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Marrakesh, at the first rendezvous

Marrakesh, at the first rendezvous

Choosing Marrakesh as a holiday destination is a challenge. To like Marrakesh is a choice.

After I took the plane tickets, one thing was decided in my mind: to stay in a traditional Moroccan house. Said and done! In the desire to feel the energy of the place, to take the pulse of the Marrakesh directly from his heart, we chose for a riad.

I admit, at the first meeting with Medina, we were struck by the image of old, red-faced facades. Something, I don't know what urges you to find out their story. The insertion deepened the mystery. The maze in which we move is not over. Astounded, walking with big steps on narrow streets and deserted, tangled, we woke up next to a young man from nowhere. Kindly, he offered to take us to the accommodation. And, although I refused, he decided to lead us: "No problem, madam, don't worry!" Therefore, accompanied without our will, we arrived in front of the entrance door. Now we had to pay the asking price. How, what price ?! Suddenly, we realized that we were in a different world. In Morocco, nothing is free: neither the picture of the monkey, nor the spectacled snake, nor the chaise. Here it all costs. It is the way the locals live. It is important for you to negotiate. We turned and we paid less than half of the initial price. So, we met the first face of Morocco

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Walking to the riad

Walking to the riad

When the door opened, we realized that we had chosen the right one: a wonderful Moroccan house in which tradition combines with good taste. The rooms were inserted on both sides of a swimming pool guarded by four shrubs: an orange, a lemon, a grapefruit and an olive. Next to it, a cat. Above, the sky.

We were greeted with tea: the hospitality was at home.

The mornings in which we were spoiled with sweet products prepared in the house, with fruit and fresh orange juice, were perfect to sweeten the days that were to be. Morocco, different!

Once you get out of the riad, the spell is gone. The hurried step on the twisted streets and the bag we were holding tight gave us the impression that we are not masters of the situation. Follow the market. It doesn't take you long to get to know her. In the early hours of the morning, merciless traders beg to occupy the places they have mastered since they are known. Followers of spectacle snake charmers, sellers of illusions and scammers. Then the beggars. The bustle amazes you. You spin among the wizards, riddles in the stars, women painting with henna. You are surrounded by an unusually feeling: to sit and watch or mingle and get into their game. It only depends on you whether you want to be a spectator or an actor.

We sat down in the corner cafe to watch the show. Peppermint tea, everywhere . The market was gripping tourists or travelers, romantic or solitary. No one would escape.

Towards evening, stalls. Dozens of dishes invite you for: chicken slices, lamb chops with dried plums, camel slices with figs and couscous topping. As doubtful, as delicious. Everyone gobble. We also ordered. We got something from the house. In the end, the note. Inflated. How, why? Well, the appetizer ... We paid and we continued our evening walk. We were approached by other traders. I politely refused saying that I ate. Each time, the same cliché: "You're skinny”. You can have another portion! ”

If you like Jema el Fnaa, you become a prisoner of it. He grabbed you. If you don't like it, you feel lonely in an impossible-to-understand world. I liked it . Yeah, just me!!!!

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