Marrakesh, Wednesday 15 October
The highlights of Marrakesh cannot be done in the morning but we tried. Abdullah our local guide takes us to a beautiful old Mosque (which we are not allowed to go in), we pass one of the beautiful Rose gardens in the centre of town and head to the Prime Ministers Palace.
The Rose gardens are fascinating mostly because they are filled with beautiful fragrant specimens in all colours planted in long acres and because the temperature has just dropped from the summer highs of 40 to 50 degrees. It is amazing the roses survived, mostly this is due to the aqueduct system established by the city founders to capture water from the mountains which also feeds the gardens – public and private.
Modesty is a revered attribute for Moroccans. Here again houses are very simple on the outside, but in Marrakesh they are all varying shades of ochre – a house colour proclaimed as the only colour to be used - sounds like it is more of a marketing strategy than anything but it also visually ties the real estate together as a mass and gives the impression of scale and (that not to be forgotten commodity) cleanliness.
Instead of showing wealth on the outside, the further one goes into a house the more that will be revealed. We see this at work in the Palace we visit. It was built for the PM only in 1896 and there were some specific family needs - this man had more than 20 wives. A husband must be able to provide for all of the needs of his family so we gather the PM was a wealthy man. A harem includes mothers, sisters, daughters as well as wives, there must have been 100 plus women in this house. Abdullah explains that four wives is a duty to a Moroccan (before the law change)…and that all wives must by the law be treated equally…hmmmm…yeah right.
We go to an apothecary in a souk mid town. I am sure there is an obvious link between 20 wives and the Apothecary but our guides are more subtle. In any case the room we visit is lined with large jars filled with some tincture or herb for a special potion. For us he focuses particularly on beauty and anti wrinkle creams, sleeping and non sleeping potions and herbs. I learn rose essence is a mosquito repellent (sold), black cumin is great to clear sinuses (sold), and saffron is cheap here (sold). I am not sure these will all make it through customs to Brooklyn but I will see what they say when I show them.
As reward for our morning patience we are set free shopping in the Marrakesh market. I am of course very at home in these places, more than most it seems. I prefer to play with the vendors as they try and ply their products (unless they are shits of course) but many people are upset by the constant attention. I can see why. My first stop is with a man that sells belts. There are some very striking stone and silver belts and as I have shown a smidge of interest the vendor starts his banter. He tells me about the belts, where they come from, what they are made of. The ones I am interested in a marriage belts. The short version is Serious question: “Where is your husband madam? He should be buying for you”. Glib answer: “Out buying other women marriage belts”. Concerned observation: “Ah but you must be married… you need a provider.” Outrageous solution to fix my problem: “You come stay in Morocco and I will marry you”. Reality check: “Thank you but you know not what you say”. I decide I don’t really need the belt, marriage wasn’t on my shopping list.
I did though want to buy a Tangine dish and some of those gorgeous Moroccan outdoor light shades for the verandah. The more I look the more I like, the more I like the less room I have in the suitcases, and the more I think about it the less I can make a decision. I am pretty well packed up even with the extra suitcase and I just can’t see how I can physically fit in what I want. I will already be paying an extra luggage charge to get everything home. So, instead I help one or two people shop for their own special momentos. It proves to be very easy to be a hard arse when it is not your treasure you are buying but it does take time. With love em and leave em tactics bargains are quickly analysed (or not) and treasured shoes are finally secured at “very good price”. By the time we leave the market, just an hour later I find I am speaking in a kind of pigeon just like a Marrakesh Marketeer (which is better than the Kentucky accent I seem to develop when I speak to one of the couples on the bus. I don’t know why but when I am talking with them I suddenly find myself drawling and about to mimic them. They say imitation is the greatest form of flattery ( I am not sure that is it but it is becoming embarrassing…)luckily I don’t think they have noticed yet).
My other shopping requirement in Marrakesh was to get a picture with a snake charmer. Touristy I know, that’s what I wanted. There are a number to choose from but I only have two minutes to get back to the bus otherwise I will need to taxi back to the hotel. One of the group race me over to the nearest snake man. I do a quick negotiation for the picture (NZ$2!) and get ready to pose. I was expecting a cobra but these are small skinny squirmy snakes and suddenly the young snake handler wants to drape me with one. Whatever you think my response was you will be right. “Yuck!! No No No. No snaky near me, you hold”. Wondering why on earth I wanted that picture at all we snap snap and high tail it the bus.
Pic is the Marrakesh Apothecarist.
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