This past weekend I went to Marrakech with four of my friends through an organized group called SnoworSand. Our travel group consisted of me, my four friends (3 studying in Madrid and 1 in London), 2 girls from American who were studying in Rome (who were terrified/disgusted/uncomfortable with most activities), and coincidentally 3 girls from our BU program in Madrid. Our guide's name was Said (like Sayid from Lost apparently). He was this adorable Moroccan man that laughed at absolutely everything anybody said, half the time just because he's a happy person, half the time because he didn't understand what we said. He led us from place to place and provided us with a little history (or at least comic relief) at every site.
When we arrived we were shown to our riad, a traditional Moroccan 'home' with lots of bedrooms that is used for a hostel or hotel. Ours was located on a tiny, cat-infested side street in the heart of the city. It was basically a hostel with less rooms, but the structure and decor was of traditional Muslim style, geometric designs and incredible mosaics and all. There was also a beautiful terrace on the roof where we ate breakfast each day and at night could gaze at the lights across the city and the crystal clear stars above.
Marrakech is a city unlike anything I've ever experienced. The most prominent difference I observed was how deeply the religion is embedded into the culture. Five times a day, everyone is called to prayer. You can hear the chants/songs/calling over a loudspeaker in every part of the city, and when we were near a mosque, we would see people streaming inside to pray. Our guide taught us some really interesting things about the Muslim religion throughout our trip, as he too is Muslim. He told us that before men or women can enter a mosque, they must completely wash themselves to rid themselves of any sins before communicating with their god. I forget the exact details of this ritual, but basically everyone washes their ears three times, their eyes three times, mouth three times, nose three times, elbows, hands, feet, hair, etc. The best part of this explanation was that Said, our guide, concluded with: "And if you fart while you are washing or anytime before you enter the mosque, you must start over and wash all over again." We weren't sure if he had mistaken another English word for fart, but when we asked him to clarify, he indeed meant what he said...
The majority of people on the streets of Marrakech also wear traditional Muslim clothing. I would say it was more common in women than men, but it was astonishing to see how many people were so religious, especially considering how liberal and progressive Morocco is. It was also interesting that virtually no men and women walked together on the streets. I only saw two couples walking arm in arm and both women were pregnant (not sure if it was a pattern but I took note). The men mostly stood in groups and cat called tourists and the women carried children on their backs or sat on the streets begging. The amount of begging on the streets was disheartening as well. On every corner women would sit with their crying children begging for money from any passerby. Other women, however, would stand in the main square and try to earn money with henna tattoos. These women were scary and aggressive though. One day I walked through the square and a woman grabbed my hand and started painting henna onto it. Knowing that she would expect me to pay, I kept saying no no no and pulling my hand away, but she had a tight grip and in two seconds flat, I had a henna design on my hand. Of course, she demanded money, but I had no change on me (and didn't even want that damn henna) so I told her I couldn't pay her. She started yelling at me, then two of her henna friends came over yelling, and I got scared and ran off with my friends.
That same day, I saw a man walking around with a cute monkey, so I put it on my head for a picture. Just as I was smiling for the photo, my friend Alex looks at me and says "Kenzie those monkeys are trained to steal, watch out he's stealing your sunglasses!!" I don't think the monkey was stealing my sunglasses, but I freaked out anyway, threw the monkey off of my head, and on his way to the ground his toe clipped my eye and out popped my contact lens. Stuck with glasses for the rest of the trip....
Now for some visuals:
All the vendors sold the same stuff for sooo cheap. The currency in Morocco is the durham (10 durham = 1 euro).
Moroccan hats for sale.
One of the vendors sold chameleons. Here's a close-up of a baby chameleon. He must have been broken because he is obviously not the color of my skin...
Mama and baby chameleons.
Endless aisles and endless merchandise is what made up the sook, the giant outdoor/indoor craft market in Marrakech. The second you step foot inside you get lost, but it's really an amazing place. The most helpful hint we got from Alex's mom who had just visited Morocco is that you start negotiating with 1/3 of the asking price. Then you can get it down to about half. It's all a game though, and each vendor expects this trick and is always always willing to sell in the end.
Heaven.
At every wood shop you could see how they carve the pieces of wood into really elaborate forms. They hold a razor blade with their toes and with the other foot, move a stick back and forth to spin the piece of wood. All they need is a tiny movement of the razor blade to change the design of the piece of wood, but they make it look sooo easy.
All of the wood vendors would carve little pieces as a "gift for the women, not the men." Some even put them on a string to wear as a necklace.
Some of the action that goes on in the main square. It's filled with people all day and is even more alive at night. There are long picnic tables in the center with tons of food stands and vendors yelling "Hey Spice Girls" or "Hey skinnies" or "Lady Gaga, Britney Spears" to try to lure you to their stand. It's a crazy scene. The first night we got dinner at one of the stands: traditional Moroccan chicken and lamb skewers, couscous, and some random vegetables. The other traditional Moroccan food which is soooo delicious is the tangine (photos later).
More action in the plaza.
On our first official day, we took a van into the Moroccan countryside and stopped at an argan oil shop, camel site, and finally a Berber village.
Moroccan women mashing the argan seeds to extract the oil. What a process.
Riv tries mashing some seeds.
Cutest puppy everrrr outside of the argan oil place. Definitely the highlight of that stop ;)
Alex, me, Lucy, and Jenna at a small river by the camel site.
They also had horses! So while we were waiting our turn for the camel ride, we had to sit on every horse.
Riv riding a mule that's half her size...
Camels!
Me and Lucy on our camels.
We think Lucy's camel had rabies. Non-stop foaming at the mouth and growling. 
View of the snow-capped Atlas Mountains on our ride to the Berber village.
We took a 1 hour hike up to a Berber village (you can see some of the buildings in the distance on the left). Berbers are the indigenous people of Morocco. The Moroccan population is primarily made up of Arabs and Berbers, and a lot of the Berbers live in the mountains or out in the farmland.
Once we arrived at the Berber village, we were led to a large riad to have lunch on the terrace, overlooking the Atlas Mountains.
The steaming pot in the middle is traditional Moroccan tangine: slow cooked chicken and vegetables. We also had amazing couscous, bread, and of course, cumin on the side.
One night I saw a large, circular gathering in the main square, so I needed to check it out. Turns out, it was the best game ever!! For only 5 durham (about 50 cents), you get a fishing pole with a (vertical) rubber ring on the end. The goal is to ring the ring around the top of one of these bottles. I thought each person gets one try, but no, they let you try as many times as you want. So we stood there for at least 30 minutes trying to get the ring around the bottle, with no luck. Just when we thought it was impossible, the man running the game showed us his skills, and put the ring on the bottleneck flawlessly. Must be a Moroccan thing.
Lucy, me, Nate, Alex, and Jenna at Dar Si Said, a Moroccan handicraft museum. The museum was small and consisted of various Moroccan crafts, jewelry, and clothing from years ago.
Jenna admiring the mosaics.
We stopped inside this tiny, cave-like building which is a public oven. Families bring their dough here to be baked in this oven. Apparently it is cheaper and more convenient to bring the dough to this place rather than bake it in your house...?
Next stop was the snake charmers in the main square. Just had to add a snake to the list of animals I've held in Morocco.
Snake charming.
Once I agreed to let this baby monkey on my shoulder, hoards of men with more monkeys ran over to throw their monkeys onto me in hopes of getting money afterwards. I was really overwhelmed by all the activity, and the monkey on the right looks like the one that stole my contact lens.
It was a cute one.
Me and Alex and the Yves Saint Laurent gardens.
Apparently this is the house that Yves Saint Laurent and his partner lived in. Brightest blue I've ever seen.
Lilypads in the garden.
Me, Jenna, Alex, and Lucy
Moroccan Walgreens.
Moroccan Jeep.
Actually any form of transportation seemed to be acceptable in Marrakech, even on the narrowest of streets. Bikes, motorbikes, motorcycles, horses, carriages, mules, and cars were all okay.
One of the many disturbing butcher shops in Marrakech. Others had cow heads hanging, horse hooves, and live chickens with no future.
Mint leaf man. Mint tea is the traditional drink in Morocco. Since drinking alcohol is forbidden is the Islamic religion, many Moroccans opt for the mint tea. None of the restaurants or shops in Marrakech sold alcohol, not even beer or wine. Mint tea or bust.
We also stopped at a spice store. The salesman taught us about each spice and showed us the natural herbs that can cure pretty much any problem. There was one bin of what looked like little black pebbles. If you put them in a cloth, rub them against something, and then smell it, it clears your sinuses instantly. Smelled like menthol too.
One of the teas he showed us was to curb appetite. He told us that a lot of people drink this tea during Ramadan to make the fast a little more bearable.
That night we said goodbye to our guide at the doorway of a Hamman bath. He assured us we would figure out what to do inside, and that we would enjoy a lovely spa experience. Well, it was definitely an experience. When we entered, a large woman who spoke no English motioned for us to take off our clothes and proceed into the washing area. All 8 of us sheepishly walked into the next room which was an open, tiled, sauna-like room. Lining the walls were big, naked women sitting on stools scrubbing each other or scrubbing themselves. It was like nothing I've ever seen. Us 8 stood there like idiots with our bathing suits on and black soap and scrubbing mitts in hand. Finally another naked woman motioned for us to sit on the ground and spread the black soap all over ourselves. So we did. Next thing I know, a third large, topless woman pulled me towards her and motioned for me to lay in her lap while she sat cross legged. So I followed her orders and laid in her lap, her enormous boobs pressing up against my face, as she scrubbed the skin off my body with an incredibly rough mitt. More like torture than a spa experience. When she was finished, she threw a bucket of hot water over me, without warning, and moved onto the next person.
It was a crazy, crazy experience, but I'm so glad I went. Plus, my skin was definitely softer afterwards. What was so interesting was that the women in the bathhouse were completely naked and seemed comfortable being naked, but these are the same women who cover themselves from head to toe on the streets. At the same time, us Americans wear anything we want on the streets but are more conservative and shy in a bathhouse. Interesting juxtaposition of cultures.
Later that night, for our final Moroccan meal, we went to a nearby restaurant that had mealtime belly-dancing as entertainment. Most of the tables were filled with couples who didn't seem too enthusiastic to see the belly dancers, so we were responsible for clapping and cheering them on.
Lucy, Nate, and Belly Dancer #1
Belly Dancer #2
Jenna and me at the belly dancing, candlelit restaurant.
Morocco made for the perfect final trip while abroad. Now I move into my last 10 days in Madrid, which is so bittersweet for me. Gotta take advantage of the time I have left.
