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| Marrakech, 12:23 am | Wednesday, April 2nd |
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| Marrakech, 12:23 am | Wednesday, April 2nd |
FROM FEZ TO MARRAKECHWe got out of bed at the ungodly hour of 6 a.m., showered, packed, ate breakfast, then boarded the bus by 7:30 for the day trip from Fez to Marrakech. Two reasons make this simple practical trip one of beauty.
The first is the mountain route through the high and middle Atlas regions which, under today's crystal blue skies, offered diverse landscapes and topographies distinct from the country we had seen so far.
The second reason is that these mountains are not populated by Arabs but by Berber tribes, the sometimes nomadic, indigenous agrarian population of Morocco. Some areas of the mountain regions
housed cities containing populations upwards of 60,000, while others were no more than lived-in caves.
Miscellaneous Photos:
As the landscape and cultures changed by the hour, the ride became fascinating and a constant surprise. There were rolling hills dotted by red poppies and yellow wild flowers in fields that were visible for miles into the distance. We saw a town designed like a Swiss village and another like one in Mexico.
I watched people from the bus do what I always saw them do - walk from one distant point to another, recline under a tree, work hard in the field, stand and wave, or sit drinking tea while chatting in the all-male cafes.
This time, however, the animals had changed. Now they wore hats (just kidding). Cows appeared and, as we grew closer to the south, dromedaries (with their one hump distinguishing them from the two-humped camel). Idriss seemed to take a perverse pleasure in teaching us that angered dromedaries who feel an injustice done to them will wait a year before seeking revenge. They will then approach their victim as they lay sleeping, stand over them, then sit on them, hard, over and over, until the victim is dead. Also, when in heat, they can impregnate up to 40 females in a row. Thankfully, Idriss had no demonstrations of either planned, and none were requested.
The rural areas had fascinating systems of irrigation. Somehow, a long open chute ran for miles past the edge of the farms, which could siphon off water at any point for individual fields. Or, the water could be used for washing dishes, clothes, or bicycles, for donkeys to drink from, for cleaning carrots or to aid in cutting one's hair, all of which I saw as we drove along it.
Still, the ride grew tedious, even with the mesmerizing and breathtaking scenery, and we were happy to near our destination. Carlos, a Cuban refugee on our tour who now teaches high school on Long Island, picked up the microphone and surprised us with a few popular and operatic numbers, making the time pass quicker. What a character!
Many of the other tour members continue to treat us quite coldly, as if we were two spoiled children always causing trouble to get attention, and others just annoy the hell out of us with their naive American arrogance and unaware racism. Listening to them comment on the Berbers we passed, it was clear they considered them vastly inferior. Anything the Berbers could do which our tour-mates couldn't figure out was remarkable to them for the very reason that the Berbers could ever figure out how to do it. And anything about Berber life which was technologically less developed than in America served as proof of their inferiority. These tour-mates were the same people who were so judgmental that first day when we were 10 minutes late. Ever since, Noemi just gives them dirty looks whenever they try to speak with her.
Idriss, by the way, never even mentioned if he received the letter from us in Fez, even thought the concierge confirmed that he had. However, his attitude has changed somewhat and he is more responsive to our desire for independence and generally leaves us alone.
Noemi and I were so excited to arrive in Marrakech. We are staying at the Sheraton and, as expected, it is quite stunning. I have never seen such a large and oddly shaped swimming pool; in the center, resting slightly above the water, is a juice bar! As soon as we scarfed down the international hotel cuisine for dinner, we headed towards the main destination we have both been looking forward to all week: Jmaa el Fna.
We walked from our hotel in the new city, down Avenue Mohammed V (every city has one, like a Main Street or Broadway), through the ancient walls of the medina, and followed the weaving cars until we reached this bustling square, packed with people (many tourists, but mostly Moroccans), and more lively than anything else we've seen so far at night and in public this week. I was exhausted from the day's trip but brimming with excitement.
At first, the smoky square, lit only by candle and car light, appeared a jumbled mess of disorder. Crossing the street (as if any street could be clearly delineated) felt like crossing a rushing river, filled with alligators; it was less a crosswalk than a mob of people that passed through the moving cars.
We soon learned that Jmaa el Fna is broken into three sections. The first are shopping stalls selling the types of items found in a traditional souk, the only difference being that here in this all-day square they are open at night as well.
The two other sections surround one another. Food stalls encircle an open area where street performers do their thing. The outer ring of stalls contains mostly delicious, freshly squeezed orange juice (perhaps 16 stalls in all, all the same) and nut sellers mixed in between. Next comes the hot food, from fish and chips to escargot (a small bowl for $.50).
The first performers we saw were snake charmers. Unfortunately the snakes were already charmed but for good luck they wrapped one around each of our necks (eek!) and tapped the snake's head 3 times into the palm of my hand (eek! eek! eek!) as the tail continued to wrap and tighten itself around my throat.
Afterwards, we listened to a comedic musical performance whose humor was lost on us, followed by an extremely aggressive but friendly Berber woman who seduced Noemi into finally getting her right hand designed with henna. I thought it looked quite beautiful and sexy, but Noemi was disappointed at first with the design. (She eventually came to love it and was sad to see it fade a few weeks later.) Wherever we went the remainder of the night, men and women stopped her to admire it.
Miscellaneous Photos:
The best part about the music was a group we had been ushered in to hear. A tight group of Moroccans gathered around, with us sitting on the ground up front. The music was uninteresting, and the performance banter not understood as it was in Moroccan. But a candle-lit lamp in the center of the circle set the beautiful and distinct faces of the surrounding crowd aglow in a field of deep darkness. I could have lost myself in those faces, with their delighted attention to the performers, for some time.
The feel of the square I guess feels unique to most, but to us it was a pale reminder of the parks in Greenwich Village and the parking lot of a Dead show: lively and fun, but nothing too unusual or magical. We did enjoy, however, capping the night by eating delicious gelato on the second floor of an outdoor cafe, watching the smoke from the food vendors cloud the candlelit square in its own brand of dark haze and mystery.
We have one and a half days to spend now in Marrakech and we have our hopes built up for it, as we have loved Fez and were told Marrakech is even better. However, we've also been told these two cities feud like siblings, trying to prove their worth over the other. In any case, tomorrow we shall see the city on our own, have dinner and see a local show called a Fantasia in the evening with our tour. Perhaps we will go dancing afterwards and spend the half day before we leave for Casablanca renting bikes. Well, whatever we decide, our jetlag has ended and we both feel completely arrived at, and delighted in, Morocco.
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