Moving Forward...

Arjen flew in for some excellent days. The only disadvantage of Marrakesh is the presence of tourists, yet these also bring in some tourist/expat oriented facilities. Like Pacha Marrakesh, the largest disco to be found in Africa (beer priced at a reasonable $21), and luxurious restaurants like Bo & Sin and Le Foundouk, all of which we enjoyed quite a bit.

The Good Life.

Eating at Djemaa el-Fna is a happening, the magical square of Marrakesh.

Ali ben Yussef Medersa.

Marjo and Lise. Dutch culturally interested (!?) party-girls.

Dining right in front of the Koutoubia Mosque.

Colors, colors, colors.

A bakery: women collecting the baked bread.

Koutoubia Mosque with panels showing developments in early Islamic art.

Daytrip to Imlil.

Casablanca’s Hassan II mosque is the third-largest in the world, right after Mecca and Medina. Finished in 1993 to celebrate the 60th birthday of Hassan II, it’s quite a sight.

With millions of inhabitants and a busy port, business is what Casa’s all about. Millions more in the slums around feel rather left out.

Bar/dance joint, with nice vibes. The beer is cold and when musicians from upstairs join in with their saxophones and drums to jam on the rhythm of the beat for the sheer fun of it, the night’s just perfect.

The penny dropped when I altered my behaviour 180 degrees. Before I would evade or ignore the ‘touts’, ‘guides’ and salesmen. But they are Maroccans, too. I embrace them now, see their perspective. And also these Maroccans turn out to be so incredibly nice. While chatting with a old local waiter, I take the menu out of his hands and walk to the street luring in passing tourists. With my looks (European that is ) and English I bring in a couple straight away. The waiter can’t believe his eyes, insists I stay at his house and greets me exuberantly whenever we meet afterwards. At the potteries of Fes, without buying anything I chat with a dozen workers who all happily show me the intricacies of their work (and give me a tile when their boss is not looking ). They love chatting about soccer and don’t want me to leave. A taxidriver nearly breaks into tears when telling me his Dutch friends bought him a cassette-recorder 10 years ago, and insists I take his phonenumber and stay with him next time I’m in Fes. The list of meetings like this goes on and on. If you show some respect and interest, their friendliness is truly surprising. It’s hard to capture their friendliness in examples, but I hope this gives you some idea.

Are you that talented teamplayer who ‘gets the job done’ with a ‘can-do’ mentality? If yes, board a plane for Fes ’cause they got just the right job for you.

The medina of Fes is the largest in the world. Nothing can prepare you for it. You’re bound to get lost, you’re bound to get hassled, you’re bound to see chickens’ throats being slit. Relax, it’s all part of the fun. The building with the green-tiled roof is the Kairaouine mosque.

The tanneries: creating leather out of skins. Here, they are still making things.

Horses on the graveyard of Fes. Naturally.

You throw rubbish on the floor. The poorest and the cats will take it from there.

A mosque? A palace? No, the view from my room. And it was a bargain, too.

The city ends rather abruptly.

Actually, not that much display of the flag in Marocco.

“Can you keep these seats free for me and my father?”, she asks inbetween two songs. I’m equally struck by her brown eyes as her perfect English. I just boarded the train to Meknes with very loud arabic disco music all around. I quickly decided to look for guy with the ghettoblaster to make sure I would not end up in that coupe. The beats turn out to come from the train-speakers – so they are present in every coupe. After she returns with her father an elderly woman sits next to me. She picks up her Qu’ran and starts reading aloud with intensity, right through the beats who happily keep on pumping through the speakers. Apparently this is not nearly enough for the girl and her father – she gets her mp3-player and they share a headphone (Qu’ran music, I learn later). All sources of sound show no sign of giving up, with my sympathy going out to the old woman. Welcome to Marocco! It’s only four hours to Meknes.

You’ll remember your first walk in a Maroccan medina for sure… Tiny stores packed with goods as high as the laws of physics allow, other people selling very few goods on the ground in front of the stores, faux guides and touts trying to lure you into their store or hotel (or that of their ‘brother’ nearby, sure) and beggars with the most horrible medical conditions. Welcome in the medina!

The elderly have seen it all.

Beauty is certainly not about spotlessness. These colors are excellent.

Petit taxis are blue here . There are countless of them.

Boat entering the port of Tanger, Marocco. Don’t forget to adjust your watches: back 2 hours…