SALAMU'LEKUM

Idalis: Thursday, August 28, 2008; 9:51 PM

After a so, so time in Rabat, Kevin and I were anxiously awaiting our departure. We had expected in Rabat, as Kevin so eloquently put it, a more Epcot version of Morocco. Where were the zelij tiles? The kasbahs? The famous hookah pipes? When we didn't experience these things, we were a bit disappointed and were excited to go to a place we felt (after reading our Lonely Planet guidebook about 20 times) would fit this description better.

Our train ride from Rabat was quite comfortable, by Moroccan standards. We accidentally got into the second class compartment, although after being advised by a friendly Moroccan, we had purchased (for a mere 4 dollars more) first class seats. What a great tip that turned out to be! Trying to walk through the second class compartment was an adventure in and of itself! There were people and bags everywhere spilling out into the aisles. Making our way through the tiny, hot, congested aisles with our heavy backpacks was not easy. Not to mention the smell of sweat that permeated the air! When we finally reached the first class compartment, the conductor was locking the doors to enter. I tried knocking on the glass, but my huge bag had gotten caught behind me and I couldn't quite reach the door. I stretched my arm forward, but missed the window by only a few inches! How frustrating! Kevin finally pushed me forward, I was able to knock, the conductor opened the doors, checked our tickets, and we were able to (thankfully!) find our seats in the first class compartment. After stowing our bags and settling down, Kevin and I were grateful for the 4 ½ hour train ride that lay ahead, since our seats were comfortable and no one in our compartment seemed to be carrying any live animals. Although the promised “air conditioning” wasn't quite working, we passed the time reading, listening to the ipod, or just staring out the window. I was amazed to see such poor living conditions. Shacks made of discarded material whizzed by my window, but I noted how most of them had satellite dishes beside the waving clothes lines. Kevin struck up a conversation with a young, well-spoken Moroccan man sitting next to him, Faicel, who gave us great tips about Moroccan food and culture, and even offered to host us in Casablanca. If you read this: Thank you, Faicel, for your kindness! We then arrived in Marrakesh: the REAL greatest show on Earth!

We took a “petit taxi” to our hotel, opting to pay the three dollars it would cost instead of wandering through a new, strange city, and the friendly driver pointed out some places of interest we could visit during our stay in Marrakesh. We walked into Hotel Gallia and felt like we were coming upon an oasis after many parched days in the desert. The spacious, clean rooms overlook a beautiful courtyard with lemon trees. We have our own bathroom, a REAL toilet (no squatting necessary), and best yet: a bathtub! And breakfast is included! Kevin and I immediately looked at each other and smiled. We were both thinking the same thing: Maybe we'll spend a few extra days in Marrakesh :) After getting settled in and admiring all the little conveniences (look: air conditioning!), Kevin and I headed out to explore the city.

We walked just a few blocks to the heart of Marrakesh: Djemaa el-Fna, a huge square in the medina and the city's focal point. Finally, azuleji tiles, couscous, and hookah pipes galore! Most of what your mind conjures up when you think of Morocco probably comes from here. There are stands and shops everywhere, selling everything conceivable to man: shoes, jewelry, plastic toys, clothes, lamps, rugs, spices, nuts, and even toilet paper! It's a complete assault on the senses. We walked around the twisting alleys, gazing into all the shops, and trying to ignore the hawkers and aggressive vendors that make their living this way.

My favorite part, and the thing I had been waiting for the most, were the food stalls in the middle of the market, where all kinds of food is for sale: couscous, tajine, stew, steamed snails, goat's head, grilled meat, fresh-squeezed orange juice, rotisserie chicken, vegetables, and a million other things that I couldn't identify. I felt like Anthony Bourdain, walking through the aisles and enjoying the sights and smells, while poor Kevin had to contend with the (again) aggressive hawkers, vendors, and waiters that beg you to eat at their stall. None have names, but rather numbers. After walking through several times (sorry, Amor!) we settled on stall #41, and what a wise choice! For 100 dirham (about 11 US dollars) Kevin and I feasted on bread, olives, spicy red pepper paste, tomato relish, grilled sausage, chicken, steak, and vegetables, in addition to a colorful salad with beets, rice, cucumber, and red onion, and the most delicious grilled eggplant known to man. We washed it all down with sweet mint tea (on the house!) and felt so thankful to be in such a colorful, vibrant city. Afterwards, we walked around the lit square, joining the thousands of other people to watch the spectacle before us: musicians, (male) belly dancers, fortune tellers, performers, storytellers, and henna tatooers. It was like going to Key West and seeing Mallory Square (times one hundred) turned upside down and dropped in Northern Africa. The greatest circus show on Earth, and no tickets necessary!