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.