Marrakesh Part 2
I've always loved markets, the bustle, the colours, the smells, the noise. Its all a symphony of community and industry married into an indescribable world. There's something different at each stall, a different story with each person, each item for sale. It's no wonder then, that I loved
Marrakesh so much. The city itself seems to be one large market. Everyone is selling something, you name it it's being sold. Of course the most of this energy is centred around a main square - Djemaa el-Fnaa. From the light of early morning to the evening darkness it is constant with activity. The level and type of activity changes over the course of the day with it's peak being the evening when it is filled with street food vendors and souvenir sellers.
Each corner of the streets in the medina are packed with stalls, awash with colour but the air is another story entirely. There are some parts where the air is filled with the scent of food and spices. Smoky and sticky sweet blended together. Other places, not so much. Instead there are pockets of air full of choking exhaust fumes and the pungent odour of raw meat in the midday warmth that blends in with charcoal smoke from grills, undercut with acrid cigarette smoke. And I love it. It is so real, it is so normal. It is grounding. But in the early morning, just as the sun rises above the rooftops and bathes all in golden light. Before the world has risen and all is quiet still, the air is clear and fresh. I sit on the rooftop terrace and as I breath in, deep and slow, eyes closed and tipped up to the morning warmth, I can smell the blossoms from the neighbouring rooftop. I can hear the birdsong that has yet to be swallowed by by engine song.
As the city awakens and the noise levels increase, it becomes alive and unrecognisable to the quite calm of dawn. The streets become crammed with bodies, tourists and locals alike. Languages marble together in cacophonies, vendors shouting, taxi drivers haggling, friends laughing, neighbours gossiping. As the sun reaches its zenith the air becomes hot and stifling and in the most compact spaces the exhaust fumes are almost too much. I'm in love.
The hostel I'm staying at is located through a maze of narrow streets, and the first few times I attempt to find it myself I get a little lost. Still, it has fast turned into a home away from home and is filled with wonderful people. Evidenced by my first night at the hostel. I arrive tired and drained by my anxiety. This is the only the second time I have travelled by myself and I had no idea what to expect.
I had booked myself a transfer from airport to hostel, thinking it would be safer than navigating a city at night via public transport. My transfer is half an hour late and at this point I've worked myself into a little bit of a panic. He's friendly enough, and we chat a little as he drives me through the city. We eventually reach the part of the city I'm staying in, and from what little I can see of it in the evening darkness it is exactly what I had hoped for, older buildings and small streets full of character and history. I'm ready to jump out of the car and start exploring but before i can even grab my bag I'm told to wait in the car. This sets me on edge, not what I was expecting and my mind is taken to an unsettling place, fuelled by anxiety and ignorance. I should not have worried, he merely wanted me to wait whilst a guide from the hostel turns up to walk me through the narrow streets. A kind and thoughtful gesture as I certainly would (and did on occasions after) get lost trying to find it myself. A valuable lesson I had to reflect on later, that no matter how open minded and good we think we are we all have learnt thoughts and behaviour we must acknowledge and unlearn.
I'm checked in and shown to my dorm and bed - the top bunk of some precarious bunk beds. I'm sharing the room with three others. I only meet one of them, Mary, she seems nice but is off out for food with her friends so the conversation is short. I settle myself into the room and I'm debating with myself whether to brave the evening alone or simply survive off the cereal bar in my bag until morning when Marie reappears, having forgotten something. It feels a little like the universe is sending me a sign, so in a move that surprises myself far more than her I ask if I can join them.
I'm introduced to her friends and we set off into the night. Marie is a petite blonde, sweet and funny and reminds me a lot of my old flatmate. Amelié is stunning and fierce but Sebastian is the one who makes me feel at ease, I recognise more of myself in him than the others. He also becomes my impromptu translator for the night as the girls mainly speak French.
I am dragged off into a wonderful evening of drinks, food, dancing, shisha and friends. We hustle ourselves into a too small taxi, Mary, as the smallest, is forced to hide across our laps as we head off to a small cafe the others have found online. From there it is awkward but funny conversation over food as we try to relate to one another despite a language barrier. Once we have filled our stomachs we head over to a shisha bar as they are determined to experience it at least once. Whilst there we are are dragged into circle of dancing and joviality by another party and I allow myself to let go and enjoy the moment. It is much later, breathless and joyful we stumble out and find our way back to our beds.
It is an unforgettable beginning to an unforgettable journey.
