What you think you'll get is not what you'll see

Lots of peple think that Morocco equals Marrakech and they therefore want to be there. Invariably, people hate it though the first time then like it more once they get to know it or go back a second time. In this tightly packed little city there is more to life than the Medina but that is where most tourists go anyway.


I was accosted on my first trip there by a young man who thrust a toy snake in my face and asked if I didn't need a souvenir. I jumped and screamed. Snake charmers and their lethargic cobras were about 20 feet away but my reaction was instinctive. It is the horse in me.

In some ways you can't blame the locals for getting right in your face. There are a lot of touristas who go around snatching up whatever local culture they can find in the form of sun, souvenirs or so-called authentic Moroccan trinkets.




One of the most painful things to see and experience though is the market sellers who insist on talking to you and guessing where you are from. Once they find out, you are regaled with facts on your own country as a means of forming some relationship with you to get to you to come into their shop and buy anything and everything. It all sounds nice except the sellers in Marrakech are notoriously aggressive and get in your face, pushing any number of greetings in any language possible at you. I was taken for Spanish or French until I opened my mouth. My friend Jeff was inundated with 'arigato's'.

In the end we bought very little opting instead to get snacks for our on-going journey from a local fruit/nut/date stall.













Our stay was made extraordinarily pleasant with two nights at the Hotel Foucault. We had a rooftop room that allowed us quiet time in the midday to sun ourselves like lizards with a great morning breakfast in a fantastic dining room. Few things make me as calm and happy as morning brekkie in a place like this.





Next stop, the road....