Marrakech, Morocco: The City of Fabulous Mayhem

Twelve hours ago I left Marrakech, Morocco and my head is still spinning. Granted, that could just be my extreme exhaustion. It turns out Jared and I had the wrong time throughout the entire weekend. A very friendly Moroccan Spanish man who sat by us on the plane ride there said that Marrakech was only one hour behind Madrid, when it is in fact two hours behind. This didn't matter much at all Thursday, Friday, or Saturday since I didn't see another clock the entire time, so I never doubted it. Then this morning, when Jared and I had to be up to catch our taxi at 6am, we sat in the lobby an hour early before one of the hostel's few employees came out and pointed out our mistake. Without enough time to go back to sleep, we spent the hour writing postcards and listening to the first day's prayer which was being broadcast from all of the mosques throughout the city.

There is so much to say about our visit to Marrakech that I feel overwhelmed when even considering where to start in this post. I suppose the best place to begin is with the most basic fact about our trip: Visiting Morocco was absolutely one of the best things I have ever done in my entire life. Despite the brevity of our visit, it was everything I could want out of a trip. This is not to say that it was always comfortable, relaxing, or easy. It's actually quite the opposite. Marrakech is an incredibly vivid and overwhelming place. Our hostel was located a two-minute walk away from the center square, which is the center of this giant market. At every corner, there was someone trying to pull us into their shop to buy their trinkets. Every time we even glanced in the general direction of a street vendor, he'd try to rope us in with his limited English vocabulary.

Our first afternoon there we met a particularly friendly local named Abdul who gave us an impromptu tour of the old market. Jared warned him that we didn't have much money to give up at the beginning, but Abdul insisted he did it only to practice his English. While our host was a bit too aggressive for my taste, (that seemed to be a common characteristic of Moroccan men), he did show us a part of the city we wouldn't have found on our own. He showed us where all of the little trinkets and shoes and purses are made to be sold in the market-- the tanneries, the giant vats of dye, the artisans workshops. We walked with him for an hour or so before deciding to turn back, at which point he seemed to forget how much he only wanted to practice English and asked for a "little gift" in exchange for his time.

Before embarking for Morocco, we had been warned that food poisoning was basically inevitable. This warning had come only twenty-four hours before we took off and left me feeling pretty freaked out. Somehow, our intestines survived, though, and neither of us got sick despite drinking the tap water (don't worry-- we checked online and with our concierge first) and eating a wide variety of rich Moroccan food. The smells and flavors of the kebabs, tangine dishes, and exotic fruits and vegetables were intoxicating. There was one restaurant in particular we visited every day, mainly for their awesome juices. We sampled every one they had to offer, but my favorites were definitely the banana and the avocado.

The in-flight magazine I read on the way to Marrakech described the city as a place of "fabulous mayhem" and I don't think any other description could be more accurate. Every street provided a new set of sights, sounds, smells, and characters I know I'll never forget.