Adonde fueres haz lo que vieres: Long Overdue: Morocco

Oh Morocco. There are no words that could truly express how wonderfully overwhelming the first few moments in Marrakesh were. After waiting for the bus and turning down a half dozen taxis, multiple times each, getting on the bus that also seemed to be stopping to pick up the drivers friends, passing entire families sharing a scooter and camels on the corners waiting for a tourist to climb on, I arrived at my stop. This is when it hit me, maybe I needed better directions to the hostel. The Yamma el Fna Square is the largest in Africa, and the alleys that surround it weave the most confusing labyrinthine that make Marrakesh seem like a city that has no end. I tightened my backpack straps and set off, passing the horses and carriages (per directions), keeping the juice sellers to my left (there were a lot of rows of juice sellers, so this was a tough choice), turn right at the Cafe France (this is when I entered the first alley), follow it to the end and turn left at the perfume store, look for the green canopy, turn left (small alley) and ring at number 13. Somehow I made all the right choices, although there were many possible places to go wrong, and the owner answered the door and told me I was at the wrong place. Started to close the door, then starting laughing. Worst time for a joke. I went in, checked in, drank my mint tea, settled in and after an hour was ready to head back out, when two Spaniards from my flight and bus walked in. They did not take the right turns. And wandered the alleys of Marrakesh. Pobrecitos.

Place Jemaa el Fna

Hand cart with fridges and a waterman counting his day's loot

Custom made dentures, seriously

Juice sellers, to my left per instructions, and a plumber's advertisement

Soku or markets

Bikes and cars parked anywhere and everywhere

I headed back out to the Medina of Marrakesh with another guest at the hostel, which was so nice, because as I said, labyrinth. The first thing I noticed was that the more narrow the alley, the more scooters there seemed to be whizzing by me. And bikes. And carts pulled donkeys and some by men. Not to mention the amount of people that were everywhere. And the booths tucked into any nook or cranny anywhere. If Tetris were an Olympic sport, Morocco would take the gold. Every year. I was scolded by a little boy for taking a photo of a scooter (his dad scolded him for scolding me), the boy then ran ahead of us down the alley letting everyone know that I had taken a picture of a scooter. An old lady walked up to me and grabbed my arm and gave the mal de ojo before continuing her walk. We ran into another girl from our hostel, and went for dinner in the square (in the evening it is filled with booths that all have the same menu, just different lines to get you in such as "1-1-7 I'll take you to heaven" "You so skinny, starving, eat here" "My number is .... maybe later?"). The food was unreal, soup and bread and sauce and grilled veggies and water with a total of less than 2€. Back at the hostel I played cards with the Spaniards, the ones who had been lost for an hour, and the hostel employees. I should've known that the organization of the city would be an indication of the card game. It made no sense and we swore the Moroccans were inventing it as they went.

Horse carriages in the square

Dinner time

Cooking up a storm

A sign that had to be just for decoration, there was a plethora of bikes and scooters

The second day I went with Sam and Sabrina (the two guests from day one) to visit the Bahia Palace, the botanical gardens, the royal palace, the Jewish quarter and the markets. It was a day full of the same level of sensory overload as the first (it wasn't really something you get used to, but rather something become able to manage). The Bahia Palace was beautiful. The palace was commissioned by Si Moussa for one of his wives. The most impressive part of the building was the tile detail, it was nothing short of breathtaking. From here we wandered through the garden, past the Royal Palace, through the Jewish Quarter...and stumbled upon the funniest thing I have ever seen in my life. Donkey carts seem to be the most common way to transport goods through the city (though it did appear to far from efficient). We were passed by one cart and a little ways down the road ran into again. The cart had hit a bump, the boxes slid off the back, but were attached by ropes, so the cart inclined, and up went the donkey. It looked down and around and just hung out, it truly appeared to be thinking ''Not agaaaaain.''. However, the driver went into a fit, started jumping and trying to push down the cart, it took five men pushing it down and more to push the boxes back on to reground the donkey. And then they were off. During our time wandering back through the alleys between the sites we visited we saw a funeral. The group walked behind the pall-bearers through the street. The body was wrapped in an embroidered green blanket and on a handmade platform. A haunting procession. We finished the night with a trip to Cafe France for ice cream sundaes on the rooftop, which offers views of the whole square. We watched the sun set, clicked away and ate some of the most delicious ice cream on the planet. Sorry Italy.

Storks are considered good luck in Morocco and are allowed to nest wherever they want. One man explained that storks bring babies, but not in Morocco. Because they can do it themselves

Bahia Palace

Tile work and engravings

Bahia Palace and its giant doors

Kitty loving

School sign and awkwardly built doors

Donkey pre-mishap

Gravity.

Fixing the donkey mishap

They strapped mom's back and off they went

This kid rode around under the horse carriage hiding from the driver

Rooftop turtle at the hostel

Place Jemaa el Fna

Enjoying the sunset

Final view of the sun over Place Jemaa el Fna

The third day in Marrakesh I booked a tour to Ouzoud Falls, the second highest waterfall in Africa. Sam booked the trip with me through our hostel and in the morning we set out on the excursion. After being picked up by two men walking their scooter down the alley, taking a van to a gas station, we waited with seven men who worked for the company until our van showed up. We climbed in and were off through the country side of Morocco. The part that isn't the Sahara Desert (that is trip for another time). The drive was beautiful, and looooong. We were met at Ouzoud Valley by our tour guide who led us on our hike around the falls. The first view of the falls left me breathless, and every view after that a little bit more. I have yet to see something similar in grandeur in my life. Every pause for photos was much too short, and none could be long enough. We hiked around the falls, through parts of the valley and had lunch at a restaurant run by Berbers (the tribe that inhabits the valley). During the hike we took a break to play with Berber monkeys, and I was overwhelmed by cute. The moms carrying babies on the their backs and on their bellies, monkeys eating from peoples hands, jumping and climbing. And being cute all over Ouzoud Valley. The excursion was incredible and the drive back was used for napping.

The final day in Marrakesh was used to get lost in the alleys of markets and eat fresh bread and fruit. I bought gifts, which including bartering (something I'm not too shabby at) and thought about how much I did not want to leave that place. I arrived at the airport, where the security took my dad's gift, I pretended to not understand the woman's French, hoping she would just let me go (live anywhere that is not the States and you'll see, airport security is more of a hobby than a sport, I've been allowed on when they thought I had knives, liquids, something odd, etc. Never once did I have any of those), but instead she used one English word to drive the point home FORBIDDEN, and took my dad's hand-carved skewers. But knitting needles are fine. Oh Morocco.