Confessions of a Modern Gentlewoman: Marrakesh, Pt. II: The Souks

The title is a bit deceptive-- I didn't actually take a single picture in the heart of the souks, despite traipsing through them time and again. You see, dear readers, the stall-holders will fleece you for just about anything, including photographing their heaping tables and glittering Aladdin's Caves. To avoid being nickel-and-dime'd to death, I abstained. What follows, however, are a smattering of the shots I did snap.

Minaret of the central Mosque--
you can see it from nearly everywhere in the Medina,
which can be damn useful for navigation

Gardens adjacent to the Mosque

My travel companions, Lulls and Alpha

Oranges and Orange Blossoms--
The air was so heavy with the scent of orange blossom,
you could taste it. I doubt I'll ever use orange blossom water
in the kitchen again without some small part of my mind back-tracking
to the moment I took this picture. Love it.

A view of the mountains from the gardens

The dyers--
A very helpful man (who did successfully sell us some scarves in the end)
appointed himself as our guide and brought us around and showed us all the
bubbling vats of dyes and hanging skenes of wool and silks.

Most of this is sheep and camel wool for rugs.

Lulls, in the properly tied cactus silk scarf--
yeah, silk made from cactus fibre. Awesome.

Alpha and our friend.
All the jars behind them are minerals and such to make the dye.

Alpha, humouring me.

Another time we found ourselves being guided about without asking for it: the Berber Tanneries.
The pits are full of lime and pigeon poo ("to makes the soft leathers")
and all sorts of foul smelling hides.

The man who led us through gave us clumps of mint to hold over our noses
to combat the smell, calling it a Berber Gas Mask.

I'd seen these discussed in nature documentaries, but to see them
first-hand was a fabulous experience!

The main tannery for the city of Marrakesh (as opposed to the Berber Tannery)--
This place is massive. According to our guide, 200 men can work the hides here side by side.

2 men working side by side, rinsing the hides.

After being given to tour, we got the old soft sell by the Berber elders who were, to be honest, really good at not pressuring us into buying anything. Well, not pressuring me into buying anything I didn't already want to, that is. Alpha kinda caught it in the teeth-- they changed the colour of a bag she'd expressed moderate interest in, and then she really felt like she needed to haggle for it and it was all a done deal from there. But prior to that, they brought us into a room lined with bags and deflated ottomans and showed us the differences in texture between goat, sheep, camel, cow and calfskin leathers, as well as the different designs and embellishment made by tribes and families of different women. Then, in a side room, they sat us down on a low bench and served traditional mint tea while laying out rug after rug after rug. Geometric designs from the Low Atlas mountains, "picasso" rugs positively saturated in colour and jammed with pattern from the High Atlas, silk rugs with sparse line designs from the Sahara to the south, brought in on camels from the desert. One of the men produced the ubiquitous bic lighter from his pocket and, turns out, the way to tell if a rug is really silk rather than imitation synthetic is to hold an open flame to it. If it does nothing to it, it's real silk. If the shop owner freaks out, it's a fake. Handy tip, eh?

We'd made pretty clear that we couldn't really afford to buy anything (despite the fact that all three of us left with something) and they were up front about acknowledging that. Frankly, I think the tourist population in Morocco has been depleted by all the unrest in Tunisia and Egypt and they were rather keen to simply show us what they had, interact rather than sit idle.

Once you decided to haggle for an item, there was only one man to see-- the eldest gentleman there, and clearly the one in charge. None of this petty discussion of price: he had a wee ledger on which he drew boxes, one for his price, one for yours. You go back and forth until he shakes your hand, and the price is the number in the last box. They're tough, and you've got to hold your ground, but the camel leather weekender bag I bought will last the rest of my natural life and be my carry-on bag for-absolutely-freaking-ever (that's the technical term for such a long unit of time, by the way). It's incredibly light, solid leather, has pockets and I love it. Lulls bought a gorgeous light green silk rug and Alpha now has for perpetuity what's become known as "the stinky goat bag" due to the smell of the oil.

Kitten napping in sunshine--
This little guy was in a doorframe enjoying some sunshine.
What you can't see are the motorbikes and scooters zipping past
inches from his head! The whole medina is full of cats, some waiting for
bites to drop from the butchers' tables, but most lounging about being cats.

View down from our perch on the terrace at Cafe Arabe to the street below.

After hacking our way through what must have been a comparatively deserted run in the souks (I think they must be easier to navigate when they're busy--hear me out on this one-- because despite the increase in people to navigate around, it wouldn't be possible for every shop owner in the history of ever to hail you with their wares) we needed a bit of respite. A trio of sprites on the terrace of Cafe Arabe was just the ticket, and the breeze was fabulous.