Wandering into the Souks
26 June 2006 — The part of town that Wil and I are staying in is known as the Medina, which is the old city. Traditionally, in the centre of any Moroccan city lies a square where just about everything happens. Marrakech was no exception. In fact, its main square, the Djemaa el Fna, is supposedly one of the biggest and busiest on the continent, and I couldn’t agree more. With its throngs of dancers, water sellers, acrobats, strolling magicians, storytellers, henna artists and peddlers dealing in all manner of goods, the place truly pulsates with the energy of a quintessential African marketplace. And even if not the biggest, this square has got to be the most mystical I’ve come across. No wonder that Djemma el Fna was proclaimed “masterpiece of the oral and intangible heritage of humanity” by Unesco (the medina is also a Unesco World Heritage site).
These photos were taken from the Grand Salon, a three storey café/restaurant where mint tea and Coke were double the price of elsewhere but the crowds flock for the view from its rooftop terrace.
Me and my 10 dirham (A$1.55) mint tea. Can you see the fresh mint leaves?
But more of Djemma el Fna later. By day, it isn’t half as interesting as when night falls, when the place truly comes alive. So we’ll track back this way in a bit.
For the moment, come let’s head into the Souks, the rabbit-warren of narrow alleyways that flanks the sides of the square. Now this is where the fun really kicks off! This place has been likened to a battle field where day in and out, thousands of haggling wars unfold between shopkeepers and the tourists who fall prey too easily to their aggressive and crafty sales tactics. It would be fair to say that hustling is a way of life here in Marrakech, and trust me; it isn’t in the slightest way subtle. Guidebooks warn that the bazaar can be a traumatic experience and one travel journalist from the Sydney Morning Herald concludes that “if shopping could be an extreme sport, it would be played in the souks of Marrakech”. You have been warned. So if you’re ready, take a deep breath and here we go…
The main arteries, Souk Smarine, Souk el Kebir and Souk el Atarin, branch off into smaller and smaller thoroughfares jammed with shops selling everything imaginable – jewellery, brassware, copperware, woodwork, pottery, scarves, teacups, lamps, baskets, dried fruits, spices, perfumes, soaps and carpets to name but a few. And here’s just a tiny taste of that…
Who would have thought?!? Protein powder! Yikes… probably out of date
Billie very happy with his Arabian style slippers – 120 dirham (A$18)
R: Surely it’s possible to squeeze ONE MORE wheel into this shop!?!
Yes, even pork! And of course slippers, tons and tons of them!
Moroccan sweets galore! This cheeky shopkeeper invited me into his shop to have our photo taken in exchange for a peck on the cheek!
And yes, that is one thing we discovered. With the Marrkechians, many of them are actually quite happy to have their pictures taken, some even come up to us and asked to be photographed. For instance, this boy in the herbs and spices section of the souks — he was quite obliging, and look, he even knows how to pose!
We had good fun with his chameleon. (Here it is trying to scale my boob.) Whatever its purpose was though remains a mystery. Is it a pet or do they actually eat it for its “medicinal” purpose? Hmm…
Another crazy thing sold in this section is this natural olive oil soap. Soap?!? Yes, soap! And yes, we got suckered into buying a tub, the one that the shopkeeper is holding in his hands. I dunno, the whole thing’s so gluggy you really wonder if it’d do more harm than good. Oh well, you know what they say… when in Rome…
More than a mere feast for the eyes, we soon found out the experience can be pretty intense and heady in a different way. In addition to having to constantly siam motorbikes, barrow boys and donkey carts (I kid you not, they ARE very much a main mode of transport here still), there are the million and one merchants to jostle with. As friendly as the shopkeepers are, they can get pretty intrusive and pushy after a while. In fact, if you so much as walk past their store, they would be ready to pounce, and if you’re not quite resilient enough, you’d probably find yourself being shuffled into one shop after another, or worse, hassled into buying a hundred and one things you didn’t even need. (Today Billie and I almost crumbled and bought a set of Moroccan teacups, thank god my sensibility kicked into first gear at the final minute!) Like if you thought Chatuchak in Bangkok was bad in terms of how cramped and claustrophobic it is, just imagine this place as 26 times worse! As Billie says, it’s hard to explain, it’s not just about the volume of goods and sheer messiness of the place, here it’s the people as well, the constant harrassment, haggling and hassling.
And let’s face it, there’s only that many times Billie and I can put up with saying “no, we’re not Japanese!” Yes, somehow the world over, people are convinced that if you look Asian and you can afford to travel, you’ve got to be Jap. I mean for every hundred “Konichiwa/Kombawa/Sayonara” we had spat in our faces, we only got one, maybe two, “Jacky Chan!” (Wil was real pleased with the latter, he thought they were saying it in reference to him. No offense but if you’d ask me, I hardly think it’s a compliment to look like Jacky.) Nonetheless, the souks are an absolutely amazing experience still, one certainly not to be missed! And I’m pre-tty sure that once we have recharged, we’ll be back asking for more!
I’ll leave you now with a few parting shots of them donkeys I was talking about earlier…
Correct me if I’m wrong but I do believe my hubby’s all poised to kiss that donkey?!? No wait, it looks more like he’s WAITING for the ass to smooch him?!?…