The “Place” is the Place

 

The Place Jemaa el Fna (Place rhymes with “bass”) is where it all happens in the Medina of Marrakech. A large open square, virtually empty during the day, transforms itself into a huge open market at night, populated by thousands of vendors, locals and tourists haggling over everything from spices too henna tattoos. 

 

Place Jemaa el Fna has been the centre of Marrakech life for centuries and up till the 19^th Century, served as the site for all public beheadings.  Now the only people losing their heads are tourists who become overwhelmed by the mass of humanity filling the square each evening.  

 

 

It is a surreal feeling as we entered the square. The air is thick with smoke from the dozens of food stalls that miraculously spring up out of nowhere each evening. It was like a scene from “Apocalypse Now”.

 

 

 

There was still a bit of daylight, so we went in search of food while we could still see how it was prepared. Normally, I avoid “street food” but this being “square food”, we were prepared to take a chance.    

 

 

 

 

Our sketchy meal over, we headed out in search of a henna tattooist we met in the afternoon. She assured us she would be there and we had pre-negotiated a fee of 60 dirhams for Nonie to receive a simple henna tattoo on her foot.  There were dozens more tattoo artists, all wearing the same clothing so after a fruitless search, Nonie gave up and approached a group of tattooists. 

 

They immediately surrounded her, pushing her down onto a little stool while peppering her in several languages. Hearing English, they all backed away leaving Nonie to be engaged by the English speaking tattooist, who was wearing a hijab and veil so only her eyes were visible. Traditional henna tattooist wear. She sat down on a stool across from Nonie and presented her with a portfolio of henna designs to choose from. Nonie chose a small and simple design. 

 

The tattooist congratulated her on a wonderful choice and with a laugh offered her a price 5 times what we had been quoted that afternoon.  Things went south quickly when Nonie offered her 60 Dirhams. This seemed to offend her and her friendly demeanor took on a markedly darker tone as Nonie stuck to her guns regarding price. With much disgust she agreed to 60 after Nonie got up several times and started to walk away. 

Nonie chose to have the tattoo placed on the top of her foot which required her to remove a sandal.  The tattooist completed her work in less than two minutes, and then with a hint of malice told Nonie that it would take up to an hour for the henna ink to dry. This meant Nonie could not put her sandal back on for an hour or risk messing up her tattoo.   

 

  

So there she sat, in the dark, in the middle of the Place, on a tiny little stool, completely ignored by the tattooists, her foot propped on a stool but maintaining her dignity, waiting for “the ink to dry”.

As dusk turned to dark, the vendors began dragging out battery operated lamps so that they could continue offering their wares to the passing tourists.  Many wore headlamps that would bob and weave in the dark as they worked their entrepreneurial skills while waving glow sticks to point out their bargains to passing tourists. It was like a Disney light show.

 

 

With Nonie indisposed for the next hour, I took the opportunity to wander deeper into the Souks around the Place. Almost allowed myself to sit down to enjoy a cup a tea with the owner of a carpet stall, but thought better of it, didn’t want to give him any false impressions that I was in the market for a carpet. So standing, I enjoyed a little banter with him.  He had a cousin who lived in Vancouver and seemed very interested in hearing about Vancouver, asking many questions, all the while continuing to try and sell me a carpet. I suspect he has cousins in most major cities in North America and Europe.

 

 

Running out of things to say about Vancouver, I returned to find Nonie still ensconced on her tiny little stool, but with dry henna. We continued our exploration of the Place el Fna.  Except for the electric lamps used by the vendors, there is little lighting in the square. With low light, the Place filled with people and throw in thick clouds of smoke coming from the food stalls, made visibility very poor and hampered my search for another of the squares most sought after features.

 

 

 

 It is well known that the snake charmers aren’t really charming.  Well at first, they are charming when you show any interest in taking their picture as they expect to be paid.  Be aware, a let them know how much you will pay up front.

 

 

 

 

 

I offered my charmer 50 Dirhams to remove his Cobra for a Kodak moment. He agreed immediately.  No flash please, don’t want to spook the little guy. At this point Nonie disappeared as snakes are not her thing. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After a few photos, , he places the cobra back in the basket and takes another snake, insisting that I wrap it around me while one of his assistants who now had me hemmed in was trying to grab my camera.  Before I knew it, I was wearing the snake like a shawl and the assistant was snapping away like crazy on my camera.

 

 

He indicated he had a few more snakes and started to wrap them around me.  Getting a little squeemish, I had to yell to get him to stop and remove the ones I already wore.  I offered him the 50 Dirham note but as expected he demanded much more. Before responding, I safely retrieved my camera back from his assistant then in a nice loud voice replied that he had agreed to 50 Dirhams. Things started to get pissy so I took his hand, slapped the 50 into it and made my way quickly into the darkness. I felt so empowered.

 

 

 

 

Finally overwhelmed by the crowds, we made our way back to the hotel. Tomorrow we leave for Casablanca.

Lost in the Medina

 

 

Old Marrakech was not hard to find as it was only three blocks from our four star hotel.  So armed with a colourful tourist map, we waded out into the brilliant sunshine. It was going to be a hot one today.

 

 

 

 

The medina of Marrakech dates back to the early 11 century and is a UNESCO World   Heritage site and like all good medina’s, it is encircled by 19 kilometres of mud wall.

We entered by the Bab El Jedid.  (Bab is Moroccan for city gate) It is no longer a gate, but a four lane boulevard into the heart of the medina.  It has only been since the mid 19^th Century that infidels were allowed to enter the medina without permission of the sultan.

Once through the gate we could see a glimpse of the minaret of the Koutoubia Mosque which was to be our first stop in the search for Old Marrakech.

The original mosque was built in the early 12^th Century.  During a renovation of the mosque in the mid 12^th Century, it was found to be incorrectly oriented to Mecca.  A very big NO NO, so another mosque, was built with the correct orientation, adjacent to the first one and finished sometime in the late 12^th Century.  

Over time the original was allowed to deteriorate till only the pilings are left today.

The minaret overlooking the mosque is 77 metres high and it is said that it can be seen up to 29 kilometres away. This is partly due to the 12^th Century, Marrakech Building Bylaw that limited building heights in the medina to no higher than the height of a palm tree so that the minaret would always be the highest point in the medina.  

As do most entrepreneurial business men around the world, Moroccans like to stretch this bylaw to the limit.

From the mosque we went in search of Bab Agnaou, a 12^th Century gate that would lead us in to the Kasbah Mansour and the Tombeau Saadians. (Saadian Tombs), the final resting place for the Saadi dynasty.  It has been meticulously restored.

My chosen route should also take us by the Kasbah Mosque, another 12^th Century mosque, though so much renovated to have lost its original look.  








Thus began the beginning but not the end of our lost time.  Let me warn any travelers planning to visit a medina, you will get lost. Accept the inevitable and don’t stress it. The best way to avoid getting lost is not to have a destination. You cannot be lost if you aren’t trying to get anywhere.  Just wander around following the other tourists to their destinations. You may end up visiting the same place twice but it will be more fun and less stress. My superior tourist map skill had us finding the gate with only minimal lost time. Finding the Tombs was another problem.  Frustration finally overcame  reticence and we sought directions from a local carriage driver.  

We were directed to a narrow, dark alley at the side the Kasbah Mosque. A hand painted sign “Tombeau Saadiens" enticed us to enter the alley. Way down at the end, we could see what looked like a ticket booth where for 10 dirhams we were issued flimsy paper tickets and pointed down an even narrower corridor.  

Around several blind corners we came to a gap in the wall, stepped through and found ourselves in a beautiful, shaded and cool courtyard, the entrance to the tombs.




 

Leaving the tombs, we headed back out onto the hot dusty streets to find the Palais el Badi, home of the Sultan Ahmad al Mansour. Built in the late 16^th Century, it was then known as one the wonders of the Muslim world.  Map in hand, taking a careful sighting, we soon found ourselves once again, lost in the medina. 

 

A stranger sensing our plight, offered to lead us to the Palais. Normally, I would caution anyone, not to follow total strangers that offer to take you, but it was hot and in a moment of weakness, we agreed. He led us off the street and into a narrow alley which wound its way in so many directions I was completely disoriented in minutes. From the alley, he took us up a set of mud stairs, down a hallway and lo and behold we had arrived at his destination. 

The Palais Carpet Mart and Souvenir shop.  Thankfully the place was busy with other lost tourists so all the sales associates in our area were busy with them. We made our way through the labyrinth of carpets and souvenirs, dodging salesmen, looking for the nearest exit.  Whether it was skill or luck, we made it outside without a carpet or souvenir.  

Back out on the street, we found ourselves really lost.  Asking for directions several times, we managed to arrive at the gates of the Palais just as they closed for lunch.  So that left only one thing to do. Go for a drink, sadly just a soft drink.  With a bit more wandering in the small souks nearby, we stumbled across a small, shady plaza filled with mix of cafes, restaurants and stalls of artisans constructing all manner of things out of copper, brass and tin with nothing but hammers, anvils and shears.
 

The heat was becoming quite oppressive so Lora Lei decided to head back to the hotel for a nap. After dropping her off near the hotel we headed once more into the medina to look for the Place Jemaa el Fna.  The square was our destination tonight as it is much better seen in the evening. Our thinking was to find it in the daylight and avoiding lost time this evening.  

 

Another two hours of lost time wandering through the different souks in search of the elusive square.  

Things haven't changed much in the medina.

The temperature had reached  37 C so we headed back to our air conditioned room and nap to prepare us for the evening.

Oh! We did find the square.

 

Marrakech / Marrakesh, Tomato / Tamato

 

 

How do you pronounce Marrakech / Marrakesh?  The correct spelling is Marrakech but is pronounced Marrakesh.  Morocco was a French protectorate from 1912 to 1956 and the French pronounce “ch” as a soft “sh” sound and so the confusion began for us English speakers who pronounce “ch” as “ch.

 

 

 

 

Once again perceptions of what I expected to see on our arrival into Marrakech / Marrakesh and what reality presented me differed greatly.  My vision was of an old, ancient city with narrow, crowded streets,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

dark, swarthy Moroccan men lounging around in street cafes, drinking tiny cups of coffee, looking very mysterious and dangerous, a tie die of hippies intermingling with them, sucking in lung fulls of smoke from 6’ high hookahs,

 

 

 

 

 

 all the while being watched carefully by German spies and French soldiers.  You must understand, my perceptions were created mostly from the movies and the counter culture of the 60’s. So those of you born in the 50’s can relate.  Things got a little muddled.

 

 

What I found was a very modern city with Starbucks, MacDonald's, no hippies and if there were any German spies about, they were very good at blending in to the background.    

 

  

 

We arrived at our hotel in the late afternoon.  This was the end of our guided tour and we had to say goodbye to Jamal.  We will spend tomorrow seeing Marrakech / Marrakesh and leave by train for Casablanca the following day.  Our first order of business after checking in was to find the train and organize our tickets for Casablanca. 

 

 

Marrakech has a nice new train station and about a 20 minute stroll from our hotel. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We found the streets clean, wide, shaded by huge palm trees, lined with ritzy hotels and filled with expensive cars.  

 

 

 

 

 

If it weren’t for the palm trees you could have thought you were in Vancouver with the snow capped Atlas Mountains in the distance.   

  

 

 

Tomorrow we will look for old Marrakech.  It must be out there somewhere.