I’m splitting my blog on Morocco into two parts, because the trip seemed to separate itself into two parts. Marrakech, which I frankly didn’t like one bit, and the two days spent in the mountains, which were heavenly. First, Marrakech:

You can’t fall in love with every place you visit. Since I’ve been in Italy this time around, I’ve been to a few places I am dying to go back to, a few places I liked a lot but have probably scratched them off my list for good, and then there was Marrakech.

I thought I’d heard everyone say that they were crazy about this Moroccan city. At least two of my friends had said they were. But a little googling reveals that others have felt the same way. Which is this:

I thought Marrakech was exploitatively overpriced, with unfortunately bland food, so polluted I couldn’t breathe, and most of all? Extremely uncomfortable for women travelers.

I know, I know. It’s Africa. I don’t expect the cleanliness or politeness of Vienna when I go to Africa. I’m not a travel snob. I’ve stayed in plenty of hostels and unairconditioned cabins without running water or toilets, and eaten plenty of meals sitting on the ground, with my hands. All of that stuff is actually great fun and I have loved my other visits to second- and third-world countries. I am happy to report that even my good friend from a much more third-world country said to me that just because they can be “excused” for garbage-lined streets and following women down dark alleys, hissing at them, that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

Here were the upsides:

• The main square, Jamaa El FNA, is really a sight to see. Huge, with food stands selling wonderful fat dates, fruits, meats, and trinkets, snake charmers, henna tattooists, drummers, and souvenir shops. Marvelous at night, it seems to be where locals and tourists come together and mix like those beach pools where saltwater meets freshwater and makes something entirely new.

The Jamaa El FNA Square

A Snake Charmer in the Jamaa El FNA Square. You want a picture? You must pay.

The downsides:

• We all thought the food was bland. Surprised? I was, too. I was expecting couscous and skewers heavily seasoned with cinnamon, cumin, mint and thyme. It wasn’t like that at all, and we were constantly reaching for the salt. Maybe that’s because we were necessarily in a touristy area, or maybe it’s because the supposedly Moroccan food we get in the States is injected with sugar and salt to appeal to our American palettes when really it’s nothing like actual Moroccan food. If so, that’s a shame, but it doesn’t affect the reality of the blandness of the food when I was in Marrakech. I’m just telling it like it is, not how it should be.

Pass the salt. Pass the cumin. Pass anything!

This cafe, and the coffee inside it, were heaven sent.

• The pollution/trash. Ok I don’t want to be controversial. As I mentioned, I am completely aware that I was not in the States, not in Europe, and trust me I complain about the garbage that often lines the streets in Rome (right next to empty trash cans)! But at night, the streets are carpeted in food wrappers, bottles, cans, literally things that you would throw in a garbage can. I have no complaints about the horse and donkey poop everywhere – in a way, that added some charm! – but the garbage was worse than I’ve seen anywhere. Worse than that, though, was the car and motorcycle exhaust that bombarded my face every time we had to walk anywhere. I had to cover my nose and mouth with my sweatshirt just to breathe. I didn’t have to do that in Mombasa, Bangkok, or even Tijuana. My friend said, “well, it’s Morocco, not Europe,” and I know, but like I said… I’m just telling y’all how it is.
• The men. What are the parents of these young men, or the media, or whatever, teaching young Moroccan men about western women? I’ve never been so covered up in my life. Loose jeans, gym shoes, Gap sweatshirt, no makeup. And yet, when walking around with Seema, my equally covered-up, Arabic speaking, Iraqi/Pakistani friend, we were followed, hissed at, and propositioned in very vulgar ways. We were assured by the nice man at our hotel, by travel guides, and by the State Department that it was safe, and that it was all in good fun (for them), but after a couple of days I dreaded walking from my hotel to the square. Do young men say stupid things to women on the streets IN ITALY? Yes, of course they do. But nothing like this. NOTHING like this. And in Italy, you can tell them to buzz off, but in Marrakech, you are instructed not to make eye contact, keep walking, ignore them. So you just have to let them do it and frankly, it’s awful. I’m a big girl and am not scared of traveling alone, and I speak some French, but trust me, this was awful. And by the way? Think it was because I’m blonde and green-eyed? Well, Seema got much more of this than I did – so go figure.

To the left is the alley to our hotel. Go straight, then right, for the main square.

The Streets of Marrakech

The Streets of Marrakech

The streets of Marrakech

• Apart from those specific complaints, really there just isn’t much to see in Marrakech. There is a small museum (Museum of Marrakech) and a neat building, an old school actually, (Madrasa Ben Youssef) where you can check out really beautiful Moroccan architecture, but those two things take an hour and a half total to see. For the rest, it’s shopping in the souks. The souks are also beautiful and it’s great fun to walk around and stare. The prices are unbelievably inflated and so even if you bargain hard, which we all did for our shoes and jewelry, you still walk away feeling like you could have spent less for the same thing on the streets of Rome… or even Pier 1. For example, I tried on a pair of flats. I liked them. The guy wanted 28 euros for the pair. I let out a sincere laugh. I bargained, as hard as I could. I pretended to be Italian, not American, speaking Italian with him and truthfully telling him that I can get the same sandals on the streets of Rome – probably from a Moroccan seller! I got him down to TWO pairs for 26. So 13 euros each, which is about $20. Does this seem really cheap to you guys? Not to me. I bought them for the fun of buying things in the souk, but they’re just little ballet flats. Forget Pier 1, you can get the same stuff at Target for less. Still, though, shopping in the souks is a lot of fun. For a couple of hours.

Inside the Museum of Marrakech

Inside the Museum of Marrakech

Seema and me in the Madrasa Ben Youssef

In the Madrasa Ben Youssef

In the Madrasa Ben Youssef

In the Madrasa Ben Youssef

In the Souk.

Even if you haggle hard, still probably a ripoff.

Seema in the Souk

In a Marrakech square, waiting for Seema to come out of the mosque.

What can I say, friends? If I tell you I just love every place I go, and isn’t it all so fantastic, and omg it was the best thing ever, I’ll lose credibility with you, right? Marrakech was definitely not the best thing ever, but stay tuned for the next post… After two days in Marrakech, Morocco was about to redeem itself….

What about you folks?? Did you like Marrakech?? I’d love to know. Some people hate Rome, which I can’t understand, but there’s room for all of us.

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