For me, the main attraction to Marrakech was the souk.
A winding maze of a market, hidden in cobbled streets, back alleys, sun soaked squares and dusty tunnels.
Within its belly it hides everything and anything you can imagine.
Food, flowers, homewear, underwear, football shirts, jewellery, cats, rats, dogs, soaps, perfumes, rugs, rare animals (dead & alive), baskets, scarves, cameras, phones, stairways, mirrors the size of walls, gold, silver, frankincense and myrrh.
Keep an eye on your pockets, or your trinkets might find their way onto somebody’s stall.
Wear something long but breezy, it gets hotter than hell in there.
I’m in the most delicious maxi dress from Flynn Skye. The texture of the fabric is almost magical. It’s uber soft, but sort of sturdy and tough at the same time.
Shawl to cover up in the souk (but still let some of the heat escape)
(reasonably priced compared to the others and perfect for Autumn back home)
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Valentina, as you probably know, is one of my best friends.
Val, if you’re reading this (and I know you are) look away now!
(She hates snakes!)
I can’t tell you how much my knees were trembling at this moment!
He kept telling me to get closer and closer…
I was hoping my parseltongue would kick in, but no such luck.
God, I do hope I’m not a squib.
Walking through the souk in Marrakech is a very intense experience.
It is unimaginably hot and people shout at you from start to finish. Understandably they all want you to look at their stall and sell you something.
You just have to be polite, but firm. Don’t be afraid to say no.
But also, don’t be afraid to stop for a snoop or a bite now & then!
There are some real treats hidden amongst the chaos.
And some real beauty, too.
Each part has a different scent.
You drift through clouds of mint, into the smell of roasting tagines, and on again into a sea of spices.
If you’re in the market for a rug, then you’re in the right market!
They have every kind you can imagine, and some that span the length of a building.
Don’t be afraid to haggle.
You can generally get them down from about a thousand pounds, to a hundred and leave happy in the knowledge that they still made a good profit, and you got a good deal.
I bought stacks of rings, and a few bangles.
We ate from every pastry shop we could find!
Only noticing the filth I’d collected upon sitting down to a pot of sweet mint tea.
We weaved our way back to the square just after sunset.
It had transformed, once again. It had gone from being a busy, working square into a playground.
Everywhere you looked men gambled & shouted at incomprehensible pavement games. Children tried their hand at winning bottles of pop, egged on by eager dads.
Snake charmers played their flutes, and people strolled hand in hand, enjoying the warm evening air and the spectacle unfolding around them.
Soon, it would change again into a maze of food stalls and a hoard of hungry diners would descend.
It seems as though every main square in the world has a certain buzz to it. A collective energy and air of excitement.
It’s a shame that we’ve lost that in England. The big squares in London have been abandoned to the tourists, and we don’t seem to congregate any more. There’s no promenading or evening strolls.
In most places it’s how lovers meet, how gossip is shared, children play and friendships bloom.
Has it gone forever, only to be replaced by a Facebook group or Twitter feed?
I hope that’s not.
