What an exciting week in Morocco!
We met our son and daughter-in-law at the airport in Marrakech on Monday night. The first excitement was our son (fluent in French and a very important part of the week in terms of finding things out and our comfort) had to negotiate for a taxi. After a “conversation†with a couple of drivers and someone who said they were the “boss,†we got one. There are no (or at least shouldn’t be) cars allowed in the old Medina, so the taxi takes you to the gate, and boys with carts get you to your Riad (old homes with inside courtyards set up as B&Bs).
It was dark, so our introduction to the old city was an amazing walk through twisty streets trying to keep up with a couple of boys who walk quickly to your Riad. On the way a little boy (about 9) trued to get a zipper of the luggage open as another boy dragged it.
Guidebooks warn you of pick – pocketing; and it was tried a few times; but we don’t keep much in accessible pockets. But, also after a day or so in the crowded souks, I realized the sense of body space is tighter, and that they will touch you to move you about in the crowd. So it may be what I took as an attempt at my pockets, was really just a local keeping me out of their way or someone else’s.
We went out (by taxi because we couldn’t never find it on foot) to a nice restaurant. The taxi drivers come to your door to get you and walk you to and from your location in the windy unmarked streets. The streets are all paved. The walls are at least two stories tall with only doors and no windows. Because the climate is so hot, the homes have inner courtyards and no outside windows.
Our first full day we spent in the souks – craziness galore! 
Words will not really suffice to explain the noise, cacophony, and chaos! There are hundreds of stalls in windy alleyways. Each stall owner comes out and invites you in – they try to entice you to stop and look in several languages! You have to bargain them down and the bargaining is this crazy sort of argument. I managed to do it on my last day there and was proud of getting the guy down to half his first price! Our son’s French was really more than helpful as he could ask questions, and he loves to bargain. He was quite the sight to watch. Although we had to be sure to take our cue and walk at the right moment – because walking away is part of the game! We saw dried fruits, spices, meat, clothes, and anything you can imagine. While these souks seem touristy, many are not as this is where the locals also purchase their needs.
The city of Marrakech is fascinating. Apparently tourism is becoming the source of their economy over the last 20ish years. It is a mix of getting modern and very old. I have to admit to coming to an understanding of old and new by their plumbing. Even in the Riads and restaurants, if there was a western type toilet, it was smelly, often without a seat and let’s just say you best always have your own TP on you. In the museums and cafes, etc. the plumbing was a step above an outhouse. Their standard toilet is two concrete spots for your feet; squat and well you get it. While I’m on the subject, I had read and was reminded that one should not eat with your left hand in Morocco, as it is the hand you use for the bathroom. To be honest, I thought that interesting but wondered why just washing your hands didn’t do the trick. Well – after spending a week eating from communal bowls (modern homes have spoons for Westerners) – they eat with their right hand – and using the old plumbing, I have a new understanding for this “rule.â€
Sorry if this grosses some of my readers out; but I think some things about culture may seem unimportant, but can help us to really understand the reasons why people live as they do. These squat toilets have no flush. Next to your right knee is a bucket and a faucet (or a bucket of water). You do your business, run water into the bucket, use your left hand to wash yourself with that water or running water, put your clothes back together, then dump that water down the hole in the concrete/porcelain area you just squatted over. There’s no paper involved here. Even with a sink available, which almost all places had, I understood why even then it’s best to not put that left hand in your food plate.
Wednesday through Saturday we spent in a 4 x 4 with a driver, driving to the town of Masouga almost on the Algerian border and back. 
We would drive through villages, stop and eat or snack at others, went to a carpet cooperative
and personal tour in another. The ride was outrageous! Winding roads through beautiful scenery and villages! One road was one lane, when something came at you – both vehicles put one wheel on the dirt and kept at high speed! And, let’s factor into this the donkeys, donkey carts, 
children walking to and from school, women hauling wheat on their backs and a few bazillion goats and their shepherds!
On Thursday, the best part!
We were led on camels – actually dromedaries (camels have two humps, these had one) – two hours into the high sand dunes of the country. We were served a most amazing dinner and slept in a traditional Berber tent. Our “camel man†made our meals. We sat together after dinner over tea and enjoyed an outrageous conversation in Spanish, English, French, and a little Berber!
It was absolutely amazing!! The starts were bright, the moon clear and was it cold in the morning! We came to understand “silence is deafening.†We slept basically in our clothes on carpets and pads under several wool blankets! The only part that wasn’t fun was our daughter-in-law was coming down with an awful cold and we were sad that she had to do this while feeling miserable. I really don’t have enough good words to tell you how special this was! (I didn’t even mind walking over the next dune to find a convenient toilet spot and watch the scarab march by while I was occupied!)
The “kids†went home a day before we did, and after returning to Marrakech, we had another day and half on our own which we enjoyed.
We really loved going. We both have been fascinated with that part of the world for some time. My hubby is an avid collector and reader of T.E. Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia), Sir Richard Frances Burton’s life and work (translator of Arabian nights and many other Arabic works) and Gertrude Bell for some time. It was a real lifetime treat to see and live, if only in a small way, that part of the world. There’s much more than I can possibly write here – or you’ll be reading for a few hours – the interesting homes we got to have lunch in, the interesting people we saw, and the never-ending call to prayer by the minarets (we got accustomed to being woken up at 5 am by the call to prayer). 
For a reason we’re not quite sure of – we think it may be that Rich has let his beard grow thick, and the locals are clean shaven – many of the men called Rich “Ali Babaâ€!! Which puzzled us a bit until we looked up a classic image .
I was glad to leave though after a week. It’s a pretty “dirty†place by American standards and it did get to me – I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed the long hot shower in the hotel in Madrid I took last night. It’s really noisy, really crowded and walking down the pavement avoiding donkey carts, people, sellers, motorcycles, scooters and bicycles was exhausting! But I came to understand a different part of the world than the one I get to live in, and that has made me a “richer†person. I will be reflecting on this trip for some time.
A warm hug to “the boy†who put this all together!Â
P.S. This picture is for Avi and SerahRose:)
