Marrakesh

Trip Start Jan 14, 2008

Trip End Ongoing

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Flag of Morocco Marrakesh, Morocco
Thursday, January 31, 2008

Marrakesh, where I've been staying for the past few days post-orientation, is intense. It's a bit like New York City in its way: big, loud, in-your-face, full of people who want to talk to you, practice their English with you, show you their shop, lead you down back alleys, sell you their wares, etc. etc. etc. Coming here after laid-back Essauoira it was almost too much, but I've quickly become accustomed to this mad, extravagant place. I've been taking in the sights, of course, the Ben Youssef Medersa, the Bahia Palace, the Saadian Tombs, any one of which can more than satisfy an art afficionado's dreams. I've also been interacting with the locals quite a bit. Yesterday, on my way to the Bahia Palace, a young man asked if I spoke English, then if I spoke French, then what language did I speak if I denied speaking either of those two...I said that I spoke Italian, and when he then tried speaking to me in a bizarre pidgin of Italian and Spanish I was sufficiently amused that I followed him down some back streets to his shop and let him show me the spices and folk remedies that were for sale

Berber musicians in the Djema-al-Fnaa

. One of these remedies was "Berber Viagra," some kind of dried root, which according to the boy, "is very good, very useful, a little water, a little sugar, and this...excellent" [complete with suggestive hip gesture].

In the Jema-al-Fnaa, the mad main central square, I've befriended an orange juice vendor and a dried fruits vendor, as well as the staff at one of the many food stalls. At the food stalls, one of the men there is a friend of one of my coworkers, and he's apparently decided that since he's seen me with said coworker three times already, this must mean that the two of us are going to get married and I'm going to convert to Islam. I'm rather amused. He also asked if I have "a sister, very nice, very beautiful, like me" that he might try to woo himself.

The main square after dark is a cacophany of sounds: the noise of hawking and food preparation emanating from the food stalls mingles with the flutes of snake charmers and the music of two dozen separate bands, none of whom will start playing without first milking a set amount of dirhams from the waiting crowd...there are boxing rings, veiled belly dancers, women offering to paint hands and feet with henna, children begging and selling trinkets...everyone, from every walk of life, comes here, to see, to be seen, to entertain and to be entertained.

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