Mar-Raucous Marrakech
Dave Says:
Don’t visit Marakech if you’re deaf. It would be a waste of your money, go somewhere like London or New York where it would actually benefit you to not be able to hear anything. However, if you’re a little hard of hearing or if you wish to be, Marakech is the place for you.
Morroco is our twelfth country on this trip and never have we been anywhere where sound is more important than sight. Of course, traffic is noisy and constant as is usual in the world’s poorer countries but that’s not the sound I’m referring to. Twenty minutes in the Medina of Marakech, the Djemaa el-Fna is equivalent to twenty years of being a roadie for say, Megadeath. The noise, the din, the hustle and the bustle is completely overwhelming. Think of it as a symphony of history, recent sounds such as the car and moped mixed with sounds that have been gracing that square for centuries. Humans shouting, monkeys screaming, radios blaring and the call to prayer all heaving together carried along by the smoke of the many food stalls cooking meat to order. Drums and wind instruments that beat rhythms to both dancing humans and dancing snakes compete with the human voice plying for trade or, more importantly, telling stories. There is an ancient tradition of story tellers coming to the square, sitting on the ground and regaling tales of myth and legend. Fortunately for those of us who speak Arabic, the tradition is alive and strong. Unfortunately, we don’t speak Arabic so for Sarah and I it was just a chance to stare at the fifty or so people crowded round the story-teller in rapt amazement. It is this tradition that actually gives the Djemaa its authenticity, for without it there is danger of the tourists owning this part of this ancient city as they have many others. Surprisingly,there is little touristy about this old part of Marrakech which is refreshing mainly because there are a lot of tourists around. This, to us, means that these westerners are more prepared to take a walk on the wild side than your average package tourist and that the Marrocans, although glad of the dollars, aren’t prepared to sacrifice everything to earn them.
Marrakech was also hot - really hot - bloody hot actually. Anywhere from 45 to 50 degrees C which tops out at about 125 degrees F. It was so hot that our hotel room was the only sensible place to be from about 1pm to 6pm. I can’t say that I really enjoyed Marrakech that much although it was certainly good to back in the poverty again and not just for the prices but because we operate better, see more and experience greater extremes of life there. We were expecting Kathmandu in Africa but then this culture doesn’t appear to have the charm of the Nepali and the Djemaa is certainly no Thamel. However, to see, experience and most of all to HEAR this place is certainly a feather in a cap and earns us the bragging rights of starting a conversation with: “Well, when we were in Marrakech….”