Magical Marrakech

Not even one hour into the flight back to Amsterdam from Marrakech and I can’t help but continuously reflect on the last three days. There remains only one word to describe it: magical.

Why magical? It's a long one, but read on.

Visiting Morocco, Marrakech in particular, has been high on my bucket list for a long time. Morocco is one of those places that is seemingly within reach (geographically from Western Europe, at least) but teeming with intrigue and curiosity. It put me way out of my comfort zone, yet gave me a sense of place, peace and tranquillity. It’s this very juxtaposition that reminded me again of why I love to travel, to explore, to experience the unknown.

It was just three days. It was too short. It was also an eternity. Life is harsh in the dessert. Life is harsh when you leave the western world. Life is harsh when you leave the comforts of home and head out blindly into the unknown.

This is all my opinion as a westerner, of course. I cannot help but wonder how the natives feel. Do they see this harshness? Is it harshness to them, or is it just life? What do they see when they look at me? The old man in the small village smiles respectfully and puts his hands together wishing us peace as we drive by. We are seven women all dressed contemporary, yet respectfully modest, by western standards at least. Does he judge us? A group of young ladies hidden behind dark veils cheer and chant playfully as they walk towards a public square. In many ways, our contemporaries. I quickly try to take a picture and, to my surprise, and met with friendly waves. What do they think as they see these people from another world pass by?

I joined some friends in London Friday night and our journey started early Saturday morning with a flight from London direct to Marrakech. In a few quick hours we ditched the abysmally cold and damp spring weather for the pre-summer desert heat and blazing sunshine.

Upon our arrival we headed straight to our Riad (a large Moroccan house which centers around a courtyard), which was located in the medina. As we drove into the medina I faded out of the conversation, my eyes fixed on the sights and sounds around me. It was a wonderful world of chaos that seemed to be frozen in time. There were no Tesla taxis like you see in Amsterdam, or European luxury cars zipping about.

No, it was a place where dusty motorbikes and bikes zigzagging through the narrow roads meet carts pulled by donkeys whilst beaten up cars from the 80s and pedestrians also fight for the road. Women covered from head to toe. Old men bent over on the side of the road. Children kicking around a football. Street purveyors shouting loudly to lure customers in. Colourful mosques and interestingly designed buildings that look to be straight out of Aladdin. Narrow twists here, tight turns there. Lots of close calls. A vehicle not made for this environment dutifully carries seven western women who seem out of place in this world.

The van pulls over and it’s time to get out. We’re instructed to just keep walking, not to stop to engage the men who will try to ‘help’ direct us. They are looking for payment. I’m instantly reminded of a comment my friend made over text just hours before (“Send pics! Just don’t mugged like I did,” he said).  We become the pedestrians dodging the other forms of traffic, clutching our bags and rushing to keep up with our guide. The men are starring. I feel like a target. It feels very uncomfortable.  

And then we arrive at a door. A small key is turned in a miniscule hole and the doors open wide to a Moroccan oasis. Our safe haven in this foreign land. We’re greeted, asked to sit in the sitting area and served traditional tea and cookies. The tea is strong and sweet. The cookies have colourful sprinkles. Instantly I am happy!

We’re shown to our rooms. Beautifully decorated with thoughtful touches. The exquisite lamps, beaded pillows, Middle Eastern style rugs. Is this what it looks like behind the tightly closed doors of the other dwellings inside the medina?

We got to experience what I would classify as four different worlds in Morocco in our short time: Life in the chaotic media, life in the modern-day Marrakech, life in the desert and life in the mountains.

Day 1 was a combo of life in the medina and life in the modern world. We set off soon after arrival to visit the Majorelle Gardens and Yves St. Laurent museum – a must-do for anyone visiting Marrakech! I learned so much about YSL – who he was, how he came to be the designer he was, and his adoration for Morocco. The deep Moroccan blue colour that inspired his work is tastefully splashed throughout the perfectly manicured garden. The simple elegance of the artfully arranged cactus jump out at you. It was truly stunning. I could’ve stayed in that garden all day.

What a world it was though. Ladies with their designer bags and chic, yet modest, outfits. The faces of men and women looked relaxed and their skin youthful and smooth regardless of age. The contrast to what we experienced in the medina could not have been greater. Yet these people were from all over world – Middle Eastern, Asian, African, Western. Two completely different Marrakech’s. The architecture outside the medina also reflected this more modern feel. 

Our evening continued with a delicious, yet admittedly touristy dinner at Barometre. Upscale Moroccoan dishes with traditional tastes but modern flair paired with an artisanal cocktail menu. Outside was definitely Morocco, inside I could’ve been in New York. But it was delicious nonetheless and a wonderful place to celebrate one last birthday dinner. Absolutely no complaints.

Our taxi driver took us back to the medina. He parked the van and walked us to the Riad door. The streets were less crowded now, but the level of stress still high. And another main difference: there were no women anywhere in sight. Young boys were playing outside. Old men convened outside the bodega. Young men eyed us as we walked by, occasionally calling us names and saying inappropriate things. The feminist in me was outraged, but I had been pre-warned.

If the first day was a cultural awakening on all different levels, that first night proved to be the cherry on top. I don’t know too much about the Muslim religion. I know that devout Muslims pray several times a day, not dissimilar to those who are devout in other religions, but what I did not know was that prayer continues through the night. Perhaps I was ignorant in thinking the call to prayer would start again at sunrise. After all, I do value a good night’s sleep!

Anyway, the call to prayer from the local mosque startled us at 3:50am and went on for what seemed like an eternity. It was so interesting. I had never heard that before. It was also in this moment I couldn’t help but have two very opposite, yet distinct feelings. On one hand I found it to be very beautiful. There was a peacefulness to it. A slow, steady rhythm that went on and on. And yet, admittedly, I found it terrifying. Mostly fear of the unknown. Lack of knowledge about the religion. Instantaneously I was put in touch with so many biases – some unconscious and some conscious - whether projected upon me by my own culture and religion or those formed on my own. In that moment, although half asleep, I was hyperaware. I cannot shake that feeling. It made me curious. I want to know more.

The next morning we awoke to a delicious breakfast spread elegantly laid out for us in the courtyard of the Riad. Moroccan crepes and pancakes fresh off the griddle accompanied by fresh, fruitful jams. Yogurt and fruit, followed by eggs. And of course, pot after pot of tea.

Our bellies full, we geared up for a trip out to the desert. We arrived in the middle of nowhere and were greeted by some furry friends for a morning of camel riding in the desert. Our hosts outfitted us in headscarves to protect from the blistering heat, saddled up the camels, helped us up and we were off!

This was my second time on a camel, but I found this time to be more enjoyable than last. We rode in our small group with the playful guides who tried to make small talk in Frenglish (French/English) along the way. After about 40 minutes a compound arose from the dust and dunes. We dismounted and sat Indian-style on plush pillows as our host served us the most delicious Moroccan-style pancakes and freshly brewed tea. The pancakes were smothered in fresh honey and sprinkled with flavourful sesame seeds. Mixed with the lightly salted and grainy texture of the pancake, all the flavours harmoniously came together for an incredible treat. We were soon on our way, back on the camels, riding into the now midday heat. 

Our fun-filled morning was matched with a lazy afternoon by the pool. Our Riad had a sister hotel about 40 minutes away in a remote village towards the mountains. We had no idea what to expect, but this seemed like the only appropriate way to cool off in the afternoon heat.

We drove out of the medina and along the highway where I again was transfixed on the view. There wasn’t actually much to see – desert on the left, desert on the right. I marvelled at the lack of billboards cluttering the sides of the road, no large McDonald’s sign off the highway in the distance. That in itself was enough to admire.

There was no exit off the highway. We simply turned left and started to drive off the side of the road on a barely paved dirt path that led absolutely nowhere. Hmm. You can’t help but stop to think what could happen in a situation like this…

We rode along in a van that had seen better days, bumping along as the driver carefully navigated the natural contours of the road. A road made for donkies and not man. That was blatantly apparent.

We finally approached a small village – nothing more than a cluster of cave-like dwellings built into the stone. An odd person appeared here, a donkey crossed the road there. Who are these people? What are they doing here? I had so many questions.

We passed the village and were surrounded by livestock – sheep, baby lambs, rams – grazing around us. And then, finally, we arrived at this magnificent hotel which one friend simple described as paradise.  We claimed our day beds and lounge chairs and enjoyed a wonderful afternoon by the pool. We easily slid back into the comforts of the modern, western world.

That evening we celebrated my good friend Claudia’s birthday at an amazing restaurant called Comptoir Darna. This is where we stepped into modern-day Marrakech. Amidst locals dressed like you and I, we dined on traditional Moroccan cuisine – salads and dips, tagine and cous cous dishes galore accompanied by Moroccan pastries and fruits. Such a treat!

Our last day started the same as the day before – with a lavish spread of Moroccan breakfast goodies in the courtyard of our serene Riad. We then ventured out to further explore the medina in daylight, walking into the main squares and making our way over to the massive souk. What an experience! We split into two groups to more easily manoeuvre through the crowds and supported each other as we perused the markets for treasured finds. Let’s just say my bag was a bit heavier on the return trip.

After a delicious lunch of harira soup (lentils, chickpea, etc.) and kefta (Moroccan meatballs) sandwiches at the highly recommended Café des Epices, we decided to head back to spend the rest of the afternoon at the pool. Afternoon turned into evening and we stayed talking and laughing watching the most glorious sunset over the mountains.

And just like that, it’s back to reality. Back to the western world with western food and western ways of life. The first entrance to the medina, the lush and pristine YSL garden, the camel ride through the desert, the smells of spices from the market and the taste of new foods all seem like a far-off dream.

The captain has just come over the PA system. There’s exactly one hour left in the flight back to Amsterdam from Marrakech and I can’t help but continuously reflect on the last three days. There remains only one word to describe it: magical.

Hopefully you now understand why.