Following my move from Singapore to Mumbai, the travel focus shifted from South East Asia to Africa and Europe. Earlier this May, I traveled with Jyoti and Ishaan to Mauritius for 5 days of sun, sea and sand, with a bit of culture and diving for good measure.
For the 1-week mid year vacation, Jyoti wanted to visit her parents in Jamshedpur with Ishaan, so I had to pick a place she wouldn't mind me traveling alone to. I considered Albania and the Baltic states, but finally settled on Morocco. Now which wife would allow her husband to travel to an exotic romantic place alone ? One with a morbid fear of snakes. Jyoti so wanted to see Morocco but she had heard of the presence of snake charmers in the souks - she is so terrified of them that even one sighting a day would make the trip a nightmare.
For the trip in late May, I booked flights to Casablanca (via Dubai on Emirates) in early March. I got them cheap: I had been checking flights to Morocco for a while and at 50k, fares were at their lowest. On Sat, May 23, Jyoti and I left home within an hour of each other, one headed to endure the 45 degree heat of the Indian Summer, and the other to enjoy the charms of old civilization.
For the 1-week mid year vacation, Jyoti wanted to visit her parents in Jamshedpur with Ishaan, so I had to pick a place she wouldn't mind me traveling alone to. I considered Albania and the Baltic states, but finally settled on Morocco. Now which wife would allow her husband to travel to an exotic romantic place alone ? One with a morbid fear of snakes. Jyoti so wanted to see Morocco but she had heard of the presence of snake charmers in the souks - she is so terrified of them that even one sighting a day would make the trip a nightmare.
For the trip in late May, I booked flights to Casablanca (via Dubai on Emirates) in early March. I got them cheap: I had been checking flights to Morocco for a while and at 50k, fares were at their lowest. On Sat, May 23, Jyoti and I left home within an hour of each other, one headed to endure the 45 degree heat of the Indian Summer, and the other to enjoy the charms of old civilization.
I saw 2001: A Space Odyssey on the flight to Dubai. I enjoyed it, but such a great movie must be seen on the big screen, or atleast a 40 inch LED. The Priority Pass got me access to the Marhaba Lounge at Dubai Airport. I am not one of those whose only posts on Facebook are the ones involving checking in to an Airport lounge or expensive hotel. I mention the stopover at the lounge as it struck me that most visitors there were Indians: presumably all Citibank Premier Miles and HDFC Signature card holders. The food on offer was thereby predominantly Indian too, including veg biryani with cucumber raita, and basmati rice with dal palak.
The second leg from Dubai to Casablanca was 8 hours. People are always surprised it takes longer to travel to Morocco from Dubai than say Paris: seeing the spherical earth on a flat map creates these distortions. I got a nice view of Dubai during takeoff. My sister lives there: in fact she had taken a plane to South of France just that morning, but we missed each other at the airport. I saw how little greenery was there , and wondered if I'd be depressed if I had to live here.
Before the flight, I had checked out the film options on Emirates and made a list of some classics (using IMDB top 250) I wanted to see. Alternating with naps, I saw a couple of French films - Amelie and Three Colours: Red. It kind of gelled with the fact that I was making a trip to an erstwhile French protectorate. It was interesting to look out of the window every few minutes. The flight went over the great Arabian desert , mostly all sand except the odd patch of green, and then flew over, in succession, the Sinai pensinsula, Gulf of Aqaba, Cairo, Alexandria, southern parts of the Mediterranean Sea, Tunis and Algiers.
Immigration at Casa Blanca airport was friendly and quick. I collected my bags, changed some USD into Moroccan Dirhams and got onto the train to Casa Port, the city center train station. A 5 minute cab ride got me to my hotel. In hindsight I realized I had paid 50 dirhams for a 10 dirham ride, but typically the first ride in a foreign country always tends to be expensive, especially if it's after dark.
I slept at 11 and woke up at 4:30 am to take the train to Marrakech. The cabbie that morning, just like the one the previous night, was a fan of Shahrukh Khan. I got to the station about an hour before the scheduled departure time. There was a chill in the air and I had to wear a sweater as I started working on this blog while waiting at the platform.
The train ride was comfortable, eight seats to a compartment. The Moroccans seemed to be simple people: well mannered, non intrusive. Some spoke French, while some conversed in Arabic or perhaps the local Berber language. The ride was through rolling hills covered with light brown fields being ploughed by donkeys , dry scrubland grazed upon by cattle, and the odd orchard that broke the brown monotony.
I slept at 11 and woke up at 4:30 am to take the train to Marrakech. The cabbie that morning, just like the one the previous night, was a fan of Shahrukh Khan. I got to the station about an hour before the scheduled departure time. There was a chill in the air and I had to wear a sweater as I started working on this blog while waiting at the platform.
The train ride was comfortable, eight seats to a compartment. The Moroccans seemed to be simple people: well mannered, non intrusive. Some spoke French, while some conversed in Arabic or perhaps the local Berber language. The ride was through rolling hills covered with light brown fields being ploughed by donkeys , dry scrubland grazed upon by cattle, and the odd orchard that broke the brown monotony.
The train chugged into Marrakech at 10:30 and I couldn't wait to find out what made this place the no. 1 city to visit in 2015 on Tripadvisor. How do I describe it but to mention the places it reminded me of? A little like Jaipur with it's walls (albeit the color of sand rather than pink) , a little like Calcutta with it's bylanes, a little like Istanbul with it's vibrant markets selling spices and lamps. A short taxi ride from the station took me through the gates of the Medina ( walled city) and the last stretch to the Riad (a traditional home converted to a guesthouse) had to be covered by foot.
Named Riad Gallery 49, it was a little tricky to find but I tracked the house numbers and finally got there. It had an inviting courtyard with a quaint seating area, and the guest rooms and hamam were on the first floor . Lamp shades, carved wood panels and chairs, carpets, Berber motifs , brass teapots, ceramic pots and pans with Arabic calligraphy, and traditional shoes hung on the wall made up the decor. Two young ladies welcomed me, offered me tea and local sweets. Only one of them, Ghizlane, spoke English and gave me a brief orientation of Marrakech. Her colleague Niza then offered to walk me to the Main Square, Jemaa El Fnaa, and help me buy a local SIM card enroute. Ghizlane told me it was unwise to chat with Niza while on the road as the police would mind. I don't think that was the real reason. These girls were dressed up like Western women and it seemed to me that they were a misfit within the society around, and thus didn't want to attract attention of the locals. In any case, Niza didn't speak English, so our interaction was limited to smiles.
Named Riad Gallery 49, it was a little tricky to find but I tracked the house numbers and finally got there. It had an inviting courtyard with a quaint seating area, and the guest rooms and hamam were on the first floor . Lamp shades, carved wood panels and chairs, carpets, Berber motifs , brass teapots, ceramic pots and pans with Arabic calligraphy, and traditional shoes hung on the wall made up the decor. Two young ladies welcomed me, offered me tea and local sweets. Only one of them, Ghizlane, spoke English and gave me a brief orientation of Marrakech. Her colleague Niza then offered to walk me to the Main Square, Jemaa El Fnaa, and help me buy a local SIM card enroute. Ghizlane told me it was unwise to chat with Niza while on the road as the police would mind. I don't think that was the real reason. These girls were dressed up like Western women and it seemed to me that they were a misfit within the society around, and thus didn't want to attract attention of the locals. In any case, Niza didn't speak English, so our interaction was limited to smiles.
Jemaa El Fnaa was buzzing with snake charmers. Between a couple of dozen of them, there were more than a hundred snakes on display. There were stalls to apply henna and a couple of monkey shows were going on. Being an Indian, this wasn't what I would call exotic, but it was a good place to hang around. Thereafter I walked through one of the bazaars, Souk Semarine, onto Ben Yousef Madarssa, a section of which was open for the public. It had a stunning marble courtyard surrounded by study rooms both on the ground and first floors and its arched entrances and balconies were adorned with intricate wood and stone work.
The next stop was Bahia palace, with similar architectural themes as the Madarssa, though all of it was open to viewing and thereby it seemed much bigger. The intricate lattices and wooden ceilings with mother of pearl inlays reminded of the palaces and forts in Agra and Jaipur. Adjacent to the Bahia palace was the older Badii palace, where little remained but the tall walls, with stork nests perched atop them. The palace complex also held the Minbar (the stepped pedestal atop which the priest gives his sermon) of the nearby Koutobia Mosque, one of the most important mosques in Morocco and like most others barring a couple, closed to non-Muslims.
A short taxi ride took me to Jardin Marjorelle, the highest rated attraction in Marrakech. Having seen many botanical gardens around the world and some of the best Japanese and Chinese gardens, I didn't expect much from this place. The 50 dirham entry also seemed to be steep compares to the 10 dirham charge at previous attractions. The garden though lived up to its billing. Juxtaposed with cactus and palm trees from different parts of the world were the man made elements such as blue pavilions, yellow ochre window panes, rust benches and colored pots. It was built in memory of Yves Saint Laurent and there was a room dedicated to an exhibition of his poster art.
I then headed back to the hotel and en route, picked up a bus ticket for Fes, a trip due two days later. The plan was to take an overnight train, but it was no longer operational so I had to improvise. I was presented tea and dates upon arrival. I lazed around in the room for a but and then headed back to Jemaa El Fnaa for dinner. It was a lot more crowded in the evening. Unlike other famous squares in the world- too many to name here - this place was dominated by locals. Many shows were going on and I couldn't fathom much of it. One guy had a carpet with some coins on it and kept talking with the encircling crowd without really doing anything I could fathom, and I soon lost patience. At another place, two boxers seemed ready for battle which never seemed to start. The moment I took the camera out to take a pic, one of the gang approached me for money. Some bands were playing, a couple old men were trying to dance like Michael Jackson and there were the usual snake charmers. A couple of hundred food stalls were operating. About 50 of them were selling juices: orange juice was 4 dirhams and all the others were 10. I had veg couscous at one of the stalls that advertised itself as being recommended by a certain guidebook: it was decent but not delicious.
Back at the Riad, I called it an early night at 9 pm. I was rudely awaken at 10 pm by the sound of loud traditional music. Coming out of the room, I saw Niza was dressed in a belly dancing outfit and was shaking a leg with one of the guests. As tired as I was, it would have been unreasonable to begrudge the 4 other lodgers at the Riad their evening of entertainment so I splashed some water in my eyes and joined the merriment.
Back at the Riad, I called it an early night at 9 pm. I was rudely awaken at 10 pm by the sound of loud traditional music. Coming out of the room, I saw Niza was dressed in a belly dancing outfit and was shaking a leg with one of the guests. As tired as I was, it would have been unreasonable to begrudge the 4 other lodgers at the Riad their evening of entertainment so I splashed some water in my eyes and joined the merriment.
Continued in Part II..
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