Friday, May 19, 2006
02/2006: Marrakech: 'what does M6 stand for in Morocco and why I will go there again'
It rains heavily all day, the Medina is a muddy quagmire and my guide is not happy. I’m not so ecstatic either. Several of the main boulevards outside the old city are decorated with flags and there are a lot of uniformed men around. Lambi (new driver/guide) tells me that the King is visiting Marrakech which he does quite regularly. He’s young and popular and is called Mohammed VI. Moroccans refer to him as “M6” which tickles me hugely.
Spurn room service for a trip to a local restaurant in the Place Jeema al Fna or “la Place” (the Square), as locals call it. Chez Chegrounis serves up a very tasty vegetable Tagine, which I wash down with a pot of mint tea that is 99.9% sugar. My bill is 38 dirhams - roughly £2.40. At night the Square turns into a huge open air eatery filled with small stalls selling everything from boiled eggs to boiled sheeps' heads. I’m not tempted, however, especially after my taxi driver tells me that Marrakechis call it “leftover” food and those who eat it have to visit the pharmacy afterwards. Am followed back across the Square by a couple of young men who mutter: “Bonjour Madame, ca va, que’ce que vous voulez?” repeatedly at me. I can’t shake them off so stalk off purposely towards the police van and they melt back into the crowd. There is very little tourist hassle here now since the Government set up a special tourist police to clamp down on touts and hustlers - it’s been very effective. However, I’m told, that the Square turns into a covert pick-up place later on at night, particularly for gay visitors, with lots of young Moroccan men selling their services.
.....finally I’ve seen my last riad. Hurrah. They are all stunning in their own way but after 40 of them I am over-saturated with tastefully-restored ancient townhouses with Moorish arches and impossibly stylish furniture. Start longing for the boring anonymity of a Travelodge.
I buy a ‘genuine handmade’ raffia shopping bag for £3 from an old Bedouin lady on the side of the road. I suspect she imports them from China at 30p each.
The next day, leave for the airport with definite plans to return to Marrakech with a couple of girlfriends, stay in a tastefully-restored riad with a hammam and massage facilities, and explore the many shopping opportunities the city has to offer. Everyone I’ve met here has been very friendly and helpful and I’ve experienced much more hassle in Turkey than I have here.
It rains heavily all day, the Medina is a muddy quagmire and my guide is not happy. I’m not so ecstatic either. Several of the main boulevards outside the old city are decorated with flags and there are a lot of uniformed men around. Lambi (new driver/guide) tells me that the King is visiting Marrakech which he does quite regularly. He’s young and popular and is called Mohammed VI. Moroccans refer to him as “M6” which tickles me hugely.Spurn room service for a trip to a local restaurant in the Place Jeema al Fna or “la Place” (the Square), as locals call it. Chez Chegrounis serves up a very tasty vegetable Tagine, which I wash down with a pot of mint tea that is 99.9% sugar. My bill is 38 dirhams - roughly £2.40. At night the Square turns into a huge open air eatery filled with small stalls selling everything from boiled eggs to boiled sheeps' heads. I’m not tempted, however, especially after my taxi driver tells me that Marrakechis call it “leftover” food and those who eat it have to visit the pharmacy afterwards. Am followed back across the Square by a couple of young men who mutter: “Bonjour Madame, ca va, que’ce que vous voulez?” repeatedly at me. I can’t shake them off so stalk off purposely towards the police van and they melt back into the crowd. There is very little tourist hassle here now since the Government set up a special tourist police to clamp down on touts and hustlers - it’s been very effective. However, I’m told, that the Square turns into a covert pick-up place later on at night, particularly for gay visitors, with lots of young Moroccan men selling their services.
.....finally I’ve seen my last riad. Hurrah. They are all stunning in their own way but after 40 of them I am over-saturated with tastefully-restored ancient townhouses with Moorish arches and impossibly stylish furniture. Start longing for the boring anonymity of a Travelodge.
I buy a ‘genuine handmade’ raffia shopping bag for £3 from an old Bedouin lady on the side of the road. I suspect she imports them from China at 30p each.
The next day, leave for the airport with definite plans to return to Marrakech with a couple of girlfriends, stay in a tastefully-restored riad with a hammam and massage facilities, and explore the many shopping opportunities the city has to offer. Everyone I’ve met here has been very friendly and helpful and I’ve experienced much more hassle in Turkey than I have here.
# posted by hotelreviewer @ 4:51 pm 
