Marrakech: Improper Buffet Ettiquete, a Cobra, and I Set Myself on Fire

Marrakech averages fifty rainy days a year and we woke up to one of them.  At the breakfast buffet, we decided to delay our arrival downtown by an hour to avoid the pouring rain.  We took the 11:00 bus to Djemaa el Fna and headed down the "main street" that appeared to run north-south (according to our map) towards Ben Youssef Madrasa.  Sadly, this wasn't the case - we continued down the alleyway and eventually reached the outskirts of town.  Being the only tourist in the area, we turned around and headed in the other direction.

Market near souk entrance

Ali Baba

Woodworker making us a free souvenir

Fifteen minutes down the road, a gentleman stopped us and introduced himself as the prayer caller for the mosque opposite his storefront.  He warned us to be careful with the aid provided by some of the locals who may steer you in the wrong direction then demand payment.  Somehow, he reeled us into his store and claimed it was the only place in Marrakech where 100% of the proceeds go to OXFAM.  His credentials, OXFAM was etched into the wall with the faded markings of a BIC pen (we listened with increasing doubt and further research confirmed our suspicions).  He asked if we would like to make a purchase to which we kindly declined.  Instead, we gave him a small amount of Dirham as a donation, but he was not pleased with the lack of a sale.

Donkey coming to the market

Spice vendor

Another woodworker

Continuing with our initial course, we eventually found Ben Youssef Madrasa - a former college for Islamic studies.  The Madrasa is the largest in Morocco and was home to (up to) 900 students.  The school is beautifully decorated with a large courtyard, stucco features, mosaic tiles, and cedar carvings - much like Bahia Palace.  However, the student's rooms left much to be desired, resembling holding cells more-so than living quarters (some had windows).

Ben Youssef Madrasa

Mosaic tiles

Mirhab

After leaving the Madrasa, we made our way to the leather tanneries, another of our guidebook's "top ten" attractions.  The location is off the beaten path and difficult to find, but somehow we selected the right route - a blessing and a curse.  We realized we wouldn't make our lunch reservations at Dar Essalam (site where Alfred Hitchcock filmed a scene for The Man who Knew too Much) because the impossibility of navigating through the souks in a timely fashion.  Instead, we followed our senses to a local baker who recently removed a fresh batch of bread from the oven.  Not familiar with the custom, we stood in the window and waited to see if we could buy a loaf.  Unknowingly, it was the neighborhood bakery where locals gathered to collect a pallet with their daily allotment.  As we waited, a man received his batch and handed us a loaf from his portion; we tired to compensate him, but he refused the money and expressed it was Moroccan hospitality.

A rare room with a view

Space Cadet exploring the other side

More student rooms

Fortunately, the bread was devoured by the time we reached the tanneries, an olfactory nightmare - the pungent odor suffocates the fresh air.  We passed by and met a leather worker who spoke with us and explained the scent is from an important ingredient - pigeon droppings.  Suffice it to say, the attraction does not merit the accolade of "top ten" things to do in Marrakesh.  Redirecting ourselves, we made our way to the Marrakech Museum (admission purchased along with Ben Youssef) which turned out to be a pleasant surprise.  The museum is a nice venue to relax to the soothing sounds of the fountains in the main courtyard and also observe local artwork.  While sitting in the chairs we plotted our course to another "attraction," Dar el Bacha.

Entrrance towards Mirhab

Courtyard

Nice school grounds

This had us venture into the souks where we became disoriented and struggled to get our bearings.  At one point, we reached an intersection that had two signs, both for Djemaa el Fna - each pointing in opposite directions, it made no sense, but could be accurate.  We found our way back outside and reached the main road - twenty minutes later we identified our destination out of luck.  Unfortunately, we were soon informed that Dar el Bacha doesn't grant access to visitors.  An utter waste of time - if you have seen a brick building, you have essentially visited Dar el Bacha.  Conveniently, this misfortune was followed up with another failure - a trip to Ensemble Artisanal (another government owned souvenir area).  This "must see" (TripAdvisor #4) is essentially the strip mall version of the souks, but I suppose if one finds bargaining tiresome, the fixed prices simplify the shopping experience.  Although, these stores are government owned - so I am sure "fair market value" implies a monetary profit.  Our preferences is to barter, thus, we returned to the main square and souks.

Marrakech Museum

Fountain

Taking a seat

When we arrived to Djemaa el Fna, the masses had gathered for the staple shows: magic, transvestite dancers, fortune tellers, henna tattoos, and snake charmers.  We wanted to get a picture of the snakes, but didn't want to pay.  We tried to snap a few photos from a distance, but our covert mission was unsuccessful.  A peddler reeled us in, and for a few Dirham he allowed us to snap away before imploring us to get closer to the two black cobras.

Koutoubia Mosque

Active scene in the Djemaa el Fna

Two charmed cobras

While I was taking a picture the snake charmer put a small snake around my neck and corralled me to a seat next to him, the two cobras at our feet.  He let go of the snake on my neck and was now in my possession.  The charmer decided it was a desire of mine to have a cobra wrapped around me, but I only wanted a photo of the snake - not one on me - less so, a cobra.  Before I knew it, I had a large cobra draped around my shoulders and its head is a few inches from me.  I was either charmed or temporarily petrified - possibly a mix of both.  However, when the cobra flared its hood and opened its mouth in front of my face, adrenaline coursed through my stagnant body.  Julie tried to capture the moment, but I wanted the damn snake away from my facial region.  Soon enough, we were set free but not before being hounded (Note: some of these snakes are de-fanged, but this doesn't prevent the snake from producing venom - hence a slightly unsettling feeling).

You sit here

Escape into the Souks

Upon my release, we were chased down by the charmer who immediately demanded 200 Dirham - a laughable price.  He blocked my path and shouted at me until I circumvented his un-charming posture.  I made my way to Julie for some petty cash (never pay a snake charmer more than 20 Dirham).  He was unsatisfied with our gratuity and demanded 200 Dirham.  I told the snake charmer that we already paid his friend and he could either accept or refuse the additional payment.  Finally, we said, "your unattended snakes are running away as you waste our time," and we absconded into the souks.

Natural dyes

Hanging wool

We had an idea of what we wanted to purchase having bought some souvenirs the previous day - setting course for our favorite section, the dyers market.  The others markets are lovely, but the ambiance and abundance of colors create a majestic environment.  Our strategy of "barter-and-walk-away" served very fruitful as we escaped with numerous commemorative items.  We spent the majority of our money and were able to get everything we wanted and some additional gifts.

Just dyed

Out to dry

We returned to the hotel for our dinner reservation at the Moroccan restaurant.  We were quickly seated and started with some traditional hirrira.  While helping ourselves to the Moroccan specialty, we witnessed some of the most disturbing buffet etiquette (or just plain etiquette in general).  When Julie poured the ladle into her bowl, a woman from Liverpool grabbed a spoon (an odd buffet choice - to go for silverware and not dishware).  Then she delved the hand shovel into the vat and into her mouth - slurped loudly, making odd intonations as if she was a soup connoisseur.  Next, the unthinkable happened - with hand on hip and spoon in mouth - she proceeded to lift the cover of the other container.  Using her filth ridden flatware, she mixed the contents before helping herself to another taste (hope they used the cold sore elixir in those soups).  We were dumbfounded, as I got my serving, Liverpool lady's abhorrent twin repeated the same exact repulsive behavior (not genetic twins, just in level of obnoxiousness).  The restaurant was an all-you-can-eat buffet, there were forty bowls next to the soups - why not pour a little into a bowl and sample a small portion?

Enjoying an espresso at Café de Paris

Us at the Koutoubia Mosque

Feeling the need to purge our memories, I inadvertently used the aseptic technique on my dress shirt and forearm - specifically, flame sterilization.  We had a small table and with the abundance of plates which tend to accumulate at a buffet, limited maneuverability.  I was getting some spices and and while my arm was placed across the table, the temperature started to rise, but only on one side of my body.  Then it occurred to me, my arm was burning and my shirt ablaze.  I casually blew the flame out along with the candle, but the hotel staff remained insistent on relighting our candle every time it went out.  This was our last meal in Morocco and I am glad it was a most memorable occasion.