Marrakech in March 9: The aftermath.

(If you have clicked the picture to read about Marrakech, scroll down to the bottom of the page to start with the post there called 'Marrakech 1' and work your way up to this one. There are 9 altogether))


Despite worrying about not being able to haggle in the souks, I managed to come home with a healthy cross section of all they had to offer.


My room mate said I was talking in my sleep.
'Too much choice!'
But after my initial purchase of a carpet,yes..I succumbed, and the above gorgeous green basket at knock down prices, I was away.
A 'Silver' mirror, bought in a flurry without much choosing and I am sorry its almost the same as one my friend bought a year earlier, but once we looked at it the bargaining began.

At the carpet warehouse I thought I would not be able to able to afford one, and indeed, when I saw my hearts desire and was told it was 'Only one hundred and fifty quids' I said as much.


But I needn't have worried as I eventually paid one sixth of that.

Its beautiful, woven with silk in all my favourite colours.

But I forgot to ask if its a kilim and where it was woven.

These little beads must have taken someone ages to make, and I do feel somewhat ashamed of bargaining till they became affordable.

Then I spotted the 'Berber' bag. So unique and so decorative.

There were not many places selling these so I was excited to have something original.

A deal was struck and we were both happy.

These wooden utensils are so lovely as was the maker who did not ask a ridiculously high price so I paid the price he asked.

In the Berber pharmacy we lost all sense of value..was it the result of the shoulder massage or the hard sell?

We bought cold sore cream 'Better than Zovirax' they also had a product 'Better than Immodium' and, while not exactly 'a pill for every ill,' they at least had a 'bag of mysterious organic material for every ill.' Their fingers whizzed over the calculator keypads and some unexpectedly high numbers appeared and we handed over our Dirhams by the hundred.

But somehow, like the bottle of Ouzo you bought because you drank it in a water's edge taverna on a Greek Island, does not taste quite the same on a cold wet day in Lancashire, the creams and rose cologne and block of fragrant amber that smelled so delicious in Morocco, smell sickly and overpowering back home.

An unexpected find for my two addicted-to-irony grown up sons was this.

A train set.

Tootling round the little track were, in one carriage weilding a huge rocket launcher..

George dubya,

and in the carriage in front?

Guess who?

Well I've never seen one before I just had to get them one each.

Smaller trophies were given (for a little monetary consideration )

A piece of mosaic from the pile being cut by a man at the Saadian Tombs, and the weaver in the picture in the textile post allowed me to buy one of his spools of cactus fibre threads.

On the return journey, with a baggage allowance of 20kg I hit 19.9!

I also bought some leather slippers for my husband, which when opened almost made us high with the smell of the glue, and two woolly hats which are far too big for anyone, a lovely pair of woven scarves, and some Moroccan pastries at the airport.

Ever so hygenic.

He put on a plastic glove to help, and proceeded to hand out samples with the other hand.

Since I got home I have made some felt beads for my friend like the ones here. It has made me realise how much time and effort they take and I feel rather bad about haggling.

These aren't even as good as the ones in the soukh.

As well as all these treasures I brought home some lovely memories and its been a pleasure to share them here. I will print these posts so I can keep them as my album and journal of a very special experience.

I didn't really expect anyone to be very interested so having your comments has been a bonus.

Thank you.

The 'Prime mover' in making this little trip happen is my friend Margaret who I want to encourage to resume her lovely blog.

Thank you Margaret, for getting me to Marrakech.

PS

watch this for a very antiseptic but evocative view.

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Marrakech in March 8: A Typical Meal.

These pictures have just been acquired from a fellow traveller, so I have shoe horned this post in by backdating it.

Above the carpet warehouse in one of the souks was a roof terrace where we enjoyed a 'typical' Moroccan Meal .
We started with a large central plate of salads which were all delicious. Then came the main course of food cooked in' Tajines'.


Under the very hot conical lids were extremely hot dishes containing (clockwise from the top) chicken with lemons and olives, large beans in tomato sauce, meatballs in tomato sauce, lentil stew,and cous cous with vegetables, all very bland surprisingly.

There was plenty of delicious flat bread, freshly squeezed orange juice


Followed by sliced oranges sprinkled with cinnamon.


With musicians.

Marrakech in March 7: Eating out. (not for the squeamish)

These little pastries and sweets are nothing to do with the general thrust of this post but they are so pretty aren't they?



In the evenings we ventured into Djemaa el Fnaa, the central square of the old town.

Water sellers approach to pose,


The noise is cacophanous. There are stalls selling everything from Henna tattoos to false teeth.

Snake charmers, belly dancers, and fortune tellers all vie for attention.

But beware, they can spot a camera at a thousand paces, and every photo has to be paid for.

Dozens of stalls squeeze oranges and sell juice. Dozens of others are piled with dates nuts apricots and figs.

Rows of tables covered in white cloths wait for customers from the food stalls, all shouting words of encouragement to attract diners to try snail soup, meat on skewers and lentil stew.

'Come on ladies, we are air conditioned'

I ask if these are sheeps heads.

The reply

'Yes madame..and sheep bollock, very good'

We decline their offers and move into the souks and on to our meal in the Riyad Monceau,

which is the ultimate in luxury, having a golden hand basin.

No water comes out of the tap..and the food is bland...but its sooooooo stylish.

Its Morrocco.

Marrakech in March 6 :Secret Lives

Behind the red walls of Marrakech lie hidden treasures.

Open the door and walk into a calm courtyard with a fountain or pool, surrounded by walls lavishly decorated with ornate calligraphic stucco,

floral painted cedarwood ceilings

and geometric tiles.

I love this blend of spirals and chequers.

The only connection to the outside world is the

Moucharabia, a high window where the occupants can 'see without being seen', covered by ornate grids of metal.
This one is at the Bahia Palace where 24 concubines lived in rooms around a large courtyard.

We were taken by our guide to a traditional house called a Riyad.

This one had been turned into a museum of Morroccan life by a Dutch man called Bert Flint

Its crammed full of artefacts such as these camel bags,

used by nomads

and old wooden doors.

This is the view from one window across the courtyard .

Some of these Riyads have been converted into beautiful small hotels.

(But not for us....our holiday was cheap!)

As we walked through souks we passed large studded doors hiding who-knows-what beautiful architecture.

I peeped through a crack in one such door ,and although I don't have a photograph, its my abiding magical memory.

I saw a cool long corridor lined with rugs in muted natural colours, perhaps bamboo.

Striped sunlight trickled from above, and at the furthest end of the room one man dressed in a pale garment knelt and touched the ground with his forehead.

Marrakesh in March 5: Le Jardin.

After the hustle and bustle of the souks what better way to spend a few tranquil hours than a visit to 'Le Jardin Majorelle'?

(Once you have haggled with the taxi drivers and convinced them you will stay longer than 20 minutes, and don't want to be picked up and taken elsewhere in their taxi or on their camel)

At every turn a new peaceful sight appears. Cactus of every possible variety lurk in comical or sinister clumps in the beds.
A thicket of stout bamboo intrigues with its pattern of graffiti carved by visitors from who knows where or when.
Birds chirrup and feet crunch on the gravel in slow time, while dry leaves rattle in the breeze.
Water trickles from fountains, and goldfish dart around ponds under banana leaves and cheeseplants.
Sunlight throws shadows and patterns through stained glass on to the conservatory wall while we sip mint tea.


And the restaurant is pretty good too!

Marrakech in March 4: Come with me..

.....to the kasbah and the Souks.
Through arches down winding lanes


lined with tiny shops full of amazing goods.
you can buy anything ...anything!
But you have to barter.

Nothing has a price tag.



It wasn't too busy when these pictures were taken but in the late afternoons and evenings the lanes were bustling with life.


Wall to wall people jostled with mopeds, bicycles, handcarts, donkey carts, shopkeepers and tourists.




'Hello beautiful Laydees, I make you nice price..'
'You like beads?
What you pay?'

I became an expert haggler...its just a game, and when I eventually got a very good price for a bag, we shook hands and both burst out laughing.

I really hope this isn't getting tedious.

I have lots more to share!