How to relax in Marrakech
Spoiler alert: it’s hard, but doable if you really try
After a month and some change on the Camino and a week in Portugal with family, we needed some quiet. Honestly, it would’ve been the perfect time to close the chapter on this trip as a whole. I’ve been feeling homesick and eager to come back to this life back home I never realized was beautiful. It has been hard to watch the news everyday, to feel helpless, and increasingly hopeless. Everyday I remember how grateful and privileged I am to be in this season of my life. We’ve booked our return ticket for August, which will come up sooner than we realize. And we’re here - we’ve got to make the best of this crazy ride.
Morocco had been on my list for a good while: the zellige tile, the riads, and the tagines were enough to pull me in. Plus: who could beat an $100 1 hour flight from Lisbon in shoulder season.
We arrived at 9pm and grabbed a taxi that took us to the edge of the Medina - the car was too big to take us through the tiny alleyways to our riad. It was jarring as the motorcycles sped past us, as children played soccer (fútbol) in the street, as the aroma of meat and spices wafted through the air. I didn’t have any expectations for Marrakech. In fact, we did very little research. Danny reported some grumpy assholes on reddit advise not to go Marrakech if you’re a “real traveler.” I don’t even know what that means, but it seems like this person needs to chill out.
Nevertheless, we were happy to be out of Europe for a brief moment in time. Europe in the summertime is chaotic in its own ways, and we were hoping for a return to the feelings of wonder and awe that we had experienced whilst traveling through Southeast Asia.
The Medina is a unique environment that can easily humble the most confident navigators. There are tiny alleyways that lead to other alleyways that deadend. There are figures who will try to deceive you for money and tell you that an area is closed and that they would take you an alternate route (true - this almost happened to us twice). Riad Al Massarah is a boutique eco hotel outside of the hustle and bustle of the tourist traps and in a neighborhood where locals live. Upon arrival, we were kindly greeted with a pot of fresh Moroccan mint tea and a sweet treat on the patio, warmly lit by tea candles and stars. The attention to design detail here was nothing short of magic. Combining traditional Moroccan architecture and art with midcentury modern furniture and lighting struck a particularly beautiful chord for me. It felt homely, intentional, and artful.
Our hope for our time in Marrakech was to rest. We were still physically exhausted from the Camino. Our riad was the perfect place for some R&R. There was complimentary breakfast of fresh fruit, crepes, eggs, cheese, and bread daily. A tiny wading pool, and a game room with a gorgeous wood inlay chess board (someone teach me chess please). We had plans to get back to our original sabbatical programming of writing, painting, photography, etc. But after that first exciting night of navigating through the Medina, it became clear that we had some work cut out for us. Marrakech is a town of boldness. It is loud, busy, hot, and sensorily stimulating. And like I said, the internet kept telling Danny how touristy and scammy it is. But traveling for 4+ months now has given us a pretty good barometer for bullshit as this point. We didn’t need a camel ride, we didn’t really need to shop for perfume or spices or souvenirs. We do not want mediocre bland tourist food. If we’ve accomplished anything on this trip, Danny and I have come up with our strategy on how to find good food on google. I’ll let you in on the secret: take a quick survey of quantity of reviews citywide and find the 4-5 star places with about a 1/4 of the average quantity of reviews. The more reviews - the more touristy and/or over-exploited. There’s a sweet spot to aim for, and it’s not a perfect science, but try it next time you travel and let me know if you strike gold.
On our first day, we ventured out for a little snack and found ourselves sitting at a counter of a local eatery. We were drawn in by the turmeric yellow braised chicken thighs bubbling in its own juices over flames and some other ground beef looking meat. The owner of the shop made us a plate each, with a side of stewed white beans and a few pucks of Moroccan whole wheat bread. Finally - back in a place with real spices and flavor (no offense Spain!). Later on, we found out that the ground beef we had been eating was actually camel offal (brains, livers, kidneys, etc) encased in camel stomach. It was delicious and 100% would try again.
There are some absolutely incredible design must-sees in town. Colors I didn’t know could exist live on the walls of the Jardin Majorelle. Explosive tile and intricate woodwork live at the Bahia Palace. Ancient irrigation systems feed the immaculate landscapes in the Jardin Secret. Just look all around in Marrakech and you’ll see such beauty in the humble corners too. I peeked through the open wooden doors of people’s homes as we walked past, and you’ll see a whole universe of color and texture and pattern that designers back home aspire to. As the world becomes more and more expensive, there seems to be less of a demand to build spaces with decor that feeds our soul. Living in the Bay, there are scores of apartment buildings that quickly go up in an effort to reduce the pressure of our housing shortage. While these types of housing are necessary - we are depriving ourselves of color and texture and pattern that much of the world still holds sacred.
Marrakesh’s biggest and most bustling square, Jemaa el-Fnaa, is an outpost for seediness, scams, and animal abuse that I would have been happy to skip entirely. It’s a place difficult to avoid if you’re milling around the old souks or en route to one of the hottest jazz bars in town. The night we walked through, a child no older than 5 years old made what seemed like his first ever attempt at pick pocketing. Though it was a failure on his end, and I kept my cool, I felt a sense of sadness for this little one. I really hope this was his first and last attempt at stealing.
Our only cocktail that week was at La Pergola, housed in the gorgeous 5 star hotel Riad Monceau. We sipped on frozen Tiki-esque drinks to the soothing sounds of live jazz being broadcast from the downstairs stage over the pool. We got to talking to a duo of Portuguese-Swiss friends on holiday. Our hour conversation held in a beautiful mixture of English, French, and Spanish reminded me of the miracle that is language and communication. That actually I can pick up my high school level French back up more easily than I realize and that a month in Spain vastly improved my comprehension of a language that I’ve been around my whole life.
In a sense, we felt sad to see only Marrakech, that we were missing Fez, Casablanca, and Morocco’s famed beach towns. But the weather was taking a turn towards the peak of summer and we couldn’t take it any longer. I left a deal on a beautiful rug on the table, so I suppose a future return is in order.
Although Marrakech had so much to do and see, we did spend hours laying around doing what we intended to do. I finished reading Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel, then started watching the HBO miniseries. I worked on more watercolor paintings. I slept in more than I ever have in a very long time. I drank a lot of mint tea, which surprisingly cools you off in the summer heat. I started thinking about the format of my screenplay, which has yet to be written, but at least the thought is there.
See you in Italia - Ciao.
I had so much fun with you my little camel stomach ❤️
Sounds so magical and relaxing. ❤️ Your photos are amazing. Really captures the flavor of Marrakech. Can’t wait for the screenplay.