Morocco was quite unlike anything we had ever seen or visited before and it was everything we had expected but more with a riot of colour and frenetic activity that was exciting and vibrant. We walked through the square in a northerly direction and eventually arrived at what most people concede is the biggest Souk in Africa and we slipped into the labyrinthine maze of covered but sun-dappled market streets.
Here was a whole new experience with street after street of shops all overflowing with things for sale that we didn’t need but each with an owner who didn’t understand this and was determined to part us from the cash in our wallets. Some of the shops were no bigger than the tiny cupboard under my stairs and many of them sold exactly the same things and as we walked through we were under constant pressure from the owners all trying to entice us with a ‘special price’.
What didn’t help in establishing whether this was a special price or not was that nothing was priced in the first place which meant this form of shopping was very difficult process for people like us who are not used to haggling. A lot of the stuff in here was rubbish of course and my favourite was the honest trader who assured us that he only sold genuine fakes!
We walked past carpet shops, elaborate lampshade shops, slipper shops, silver and pottery shops, shops selling leather, silks, ceramics, spices and pastries and our senses were under constant assault from the colourful sights, the rich aromas and the constant chatter and noise of the traders. Occasionally a donkey and cart would send people scattering as new supplies were delivered and the shop owners were probably glad of this because the only place to go to get out of the way was inside the shop doorways where someone was waiting to pounce.
Threading our way through the heaving twisting lanes we nodded politely as we rejected invitations from all sides, trying all the time not to make eye contact and declining inducement to go inside.
Soon we were the only tourists amongst the crowds of men and women in their traditional Arab clothing, the men in long gowns called djellabas and the women in colourful kaftans, head-scarves tied around the hair, some with face veils and a small minority with a full burqa.
We were in unfamiliar territory now and although there was no danger and we felt perfectly safe there were no street signs to help with navigation so at a convenient junction we took a turning into a parallel street which seemed as though it should return us to Djemma el Fna.
By a stroke of good fortune it did and as we got closer the local stalls gave way again to tourist shops and we pushed our way back through the Souks and into the huge square where shifting circles of onlookers were constantly moving between acrobats, drummers, dancers and street apothecaries but we made sure that we kept a safe distance from the snakes and the monkeys.
Later on the terrace of our Riad we watched the sunset usher in the darkness and bring to an end a day of perfect blue sky and sunshine and refeshed and rested we made preparations for a night on the town. We were returning to Djemma el Fna and when we arrived there the place had taken on a whole new identity.
Sometime between the end of the afternoon and the early evening the square had been transformed from a market place to an open air theatre with swarms of people and this is something that occurs every single day of the year. The snake charmers and the monkey men had packed up and gone home and had been replaced by a carnival of musicians, storytellers, transvestite dancers and other entertainers. There were fairground stalls and all sorts of opportunists trying to sell things not just to tourists but to each other as well. There was a crackle of excitement around the square that was fuelled by the energy of all the players and it was impossible not to be caught up in it all.
Now we were in the food market where every night a corner of the square is transformed into an open air free for all restaurant with one hundred and sixty hastily erected stalls and kitchens all competing for business from hundreds of people, locals and tourists, as they pushed through the narrow aisles in between the steaming barbeque kitchens. At every stall there was someone trying to entice us inside by explaining the menu options and making impromptu offers and we didn’t get very far before we gave in and allowed one of them to lead us to a trestle table with a plastic tablecloth before thrusting the menus into our hands.
It was all really lively and good fun and there were local people eating here so we thought that might be a recommendation and we ordered a selection of food in a tapas sort of way and in only a short time the table began to fill up with bread and spicy dips, beef tagine, mixed skewers, couscous, salad, fish and chicken and we all tucked in to this rather unusual food combo.
After we had finished we left and continued walking and had to explain every few seconds that we had already eaten to the waiters that continued to accost us every few metres or so. Most of the stalls sold fairly similar food but there were some speciality places and at the edge of the market there were five or six stalls, next door to each other and back to back, all cooking and selling portions of steaming snails with glistening shells which seemed to be really popular with the locals but which didn’t especially appeal to us.
It had been a long day and we seen all that we wanted to by now so although it wasn’t especially late we negotiated our way back to the Riad first through the jostling crowds of people and then the traffic that even now showed no sign of easing up. Once inside the walls of the back streets we left the noise of the city behind and then through the heavy wooden door of the Nafis it was though it never existed at all.
Are you any good at haggling? Have you got any tips? Do share!
I am intrigued by the day to evening transformation of the square Andrew. I’ve not experienced that anywhere before.
My tip for haggling is speak in the language of the country you are in. I practically gave the vendors in the Grand Bazaar a cardiac arrest when I began haggling in Turkish. 🙂
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Sounds like a great tip, but also one with inherent danger of making a big mistake. I’d have liked to see you negotiating in Turkish!
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Oh I had quite a good time. When I was about to give up the vendors would encourage me to keep going to get a better price from them. It still makes me smile to think about. 🙂
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Nope, no good at haggling. They’ll say 300 whatevers, and I’ll say “Will you take 310?” I’d like to see Sue haggle in Turkish, also.
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I am sure I have diddled myself whilst trying to haggle!
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Can’t haggle for a glass of water. Nope.
Did you know how much your meal would cost before it arrived?
Wow, the throngs of people, the noise, smells and color would tire me out in an afternoon, though I’d love to give it a try. 😀
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We had a rough idea how much the meal would cost but if I remember correctly we paid more than we were quoted!
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Interesting post. I’m horrible at haggling, too!
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If you can’t do it then you are lost in Morocco. Best not to try and buy anything!
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A very good descriptive piece, Andrew, catching the flavor of the place. As for haggling, I figure once you have dealt with car sales people, you are prepared for anything. The best approach from my perspective is to think of it as a game with neither participant being ripped off. Now, if I could only speak Turkish… 🙂 –Curt
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You may have a point there – think of it as buying a car!
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Good time had, Andrew? No dodgy tummy episodes? Bit wary of ‘street food’ but it certainly looks colourful and fun. And just a shade warmer than Grimsby 🙂
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No tummy upsets Jo and I did risk the street food! Hope you had a good time in Portugal?
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Wonderfully social, Andrew. For us it’s a very different lifestyle when we’re there. (walking apart 🙂 ) The weather absolutely couldn’t compete with Morocco but compared to the UK… 🙂
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The colors there look extraordinary!
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Morocco is an assault on the senses, the colours are wonderful!
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I have never been. I scheduled a trip some years ago but it came at a time that was not good for American travel so I went to Costa Rica instead! 😉
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It has an edge to it but I think that is because it is unfamiliar. It seems safe enough. According to UK Foreign Office it is rated safer than Spain or France!
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Oh boy. So, I should cancel my trip to Paris and go to Morocco?! 😉 It was somewhere around 11 years ago I was trying to go and I don’t remember what was happening but some alert had come out not recommending American travel. So, we happily embarked upon a different direction. Some day… Morocco reminds me of India and maybe Thailand in the color assault. Thanks for taking me there through your blog.
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What a wonderful experience, I hope I’l get a chance to return someday.
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I don’t know about being good at it, but I did get a chance to experience haggling in Morocco, and I think the memory will stick with me forever.
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Did you buy anything? Did you bag a bargain?
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I got a rug. There’s a link in the comment that tells the story.
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Oh, such brilliant hues! I would be ‘at home’ with haggling for a few of those wares. As usual, thanks for sharing.
Cheers!
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I think it is a case of some you win, some you lose!
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You’ve got to appear disinterested. I find walking away a couple of times, telling the vendor a competitor has offered cheaper will get them running after you! I can usually bargain down to a third or even a quarter of the initial price in the Medina of Marrakech. A highlight of our trip to Marrakech was having a hammam at Heritage Spa in the Medina: http://www.tripchow.com/moroccan-hammam-marrakech-medina/
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The trick is to appear disinterested without seeming to be rude. Thanks for the link.
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