Marrakesh is not a smooth ride. It grabs you by the collar, drags you into a whirlwind of honking mopeds, snake charmers and the scent of something vaguely sweet decaying under the Moroccan sun.
The old medina is a fever dream of humanity compressed into tight alleyways, each turn revealing a new layer of vendors hawking counterfeit bags, serious men hauling crates and women veiled in flowing fabric gliding like ghosts through the dust. Somewhere above it all, the muezzin calls out across the rooftops like a lone voice in a storm. It’s not serene. It’s not peaceful. But it’s real.
Roaming Marrakesh.
Finding a moment of stillness in Marrakesh is like finding a jazz bar in a war zone. It happens, but it’s usually tucked behind an unmarked door and involves a bit of luck. But I was lucky. I sit down at a rooftop, dodging the scorching sun while ordering a “noss noss”. I’m not sure if Dale Cooper would call it a damn fine cup of coffee, but at least it has caffeine and works excellent for washing down my pancakes.
Coffee and pancakes, all you need for breakfast.
After the caffeine fix I’m ready for Djemaa el Fna, the large square where anything can happen. Originally a place where they placed chopped-off heads to scare the crowds, today it’s the main square of Marrakesh occupied by snake charmers, food stalls and all sorts of strange people from dusk till dawn.
Djemaa el Fna, Marrakesh.
I sit down at one of the balconies overlooking the square, having yet another Tajine, the ubiquitous Moroccan stew in a clay pot. Dining on some sort of mystery meat under the stars while listening to the assault of sounds emanating from the square below. Puffs of smoke drifts from the busy barbecue vendors. The tall minaret of the Koutoubia Mosque can be seen over the rooftops, chanting the voices of prayer across the open field. Even from a distance the chaos is so overwhelming that it feels choreographed.
In Marrakesh, peace doesn’t come from silence. It comes from surrendering. You don’t tame the city, you let it devour you. And maybe, if you’re lucky, it spits you back out a little wiser, a little dirtier and much more awake.
14 comments
Leave a reply