Home to Marrakech

Friday March 20

We loaded up and headed down the mountain to Marrakech, a drive of about two hours. Mountains flattened into the dry central plain.

 

How to move a new roof down the highway

Entering Marrakech felt like coming home. In the two days we'd spent there two weeks ago, it became that familiar.

Marrakech: palm tree cell tower

We hopped out in a major square just outside the medina, met by a local guide who led us through some narrow lanes lined with private homes. We learned how to decode the doors of these homes: the patterns of nails on the door is supposed to indicate the number of rooms within. Sometimes. Moroccans like to keep their doors humble, we were told, not ostentatious. Sometimes. Many of the doors are two doors in one, a big one surrounding a smaller one, each with its own knocker. This is for security. A woman will not answer a knock at the big door. So we were told.

I know I sound cynical. There is tradition and there is reality. They exist side by side here.

Traditional door in Rabat (didn't get any shots in Marrakech)

A not-so-humble door to a home

Somewhere between the big square and the traditional doors, I lost my left hearing aid. It was a sunglasses on, sunglasses off kind of day, and I must have flipped it off during a change over. It’s under warranty, but I’ll have to live with half of my hearing for a few weeks until I can get it replaced. Nuisance.

Site of lost hearing aid

We were led to a herb/spice/cosmetics store (a cooperative, likely) where we were given a wonderful lesson on how ingredients are used. Ever hungry to shop, some of us spent a good deal of money there on scents and flavours. With my tiny bag, I was not tempted to load up, but I did buy a bag of harissa, dried chilli, because we can’t get it at home. When I buy harissa paste, it goes past due date before I can use it up. Now I can mix my powder with oil just as I need it.

Koutoubia Herbal: spices and cosmetics

Our tour ended with that shop, and Mariam took us to Jemaa el Fna (old home!) to go to the bank. We needed to load up with cash for her tip, right? Then we were set free for an hour to get lunch. Sue and Milica opted to hang with Mariam in a café, while the rest of us returned to Café Bazaar, where Bettyanne and I had had a great lunch on the rooftop about a lifetime ago. This time, we ate on the ground floor, as the roof was full. Just as well — we would have been sweltering up there. How did a two-hour drive take us from freezing to boiling? Morocco!

A quiet medina, due to Eid holiday

When we met up with the others, Mariam led us to our new accommodation, the Riad La Cle d’Or.  It’s about a 20-minute walk from Jemaa el Fna, down a busy pedestrian boulevard then through a somewhat sketchy residential neighbourhood. 

 

Landmark stop sign on the way to La Cle D'Or

Like many places we’ve been, to walk through a doorway is a bit like going through the wardrobe into Narnia: it’s a different world inside. La Cle d'Or is a complex of several riads joined together, meaning several adjoining courtyards, several fountains, gardens, and lounging areas. All first class. I would have loved it but for the distance from the centre of things, plus the fact that there were smokers in the courtyard, ruining it for the rest of us. 

Sanctuary

We got settled and tidied up, then walked out to meet Amal, who drove us through Marrakech neighbourhoods to the home where we would be hosted for dinner. This home was occupied by I think four sisters. Family homes, as I understand it, stay in the family, and the children of the family stay with their parents until they marry, traditionally. The parents of the sisters had died, several of the women had opted not to marry (not unusual, it seems, for modern Moroccan women, rejecting what marriage means in their culture), and one was divorced, returning to the family home with her children. 

Today was the first day of the festival of Eid, marking the end of Ramadan. Eid is one of two major religious and cultural festivals in Morocco, not unlike Christmas for Christians. People head out into the streets to celebrate, and families gather. The sisters were carrying on a rousing party in the next room, while they hosted us in a room for ourselves. They’d pop in now and then to chat with Mariam, and their children joined us. The little boy rounded the whole table, kissing each of us on the cheek, a little gentleman. One of the sisters, a henna artist, decorated our palms.

My hennaed hand. The sparkles are for momentary fun, to be rubbed off once the henna has dried.

This is a typical middle-class home in urban Morocco

Dropped off near Jemaa el Fna, some of us chose to stay to experience the square. But compared to two weeks ago, it was crazy busy. There were thousands crowding the square. As we began to watch one musical group, Vicki felt someone opening her jacket pocket. She didn’t have anything of value in it, but we decided not to hang around. Eid being a two-day holiday, tomorrow would be just as nuts in Jemaa el Fna. I’m grateful I was able to be there in calmer times. 

We made our way though crowds of celebrators to the sanctuary of our riad.