Moroccan Madness

Morroccan Madness

I was so looking forward to getting to Marrakech, visiting the souk and finding all sorts of little treasures there. Because Marrakech is 2 and half hours by coach from the port of Casablanca, we were up and on the road by 6.30am. The streets of Casablanca were filthy and the housing looked like something similar to the pictures of the Gaza strip after a bombing. Our Moroccan guide was explaining how clean the city was just as we were viewing a park filled with rubbish, filthy streets and homes that had never been repaired. First stop a Service Station about an hour into our journey where we were to have a “free” drink and a toilet stop. Toilets had been demolished so we couldn’t stop there. Another hour into the journey, we arrived at a Service station and a quick toilet break and can of coke.  (Free though!)

The countryside on the way to Marrakech was really interesting – miles of fields filled occasionally with a sheep herder and about 50 sheep. (They were still there 8 hours later just standing in the fields with their sheep.) Occasionally there would be a donkey and cart travelling along a little dirt road to somewhere but I couldn’t figure out where as there were just miles of fields. The houses were built like compounds – open rectangles surrounded by brick walls and in one corner a small area with four walls and a roof with a satellite dish!!!! No running water, no windows or doors but TV obviously.

Later as the countryside changed to spice crops, you would occasionally see someone sitting in a field on their own picking the crop by hand. No house, or anyone else in sight.

Finally we arrived in Marrakech. You think the traffic in Paris is bad. Add horses, carts, donkeys, people on motorbikes carrying several boxes on their back, pedestrians, buses, trucks, police and the military all wandering around the roads, it’s a wonder that anyone survives the drive. Our coach did a U turn basically in the middle of a fiveways intersection!! Our Moroccan guide was a little suspect as was the “Agent” who boarded the bus and sat up the back and checked on us all. We were joined by 3 other male “minders” to walk the streets of Morocco.

First to the Palace, which according to our guide was something really special. Empty building with some interesting tiles and wooden roof.  A few graves of the kings wives and concubines with tiles on the top was supposed to be amazing. Not! On the way out, Pete saw our guide slip some money to the guard. We think he may have had a deal not to buy entry tickets to the palace but to split the money for the tickets between the two of them.

Next we were taken to the market – at last I would be able to shop for a few trinkets. Not so. We were ushered through by our guide and minders only having a quick look as we passed. The best was yet to come we were told. Special government approved place to shop.

Then we were taken to the souk. I found this part of the trip a fascinating insight into the culture of Marrakech. Tiny, tiny alleyways filled with market stall selling all kinds of amazing things, spices, clothing, jewellery, leather bags, meat, food, everything you could imagine. It was dark in those alleys but colourful. “Keep going, keep going” said our guide and the minders pushed us along. No shopping for me. I had seen a little pair of pink Moroccan slippers – perfect for Olivia, and I wanted them but not allowed to stop. Finally we came to an open area filled with more animals including the snake charmers. If you looked at them you had to pay, worse if you took a photo – they harassed you and while harassing you they put a snake around your neck and bossed you into taking a photo. Then you had to pay. I made the mistake of thinking that when the Moroccan man said “10, you pay 10 for photo” that it was 10 Euro which I gave him. However he was asking for 10 durham which is one Euro. No wonder he ran off. I have a great photo of Pete with a snake around his neck looking not so amused.

We asked about shopping, “ Of Course, of course, you will have plenty of time to shop in government approved souvenir shop” he said. We arrived there only to be herded upstairs where we were made to watch while men placed carpets on the floor in front of us. “You can touch, feel quality if you like”. But if you touched, you were expected to buy. Then we were not allowed downstairs to the “special” souvenir shop until we had looked enough upstairs. The special souvenir shop downstairs was awful too. As was lunch in the “5 star hotel”.  Our minders left us here not before demanding tips for their service.

Is this Blog a little long?   Well I wanted you to get my money’s worth of the $250 a head tour to Marrakech. Say no more!