‘A thousand welcomes to Morocco,’ declared the beaming man holding a sign with our names on it. ‘You like the hot?’ Hot, it turns out, was an understatement. As the airport doors slid apart, a blast of dry, super-heated air had us convinced we’d actually bypassed Marrakech and landed at the gates of Hell.
Still, we knew what we were getting ourselves into when we signed up for Morocco in July and so, although quietly concerned I might spontaneously combust at any moment, we plunged into the furnace…and one of the most fascinating places we’ve been so far!
Marrakech is the stuff of magic and dreams, and our first foray into the mazes of the medina was a genuine thrill, even when John – in clear breach of our rules of engagement for a smooth souq transit – started chatting to a shop-keeper barely minutes after we left our riad. We ended up spending what felt like a thousand and one nights in the guy’s tiny store while he showed us every piece of jewellery in stock. Somehow, we managed to escape sans purchase, and there were no more smiles from him when we passed by again.
Sadly, a bomb blast destroyed one of the tourist cafes in Marrakech’s main square, Djemaa el-Fna, just two months before our arrival, so we were a little hesitant at first about hanging out there. But as soon as we wandered into this thousand-year-old World Heritage site – a thrumming hive of people and noise and smells and frantic activity, all cast in a sepia haze by the late afternoon sun – it was a fait accompli…we were hooked.
LP aptly describes Djemaa el-Fna as an open-air theatre: guys in rows of orange juice stalls beckon loudly while women wave albums of henna tattoos and shake silver bangles in your face; water-sellers dressed in vibrant red jellabas with sombrero-esque tasselled hats clang copper cups together; snake-charmers blow high-pitched tunes at angry cobras; storytellers perform for enrapt crowds and monkeys appear at tourists’ shoulders held by toothy men; bands of Gnaoua musicians play wild drum beats and throw themselves about while seedy strangers slide up whispering ‘hashish?’
It’s a lively, exciting atmosphere, crowded with locals as well as tourists, and all watched over by the impressive 12th century, 70 metre-high minaret of the Koutoubia Mosque.
In the midst of the mayhem we tried our hand, well our stomachs really, at that most quintessential of tourist sports – street food roulette! With a little trepidation, we delved into the heart of the square to find us some Moroccan cuisine. Each evening, dozens of pop-up stalls cluster in the centre of the square, attended by jolly, red-faced cooks, wizened wrinkly old mint tea makers, and savvy, pushy young Moroccan guys touting the virtues of their stall.
Based on its apparent popularity with locals, we went for stalls 31 and 1 and were rewarded with simple but delicious Moroccan fare – scrumptious olives, tasty tagines with veggies and mutton, and a mound of couscous with chicken. We weren’t disappointed. Most importantly, no after-effects.
Trying out the tasty fare in the evening food stalls of Djemaa el-Fna,
Our riad in Marrakech was a gorgeous restored house hidden down a maze of alleyways in the ancient medina. With walls of polished tadelakt (Moroccan waterproof plaster), high ceilings, a charming courtyard open to the sky, sublimely chic roof terrace, exquisite Moroccan lamps and enormous sarchophagus bathtubs, we were hard pushed to leave it!
With just two nights and one full day to play with on this first visit to Marrakech, we did our best to see what we could, covering good ground despite the 45 degree heat. We lost our way down numerous narrow passageways and struck gold with spectacular architecture and zellij mosaics in the Bahia Palace and Saadian Tombs.
Escape the heat inside Marrakech’s awesome architecture: marvellous mastercrafts await.
We also succumbed to the expert tactics of yet another exuberantly friendly local who insisted we take some of his warm pastries ‘for free, for free’ (we did refuse for a while), but then stood smiling at us benignly until we finally gave him some dirham. Travel fail.
From here, we’re hiring a driver/guide to take us the 2000+ kilometres from Marrakech to Fez via the valleys, gorges, kasbahs and deserts to the east. A very exciting five days ahead, but it’s not the last we’ll see of Marrakech – we’re back for another three days at the end!
M’a ssalama!
Good to know
Getting there
Marrakech is easily accessible by plane, train or car. Many hotels can organise an airport pick-up and drop-off, which is convenient but will cost more than a taxi at the airport. The medina, Marrakech’s old city, is a 15 minute car ride from the airport; there’s also a bus every 30 minutes.
Top tip
While some argue the food pop-ups in Djemaa el-Fna aren’t a patch on home-cooked Moroccan food (no doubt!), we reckon they’re still a bit more authentic than the nosh served up by many of the tourist restaurants that line the square. Pack hand sanitizer and give the stalls a go – pick one where there are lots of locals eating (we ate at #31 and #1 on several occasions – yum!).