April 28, 2016
The nice thing about staying in an Airbnb apartment/house/room is that you are usually right in the heart of the locals. However, the bad thing about staying in an Airbnb can sometimes be that you are staying right in the heart of the locals. Morocco is primarily a Muslim country. Muslims pray five times a day following a call to prayer. Before the first call to prayer in the morning, there seems to be a pre-call or, perhaps, a widespread wake-up call.
Our Riad is situated close to two mosques, a smaller local one, and the large Koutoubia Mosque. Each Mosque has its own system of prayer calls – so, at 5:00 a.m., or close enough thereto, we were treated to two advance wake-up calls. About 60-90 minutes later, we had the follow-up dueling calls to prayer. It’s not a bad way to wake up if you were planning to wake up at the crack of dawn; we hadn’t planned to wake up so early. Luckily, we were able to hunker down under the sheets and drift off to sleep again until our scheduled alarm went off.
When we checked in, we were asked what time we wanted breakfast the following day. While we were getting ready, Azizza had let herself into the Riad, prepared a continental breakfast, and set it up for us on the rooftop deck. It was lovely to start our day under the brilliant blue skies of Marrakech lounging on sofas beneath the pergola drinking freshly brewed mint tea (me) and coffee (Steven) and breakfasting on yogurt, flatbreads, and what’s best described as Moroccan pancakes (we’re really not sure what they are called, but they are really good drizzled with honey).
From our rooftop vantage point, we could see the minaret of the local mosque where a pair of gigantic storks built a huge nest for their little storks. We could also hear the neighborhood roosters who crow morning, noon, and night. There’s even a rooster with a Napoleon complex as he is small but has a crow that sounds like an elephant. It was so relaxing to sit in the lounge listening to the city wake up around us. A great start to the day.
While our ability to communicate was limited, Azizza had volunteered to take us through the neighboring Jewish Souks to do some souvenir shopping. Since we’d seen the night before that the souks can be a bit overwhelming if you don’t know where you are going, we took her up on her offer. Using a translator app on my iPhone, we more or less got across to her the types of items we would be interested in looking for during our excursion. Even with my limited French, I knew that the translator app wasn’t doing a great job at translating our intent – but it was good enough to start.
After a quick wash up to get the pancake honey off my fingers, we were off. Although short in stature, Azizza has a good stride and walks with purpose. She knows where she’s going and nobody better get in her way. She waved several hustlers off as we went, or stared them down. She means business.
We walked down alleys and through squares until we got to the old Jewish section, which is known to be more reasonable price-wise than the more touristy sections. Our first stop was Herboristerie Palais El Badia, a homeopathic pharmacy – one of many found in the souks. Here, you can get any type of medicinal spice, herb or plant to soothe or cure all types of woes. Do you have bronchitis? There’s a spice for that. Do you snore? There’s a remedy for that. Do you have psoriasis? There’s a cream based on an herb for that. Do you have allergies? There are all sorts of spices, herbs, and plants for those.
We were introduced to all sorts of things by Rachid, one of the salespeople. He even took us next door to where they grind spices and herbs. They were grinding ginger when we walked in, and it smelled heavenly. The shop had so many things in so many jars it was overwhelming (overwhelming is a perfect word to describe so many things in Marrakech). Back in the store, Rachid explained the different uses of Argan oil, which is very popular here – some are for cooking, and some are for cosmetic applications. He said that Argan oil is good for hair restoration, but when Steven took off his hat and pointed to his head, Rachid simply said, “Too late.”
Around the corner and down an alley (which covers most of the directions you get in Marrakech), we stopped off at a tea store to look at Moroccan tea services and glasses. Good deals abounded. More stopping, more shopping, and we had soon depleted most of the funds we brought with us on the excursion (we left credit cards behind at the Riad and only took some of our money, just in case of pickpockets). This was unfortunate because Azizza took us to a shop where fabrics were handmade. We were tempted to buy scarves and things. The salesman, who we will call Blue Caftan Man, was very convincing.
Notwithstanding our current lack of funds, we started doing our best haggling and got Blue Caftan Man down to about 45 percent of his original price, which we thought was pretty good. We let him and Azizza know we’d have to come back because we didn’t have any more money with us. Not a problem, said Blue Caftan Man, “my boss has a motorbike, he drive you to get money” and he brought the price down to 40 percent of the original price. Hmmm, what to do, what to do. Steven and I looked at each other, shrugged and he said, “OK, I’ll go.”
Steven hopped on the back of the motorbike with the boss in command; they took off in the direction of our Riad. Meanwhile, Azizza and I lounged in the store drinking, you guessed it, mint tea. I wasn’t on Steven’s adventure, so I can’t give a first-hand account. He later described whizzing through alleyways with great abandon holding his hat on his head. On the return trip to the shop, they were almost taken out by another motorbike lugging a gigantic crate, but other than that, it was just like any other adventure. He did have a few new grey hairs upon his return.
We big adieu to Blue Caftan Man and followed Azizza down a few more alleyways and into a big square where she pointed us in the direction of the Riad. Then she was off to grocery shop for dinner. We followed imaginary breadcrumbs and made it back to the house without incident.
Earlier in the morning, we’d exchanged emails with the San Franciscans (from our Toledo tour) about meeting up. In fact, they invited us to lunch at their hotel. They gave us the address and it turned out, they were staying about five minutes from us. We had passed their hotel at least six times in the last 24 hours without knowing it. So, after freshening up a bit, we were off again.
Through our alleyways, out to the side street which leads out to Rue Sidi Mamoun, a left turn and 50 yards down the street we found the door leading to La Villa des Orangers, a part of the Relais & Chateaux collection.
David met us at the door with a hug and escorted us in. The hotel resides in the old Judge’s residence and has been restored to its former glory and then some. It’s absolutely beautiful with lovely gardens, luxurious lounges, gorgeous architecture (lots of carved plaster and painted/carved wood ceilings), and terraces.
We had lunch out by the pool. The service was impeccable and the food was pleasing to the eye and the palate.
We couldn’t believe this relaxing sanctuary was just behind a wall off of the busy street. You wouldn’t know that the city buzzed mere yards away. We traded stories of our adventures since we left each other at the airport and lunch was over all too quickly. They then took us on a tour of the property – their room is elegant but comfortable, and I was jealous of the claw foot bathtub in their bathroom. Each room also has a balcony or terrace, and their’s was a rooftop terrace all done in white – beautiful (but I like ours better). When we came down the stairs from the terrace, we saw a fez on a hook. When I looked at it quizzically, David told us that if you don’t want to be disturbed, you hang your fez on the hook outside your door.
The hotel is beautiful and is listed in many of the guidebooks as one of the best in Marrakech. It’s clear we travel in different circles – but that’s ok. In fact, the next thing we did was take them back to the Riad to show it off. Not a five-star hotel, but we like our place and are comfortable with it.
The four of us planned on going for a walk and a cold beverage when David said we should go check out La Mamounia, an exclusive hotel where celebrities and the wealthy hang out. They were thinking of going to the restaurant at La Mamounia for dinner, so why not go and make a reservation rather than having the concierge call. We consulted the map and were off.
We chatted and we walked and then we chatted a bit more and walked a bit more – it ended up being further away than we thought – and then it rose up in front of us, behind well-guarded gates. Along the way, we had met a couple of girls who were in search of the hotel. We were all stopped at the gate by the guards who inquired after our intentions. David, who can strike a rather imposing figure, stated matter of factly that the four of us were here to make a reservation at the hotel. The guard looked each of us up and down, considered his options, and let us pass. The other two were not so lucky. They apparently didn’t meet the unspoken qualifications and were denied access.
The guidebooks say that La Mamounia is the most fabulous hotel in the city. We all agreed that if Vegas did a Moroccan theme, it would look like this hotel. Yes there was opulence, yes it was pretty and over the top, but it had a coldness and snootiness to it – not my kind of place. I do have to say, the bathrooms in the lobby were nice. A walk through the general spaces, by the pool, and in one of the gardens, we were ready to leave. David and Mark decided, ultimately, that this was not a place where they wanted to dine.
On our way back to their hotel, we walked beside the Koutoubia Mosque’s gardens. It was early evening prayer time, so we chose not to go into the gardens – non-Muslims are not allowed in the Mosque at all – but they look beautiful.
With hugs, kisses, and promises to get together in California, we left them at their front door. We dodged traffic to cross the street (once again taking our lives into our own hands) to get to the local store where we’ve been getting bottled water and then walked the five minutes back to the Riad.
Shortly after we got back, Azizza arrived with dinner. For an extra cost, our host had advised that we could have a home cooked Moroccan meal served on our rooftop terrace. So we opted in and we’re glad, because Azizza is an excellent cook.
We started off with a warm puréed zucchini soup, a Moroccan salad of tomatoes, eggplant and olives, and what looked like potato latkes. Then we were served a tagine of chicken with olives and preserved lemon. Everything was flavorful and hit the spot. It was made even more wonderful by the candlelit atmosphere and, of course, the fabulous company. The great meal and evening were capped off by slices of homemade moist coconut cake. Yum.
The best part of the meal? There’s enough leftovers for tomorrow’s dinner.
