Leaving the Continent - Marrakech, Morocco

I'll admit it: before going on this trip to Marrakech, Morocco, my knowledge about that city was based entirely on my favorite restaurant in San Diego, Kous Kous, and the Real Housewives of New York's trip to Marrakech last year.  Their trip ended in Eddie Munster comments, a fight at a riad and cropping people out of pictures with camels.  Naturally, I was a bit anxious about our trip.



Much like my trip to Berlin, I am walking away from Marrakech with lessons learned.  They are as follows: 1. Moroccan food is amazing (kind of already knew that one, but still) 2.  You can barter for anything but food 3. Hamams are not quite the spas I thought they’d be.

1. Moroccan Food:  Oh my heavens.  The food.  My love for lamb tagine was so strong before we even left and after eating there, my love for lamb tagine is so much stronger!  Why oh why do Italians not eat more lamb?!?!  The lamb sausage, called merguez, is gamey and delicious and the best place we had it, bar none, was in this dive restaurant called Oscar Progres.  Far from progressive, this place had long communal tables with plastic table covers.  Each plate cost about 38 Dirham, the Moroccan currency, which equated to about €3 (or $4.50).  The conversion of money was tricky, when going from dirham to Euro to USD.  Mamma mia!  Molly and I dined on lamb tagine, beef cous cous, Moroccan salad (made of tomatoes, cilantro and onion, among other things) and these delicious marinated olives.  Compared to the simplicity of Italian food, Moroccan food was all full of so much flavor and cumin, my favorite of all of the spices!!  I could honestly go on about every meal we ate, but to sum up: everything was amazing!

2. Bartering:  I suck at it.  Here I was, arguing with these vendors and caving after 2 counter offers and Molly would just shake her head and mutter “Sally” under her breath, the ultimate Molly insult.  So I let her bargain for our scarves and oh my gosh!  Sure, it took about 45 minutes, but we walked away with 7 silk scarves for about €6 each!  I mean, that’s amazing!  Molly was my agent for the rest of the trip, ignoring the stories of the vendor’s starving children and crumbling home.  “Listen, Ali, I like you, but don’t lie to my friend here.”  To be fair, about every offer started with “Is not tourist price” and ended with “I make no profit if I sell at that price.  That is crazy price.” 

3. Hamams:  Well I just wasn’t prepared mentally for the hamam experience.  I went in thinking it would be similar to my previous massages.  I was wrong.  The hamam had this beautiful pool in the center with decorative tiles running all the way up the floor to ceiling walls.  Couches with beautiful pillows lined the walls with platters of fruit in the center on a small table.  Music of lutes made me wonder if nymphs would soon appear to dangle grapes into my mouth.  With this image of nymphs and waterfalls and delicate music, we walked into the changing room and spied a pair of "shorts," slippers and a sarong.  The shorts were little more than two pieces of string and what could only be assimilated with O.R. shoe cover material.   Our backs turned to one another, Molly and I changed into our little outfit, tightly tied our sarongs and wandered into the nymph wonderland. 

Step one of our massage included a full body scrub down in a domed room with two Thai women and aggressive hand mits.  This part was decidedly unrelaxing for me.  Molly and I sat on benches directly across from each other, very nearly nude, sweating our asses off as the women rubbed sandy soap on our bodies and then scrubbed it off with brilo pads.  I left the little room bright red and probably down 2 pounds of skin.  

Step two was the Thai massage, involving mostly gentle rubbing but some level of bending me in positions that made me even more embarassed to be in those little shorts.  In America when I've gotten massages, it seems like they pretend like you are a Ken doll and ignore any areas that would be blurred out on TV.  Not in Morocco.  They rub your butt, they massage your boobs.  It was all together a bit strange to be so openly touched and to have paid for it!  I'm a lady!  I've not had a stomach massage before but it involved a lot of poking and pushing and made me recall each morsel of lamb (see Lesson 1) with shame.  "This 90 pound Thai woman is judging me."  I immediately turned red, again.


Tom and I may return to Marrakech during our remaining 2.5 years in Italy and if we do, we’d certainly stay at the same Riad, as it was amazing and owned by the two nicest people on the face of this planet, Giorgina and Massimo.  The snake charmers, which terrified me to the point of having nightmares each night, were a bit overwhelming.  My fear of snakes has previously left me throwing Tom at a python (read: garden snake) and sprinting back to our home in San Diego, momentarily hoping that he made it out alive.  Suffice it to say, a square full of snakes was not my cup of tea.  But the colors and smells of Morocco were so vivid and so memorable that I’ll carry them with me for always and hopefully lose the 3 extra pounds that I gained around my midsection.