'Ducks and pigs and chickens call/Animal carpet wall to wall/American ladies five-foot tall in blue'.
You will have to be older to have recognised these lyrics without a prompt. Graham Nash wrote Marrakesh Express in 1969, based, it is said, on a 1966 train journey he did from Casablanca to Marrakesh, where he abandoned his First-Class seat in order to join a carriage filled with animals and locals, and experience the 'real Morocco'. What the American ladies five-foot tall were doing down there I do not know.
BA from Heathrow was a more conventional approach route, and any preconceptions of immediate chaos were dispelled by an architecturally pleasing modern airport.
Where to stay? Well, this rookie reckons that there is a choice of two contrasting areas. The first is the Ville Nouvelle, the second is the Medina. Perhaps an exception would be to go for the ultra posho Mamounia on the edge of the Medina, where for a price you can be insulated from anything that might resemble the 'real Morocco'.
The Ville Nouvelle (Morocco was a French Protectorate from 1912 to 1961) did not impress. Somehow I had in mind clean and classical, with wide tree-lined boulevards. The boulevards were there, but the whole area was grubby and choked with traffic. We managed the Musee Saint Laurent, but found too late that the Majorelle Garden needed booking several days in advance. That is the sort of information that guidebooks don't deliver eg 'whatever you do, make sure you have booked the visit before you arrive!'.
So for this reason we were very glad not to have booked a corporate-sanitised hotel outside the place to be, that is the Medina, the Old City. More specifically the gems here are the Riads, so here follows a Riad tutorial.
'Riad' signifies guest house, although one of our guides explained that technically it means garden or gardens. We are talking of a large house built around an open courtyard in an inward-looking design, meaning from outside all you see is thick wall, and maybe some high small windows.
Inside is cool and peaceful against the hubbub outside and the intense heat at times of the year, with a tinkling fountain in the middle. Rooms are set off on the periphery at ground and first floor level, a mixture of bedrooms and reception spaces. The flat roof may be terraced, with relaxation space and perhaps a small swimming pool. The entrance will be signed, but (at least for our one) the front door is closed, and day or night you ring the bell and someone will let you in - no 'Here is the key to let yourself in after hours'. You are a guest in their house.
I am in danger of getting lyrical, but the welcome feels like coming into someone's home. For breakfast you grab your alcove, as of the Germans with towels on sunbeds trope. On a couple of mornings it was chilly, so a little fire burnt in the grate. A staff member appears from nowhere, and after a leisurely interval you are served Moroccan breakfast including fresh bread and pancakes and home-made yoghurt and jams. Yummy.
You gotta start with the Souk, or in Marrakesh's case, Souks. If you have done North Africa or the Middle East you will not need an explanation of open air market comprising narrow streets selling stuff like spices, textiles and crafts. Souks plural in Marrakesh, as my guidebook counted seven, all interlocking within the Medina. There is little sense of open-air, as each alleyway is canopied to protect against the sun, producing a near claustrophobic feeling, especially once the crowds have built up.
As to the atmosphere and business, it would be patronising for most to have that explained, but yes, haggle away without reservation - a tip we took was to ask the shopkeeper for a price, and then halve it as a starting basis of negotiation. Buying more than one item adds leverage.
Getting lost is part of the challenge. My guidebook said that you would never be far from the vast main square, the Jemma el-Fna. That is true provided that you are sort of heading in that direction. Pointing north or east you can soon be out of the Souks and in unfamiliar territory. Two riders:
- Online maps in the Medina are helpful but not totally reliable
- There always seems to be someone willing to give you directions, but the excellent guide we used for a walking tour said that sadly helpfulness is not generally accompanied by competence
Said walking tour was very good, with the highlight being the Madrassa Ben Youssef (mosques in Marrakesh are not open to visitors) where our chap decoded the Islamic designs. He also swept us through the Souks, including sections way away from 'textiles and spices', where the businesses include metalworking and trading of skins for leather. (On one of our getting lost outside the Souks experience we passed through a meat market area. Trade was finished for the day, but there was blood on the ground a la earlier 19th century Smithfield Market.)
A small qualification to the assessment of the tour. Towards the end we were taken into a succession of shops - carpets, vases, shoes etc - for a learned explanation of the craft....with an opportunity for purchasing goods. You could be grumpy like me (inwardly only) and find this a pain in the neck, or you could be culturally sensitive and accept that it is part of the experience.
The Jemma el-Fna is described as the beating heart of Marrakesh. It is so large that arriving in it immediately requires some patient orientation. And it is full of stalls, coming alive in the evening, but during the day with resident snake-charmers playing their seductive music - the fact that snakes are deaf is mere detail. A guidebook suggestion is to have a drink (non-alcoholic of course) on the terrace of the Cafe de France and observe the performances below - definitely worth it.
I am largely aiming off of the museums material, as your guidebook can do the business, but I seem to be edging into the zone of food and drink, and you will see shortly that this has to incorporate Marrakesh's answer to the Wild West, namely taxi services.
Our Riad largely recommended restaurants within walking distance for dinner. I recall once in Istanbul being recommended to a top restaurant run by the chap's cousin, only to find that it was just like twenty others in the neighbourhood - such innocence. But no cause for cynicism - they were all good in their way, though sadly we veered pretty quickly off of tagine and couscous in favour of good old European food. Yes, there was one traditional place where a belly dancer appeared, but delightfully she cut pretty quickly into dancing with children at family tables, so I was spared up close and personal gyration - gutted. PS Check in advance if your destination serves alochol.
The other benefit of restaurants near your Riad is finding your way there and back without problem, which we achieved, with one notable exception - the first time we have ever given up. Does one feel safe? Resoundingly yes, even in the quiet of the evening.. Maybe we were just fortunate, but I would feel more worried of being mugged for my phone while walking down Hampstead High Street.
And now a slightly sideways observation. With the exception of a couple of characters (see below), we found the Marrakesh folks delightful - friendly and well-mannered. Even the shopkeeper hagglers were never oppressive, and if you concluded your negotiations by walking away they would resignedly accept that that the sale had got away, although hilariously you might hear plaintiff diminishing cries as the price was reduced while you were heading off.
Exceptions:
Character 1: told me that the Madrassa Ben Youssef was closed that day - lie - but that he had a good alternative - I'm assuming it was his shop.
Character 2: a taxi driver who was taking us from the Musee Saint Laurent to a cafe about 20 minutes drive away. After a bit he protested that the traffic towards our destination was too much. We asked how far to walk the rest? He said 5 minutes max. 20 minutes later we arrived.
And so to taxis. Oh dear, you have to haggle too. 'Where is your meter, my good man?'. The guidance is that you offer them a price - one soon works out distances - and tells them that you know the place and have been there before. If they decline you go to the next one and the next one knows you are not complete idiots.
However, 'good taxi driver' more than compensated for Character 2. Our man navigated to the restaurant address, but it was still not clear where was our place. He got out of the car, ran back down the road to find an anonymous entrance, and then ran back to collect us. He was worth a good tip.
Ironically the highlight of the trip was not in Marrakesh itself. For a very reasonable price we hired through our Riad a driver guide for the day to take us into the Atlas Mountains. Morocco is lucky to have the High Atlas, with top peak Mount Toubkal at 4,167 metres. In a day you get snow peaks, valleys, rivers and lakes, with ample opportunity to chat on anything. Ashraf - excellent chap.
For lunch you stop at the house of a Berber family. 'Oh dear,' I hear you call. 'After lunch they will try to sell you a carpet'. Not at all, and the system is simple. In the morning the tour company phones the family and tells them eg three couples for lunch. The family gets preparing. You arrive, and are seated on a low sofa with close views of Mount T. Food arrives. You eat; you leave. All done with smiles. Cost is within the fee for the day. And they do have a serviceable toilet.
Marrakesh is not for everyone, and these days I am on the fence between a sense of adventure and the need for European-style order - those who know me well might say that the latter is winning fast. But nevertheIess I found myself sharing some of Graham Nash's boyish enthusiasm. And in truth I liked what I saw of Morocco, and would like to explore other areas of the country. Perhaps not quite yet ready to be constrained to a week in Bournemouth.
The author is a writer, speaker, historian, occasional tour guide, and former Managing Partner of a City law firm