Ahhh Australia! Baby Dingo!

I can only assume that when this is shouted at me in the Djemma El-Fna in Marrakesh, people are referring to the Azaria case. Such a charming image of Australia in Morocco!

In my last post I mentioned that I was on a train home to Rabat from Marrakesh. It ended up taking 5&1/2 hours! We were in second class, however on the way to Marrakesh on Friday night we payed extra and took first class. The difference between the two is about 120dhs and six seats in a compartment compared to normal rows of two.

La Gare de Marrakesh (The Train Station in Marrakesh)

 On Friday night after being shown around Rabat by Aadil, I chucked some clothes in a bag and walked to the train station, where I met up with Lexy and met John for the first time. After 2 attempts at buying my ticket (the first time he gave me the wrong destination, the second time it wasn’t 1^st class-yeah....he saw me coming)We boarded the train, John and I in one compartment with 4 other people and Lexy in another. Halfway through the journey our compatriots left, only to be replaced by three rather nice young gentlemen from Morocco and Saudi. One they realised that John could speak fluent French and I some Arabic (bit of a stretch-it hadn’t quite come back to me yet) they were very talkative, making the rest of the journey quite pleasant.



When we arrived in Marrakesh the first aim was to find a taxi. Again, as tourists, we were slugged more, but John managed to bargain it down. We had no choice, as we had no idea where we were going, although neither did the driver as we soon found out. John and Lexy had booked a hotel in the Medina called “Hotel Bellevie” and after a 30 minute taxi ride and stopping to ask for directions we made it to the medina and Riad Zitoun (Lit. “House of Olives” or “Olive House”. Don’t ask). This hotel (once we had found it in the Riad) was small, homely and charming. In all honesty, I was just grateful for a warm bed and looking forward to the normal shower and included breakfast.

A typical Moroccan Breakfast consists of Moroccan pancakes (which are square pastries that you spread with apricot jam), little round crumpet-like pancakes (also spread with jam), a hot drink such as hot chocolate or mint tea and freshly squeezed orange juice, along with bread fried in olive oil. These breakfasts are amazing. The homestay family pretty much just does toast and tea, so this was a nice treat.



The rooftop garden where we had breakfast. It's not supposed to be an arty shot, it's just genuinely bad photography.

These hats are so cute!

After consulting the Lonely Planet tourist guide (John and Lexy both have one. I left mine at home. Oops.) we decided to check out the Djemma El-Fna main square and the surrounding souks (markets). This place was a bargain hunters and hagglers dream (Portia Joyce-Tubb I’m looking at you) and we wasted no time getting lost in the hazy maze of alleys filled with stalls selling goods including spices, leather and material bags, dried fruits, slippers, lanterns, ceramics and scarves, along with the mandatory jewellery strung everywhere. Dad, I haven’t bought you a fez yet but don’t despair, it’s only a matter of time (along with the other cool hats-see picture).


Spices-a common sight in the souks

Because Marrakesh is quite a tourist mecca, the traders are quite forceful. Shouts of “hello, come to my shop!” and “lovely jubbly” when they found out John is British followed us everywhere.

A major issue of  themaze like souks and the surrounding medina is that maps don’t quite apply as they do in western countries.



The rooftop garden at "Maison de Photographie".

We decided to go to the “Maison d’ Photographie” for lunch, and it took us about 2 hours to find someone who knew where the gallery and not the “tannery” was. However, after conscripting a young boy who was for some reason holding a pigeon, we were led right to the front door, and pestered for a “thankyou gift” (10dirham-we are already tight arsed). It was well worth it though, as the place was beautiful, and we had a citron tangine lunch on the rooftop garden with the picturesque, snow-capped High Atlas Mountains in the background.

After a couple of hours and another consultation with the Lonely planet guide, we set off for the Djemma El-Fna main square, and set up camp in a rooftop hotel called El-Bahla, basically just because it had wi-fi access. At night the square comes alive and we watched as hundreds of restaurant stalls were constructed of marquees and trestle tables.

Djemma El-Fna main square at night.

Dinner at 117. It wasn't quite heaven, but the food was damn good.

We have an interesting sense of fun. As anyone who has seen these night markets and food stalls (either in Africa or Asia) will know, as you walk through you are accosted by quite forceful people who are payed to put bums on seats and sell meals. So we decided to walk through the ENTIRE area passing every restaurant. As you do… We had no sooner taken 2 steps from one restaurant where we “made no promises” and said “maybe later” and we were grabbed by someone else trying to sell his stall and food. We were told that “1 1 7 takes you to heaven” and that the food was “finger licking good” (KFC called, they want their slogan back), however, the really funny moments came when the spruikers found out where we were from. As soon as they knew that we were British, Aussie and Canadian, shouts of “Lovely Jubbly!”, “Fish and Chips”, “Baby Dingo” “Australian Open” and “Canada!” echoed through the alleys after us as we attempted to walk away whilst doubled over in laughter. And this happened in every stall we went to. We decided to eat at 117, and the waiters were great, taking photos and keeping us entertained, whilst keeping the beggars away.

A major drawback of the tourism in Marrakesh is the number of beggars and people who want money for nothing. Snake charmers, cross-dressing belly dancers (although who would know?) musicians, monkey trainers and people who are simply dressed in costume attempt to charge you for the photos you are taking of them. If you take a photo with a guy in costume, or of a dancer; or if you choose to have a monkey sit on you as john did, you will get charged for the photos you take by the number of cameras you have. If you stand at a musician or snake charmers circle (they are wide circles) long enough you are bugged for money. There is no such thing as a free show.

Like any city, Marrakesh has its highs and lows; pros and cons. You have to expect that you will get accosted and yelled at in the markets, as people want your business. It’s all about the money. On the whole, as a first experience of Moroccan culture it was amazing, but you begin to see the underside of the city as time moves on; sellers being forcibly removed and with their goods scattered by the police, sleazy men (although not all are sleazy! Some are very friendly, nice and decent) and small children that you turn away because it’s the fifth time you’ve been asked to buy a single packet of 5 tissues or have your shoes shined (canvas doesn’t shine kiddies). The gap between rich and poor begins to show through, and it becomes apparent that behind the smiling stall holders, there are a lot people who struggle.

I started at placement today, which means more stories but of a slightly different nature. I’ll try to blog every few days or so, and keep everyone in the loop when I go on a weekend trip or something interesting happens.

For now though, my love and prayers for everyone at home.

Love love!

C xx