More Morocco: Essaouira

Essaouira is colorful in a different way than Marrakech.  It is bright white and blue as opposed to Marrakech's rose.  From the ocean side it could almost be taken for a Greek island town.  There are surfers on the beach.  The camera is drawn to bright colors.

And to cute vignettes.

But although I felt freer in Essaouira than I had in Marrakech, I still felt as I had there: outside and unwelcome, as I had rarely felt anywhere else I traveled.  It's possible that the inwardness of the culture, the blank walls and closed shutters, contributed to this feeling, and the strictures of a Muslim culture underlying a tourist economy definitely did, but I felt uncomfortable in many ways.

 

I didn't feel free to hold Gene's hand in the streets or have his arm around my shoulders.  I didn't like seeing women bundled up as if their very existence were shameful, even if I assumed they didn't mind it themselves.  I didn't like the fact that nothing remained of a once large and vibrant Jewish community.  I didn't like the sense that, with only a few exceptions, I was viewed only as a source of income to most of the people I encountered, and not as a human being.   

To be fair I should say that Gene liked it much more than I did.  He didn't feel as excluded, or not to the same degree.  I wonder if being a man made him feel more comfortable.

I know others who have had different experiences, friends who love Morocco and return again and again, but my sense of otherness there was much different than the otherness I've felt in Asia, for example, where I never felt deliberately excluded. 

Of course I know that people living in a tourist destination must feel invaded and resent being seen as 'local color', but I wanted to feel that I could enter and learn about the place I was visiting.  Instead I felt that it was closed to me, and in some cases there was actual hostility, as when I turned down efforts to sell me something. 

 

I wanted to feel a welcome visitor and instead I felt locked out.  I'm glad I went but I doubt I'll return.

Majorly Majorelle

A painter named Jacques Majorelle fell in love with Marrakech in the early 20th century and built a house and garden there which he lived in for many years.  In 1947 he opened the garden to the public, but some years later he returned to France and the garden fell into decay.  In 1980 Yves Saint Laurent and Pierre Bergé restored it and once again opened it to the public.  It is spectacular.

 

An extraordinary cactus garden greets you just past the entrance.  As you wander the paths you discover that there is a bamboo grove, many palm trees, buildings painted the bright blue called Majorelle blue, and a sheltering tearoom for relaxing with a drink or a light meal.

The colors pop against the plantings, making you feel a bit as if you are walking through a Matisse painting.  There are fountains making gentle plopping noises, ponds with goldfish swimming in the rippling light and frogs resting on the bank.

 

It would be easy to spend hours drifting through this garden, stopping for a mint tea from time to time.  So we do.

Unmoored

Hundreds of photos later, I think I can only give you a very limited dose of what we're seeing here.  On our first day we walked through the souk and searched for the Medersa Ben Youssef, an ancient abandoned Koranic school that has been opened to tourism, unlike mosques and other religious buildings, which are barred to non-Muslims.

The medersa's ground floor level is covered with brightly colored tiles called zellij and with gorgeous carved plaster designs setting off graceful arches and ceiling vaults.  The cool central courtyard with its tiled pool is deserted where once it was home to students living in the cell-like rooms on the upper level.  One could spend hours sitting quietly here, sheltered from the overwhelming bustle and noisy demands of the souk just steps away.

 

 

 

 

 

On the Marrakech Express

Yesterday we fled freezing Paris for Morocco.  We arrived in Marrakech after dark, checked into an exotic riad where we were offered mint tea and walnut-stuffed dates, and directed to a wonderful restaurant for dinner, where we had incredibly delicious salades marocaines, pastilla, chicken tagine and lamb couscous while listening to music and watching a stout middle aged belly dancer with a tray of lighted candles on her head.

We had definitely entered a different world.

This morning we woke to sunny skies, warm weather and a delightful breakfast before climbing up to the rooftop patio of the riad, from which we saw this nest of storks not far away.

All visitors to Marrakech head for the Jemaa Al-Fna, the large square in the center of the medina, known for its snake charmers, orange juice vendors and legendary hashish smoking, if I recall the '60s correctly. Having lived through them, I'm not sure I do.

So we headed to the square with directions from our riad.  Along the way we saw spice vendors.

We saw alleyways leading to who knows where.

 

We saw bicycles, donkeys, motorbikes, bright ceramic tiles, dirty streets, lots and lots of people, most of whom didn't want their picture taken, and any number of things for sale, including pottery, leather, food, clothing, spices, jewelry, etc.   Luckily we saw most of it before we had exchanged any currency.

 

And when we finally got to the square, we saw more of everything.  And an even greater variety of people.

 

It's going to take time to process.  Stay tuned.