Friday, May 19, 2006
01/2006: Marrakech: 'why Marrakech is a cool place to be'
Getting to the airport to board my flight to Marrakech turned out to be a rather stressful event: taxi late, got stuck in heavy traffic on the way to the train station, huge queue to buy tickets, didn’t bother, just about made the train. Virgin conductress tried to mug me for £120 for a ticket I was told on the phone would cost £34.00. Had heart attack then a snigger at thought of Scott’s face if that showed up in expenses. Remonstrated and got the cheaper price, although think that was due to the angry mutterings of the other passengers who were outraged at the disparity in prices. Small child behind me screamed for entire trip.
Plane full of blonde middle-class types from Surrey and Cheltenham called Fiona and Charles who work in the media and are heading for a few days “chill” in a restored riad (Moroccan townhouse) they’ve seen in the style magazines. The hip has been extracted from hippy and Marrakech is now once again a very cool place to go.
Cool being the operative word – I arrive around 7.30pm and it’s FREEZING. First thing I spot is a convenient ATM which swaps me crisp dirham notes for my plastic; they’re not available outside the country and you can’t take any out with you. Came armed with Euros just in case.
Outside, menacing-looking dark-hooded death-eaters appear out of the gloom and head towards me. Turn out to be friendly taxi drivers, “a thousand welcomes to Marrakech” we agree on a price, apparently it’s double the normal rate after dark - suspect this is the first of many times I shall be fleeced by a taxi driver in the next 10 days.
Fear for life as rattling taxi swerves in and out of traffic, donkey carts and cyclists. Glimpse flashes of past life along with Moorish arches lit up like an Arabian Nights fairytale.
Hotel is smart, flash and comfortable, nice big room but dearth of power points, have to unplug lamp and use bathroom to charge up electronic stuff (PDA, camera, laptop, phone). Often have this problem. In one hotel in Menorca I sat on chair outside the toilet every night to type up my reports, it was the only spot with a power point.
Getting to the airport to board my flight to Marrakech turned out to be a rather stressful event: taxi late, got stuck in heavy traffic on the way to the train station, huge queue to buy tickets, didn’t bother, just about made the train. Virgin conductress tried to mug me for £120 for a ticket I was told on the phone would cost £34.00. Had heart attack then a snigger at thought of Scott’s face if that showed up in expenses. Remonstrated and got the cheaper price, although think that was due to the angry mutterings of the other passengers who were outraged at the disparity in prices. Small child behind me screamed for entire trip.
Plane full of blonde middle-class types from Surrey and Cheltenham called Fiona and Charles who work in the media and are heading for a few days “chill” in a restored riad (Moroccan townhouse) they’ve seen in the style magazines. The hip has been extracted from hippy and Marrakech is now once again a very cool place to go.
Cool being the operative word – I arrive around 7.30pm and it’s FREEZING. First thing I spot is a convenient ATM which swaps me crisp dirham notes for my plastic; they’re not available outside the country and you can’t take any out with you. Came armed with Euros just in case.
Outside, menacing-looking dark-hooded death-eaters appear out of the gloom and head towards me. Turn out to be friendly taxi drivers, “a thousand welcomes to Marrakech” we agree on a price, apparently it’s double the normal rate after dark - suspect this is the first of many times I shall be fleeced by a taxi driver in the next 10 days.
Fear for life as rattling taxi swerves in and out of traffic, donkey carts and cyclists. Glimpse flashes of past life along with Moorish arches lit up like an Arabian Nights fairytale.
Hotel is smart, flash and comfortable, nice big room but dearth of power points, have to unplug lamp and use bathroom to charge up electronic stuff (PDA, camera, laptop, phone). Often have this problem. In one hotel in Menorca I sat on chair outside the toilet every night to type up my reports, it was the only spot with a power point.
# posted by hotelreviewer @ 2:13 pm 
