Marrakech, where is the magic

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As I got off the air-con CTM bus, Marrakech greeted me with a hot 2pm breeze. The stop was a half an hour walk from the Medina (‘Old’ Town).

On the way I looked for Morocco everywhere but all I could see were mediterranean-style buildings, large avenues, proper sidewalks, neat and tidy cafes, aseptic hotels.

I stopped under a tree by the Cyber Park (yes! A Cyber Park!). It was just a park like any other well-kept one. The difference were its donors: Siemens, Philips, Microsoft, etc.

I saw ALSA local buses and countless mops drive past. I saw specks of moroccan authenticity on two wheels: seaters talked on the phone and argued with one another, always carrying everything with them, from dogs to long boards of woods (modern knights with no helmets).

I arrived at Hotel Afriquia soaked in sweat. My room faced the courtyard and cooked me like an oven. The terraces were inhospitable before dusk. I resorted to my laundry bag.

By 6pm I made it to Djeenaa el-Fna. The ‘soul’ of Marrakech. The ‘heart’ of Morocco.

5 minutes of queue and the most expensive mint tea I’ve ever had gave me access to one of the best views of THE square.

Squeezed by fellow tourists, desperately adjusting their lenses and clicking their cameras’ buttons, I watched the sun go down, while foodstalls were set up, sending yummy smells and billows of smoke into the pink sky. In the background, minarets shinned, the building industry boomed.

Drums, flutes, horns, snake charmers, storytellers, acrobats, horses’ hoves provided the soundtrack.

Magical? Not quite so...

From that rooftop, Marrakech didn’t look at all like the wild beast hyped by everyone everywhere. It was rather tamed by mass tourism and its ‘high’ standards of quality - paved and sanitised places suitable for families and honeymooners alike.

Starving like an animal I went down in search of food. A few ‘brochettes’ (chopped meat) later I wandered around Djeenaa el-Fna still looking for Morocco.

Back at Hotel Afriquia’s terrace a full moon ruled over flat Marrakech.

The 3 following nights I spent at cleaner, friendlier and cheaper Hotel Imouzzer. The 3 following days I unwillingly mingled with the crowds in Museum Dar Si Said, medersas (islamic colleges), Palais de la Bahia, the Saadian Tombs, Museum of Marrakech, the souqs (markets).

All very nice and instructive, but... Where was Tangier’s frenzy, Fes' hustle and bustle? Where was M-A-R-R-A-K-E-C-H? I might have been there. I might have not been there.

Is this the magic then? I don’t know... Maybe Tourism is just a world of make-believe where Marrakech is only one of its big circus, a tailormade answer to our insatiable appetite for pleasure.

Au revoir, goodbye, adios, Marrakech! Salaam aleikum,,, Essaouira!!!

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