"See you in the Souks!" and "Halal Prices!" - My trip to Marrakech

So, this July my mom and I took a trip to Marrakesh, Morocco. Let me add, this was the first time either of us has travelled by plane in 20 years...(and now you're thinking..."aren't you 19?"...yea..perceptive..i've never travelled. well a one hour flight to New York when I was 9...so that doesn't really count.) May I also add that, no we do not have any family or friends there, and no we did not go in a group. I say this because almost every person I've told about this trip either asks "Do you have family there or something?" or "Are you going with a guided tour?"...which kind of ticked me off I must say...it made me think, "why is it so crazy for us to want to see a cool new place...just because we want to and not because we have some other connections?" Anyways, no harm done.

So here's how it went down. First time travellers, my mom and I get to the airport around 1 pm...for a flight that was to leave at 4 pm I think...and there we see a huge line. This line is full of people who look quite annoyed and confused. We're not sure how this works. Do we check in? Do we go register or something? So I approach and Air France rep, and ask her. There I am informed that our flight to Paris is delayed...in fact, the plane never arrived at its destination. What the blood? So she directs me to the insanely-long line of confused people. And now the waiting game begins. In the line, there were 2 young women in front of us, who provided some small talk and were quite entertaining. Some hours later we reach the Air France desk. Exhausted already, we check in our luggage...and are told our flight is delayed until 7:30..something to that effect. Compensation? Free meal tickets. So my mom and I go to pizza pizza and get some food. When we get back to the gate...the guard asks me "Air France?"I nod. "I think your flight is delayed again," he informs me. He gives me a sympathetic smile. "Till when, do you know?" I ask. He tells me he thinks its 9:30. Well to make this really long story short, the plane arrives at around 11:30 pm. 8 hours later we're in Paris.

Needless to say, one delay pretty much ensures another. We were to have 2 connections. One from Paris, and one from Casablanca. Anyway, on the flight to Casa I was seated between two strangers...(there were "issues" with getting a seat with my mom after that delay..). Not that this was a bad thing. In fact it was one of the highlights of the trip...and it might seem kind of lame to call it a highlight...but it sure made for a cute story. On my left there was a young woman who tells me shes also travelling to Marrakesh. On my right, sits a young man who speaks very little English. With our broken languages we somehow piece together what each other is saying. We both realize we're afraid of taking off and landing...and heights. To distract himself, the man tells me he prefers to listen to music. He shuts his blind and turns on his mp3 player. He glances over and offers up one side of the headphones. Graciously I take it and listen to whatever he is. 50 Cent and some French rappers. I find this so cute. I don't think he'd have let me listen if he understood those lyrics. After a while the food comes...I refuse the meal..not feeling very hungry at that moment. I take a nap. When I wake up, my new friend is still listening to music. He tells me he went to school for management and that he likes it. I tell him I'll be going to school for arts. And then the bombshell. He shows me a picture on his digital camera of a little girl. "Ma fille," he says. "Your daughter?" I repeat in English. He says yes. I am in total shock. Married man?! with a kid?! That was unexpected.

In Casablanca, there is another delay. We leave at around 1 am, and arrive in Marrakesh at about 2:00 am. We wait for our luggage on the spinney-thing ...but it never shows. We make a lost baggage claim. I'm so tired, I kind of want to cry.

We arrive at the hotel at 2:30 am, and though all the lights are out, we are greeted by a doorman. In the hotel room I take off my clothes and sit on the bed. Looking in the mirror, I sort of feel lost. It's a weird feeling, like I don't recognize myself. I'm probably just too exhausted.

After a few days of back-and-forth to the airport trying to find our luggage, we get it back. Now, I felt like my vacation could finally begin.

Most days I woke up around 9 and had a nice breakfast of croissants, pastries, and tea. They had this lovely mini-french toast thing that was amazing. Then I'd go up to my room...look out and comment on European tourists.

After some chill-time we'd go around town, walking to the supermarket or taking tour buses. Mind you at 45 degrees Celsius, going out is kind of hard. I had some great tajine and lots of Italian food. The restaurant hotel had a cute little pizzeria that served great lasagna and spaghetti.

On our last few days we went to the souks and j'maa el fnaa. In the souks, the most common line I heard was "HALAL PRICES! MUSLIM PRICES!" and there was this one guy who kept calling me "princess Habiba" so I would come into his shop. The first day in the souks we were stopped by a man in one of the shops who said he would lead us to a rug dealer. "Not far" he kept saying, as he led us through a maze of shops. "You're welcome" he kept saying once we got there. The rug shop smelled.....interesting. Let's put it that way. Sayeed the rug dealer laid rugs out in front of us as we decided which ones we liked. He kindly sent his helper to get us some mint tea (which is actually very refreshing in that heat) and freshly squeezed orange juice. Sayeed was a friendly man who seemed to be learning English. His English sounded like those tapes that teach you another language...you know, the one's that say things like "Today the weather is very nice. I'd absolutely love to go camping. Now, you repeat." He spoke formally, with intonation that didn't really match. At times my mom and I would exchange glances and smile. Once we were done, and his helper had folded the rugs into insanely small packages, Sayeed said, "And now you can go to your hotel and tranquil." I laughed. "Did I say something wrong?" He asks. "No, no...but usually we don't use the word 'tranquil' like that. We usually say 'relax.' I respond.

One thing that struck me in Marrakesh were the amount of motorbikes. It seems like its probably a more inexpensive way to travel for citizens, so you'll see old men, young women, or both riding one as a common thing. What would make me go crazy with delight, were the  young women fully clad in hijab and/or abaya (long dresses) usually with gloves on and their scarves drawn over their faces. The veil being used more so to block all the fumes and dust, than as a niqaab. It was empowering to see these women, going about their days on their motorbikes.

On our way back, we stayed in Paris for a night. After speaking to Information we found out that we could take a shuttle bus to our hotel. When we arrived at the hotel, we were informed that we were mistaken. Apparently this was not the right branch we were at. We got a taxi to take us to the right branch, trying to take in as much of Paris as one possibly can in the back of a taxi at night. The cab driver was a nice man who would tell us fun facts on our way there. He helpfully pointed out where we should go to catch the subway the next morning if we wanted to. 

The hotel room in Paris was a small room, but the beds were comfy. I enjoyed a nice cup of tea and then turned in for bed. I woke up to a slightly overcast sky, and croissants. We decided to take a taxi back to the airport. And then off we were, back to Toronto. I must say I was quite excited to get back, as at this time I was a little homesick. The flight back  was not bad, save for the fact that we were placed right in front of the emergency exit...and directly in front of the bathrooms. What can I say...that was pleasant. Oi..

Back in Canada, we waited in the customs line. That was slightly intimidating, but when pretty smoothly. And though I've been told I'll feel like I really missed out when I get back to Canada, I really haven't. I'd go back to Morocco, solely for the purpose of research though. They are an intensely artistic people, and some of their craft is truly remarkable. I'd like to return to learn some of their techniques to apply to my own work. As a people however, I've found them to be a bit reserved. They lack that "Arab hospitality" that I'm used to. This is not to offend, it's just been my experience with them so far. I think a lot of it has to do with them being highly influenced by Europe, as they were colonized by the French. Mind you, once you crack that hard outer shell, Moroccans are very kind, friendly people. I also know that there are gorgeous places in Morocco such as Ourika Valley and the Atlas mountains. Hmm...on second thought...maybe I will go back.  And maybe this time, I'll see you on the beaches, in the Valley, and on the mountains, instead of just in the Souks.