Pictures of Marrakesh

Austin and the "not so Express" train to Marrakesh.

A shot out of a moving train window -- this is dry country.

The Jemaa el-Fnaa at night.

Street cats are everywhere -- most of them very young.

A donkey moves a load, with wheels bearing the weight.

Woman walking towards the Koutoubia Mosque.

One of the many fresh orange juice sellers in the square.

A small donkey cart.

Spices -- always a colorful shot.

A cross-desert truck.  Just south of here is the beginning of true desert.

A cat finds an old chair in which to snooze.

Tourist carriage with Koutoubia mosque in background.

In the early morning, the streets were pretty empty due to Ramadan.

Another typical street cat.

This story teller was very good and had a band with him.

Mopeds fly through the narrow streets, spewing exhaust.

This fry cook wanted his picture taken -- only too happy to oblige.

A vendor of dried fruit and nuts.

A man with hawk, chickens, doves, guinea pig and hedgehog.  A story teller?

Shoe soles stamped out and drying.

Freshly dyed hides drying in the sun.

Sleeping in the street.  Ramadan is a slow time.

Welding in the street.  There is no OSHA -- just cripples.

A typical fruit seller.

A scribe sets up early, hoping for business.

Mint tea suppliers for the square.

A small cactus collection decorates a wall.

I always let sleeping dogs lie.

The mechanics of an old flintlock "Fantasia" rifle.

Baskets for sale.

This meat was dropped off early in the morning for a store owner. 
Apparently theft was not something to worry about.

A water man with his colorful hat, skin water bag, and single cup.

A Tuareg in blue robe and brief case tries to strike a deal.

A taxidermied red fox that I was told was a "Fenec."  It's not.

Two young ladies in conversation. 

Another early morning empty street, soon to be packed.



Typical street, early in the morning on a Ramadan day.

  

Kitchen pots for sale -- water jugs and tagineries for couscous.

Early morning street.  I think our first hotel was off this one.

Marrakesh is a pink city.  The blue windows here caught my eye.

A captive barbary ape and owners wait for tourists.

A typical hand cart.

A Tuareg assortment: leopard skin, ostrich eggs, amber, perfume, etc.

Tuareg selling dried lizards, dried hedgehogs, and resin for perfume.

A Tuareg selling live spiny-tailed lizards.

Musk mellons in a hand cart.

 Jemaa el-Fnaa food stands at night with mosque in background.

Doorway with tile and carved plaster.

The Moroccan flag on an empty street, early morning Ramadan.

Austin was sick as a dog, but here he puts on a game face.

A water seller with a skin bag of water and one communal cup.
Not much business during Ramadan!

Colorful hand-woven scarves.

A live chamelon for sale in the market.

Leather bags and purses.

Moped with wicker baskets and prickly-pear cactus fruit.

Austin and I caught a 10 am train out of Fes to Marrakesh, and this time we found the First Class coach, which was air conditioned.  The cabin door slid open on its own with every grade change, however letting out the cool air.  The good news is that little problem was solved by the American who reached into his bag, pulled out 10 feet of cord, and tied off the door handle with a simple loop. Smiles all around.

This train ride was seven hours long, but it took us through the countryside, from Fes to Meknes, through Rabat and Casablanca.  We would certainly see the country!

Shortly after we left Rabat I asked the passenger next to me, who had only recently boarded, how much longer it was to Marrakesh.  He replied in French, and I passed on the information to Austin in English. It turned out this fellow spoke perfect English!  He had gone to college in the U.S., and was, for a time, an air traffic controller at LAX.   We talked a bit about jobs, America, Morocco, kids, politics, and it was great for Austin, as nothing had to be translated.   He lived in Marrakesh now, married with two small children.

We drank a little water and juice on the seven hour train trip, but we did not eat in front of the other passengers, as it's Ramadan and that would have been unbearably rude.

Debarking from the train in Marrakesh, Austin was starving, and what did he see? A McDonald's! I was having none of it, but I gave Austin 10 Dirham (about $1.50) and he went to get a hamburger.  That was a hamburger he would live to regret!

We tried to hail a cab,Jemaa el-Fna square, and from there I paid a young tout 20 dirham to guide us to our hotel.


It turned out that the hotel I had booked us in was a miserable turd hole. I have no idea who wrote the write up for this place on the Internet travel advisor site I found it on, but they had clearly never stayed there!


The room was small, the single towel was stained, and the sheets had a thread count embarrassing to a screen door.  There was no toilet paper and no soap, and the lock on the door was installed sometime in the 19th Century. Worst of all, however, was the fact that the room was a complete hot box. 

Austin and I bolted the room, agreeing that we could not stay there more than one night.  The good news was that at least one part of the description about this "hotel" was true -- it was a straight and easy walk to the Jemaa el-Fna.

We went to the square and climbed up to a second floor cafe for an overview.  Austin was getting pretty sick by now, and I suspected food poisoning.  We both had Fantas and I had a mint tea as well as a salad (cucumbers, tomatoes and a little onion).

Austin needed to head back to the hotel, despite two visits to the bathroom at the cafe.  It was very clearly going to be a long night.


And it was. Austin was miserable, and at 6 am, I got up and headed out, intent on finding a new hotel where Austin could at least be sick in a slightly cooler room -- perhaps even one with toilet paper.

I walked at least 15 miles inside the old Medina before eventually finding the place I was looking for -- a Riad on a street without a sign.  It was just a door and a few faded letters, but inside it was great, with a beautiful garden with several caged birds, a palm tree, balconies and (best of all) air conditioning, a much bigger room, decent beds, cable television, and food service.   Thank God! 

Austin remained sick for the next three days. He and I went out together for three or four short periods, but the combination of two-stoke moped exhaust, greasy cooking fires, and the stench of undevelopment made him nauseous.  As for heading off deep into the Medina, his intestines would not let him go too far from a toilet.  Eating?  It was out of the question.

On the second full day in Marrakesh, I went out for several three and four hour shifts by myself.  In the evening of the last one, Austin and I went out together, and he bought a set of babouche (shoes) for himself.

I was sorry Austin got sick twice on this trip, but as my mother noted, whenever we get together as a family to talk about old times, we never talk about the flawless excursions, but the complete disasters.  It's the total wrecks that provide endless story value.  We still talk about one miserable hell-hole of hotel we stayed at more than 40 years ago!

And so, in the end, Austin will come away from Marrakesh with good story, and perhaps a new appreciation of why one should always eat the local food of the country (and not McDonald's!).  For sure he has a profound appreciation for bottled water and meat that is very well-cooked. 

The late great blues man W.C. Handy once observed that "You'll never miss the water 'til the well runs dry."  I think Austin might echo that sentiment as it relates to clean air, traffic lights, intact sewage systems, fixed prices, and even such simple things as flush toilets and the expectation that the bathroom might have toilet paper and soap.  If so, then I count this trip as success.  One cannot truly love America until one is cognizant of the alternatives.  Yes, we have bits and pieces that are broken, and in need of improvement, but it is not an accident that so many in the rest of the world are, literally, dying to get here.  America is the greatest place on earth, and one can love Morocco, France, England and Spain (and I do), and still hold that belief with every fiber of your being.

..

A lovely basket seller with excellent wares.

A street corner with palm trees seeming to grow from a roof.

Typical street scene.

The Koutoubia mosque.

Moped with cart = next generation truck.

Most of the diners are local.

A study in contrasts -- tourists eating and locals working.

Smoke from cooking fires and the glaze of lights.

Marrakesh airport, headed for London and home.