Don and Veronica's Post Card From Holland: A Moroccan Adventure Part 1

Riding on the Marrakech Express

Semester break. What better time to escape the snow and ice of Holland. Just like snow birds from Canada or New York fleeing to Florida, we decided to go south too- all the way to Morocco. So we booked a cheap flight with our friends David and April and packed our bags for the three and a half hour flight.

Our flight took us directly over Paris at night, with crystal clear skies. The lights of the city sprawled out everywhere beneath us, and even at 20,000 feet, the Eiffel tower was clearly discernible. We continued on over the Costa del Sol and Gibraltar, all neatly outlined in light and clearly visible. Following down the Moroccan coast, we flew directly over Casablanca. Peering out the plane’s window, I was almost sure I could just make out Rick’s American Café and Major Strausser’s car hurrying out to the airport.

Before long we had landed at Marrakech and connected up with the driver who would take us to our Riad. He narrated the various sites we were passing along the way as he zipped in and out of traffic oblivious to any traffic rules, if such existed. Into the old walled town (the medina) and down a suspicious looking alley, past night-time crowds of people loitering on the street, finally he stopped in a narrow street filled with people and donkey carts. “This way”, he said, getting out of the cab. He led us up to an unassuming door in a plain cement wall in an anonymous building. We rang the bell.

The Riad "Fantasia"

The owner, a pleasant middle aged French woman, answered and led us inside.

It was beautiful. An interior courtyard with a fountain was surrounded by 2 levels of balconies. This unassuming exterior and elaborate inside are typical of Moroccan Riads, we found out. Historically, a Riad was the house, including a lush garden, of a well-to-do merchant, located in the market. Thus the unassuming exterior was practical for security reasons. Now days, of course, the affluent live in the new modern part of the city, so these residences are being restored and have now become the Moroccan version of “B and B’s.” We were welcomed to the “Riad Fantasia” with Moroccan mint tea, and after checking in, retired to our private room and snuggled into our bed. Tomorrow, we would begin exploring the old town.

The Marrakech Square "Djemaa el Fna"

Marrakech is a vibrant bustling city with a population of about a million, which includes about 10,000 retired Europeans. It is located in the south of Morocco on an arid plain with the snow capped Atlas mountains visible in the distance. Although it goes back to the 11th Century, it is a modern city with wide boulevards and new buildings. It has big plans to become the “Palm Springs” of Morocco, with as many as a dozen new golf courses in the planning. It also has the largest traditional market (souk) in Morocco, and the busiest and most famous old town “square” (it is anything but square) in the world, the “Djemaa el Fna”, the nerve center of the city. For hundreds of years, acrobats, performers, musicians, story tellers, merchants, and characters of all sorts have gathered here to earn money and sell their wares. Every sundown, huge open food stalls are set up, turning the square into one large open-air restaurant. The area has taken on a reputation as a unique and magical showcase of Moroccan culture, and has been declared a UNESCO World Heritage site. The square is alive with activity and the air is filled with smoke from the food stands, while a vast array of music and other chaotic sounds compete for our attention. It has a carnival- like feel to it, with games and street performers hustling the tourists as they stroll through.

Veronica matches wits with a Cobra.

The centerpiece, of course, is the snake charmers. Each is surrounded by a half a dozen BIG snakes, and includes at least a couple cobras. Real cobras, as in co·bra n. 1. The deadliest snake in the world, capable of lunging more than a meter to strike its prey, which usually dies shortly afterwards of paralysis. 2. Not a plaything to be used as a prop for tourist pictures. The snake charmer looks like a grizzled older guy. I can’t help but wonder how many snake charmers actually make it to his age. I wouldn’t want to be one of these guys when they have a bad day at the office. He is swaying slightly as he plays a haunting repetitious melody on his instrument. I lean over to him and offer him 20 durhams to play “Another One Bites the Dust.” He gives me a puzzled expression. Lost in translation, I guess.

It occurs to me that this would never work in the U.S. I suspect that OSHA just would never allow it. They would require the charmers to have a standby medical emergency and psychological counseling team. You would have to sign a release of liability before taking your picture with the snake charmer. The snakes would probably be required to have warning labels attached, like “Caution: Cobras can be dangerous to your health,” or “Caution: To be used by professional snake charmers only. Do not try this at home.” It just wouldn’t be the same.

"I'm sorry, you won't fit in my luggage!"

Veronica is posing with the trained monkeys now, next with the cobras, then finally with the medicine men who look like they are wearing gaudy victorian lamp shades on their heads. None of them are the least bashful about demanding 40 or 50 Durhams after they have thrust their animal or themselves at you uninvited for you to pose with for pictures. “Only paper money!” the man with the lamp shade on his head tells me.

Navigating the narrow street (if you can even call it that) from The Square to our Riad is an adventure in itself and not one for the fainthearted. It is perhaps one lane wide, no sidewalk, cobble stone, lined with connected cinderblock and stucco buildings, and filled shoulder to shoulder with people, many dressed in the traditional jalaba (a full length robe with a pointed hood), rushing from place to place. Although cars are not allowed on it, this does not apply to motorbikes, donkey carts, or horse drawn carriages, which roll through the crowd oblivious to the people. A donkey cart rolls by with something big and motionless on it, covered by a white sheet. We figure its a snake charmer-trainee who flunked out. Suddenly, along comes another motor bike at 30 miles per hour, weaving crazily through the crowd, barely missing everyone, honking the whole time.

We soon have our fill of markets and mayhem and are ready to spend a few days in the north of Morocco, in the town of Fez.

Next week: Part 2, The Medina of Fez.