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Morning from Marrakesh!  It’s a new dawn, a new day and a new life for me, but I’m not feeling so good!  Slept on my neck a bit funny last night, but hey ho life goes on.

After buffet breakfast in the hotel… (it’s always a good day when there’s cheese for breakfast)… we ventured out towards the old town.  

Just round the corner from the hotel, I got my first ever glimpse of a camel.  I have to say I’ve already become completely infatuated with these creatures!  Why are their necks so bendy?  What is it with the humps?  Why are they always chewing?  And why do they chew so posh?  I need answers!

I mentioned yesterday, that the old town, or Medina, is surrounded by tall stone walls characterised by lots of holes.  It’s only in daylight that you notice all of the pigeons sticking out of these holes.  Are they playing hide and seek?  Goodness knows what they’ll find in there!

Dad makes the bold call to forgo the obvious point of entry, and carry along outside the walls and take the next opportunity.  That turned out to be an extra mile, or 20 minutes of walking.  This did bring us in through a very fancy gate though – Bab Agnaou.  (Is that not a Middle Eastern dip?? 🤔)

This gate is late 12th century and made of brick and sandstone.  It provides the main point of entry to the Kasbah (a citadel once ‘rocked’ by The Clash).

Outside the gate are two brass statues of guns.  Of course I’m a sucker for a photo op – what do I find inside the barrel but one half  of a pair of nail clippers.  Who knew that staring down the barrel of a gun could have such a yield?

After passing underneath the gate, and walking through the Kasbah, I start to get a feel for Marrakesh.  This is an area of the city that most tours don’t cover, it’s rough around the edges, but an authentic insight about how the locals go about their daily life.

I’ll be honest, with our visit coinciding with Ramadan, I wasn’t sure what eating options would look like during daylight hours.  Surprisingly, there are food market stalls galore, and most restaurants seem to be open as usual.  It must be hard for local Muslims to fast while working to feed tourists.  

Incidentally, Morocco is said to be 99% Muslim.  Local law prohibits any public criticism of the Islamic religion, so probably best I keep my thoughts to myself.

As we meander through the Kasbah, one man, dressed in a hooded robe (looking like either a Jedi Knight or Traitor) tells us that we’re headed for a dead end, and offers to lead us into the Jewish Quarter.  We soon end up at his shop selling soap, and try to work out how we can slip away cleanly without offending the man.   Honestly street sellers will play every trick in the book to get you to buy something!

I soon recognise the sort of main touristy shopping street from last night, and we agree it’s probably time for a sit down.  I should say we’re booked on a free walking tour at 2pm, so have about an hour to kill.

On one corner of the Jemaa el-Fnaa square, in the Le Samovar restaurant, we plop ourselves down at a table and order some drinks.  Alcohol is hard to find here, but not impossible if you know where – not that that changes anything at all for me.  I’m going for an orange juice!

There’s a security man standing guarding the entrance to the restaurant, but I’m not entirely sure what his purpose is – there are still ‘looky looky’ men coming in, trying to flog sunglasses and headphones.  

To be fair, a pair of noise cancelling headphones would have been quite useful, when loud high intensity dance music started pumping out of a portable speaker beside us. Expecting some kind of Zumba class to erupt (on second thoughts, I now appreciate that isn’t really the done thing here), you can imagine my surprise as a group of middle aged men started back flipping and somersaulting in front of us!  Minutes later and a human pyramid has formed.  What on earth was in that orange juice?

Things came crashing back down to reality when they came round after looking for money!

Once the music had subsided, I notice a real blend of sounds coming off the square.  There’s a buzz of hustle and bustle, but the most distinct sound belongs to the ghaitas of the snake charmers.  These are similar to oboes, but have a similar irritating pierce that goes straight for the ear drums like a set of bagpipes.  It’s funny how when the call to prayer sound chant cries out, all of the instruments on the square fall silent.  (I’m not sure which sound is worse tbh!)

The square is nowhere near as busy as I’d been told to expect. Probably a combination of Ramadan and off-peak season.

Approaching 2pm, we make our way down to the Khoutobia – the meeting point for the walking tour.  The guide appears a few moments after we arrive – his name is Rachid.  We are joined on the tour by two German couples.

The Koutobia dates back to the 13th century.  It is the name of the whole mosque and not just the tower which dominates the skyline.  With a height of 77 metres, this is the highest building in the Medina of Marrakesh and nothing can be built taller.

Walking back through the Medina, I’m  picking up a not so nice vibe from some of the locals (but definitely not all).  Walking down a busy pedestrian precinct and someone will literally drive into you from behind on their scooter then give you a dirty look for getting in their way.  I guess the same goes for nearly anywhere, but I definitely haven’t felt a very friendly welcome so far. 

Rachid tells us that haggling for food is a big no, no, but clothes, souvenirs and textiles is ok.

The tour takes us through more back streets, to what looks to all intents and purposes as a pharmacy.  Ok, this I was not expecting.

We’re brought inside where a tall gentleman in a lab coat runs us through the contents of his shop.  We’re introduced to Argon Oil – good for dry skin, black seeds good for clearing sinuses, and do a back to back sniff comparison of Jasmine and Oud oil.  No they’re not really that similar at all!

The man says that Argon Oil will magically fix the dermatitis on my face, so I duly buy a bottle like the absolute mug I am.  You know what they say about Argon Oil.  If it’s very popular, all the bottles ‘Argon’.

This pharmacy is a Women’s Cooperative – a community initiative to provide employment through production and traditional crafts.  Two women are grinding nuts to create some Argon oil.  We’re told the authentic stuff has no smell – if it does have a smell it’s been mixed with something or synthetic.  These women slog away on the press for 9 hours a day.  

We’re next brought into a courtyard where caravans once stopped to rest.  (Not actual caravans btw – I mean trains of camels).  Nowadays the courtyard is used as a suppository of stuff, although it just looks like a scrapyard to the untrained eye.  In one of the houses off the courtyard, Rachid leads us to our next stop – a rug shop.

Predictably, there are rugs hung up covering nearly every wall.  At this point, I twig that this is just now a tour round the dying businesses and industries of Marrakesh.  The man in the shop explains that every rug has been handcrafted taking hundreds of man hours to finish.  At this point I’m thinking to myself – why would they not just use machines? Maybe he just showed us a few examples that had been sat around for a while, but the rugs look dated, dirty and are eye-wateringly expensive.  

The German couples express an interest in one particular rug.  When they find out it’s over €1100, they hastily retreat outside.  Honestly who would spend that much money on a small piece of carpet in this day and age?

Next up we’re brought through the souks into a dyed wool street, and a shop selling ceramics.  This walking tour hasn’t really shown off the landmarks of Marrakesh, but maybe the heart of this city isn’t the buildings or attractions, but rather the people in the markets.  The ones who keep the place ticking day after day after day.

It does feel like we’re a merry band of tourists being led round the fledgling markets of Marrakesh by the pied piper of Hamlin.  

The tour concludes in the main square, and we get a photo with the guide Rachid.  It was a free walking tour, but payments are kind of assumed.  We’re happy to pay 200 Dirham each – that’s around £16.  It wasn’t a bad way of putting the afternoon in. 

I absolutely hate snakes – they give me the ick, but nonetheless am intrigued by the charmers in the main square, so stop to watch one at work, up close.  The cobras seem to be enthralled by the music (they must be the only ones)! 

As the music plays, the snakes heads rise off the ground and start swaying.  I wouldn’t go anywhere near them, but one of the charmers took a few photos up close on my phone.  

I do think though that horses and camels dragging tourists around on their backs crosses the line into animal cruelty, and it’s actually quite sickening to see chained up monkeys being trailed around the square for likes.  PETA would have an absolute field day here for all the wrong reasons.

It’s only when I’m reading up afterwards that I discover snakes are deaf to the music we hear.  It’s vibrations in the air that they feel which makes them feel threatened and act defensive – so this isn’t very ethical either.  Many have had their fangs removed, or mouths sewn shut, are starved and often stored in cramped conditions.

From one charmer to another, a top tip if you’re looking for a sweet treat is the Fine Mama restaurant on the Rue Bab Agnaou.  That is the softest and fluffiest cake I’ve ever had the pleasure of eating – unreal!

For dinner, on the same street, we headed to the Mabrouka Rooftop Restaurant, as dusk was fading to darkness.  At the table beside us was a girl called Rebecca and her mum Carolyn.  It turns out they are also from Bangor and by sheer chance, Rebecca knows my sister Sophie (I mean, who doesn’t? 🤷) 

We often joke that when you go away, people from Northern Ireland all know each other, and it’s amazing that 1600 miles away from home, we end up sat beside two people from the same city.  For me, this is the best thing about travelling – the unlikely stories we tell along the way!

In the morning, we head out of town, and have an early start ahead.  Thanks for reading and see you tomorrow!