Friday, May 19, 2006
02/2006: Marrakech: 'riads and taxis'
It's hard to find a new city guide in a hurry in Marrakech. Receptionist skulks at the back of the desk. Tells me to go to the tourist office. Tourist office astonishingly unhelpful and tell me to find a guide outside my hotel.
Go back and find a lurking guide who looks at the number of riads I have to see and advises me it’s “too difficult”. End up haggling with the petit taxi drivers outside who shout at each other for about 10 minutes, then bundle me in a taxi and we speed off, I’m not sure what’s going on.
Happily Mohammed turns out to a part-time guide and a gem, if a little taciturn and lacking in English. He drives to the nearest place we can park, then leads me through what feels like miles of winding narrow alleys to the riads I need to see. All are hidden behind large and lovely but anonymous wooden doors, some don’t have signs or even numbers outside. Knock on door of one riad and ask the French-speaking gentleman who answers if I can look round. He obliges, lovely place, great architecture, very homely. That is because it is, in fact, a private home….I retreat cringing with embarrassment. Mohammed is a gem until 12.00pm when he downs tools and tells me we have to stop for lunch and he will come back at 3.00pm. Attempt a feeble remonstration but arguing is futile, so we compromise on 2.00pm
It's hard to find a new city guide in a hurry in Marrakech. Receptionist skulks at the back of the desk. Tells me to go to the tourist office. Tourist office astonishingly unhelpful and tell me to find a guide outside my hotel.
Go back and find a lurking guide who looks at the number of riads I have to see and advises me it’s “too difficult”. End up haggling with the petit taxi drivers outside who shout at each other for about 10 minutes, then bundle me in a taxi and we speed off, I’m not sure what’s going on.
Happily Mohammed turns out to a part-time guide and a gem, if a little taciturn and lacking in English. He drives to the nearest place we can park, then leads me through what feels like miles of winding narrow alleys to the riads I need to see. All are hidden behind large and lovely but anonymous wooden doors, some don’t have signs or even numbers outside. Knock on door of one riad and ask the French-speaking gentleman who answers if I can look round. He obliges, lovely place, great architecture, very homely. That is because it is, in fact, a private home….I retreat cringing with embarrassment. Mohammed is a gem until 12.00pm when he downs tools and tells me we have to stop for lunch and he will come back at 3.00pm. Attempt a feeble remonstration but arguing is futile, so we compromise on 2.00pm
# posted by hotelreviewer @ 2:48 pm 
