Morocco: Day Two

After initially having trouble falling asleep I apparently slept like the dead, because before I knew it the rooster on the roof next door was calling me awake. We had breakfast on the roof of the riad.

Back through the souk and a bit of shopping again. We crossed the main avenue called Mohammed the V to get a taxi to the Marrakech Museam of art. Its apparently very famous amongst those who would know. Its located deep in the Medina so it was out or walking distance. The maze like nature of the old city and the lack of street names makes it hard to navigate. We thought a cab would be the quick fix, but boy were we wrong.

The first cabbie we had charged us a mint and told us we just had to go through a public garden to the museum. It wasn't anywhere near there. Some kids offered to show us the way. After checking with some adults that they were going in the right direction (they were) we decided to follow along. We went at breakneck speed through a souk, with Mom having trouble keeping up due to an injured ankle. Eventually the kids just stopped and said "you're here". As we found out we weren't really all that close by. Dad gave the boy who offered to help us some money, but it was probably just a dhiram in total. The problem was all the boys who'd followed along or translated wanted money whether they'd done anything to help or not. We argued that the boy who'd offered to help was the one to have money. When we wouldn't pay them they took money from the first boy and shoved it down Dad's shirt collar. We started trying to walk away but they continued to harass us. Mom handed them a dollar and told them to get lost. I don't know honestly if the kid had ever seen a dollar, he seemed totally dumbfounded by it. Generally business is only in dhirams or euros. The kids followed us for awhile and stayed aggressive. We moved quick and I made it no secret that I knew we were followed, using my Oakleys to their greatest potential. It was just a little un-nerving since we were totally lost in this souk. Eventually we found the museum, which was a restored palace full of beautiful things.

After finding our way out of the souk we went to lunch and decided we would get the tourist bus to the palm fields outside of town. We waited and waited but it never came. In the end we hired a very nice cabbie (seemed to speak mostly spanish and arabic) who drove us out and back. We got to see camels! There are many huge houses, resorts, and high end apartments out there as well. Beyond fancy. That distinction is very clear in Marrakech. Those with money live in walled areas away from the "real" city life. They have alcohol and clubs and bikinis, all the trappings of western life are there if you can just afford to pay for them. It is mostly Eurpopeans and other Westerners who can, along with a few very rich Moroccans. You saw mostly white faces enjoying the fancy compounds. Most Moroccans will tell you that they can't buy a place there.

In the fields nature steals the show. Palms and flowers as far as you can see.

That night we had an early dinner and early to bed so we could be rested for the morning. Our flight was one of the first of the new day. We were met bay Bahdir and a cart puller in the morning. They helped us carry our bags using a donkey cart. The souks hadn't yet opened for the day, and the quiet was very strange versus the usual commotion of the markets. The new day brought a light desert rain, signaled the night before by lightning on the Atlas mountains.

Our flight home went without a hitch, but due to a rescheduling of my bus we arrived too late for me to make it. I took the Underground to London and then a cab from Earl's Court to Paddington. Due to line closures I had to get off early. The cabbie was very talkative, calling me a "real American" for some reason. Not sure if that's a good or bad thing. Paddington is where things got messy. I paid for a ticket no problem, but was told by the information desk the wrong train of the two waiting. The train was so packed I couldn't get off once I realized I was on the wrong one. Eventually a conductor came through, and things got worse. I only had a receipt, not a ticket. And not even a receipt for the train I was on! My ticket had gotten stuck in the machine and dislodged the last person's receipt. The conductor kicked me off the train at Reading, just barely out of London and several hours from Cardiff. After making a scene and begging a station manager I was told to wait in the station. I was not allowed to leave until it was determined I hadn't tried to steal a trip. Happily Visa had record of my ticket purchase so I was told I could take the next train, which would take me to Cardiff. The only trick was I had to convince the conductor to let me on. I was given a pass just in case there was trouble once on board. The conductor took pity and told me to find a seat and not cause trouble. I was more than happy to. The train was crowded again but several cars in I hunkered down and caught my breath. About two hours later I was home in Cardiff.

It was rainy in Cardiff. Walked about 30% of the way home. Along the way an old man, drunk, fell in the street. A combination of his shouting and mine got oncoming traffic to swerve. I repeatedly tried to help him up and across the street but he would not let me near him. I was carrying a big back pack so I couldn't afford to wrestle with him. After about ten minutes I walked away. I saw some police officers headed that way a minute or two later so hopefully he got the help he needed.

At kingsway I took a cab home and settled in for the night, safe and sound after a long day.