Marrakech and Essaouria Sep 25-30

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As we were leaving our hotel one of the group fell down a couple of steps, lying on the ground saying she couldn’t move, which gave us a bit of a fright at first. However, she couldn't move only because her pack made her like an upturned turtle. She had hurt her wrist, and it turned out later that she had a small fracture. So easy to do. We caught a train to Marrakech taking about 8 hours.

The overall impression of Marrakech was of a lot fairly new looking buildings that were mostly of an earth red colour. It was a smaller town than Fes, and the medina and square were smaller too but still interesting. We explored the market again and more purchases were made (but nor by me, as keeping the pack light is still a consideration).

We finished off the day firstly having a drink in the Argana cafe that overlooked Djemaa el-Fna square, we were able to watch as the colour of all the stalls and outdoor eating areas came alive. We eventually headed down and ate at the open air tables set out beside the street sellers stalls. Our leader negotiated a good deal and we had more than we could eat for this our final night dinner for the tour. It had been a good group, some were now continuing on for another section of the Morocco and the rest returning to everyday life. For me I was heading to Essaouria which is 3 hours from Marrakech for some days at the beach.

My transfer to Essaouria turned out to be a taxi (not one of the small mini taxis but a Mercedes - albeit an old beat up one). My driver only spoke a few words of English, but good French. Pity I only speak English. It was a scenic trip, and like most countries there were the endless roadworks where you take the dusty and bumpy side roads to get past. There were several smaller towns along the way, really showing life in Morocco with mules and carts, markets, and a lot of activity around the place. My driver very carefully tooted his way through it all. He also seemed to know everyone on the way, always waving to oncoming drivers. He used a diverse mixture of hand signals, so perhaps he didn’t know everyone but was communicated in a code I didn’t understand.

Upon arrival in Essaouria the sun came out and revealed a large bay with real sand, always preferable to the pebbles that make up beaches elsewhere. Our taxi parked outside the Medina and my bags were put into a trolley and off we went to find my hotel, or actually Riad which was the type of accommodation that I was staying in. A Riad has internal balconies that face onto an internal courtyard. We found it ok and after paying the usual baksheesh to both taxi driver and trolley boy, I settled into my room.

The room was nicely if plainly decorated, albeit a bit dark. I could heare life outside in all its fullness. The windows faced onto a narrow lane, where there were some shops, and lots of children running around as well as the sound of building reservations. At first this seemed like it was going to be annoying but I soon got used to the constant sound, and resolved to enjoy this different if noisy experience. The Riad had a nice terrace on the roof where you could see the sea, including waves crashing on the rocks; and you looked over the other roof tops which are in practice what we would use a backyard for - hanging out the washing, outdoor furniture and small gardens.

I went out to get a few supplies, and wandered around some of the streets around. The following day I was met by a guide who gave me an orientation walk around town, explaining some of the history of the area, as well as some interesting thoughts on modern life in the area.

This part of Morocco had been under French control, and by that time the French had worked out that ruling with an iron hand does not work as it makes the local people rebellious. So the French lived more side by side with the Moroccons. Eventually they were kicked out anyway, but relations are not so strained as other former colonies, and this town is today frequented by French holiday makers, as well as investors who are buying up all the houses in the old town to renovate and make into bed and breakfasts. My guide said that in a way this is bad, as the locals are being moved out into the new part of town. But also it is good, as this is preserving the old buildings which had fallen into disrepair (the locals coming from a nomadic heritage tended not to renovate or maintain well, preferring just to move and build anew).

We visited the Portugese port, the local fishing area, and some little restaurants where locals bring their own food and have it cooked (the leftovers then given to poorer people).

After spending a relaxing few days here, it was time for the journey back with the same driver I had on the way down. At one point he tried to tell me something and eventually I figured out he was talking about police radar up ahead…a universal theme it seems! I managed to persuade him to drop me off at the station and not the hotel and we bid farewell. The Marrakech station is very modern and I bought a ticket no problem, but had just missed a train by about 5 minutes so had 2 hours to wait. Coffee and some lunch helped pass the time.

The train arrived and I found an empty cabin to sit. Not long after I sat down a young man nervously sat in the same cabin. I wondered what was making him so nervous, he got up several times and sat back down. I just ignored him, and read my book. The train took off and soon a man who I thought might have been the ticket inspector came. He looked at the boys ticket and spoke to him, then gestured for him to get out. I went to show my ticket but he said he was a policeman. He said I should be careful with my belongings keeping them close. He said I’d be ok, but be careful.

I had by now figured out why the young man was nervous (he’d obviously been on a mission to take something). I put away my ipod and kept my things very close. Not long after that another young man came in, went to lie down and pretended to sleep. Then sat up and tried to talk. I pretended I didn’t understand. He left, then a third well dressed young man came in and spoke English and tried to find out where I was going, to which I was very vague as to whether I was heading to Fes or Casablanca. He offered some fruit, I declined. He left and the earlier man returned. By this stage I was getting pretty nervous.

We had pulled up at a station and the current young man had stepped out. To my great relief, a man his wife and his daughter moved cabins (I’d seen them in the passageway earlier) and settled into my carriage. They were from Casablanca but had been visiting her family south of Marakech. It appears that the husband had done a fair bit of travel, and spoke English well. Their daughter was 18 months and very cute and curious. I think that they were relieved to be in a cabin with a female so the mother could breast feed. I relaxed more and enjoyed the remaining journey free from hopeful thieves.

Toward the end another girl boarded and shared our carriage. She spoke English as well, and they helped me figure out which of the Casablanca stations I needed to get off on. Next was a hair-raising taxi ride through Casablanca, mostly on the right side of the road! The final 200 metres we did in reverse and not that much slower. I think this was a short-cut. I had actually got a special on a 5 star business hotel, and was brought a refreshment to drink while I filled in my check-in sheet. My bellboy (really bell man as he was middle-aged) took me and my luggage to the room. I know why I don’t use 5 star usually (apart from the cost), it’s like being a fish out of water as to whether and how much you need to tip and to whom. My bellboy didn’t hang around while I pondered this, I think he saw my pack and thought "no tip here" and he was off. I was tired and treated myself to dinner in my room. I had a very comfortable bed with lots of pillows so had a reasonably early night before my early start to the airport.

They called me a taxi for the airport, I had checked out the usual price and had a bit more than that on me. No meters were used here it seems. It was very misty and my driver didn’t seem to care about the lack of visibility. He stopped for petrol on the way. I had forgotten to check which terminal and had to quickly find my paperwork before getting to the airport. I was flying Air Maroc and it’s terminal (3) which was a bit further seemed to mean my fare was much greater. The driver didn’t even know where to pull up for a drop-off so I found myself in the carpark. I gave him all I had apologetically, but also thinking it was plenty anyway.

Check-in was interesting, with only one queue to passport control. Eventually another queue opened when the queue stretched well past the entrance and they shepherded a group to that one. They seemed very thorough so the queue did not move fast. A third booth opened once the magical trigger point in the long queues had been reached or so it seemed. However, the computer did not work. The policeman moved, and it was funny to which a whole queue move across through our queue to the new spot, with security making sure that no queue jumping occurred. I had 1.5 hours but I thought at this rate I might miss my flight. But eventually I was through into the small lounge area, and then onto Air Maroc to Istanbul.

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Photos

Night Stalls in Marrakech
Looking from Angar Cafe over Djemaa el-Fna Square

My Riad's internal courtyard
This area served as our lounge, and breakfast area.

The atrium at my Riad
Looking up towards my room on the first floor terrace.