Moving Down to Marrakech

When I arrived at my hotel in Tangier, Morocco, on the night of March 5th, I discovered that it was right on the beach, though otherwise pretty much in the middle of nowhere.  I went to the hotel restaurant for dinner since there didn't seem to be anywhere else to get food and then called it an early night.

The next morning, I planned to take the train down to Marrakech.  I knew there was one at 11:30am that got in just after 8:00pm.  That gave me time to eat breakfast, pack and then take a quick dip in the sea before catching a cab to the train station.  It was actually a bit cold to swim, but I really just wanted to say that I had been in the Mediterranean on this trip.  I never got my act together while I was in Tel Aviv (where it also wasn't all that warm, maybe topping out at 75 on the warmest day) so I sucked it up and waded out into the water, waited for a break in the waves and then plunged under the surf before rushing back to shore.  I was really afraid of offending/sending the wrong message to the local populace that was strolling on the beach so I wore a baggy T-shirt over my bathing suit that I had to quickly strip off and replace with a towel once I got out of the water since the shirt was dripping wet and making me colder.  In communicating later with my father, there was a bit of discrepancy as to whether I was actually in the Atlantic Ocean and not the Mediterranean (thus completely wasting my time), but since Wikipedia states that Tangier is located where the two bodies of water meet, I am going to say that it counts.

After my quick dip, I made it to station with minutes to spare before my train left and found a comfy single window seat where I was able to hunker down for the long haul.  Of course, I ended up being on the opposite side of the train as the coastline, but I was still able to get enjoy the view.  I had to transfer trains once I got to Casablanca and then fight for a seat on the next train, but eventually I was able to sit down.

By the time I got to Marrakech it was already dark, and since I didn't have any idea where my hostel was, I decided to take a cab.  I'm pretty sure that I got ripped off, but I didn't have the energy to haggle (haggling over cab fares is possibly one of my least favorite things to do while traveling.)  When we got close to the right place, the driver told me he couldn't go any farther since the hostel was located off of a big pedestrian square.  He wrangled up a guy with a cart who he said would show me the way and though I had a map pulled up on my phone I decided to just go along with it.  We walked through the square where tons of tourists were milling about around food stalls, snake charmers and fortune tellers and then went down a narrow alleyway. 

When we got to the riad guesthouse, the porter brought my bags inside and I pulled out some money to give him a tip.  Since all he had done was cart my bags  for about five minutes, I figured I was just supposed to give him a small amount of money.  Instead he started demanding that I pay him nearly the same amount I had given the cab driver! (who himself had ripped me off)  I argued back that I hadn't asked him to bring me (the cabbie had recruited him) and that I could very well have carried my own things that short distance without his help.  I gave him a bit more money, but refused to give him everything he asked.  Luckily the manager of the hostel intervened and they started going back and forth in Arabic.  While all this was going on, three Austrian girls who were sitting in the courtyard called me over and told me not to worry, that I was safe now that I was at the hostel and that the same exact thing had happened to one of them the day before.  Finally, the porter slunk off in a huff and I was able to relax and organize my things.  I spoke a bit with the three girls, Teresa and Lara, who were traveling together, and a second Teresa whom they had met there, but happened to be from the same part of Austria, and then went to bed in the dorm room we were all sharing.  As they had warned me, the mattress was hard as rocks, but I was so tired that I was still able to sleep soundly.

The following morning, everyone seemed to have their own plans (perhaps they didn't want to get stuck speaking English all day) so I didn't try to invite myself along and instead went off on my own.  The first thing I had to do was mail a package and as per usual that ended up taking a good part of the morning between the crowds and all the paperwork.  The previous day I had been so excited to be in Morocco and on a brand new continent, but today for some reason I was in a completely cranky mood.  After leaving the post office, I got some lunch at a local cafe and then decided just to wander around using the map on my phone. 

I was able to find one of the old palaces, but I guess since I'm blind, I didn't see the entrance and ended up walking all the way around through a residential neighborhood (where I stuck out like a sore thumb) until I got to the front of the current royal palace.  As I was walking through the park outside the palace walls, I stopped to take a picture from afar and all of a sudden a security guard was calling me over.  At first I thought he was telling me I had to walk along the main road so I made an indication that I was walking that direction, but then I realized he actually wanted to speak with me.  Apparently I was in trouble for taking the picture since I guess you can't take pictures of the royal palaces in Morocco even though there was no sign.  I had my phone out with the map pulled up so I played dumb and showed him the map claiming I had been looking at that and not taking a photo.  After confirming several times, "No picture?" he seemed to buy my answer and let me walk off without taking out my camera.

As I walked toward the exit, a young Moroccan guy who had been walking in front of me slowed down and asked me what the guards had wanted.  I told them they said "No photos" and then he tried to engage me in conversation as we walked away from the palace.  I was trying to find the entrance to a big park that was supposed to be close by, but I didn't see any openings in the wall.  They guy was still trying to get me to walk with him, but I finally veered off and he started walking away, but not before asking me for a "Bijou?"  I laughed nervously and said "No" and luckily he took the hint.  Just because I'm American, why would he think that I would give some random stranger I just met a kiss?  How annoying.

I never figured out how to get into the park and since it was nearing dinnertime, I decided to walk back toward the main Jemaa el Fna square where my hostel was located.  On the way I walked past the pink and blue tower of the Koutoubia Mosque and through the surrounding gardens.  Once I got back to the hostel, Teresa and Lara asked if I wanted to go watch the sun set over the square from one of the balcony cafes that surround it.  We ordered Arabic tea and watch the sun go down before heading back home.  I hadn't eaten dinner so I asked the hostel manager, Ali, if he had any quick and cheap suggestions nearby.  He said the little stand right outside had good beef sandwiches, though the beef was mixed with everything, including the cow's liver and brains.  For some reason, this didn't stop me and I waited with all the locals for them to make me a sandwich with egg, onions, ground beef and sauce.  I have to tell you--it was delicious and I barely even though about the brains and liver.

I'm pretty exhausted and I have to wake up early to catch a bus so I will continue my Morocco tale tomorrow.  I will also proofread this post so apologies in the meantime for any errors!