Morocco

Marrakech is hot and dusty.  Smells like horses and camels.  In the short walk from to our hotel, we saw camels and their babies, charmers with snakes wrapped around their necks surrounded by half-coiled black cobras with their necks erect and hoods flared, monkeys on leashes and in cages,  women completely covered except a slit for their eyes offering henna art, and men driving horse-drawn carriages.  And lots of other stalls selling jewelry, tiles, leather goods, and probably anything else you might want. Within the square there is no defined street/sidewalk/lanes, and it's all craziness.  The city seems obviously touristified and intense. 

A sweet younger boy (our waiter at lunch) gave us extra pita bread covered in seeds to take to the hotel and led us through multiple turns and winds dodging people and motorcycles through narrow alleyways to the hotel.  The hotel is basic and is joined openly to the home of the owners.  Multiple levels with rooms circling around a small open-air courtyard decorated in tiles.  Steep and narrow metal stairs lead to a rooftop terrace overlooking the flat roofs of a labyrinth of square buildings.   A mosque dominates the skyline.  The gardens surrounding the mosque have benches where we sat for a while.  Occasionally someone would find a place to kneel and pray often on a street corner or sidewalk. Morocco is over 99% Muslim.  Most older men wear long flowing shirts and pants with a small hat and women cover their heads if not everything but their eyes.  The younger crowd dresses more in jeans or T-shirts.  There are other tourists and most people speak enough English to get by, but Arabic and French are predominantly spoken. Andrew got his hair cut and a semi-shave with a straight-edge razor at a men's salon.  The blade was covered in alcohol and lit on fire.

In the evening it's still warm.   We walked out into the Djemma el Fna, which is a famous big open area in the medina center near where we are staying.  It comes alive at dusk with the beating of drums and Arab music.  Rows of restaurant stalls with white canvas coverings and light bulbs strung throughout suddenly appear.  Clouds of white smoke fill the air as men in white chef outfits fire kabobs.  We wander around before committing to a certain restaurant stall.  There are multiple surrounding stalls selling dried fruits and nuts (almonds, pitaschios, walnuts, dates, etc.), and men surrounded by oranges selling the freshly squeezed juice.  This night scene is what Marrakech is known for, and it's culture is spectacular.  But it becomes overwhelming being constantly approached by women with babies or little kids tugging on your shirt and asking for money with an outstretched hand.  Men pulling you to join their food stall.  People (sometimes aggressively) yelling at you in multiple languages to get a response to buy what they're selling.  We just walk and do not make eye contact lest we become bombarded.  So much stimulation of the senses, yet we have to turn off our senses.

We sat quickly at the picnic table-style seating for a snack of pita bread, olives, and a tomato-chickpea soup.  After we sat they started bringing food out and putting it in front of us.  Unless you have them take it away, you're going to be paying for it.  Skewers of meat and vegetables were other options. 

We are amazed to be in a developing country with such a nightlife - families with young children are out past dark, the noise, the crowds, the flashing neon lights.  So much stimulation.  The foreigners seem to be the only ones not sure how to navigate through the masses of people and motorcycles, which can be funny.  A clear metaphor for our travels and the experience of being an outsider.