunch today, which consisted of hard boiled eggs, bread, mandarins, bananas, a dessert-thingy (chocolate & peanut puff...), some almonds, figs, and dates. Other than the maggot that I found after betting into my date, it was quite good. Unfortunately this driver and/or route are not condusive to typing so I will work on the Sahara entry while in Casablanca and the Essaouira and Casablanca entries on my way to Jordan.

-Alex

One of the main arteries from the main road to the Medina & souks - this is the road I wandered down a couple times before finding my hostel. When I took this picture everthing was closed, but imagine that shops on both sides are open with products on the either side, there are pedestrians walking both ways with bycicles, donkeys, and mopeds winding through. It makes for quite the cluster!

Waiting on the bus to leave for Essaouira - took Supratours which is affiliated with the national train (ONCF) which runs buses where their trains don't go. 

The intended photo of the cyber-park that I had tried to upload while I was there!

(I finally figured out how to put explanations with each photo when using the blogger app.) 

Next post - the desert -  to come shortly!

Sailing to Africa & Arriving in Morocco

After my day exploring Gibraltar, it was time to get ready for my move to Africa. Busing back to the airport to get my bag and back to the city; I ended up going to the old (now closed) ferry terminal. After getting directions from the customs agent, I hurried my way to the cruise terminal (down the road). I was sure I was in the right spot when I arrived at a group of Arab men who were standing around with all their stuff and waiting outside of the gate - they only let pedestrians through once the boat is on its way. So I, somewhat awkwardly, jointed the awaiting group. It turned out that there were only two of us that were not Moroccan - the other being a Gibraltarian who had made the crossing many times. I ended up following him around as he knew the ropes and I was rather out of my element. Apparently he no longer made the trip via Algeciras or Tarifa due to the souring relations between Gibraltar and Spain, which has caused issues at the border.

Once the boat was on route, we were allowed through and after going through "security" (I was waived through) we moved to the waiting lounge. After another hour of waiting there was finally signs of impending departure. Once we boarded the ferry, via the car deck, we scurried upstairs and went through the passport control officer. After filling out a small form with our basic information, we saw the officer who checked that we filled everything out, entered something on a computer, and, rather violently, stamped our passports. As I was standing behind the Gibraltarian (one of the Moroccans had inquired as to whether I was with him), one of the Moroccan women pulled me to the side - what I understood to be the proper procedure for women. However, it caused a little confusion as the passport officer thought I was budging and tried to tell me to go to the back of the line until the lady piped up in my favour. The sail was rather uneventful other than a German lady being shocked that I was going to Morocco without covering my hair. Once we arrived, we all scampered off and had our passport stamps verified. At that point we went to find the bus to Tangier as we had arrived in the new port, a good 45 minutes away from the city.

Once the bus arrived (coach style) there was a little confusion/delay until we were able to board and head out. It was a smooth ride, but not that interesting as it was pitch dark. For a reason unknown to me, the guy behind me had his GPS on and it kept trying to give him directions - rather annoying. Arriving at the apparent bus terminal (in the day the actual place is visible), I hopped off the bus with a game plan - having previously downloaded a guidebook on my tablet, I found an entry of a hotel that offered Wifi and was decently priced. So after telling the man who was trying to "help" me (according to him he was an official from the bus company), I just told him I had everything prepared and walked away despite his protests. In reality, I had a place in mind and an idea of how to get here. So I wandered to where I saw taxis lined up - later realizing that they were grand taxis and not city, petit taxis. I walked up to one of the drivers and asked to go to Holland Road - managing (I think/thought) to agree on 50 Dirhams (rather than the initial 100) with another driver, we set off. My driver turned out to be extremely helpful and interested in my travels. He brought me straight to the hotel and despite looking disappointed at the 55 Dirham I pulled out, left on a friendly note. I walked up to the, thankfully 24 hour, reception and asked for a room. He looked a little surprised, but hopped up - and after stopping to fix a washroom - showed me a room. It was nothing glorious, but at that point I just needed somewhere to lay my head. So I went back down to finish the booking for the night.

I ended up talking to the employee and a reporter who had popped his head out to see what was going on. They were both friendly and interested in my travels and studies; however, being rather frazzled and tired it was not my top notch performance. In the morning, I finally dragged myself out of bed to pay for a second night so that I could keep my room for the day before leaving that night to Marrakech on the night train. Breakfast was a little meagre as I only had the snacks that I had been carrying with me and was too lazy to move very quickly. First stop was the train station, preferring to walk my way around, I looked up the directions on Google Maps and with a vague to decent idea of where I was going headed off. As I left, the morning receptionist looked rather surprised at my presence as well, but then again so did the cleaning ladies. As I trotted down the main avenue, it wasn't too much of a shocker, especially after coming from Europe it was easier to see the influences. Although there was a definite predominance of men, especially in cafes, and most women were wearing hijabs, etc. It was a decent hike of not knowing where I was going, but having to follow the major road definitely helped - being overly keen I did take one wrong turn and had to turn myself around through rather muchy streets (I prefer to not back track when possible). Finally, I reached a rather large round-about with four large arteries and what looked as if it could be a train station - also the new developments were becoming fewer. It ended up being the station and I bought a ticket for a bunk bed on the train to Marrakech, a ten hour trip.

For the remainder of the day, I wandered back to the hotel after grabbing some groceries then headed out to wander through the Medina (the old city), which was filled with tiny streets (dead ends that I found frequently). There were many merchants trying to sell everything from produce, clothing & shoes, fish & meat, toys, and everything and anything else you could want - quality varying. After making about three laps of the Medina - it's pretty small in comparison to other cities - I decided to find my way down to the old port. As there were a good number of people - follow the people - I carried on walking along what looked like a seawall. Well that's because it was, but think Stanley Park without the squirrels, trees, and bikes. At this point between travelling and already walking almost 10 kilometres, I was a little tuckered and was hoping my walk would be over soon. It lasted another good five kilometres as I finally made it around the city walls (all very hilly) and wound my way back to the hostel - stopping for a chicken shawarma. The seawall was neat to walk along, I got to see the city from a different angle including the sheep, garbage (plastic), and old constructions, as well as watch the people along the way. Once back, I packed up my ruck once again and then curled up for a pre-snooze, snooze then trotting off to get my train.

Not wanting to get into another Grand Taxi - they are taxis that are typically old Mercedes that go between cities, charge more, and fill up to 6 passengers - I walked toward the main street. Coming to the realization that it seemed to be rush hour and most drivers weren't keen on picking someone up with a pack, the size of mine, I trotted off towards the station at a good pace (my quick tempo). Making it there still half an hour before the scheduled departure, I was in good time, not too sweaty, and a little more revived. Once the platform appeared on the screen, I went through and found my compartment with the assistance of one of the employees - knowing French is extremely handy here, although it means my very rusty Arabic is staying in the background (Dari comes to mind easier still).

As I waited in my little berth, I thought I might luck out and have it all to my lonesome, but another lady popped in having only bought her ticket then (I was basing occupancy on the fact that only my linen had been put out). We eventually got talking and I found out that she lives in Marrakech, but is from Tangier. Not wanting to pry too much, I am presuming she was visiting family and on her way home. As with good Moroccan generosity and hospitality, she welcomed me to Morocco and offered me part of her pizza - the offering when she already ripped into two, says "you can have some", and practically shoves it at me (kindly). So we talked for a bit more about Morocco, Canada, and accidently religion. It all turned out fine, it was more the "opps" factor of what I had opened up. The rest of the ride was quite leisurely, once we closed our door she took off her hiqab and settled in, and I set into typing my previous blog until I was too snoozy.

Parts of the city, culture, and infrastructure do resemble Afghanistan (as it is all that I have to compare within the Middle East) and that is a theme that has so far continued - mud & sand, hospitality & generosity, and social interactions. However, there are definite elements from European influences, as well as prosperity that is greater than Afghanistan at least. Oh and the tea! I almost forgot about the light tea (mint/black or green) with LOTS of sugar - no exaggeration.

Hopefully this entry is as decent as the others, writing it now I am noticing that things are already a little blurred with the next places. I am going to go explore more of Essaouira and will work on writing Marrakech's entry before I leave so that I am back on track.

-Alex

*Pictures include: me & my pack in the Tangier hotel (that's pretty much my look everything time I move); my hotel room in Tangier, the train compartment to Marrakech, and where I was writing most of this entry - eating breakfast in Essaouira.