On April 26 at 3:30pm, Victoria and I left my dorm to Heathrow via tube.

We were initially scheduled to arrive at Marrakech Menara Airport around 10:20 that evening but our flights were delayed and by the time we got out of the last plane it was close to midnight and the airport was nearly deserted.

Luckily, we ran into a lone backpacker from China who was camping out at Menara for the night for his morning flight. He was kind enough to negotiate a price with the predatory cab drivers outside with us. Turns out he is also a study abroad student in Paris, so Victoria, who is also studying abroad in the suburb of Paris, ended up exchanging contact information with him.

 

The taxi ride wasn’t too long but because of the extremely narrow alleyways the driver couldn’t drive us all the way to the doorstep of our riad – a traditional Moroccan/Maghrebi style B&B. He dropped us off at a small square/parking lot and pointed at an abstract direction and told us to “go straight and you’ll find it.”

The alleyways were badly lit, compared to those of big cities like London, Tokyo and Shanghai. They seemed to stretch and meander way beyond our limited eyesight.

 

The next thing we know, a bunch of local young fellas emerged. They are (probably) unlicensed, self-described “guides”, surrounding us, cackling, and nudging, exchanging knowing gazes among each other. Two of them “volunteered” to show us the way to Riad Zayane Atlas, even after we refused and tried to ignore them, frolicking around us.    

One of the “guides,” a man in early 30s was not happy about how we didn’t smile back to them as much as they would have liked. They did take us to our riad, after all, and after arguing a while they begrudgingly settled for a single dirham bill. It wasn’t a long walk at all from the parking lot in fact, the only reason we “hired” them was because it was just dark and we weren’t familiar with the area.

 

One of the hosts, whose name I cannot recall, a man in his late 50s, responded to the doorbell in his pajamas. He was slightly surprised at our late arrival but was patient with us while Victoria explained the situation. Because he doesn’t speak English, all of the conversations we had with him had to be in French so I could only understand his words through other people. He told Victoria the riad was not expecting us until the next day but we showed our copy of the reservation confirmation email. He retreated to the office and came back downstairs saying it was Hotels.com through which we booked the accommodation that messed the dates up. He offered his(?) bedroom for us to sleep in for the night and promised us that he will have a room on the second floor ready in the next morning.

 

 The first night, as well as the following few nights, I had trouble sleeping. But I wasn’t surprised because I’m just the kind of person who goes insomniac when overly excited. At about 5 in the morning, I heard the morning prayers. It brought to my mind the memories of Turkey. At the same time I realized there are only 3 hours until the breakfast is served.

 

With my adrenaline being pumped inside me at the maximum level, I rose from bed and enjoyed the breakfast thoroughly. The riad served us freshly squeezed orange juice, coffee, warm pastries and bread with sweetened butter and apricot jam. Half way through breakfast, mint tea made a grand entrance. Unlike other dishes which were brought by Fatima the chef and other female housekeepers, mint tea was always brought by a male host – serving tea to guests is considered an art form and is a traditionally masculine task in Morocco. According to internet sources, the base for mint tea is gunpowder green tea, alternatively known as Zhu cha in Chinese meaning “pearl tea”, which is imported from China. To produce foam on top, the tea is poured from a tiny metal teapot into delicately painted glasses at a distance.

All it took was a single sip for me to fall head over heels in love with Morocco’s favorite beverage. I’ve done a few quick “research” on mint tea before I embarked on the trip and I had very high hopes for the tea and every glass I had never disappointed!

Being from China and all, to say I am a huge tea lover is a mere understatement. Growing up, I have always enjoyed good tea and tasting teas from different countries is one of my favorite things to do when I’m on trips.

Ok, enough with tea now.

 

We were told that we still have a couple hours until after the previous guests leave and the room is cleared. So we decided to take a stroll down the street and see where we’d end up.

And voila! Before we know it, we were at the famed Djemaa el Fna!! And it was just as crazy as our forerunners have told us. Donkeys carrying baskets and people, horse-drawn carriages, and early-bird merchants – water sellers, orange juice stalls, henna artists, cafes – were already there, trying to earn some extra dirhams from confused tourists.

We went to explore some of the souks. The merchants, mostly teenage to middle-aged men, came off as slightly pushy. They were actually more aggressive than the Shanghai merchants! It wasn’t just once or twice that I got my arm pulled. Most young female tourists were heckled from dawn to dust and the fact that Victoria and I are both of Chinese descent didn’t help either. Instead we got A LOT more attention than others. From time to time we got called names – racially specific names, Gangnam Style references, the randomest combinations of Japanese words they could think of and something to do with having flowers in the hair (because while I was out and about in Marrakech I wore a flower in my hair). There were also unofficial “guides” here and there but not everyone of them wanted us to pay.

 

Then we walked toward the tallest building, the minaret of La Koutoubia Mosque until we were at the edge of a busy intersection. We took a couple of pictures of the mosque with the azure sky on the background and since it was close to noon, we decided to buy us each a large bottle of water and go back to our riad.

 

After we returned to the riad, we were greeted by Kamal, the other manager-slash-guide, who cordially invited us to rest at the sitting area on the first floor while the staff finished up clearing our new room upstairs. Kamal, to my delight, speaks English so that was the first time in about 48 hours I had long conversations with anyone other than Victoria.

He sat with us and gave us a map of the city and explained how things work in the riad and beyond. He also made suggestions for our one-day excursions and offered to accompany us to a hike up the nearly Atlas Mountains, which we gladly accepted. He assured us that he will contact a tourist agency to take us to Ouarzazate, which is one of many scenic filming locations for The Gladiator, Lawrence of Arabia and Game of Thrones, on our fifth evening. We then arranged a dinner to be had at the riad on our last day. He also recommended us to dine on a balcony table at Caf� de France and watch the sun set on Djemaa El Fna.

We did – we went early to the restaurant and sat all the way up on the third floor which gave us a spectacular panoramic view of Djemaa and Koutoubia.

The food was great. We both ordered two-course dinners. I had a plate of beef tagine with roasted almonds and prunes and Victoria had a plate of couscous with chicken (I think) and vegetables. Thanks to the cone-shaped earthenware it was cooked and served in (the dish’s name tagine also refers to the multi-tasking pot/container), the beef I had was among the most tenderly cooked and juicy. The broth was spiced with perfection without being oily. The beef-and-prune combo sounded odd at first but they went along very well together. The almonds added a fragrant touch to the dish.

Victoria’s couscous was tasty too. Even the veggies were heavenly. It made really me want to learn how to cook tagine dishes (that’s how Moroccan parents get their kids to eat their veggies, I suppose!). For desserts, we both had sliced fresh oranges with cinnamon sprinkled on top.

The sun didn’t set until nearly 8 in the evening but once it disappeared, the entire square lit up with candles, bare light bulbs, candles, Maghrebi lanterns and unparalleled enthusiasm of its merchants and street performers. Food stall workers yelled, snake charmers blew oboes and dancers sang. It was amazing. We could see that Djemaa El Fna truly is the heart of Marrakech and its energy the blood. We could almost hear its strong pulse.  

Overall, It was a day we felt quite in touch with the local lifestyle and got to know a little bit about Marrakech before our adventures that followed.

 

For pictures, follow the link here: http://krazzykitty.tumblr.com/#50172773939

Location: London, UK