Feeling fresh in Marrakech

If you’ve been to Morocco you’ve probably been to Marrakech. It’s a shining beacon of Moroccan culture seen across the world. Its allure lies in its intricately imagined old town, with its jumbled souqs, luxury riads and lively street culture. After the windswept isolation of the desert and the towering earthen towns of the oases, Cee Lo Green and I had a similar yearning, we wanted the ‘Bright lights bigger city’.

After our long bus journey over the Atlas Mountains, with a stop for food in a random mountain village, we arrived in Marrakech. We quickly found our way to one of the main entrances to the old town and enjoyed ambling through the shaded streets towards our hostel. There was one little issue. This medina’s streets weren’t the raging rivers of human activity like in Fes. I mean that’s fine. Differences were of course welcomed on our countrywide trip and a bit of serenity would have been welcomed, but there was no such serenity. People had got fed up of using their legs. Moved from the dark ages of physical activity to the terrifying modernity of the 21^st century where mopeds ruled supreme. Mopeds on roads? That’s fine. But mopeds on the narrow pedestrianised streets… you know the bit where fragile human bodies are? That’s dicing with death. My ears were on a swivel for that buzz of incoming two wheeled danger. Ready to sidestep swerving traffic, jump into a mysterious alleyway or throw Ollie in front of a speeding death machine to save my own precious limbs.

We did finally get to the hostel in one piece and from our walk to the centre of the medina we were not particularly impressed. It was a classic case of the post-Fes blues. The streets were still lined with stalls and there were still intriguing little alleyways but there wasn’t the persistent feeling that we were lost or the authentic street bustle of Fes. The hostel (Hostel Sijane) was in the style of a riad, with tiled walls, a central courtyard and rooms on multiple levels off of the centre. It was cheap, had a free breakfast and was in the perfect location, so after finding our way to our dorm room, which was completely empty, we headed out for food and exploration.

Food is a deal breaker. It has the effortless power to change my opinion of a place in seconds. With so many choices and my stomach pushing me for a decision we chose a place with a roof top terrace that sold pastilla. A homerun? Nope. Not quite. The roof terrace lacking a view and the pastilla lacking any semblance of moisture or taste, meant that our Marrakech culinary saga had started out on the poor side.

Needing to get around the medina a bit more and having read about the Saadian Tombs, we decided to give it a look. The tomb complex dates back to the late 16^th century and was inexplicably teeming with Spanish people. The Islamic world is known for its complexity of architecture and designs, these tombs were no exception. Not only were the iconic tiled walls more impressive than anywhere we’d seen before, but there was also an array of beautifully worked wooden and stucco components. We spent a while moving from room to room in awe, however when all is said and done this was built 350 years after Salisbury Cathedral. Those Saadian dynasty builders were skilled but did they build an edifice as imposing as Salisbury cathedral in the feudal middle ages. No, they did not. I should write a post just about Salisbury Cathedral to be honest, I mean its older than Machu Pichu, the majority of the Great Wall of China and the Black Death for goodness sake. Aside from my unrelated, possibly unnecessary and wholly sincere side-track, go and see the Saadian Tombs, they’re pretty.

After a wander around the tombs and the medina we needed a respite from the heat. Ollie had heard that Café clock, one of our favourite locations in Fes, had another location in Marrakech. A little more out the way than in Fes, we decided to up our game with the orders upon our arrival. Sorbet sundaes with fudge, they were heavenly which is more than I can say about the company.

Ollie as well as being bad company is also surprisingly well informed when it comes to skin products. His absolute favourite and possibly primary reason for coming to Morocco was Argan oil. This oil from the Argan tree, which is endemic to Morocco, is popularly used in cosmetics and according to Ollie its very expensive in the UK. He needed some cosmetic help and looking around for this mysterious oil had become a surprising constant of our trip. We found a little shop in a mall with a lady who, not only could speak English very well but who could also see that Ollie, with his dry, flaky, Voldemort in the final Harry Potter skin, needed her cosmetic expertise. After buying enough oil for the foreseeable future we got out of there.

While these were fun excursions, the main focal point for all things touristy is Jemaa el-Fnaa. The enormous square was a fairly serene, snake charmer filled, orange juicer lover’s paradise during the day. However, at night it was a whole different beast. The drums got a beating, the barbeques got a barbequing and everyone had a jolly good time.

We passed the nights eating tagines of the finest calibre from rooftop terraces with views of the square (a step up from our first lunch). On one occasion we had two main courses each, which can only ever be a good plan. Ollie tucked into the flesh of a baby cow while I had an incredible tagine of a sweet and sticky nature. From these roof terraced restaurants, we watched the night unfold, with people danced mesmerically in the smoke billowing from the BBQs at street level. This square was our favourite place in Marrakech.

Final thoughts 

Marrakech was an eye opening experience for us. It’s a popular location for people traveling on all budgets and attracts people for everything from city breaks to long term travel experiences. For us the biggest breakthrough (in terms of our cultural awakening) was that the orange juice of Marrakech is not all its cracked up to be. Seriously, just pack your luggage with some Tropicana and you’ll be much happier. Other than our profound confusion at the hype over the orange juice here, our other lasting impression was that Marrakech is only the most popular location in Morocco because people don’t go to Fes. I’m sure if we’d been to Marrakech first then we would’ve loved it, but after the unpredictable sensory overload of Fes, Marrakech seemed a little tame.