Edit Blog Post
Published: December 11th 2017
With new resolve we begin today. Becs and I take our plates, wrapped, boxed, labelled up to the Poste Maroc. It's the same guy, which doesn't seem positive, but what a difference a day makes. He welcomes us, puts on a pot of mint tea, wraps some extra cardboard around our box and puts fragile stickers all over it. We say our final good byes to the box never really expecting to see it again, although Becs does point out that our giraffe from Kenya (wooden one) did eventually turn up.
We collect the kids and head up to the Yves St Laurent museum. It is a lovely building with a selection of his Haute Couture and a small photographic exhibition. There is also a garden which is more popular. I manage to lose my lens cap but I get it back. When I come out Gus is smoking and chatting to the security guy. I'm thinking of taking up smoking so I can really immerse myself in the culture. Once again proving the World Bank statistic the museum is heavily guarded by soldiers with sub-machine guns. I am advised by my wife against taking photos. Now it's off to
the Ben Youseff mosque. It is of course closed for renovations. As you walk around the Medina people are always giving you helpful advice (maybe) like "the square is this way", "the mosque is closed" but it is hard to know whether they are just taking the piss or not. We kept going to the Museum of Photography which is again in a lovely building with a sunny internal courtyard and a collection of photos of Marrakesh and its people. The city lends itself to photography. I had planned to try some street food, whilst Becs had been keen last night I could sense the enthusiasm waning. Her normal strategy is to show interest but secretly hope that I'll change my mine. We found Talaa which is the food area. I knew I was in a no lose situation. Hygiene was not overly apparent nor was refrigeration. All I had to do was stop outside what looked like chicken testicles wrapped in tripe and say "OK this looks perfect." Of course Becs had to show her hand and admit there was no way in the world she was eating here. So "grudgingly" I agreed to find something that wouldn't lead
to a week in a Moroccan hospital.
After lunch we head to the Royal Palace which is impressive but really it is only 500 years old (about the same as the cathedral in Toledo) and it's pretty much a ruin. We were running out of time to get to the Tombeaux Saadian when I found a promising sign which said Direct route to Tombeaux Saadian. We seemed to end up in a carpet shop. The proprietor had to open up a back door to let us out.
On our way back from the tombs we decide a cocktail in the main square is in order. It is now it becomes apparent that there actually isn't a lot of alcohol in Marrekesh. We try about 5 bars and decide to hit up what is now our usual. We need to do some last minute shopping so I go to my goto street urchin Mahommed (kinda like the artful dodger). We met him when Constance was buying a bag. He is a great little negotiator, Mahommed: "150", me: "80", Mahommed "no.". he's pretDinner tonight is at a restaurant called El Fassia which is entirely staffed by women, now I've been in these kinds of places before but not with the family.
Tomorrow we head to the Sahara and I understand that wifi is not a thing.
Tot: 0.406s; Tpl: 0.015s; cc: 10; qc: 52; dbt: 0.0163s; 1; m:saturn w:www (220.127.116.11); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.4mb