Magnetic Marrakesh

In any journey there is that one particular place that pulls you toward it. Marrakesh keeps coming up in magazines, movies, cafés and conversations. In Casablanca it was less than 200km’s from us and yet still proved elusive. So, we agree, this pilgrimage will not be complete without experiencing Marrakesh. We will sacrifice multiple other destinations in the exit strategy to make this happen. Why?Frank imagines the setting from Arabian nights; Sam liked the feel of the Morocco Mall (thankfully not in Marrakesh); Rocco wants to play soccer in the square; for me – in the cultural melting pot that is the world, I imagine it as somewhere especially unique and adventurous.Ryan Air has an extensive article on Marrakesh in their inflight magazine which I digest voraciously. It almost feels like I know the place such is my imagining. But we don’t know Marrakesh as we soon discover.

In the inflight magazine we like Riad Tchaikana (a riad is accommodation with a central courtyard and there are many, many riads in Marrakesh). Frank arranges for a driver to pick us up at the airport. We shed our winter gear for the sun of Marrakesh and our luggage appears to double.We are met at the airport and driven into the heart of Marrakesh. Things that would normally ring alarm bells for me I notice but am not alarmed by. For example, the guy we met at the airport had about ten sheets of photocopied paper with different names of accommodation on them. When Frank approached him he seemed a bit surprised – the lucky sheet of paper perhaps. We are then driven into a small square in the heart of the Medina. Our driver gets out and seems to have an argument with another guy. Frank says, ‘there is something wrong here’. I shrug. A guy with a trolley then transfers our luggage to his cart and puts the boys on top of the luggage.

We follow him as he weaves and dodges traffic (pedestrians, motorbikes and donkeys) down narrow, dark alley ways. He is fast and we nearly have to run to keep up with him.

Finally he stops at a non-descript door and knocks on it.

We look at each other concerned. A Spanish man answers the door and welcomes us in perfect English. He is the owner of the Riad and it is an oasis in the medina.

The following morning I venture out on my own – I have a shop (from that magazine article) to find. I’m a little afraid in a way I haven’t been for a long time; I have no experience to compare this to. I head in the compass direction of the shop but dead ends and distractions mean I am soon hopelessly lost.

Men call, ‘Madame see my shop’

‘Where you go?’ ‘Do you want to see the Mosque?’

The medina is a hectic crammed with small alleys, dead ends and shops that all look alike. It is impossible to trace your steps because dead ends mean lots of back tracking and there are constant distractions. I trust my instincts and head north east. A happy, young guy sees me looking at the map and I trust him to lead me where I am heading. The shop is not as I imagined; it's the right shop - Lalla - but it is a tiny souk within a group of souks rather than an emporium. It is not open yet so I have a mint tea at Café Peace, around the corner, while waiting.

The owner and I start chatting. He was born in Morocco but lived in New York for 24 years. His cafe is 'a marriage of American and Morrocan culture'. He tells me that 50% of the locals can be trusted but to be wary. Great! The tea is very sweet and when I comment on this the staff bring me another, less sweet, pot. The owner says that Morrocan's like sweet things and diabetes is a big problem here.The shop opens and there is not much range at very expensive prices. I take a quick look and head back to the Riad. Now, where was that riad again? I find it, with a little help and a not so happy encounter with a local who tries to charge me ten times the going rate for directions. I hand him a note (the going rate) and say 'Where are the police?' He quickly disappears. On returning to the riad I tell Frank the story and he says, 'you should never have gone out there alone'.Hmmm...it is a different world outside the riad and one I have yet to feel comfortable in.The four of us head from the riad into Jemaa El Fna, the square. On the way, in a narrow alley way, we walk into a group of men arguing passionately. I duck into shop and drag the boys with me, yelling at Frank to come with us. I can see it is about to break into a brawl. The shop owner says, and Frank agrees, that it is best to just go straight past. 'They won't touch you', says the shop owner. What then follows is an arguement between us as to whether or not it is safe to pass. This isn't the only time we experience fighting in the street.The square is crazy; filled with story tellers, snake charmers, monkeys in nappies and salesmen of all kinds.

It can feel overwhelming and after a short time we head back to the riad where we have a wonderful chicken tangine with lemon and olives (a traditional dish) for dinner. The lovely lady who serves us dinner, Bouchra, plays soccer with the boys in the courtyard after they have finished eating.It is magical!

Our ventures away from the riad are brief; we go to La Mamounia Hotel, which Winston Churchill apparently described as the best place on earth (to each his own) for a drink.

On our second night we get back to the riad a little late to organise dinner and riad owner Barbara, a lovely Franch woman, suggests we eat at La Foundouk. The restaurant doesn't open until 7:30pm and Barbara says Bouchra will take us there as it is hard to find. Following Bouchra in her long dark cape with a hood, through the narrow, dimmly lit winding alley ways is quite an adventure. I wonder how on earth we will find our way back to the riad. Finally Bouchra knocks on a large wooden door (naturally with no signage) and it opens to reveal a vibrant, stunning restaurant; Marrakesh continues to surprise us.

We never would have found the place. For dinner we have another chicken tangine and despite the setting it can't compete with the tangine at the riad. After dinner we find our way back to the riad but I've no idea how.We have dinner ar the riad on our last night there and it is with sadness that we say farwell to Barbara, Bouchra and the wonderful staff.

On leaving the riad, we head with our luggage to Al Fassia, recommended in guide books as the place to eat tangine in Morocco. Despite the fact we have eaten tangine twice a day in Morocco our love for it has only grown. This is the dish I will make for my wonderful book club friends at home.Al Fassia is owned and operated solely by women and something of a legend. One taste of the food and we understand why. It is incredible - especially the chicken pastilla (we aren't 'game' enough to try the pigeon option).

After lunch, we are picked up and taken to Kasbah Agafay...