Sometimes when I am wallowing and whining (and we all wallow; I bet you're wallowing right now). You know when you have a thousand things on your to do list and now its a thousand and one. When you're in a foreign country and can't understand any of the road signs because they are in Arabic (really morocco; why?). Or when your feet hurt from walking and walking and walking.
You all know what I mean. We have these moments 6-10 times a day in the cold season(not necessarily related to climate) and 3 times a day in the hot season(again, not climate). These 5 second silent(or loud) tantrums of self pity, regret, wallowing and whining are exhausting. They drain our energy, slow our productivity and filter out our joy. True story. Yet honesty they aren't even necessary. When I am wallowing I have started telling my self these four very simple words: "Stop being a baby" True story. And then I smile and suck it up. Tue story. OK maybe I need to say once or twice while banging my head on the table. But it really does help me get on with it. "IT" being living and striving, struggling, laughing and loving. Go ahead, Whisper these words under you breath. It will save you a lot of time and energy. Stop being a baby. With love. Em
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Marrakech is a beautiful and spacious city. Its pink brown walls face you at every turn, giving it a memorable and distinct architectural landscape. Here the Pedestrian is king and the vehicle is its lowly servants servants third dog. The public spaces and wide walkways are reminiscent of the streets of ancient Rome before the car trampled our urban design sensibilities. In Marrekech the scene is complete with horse drawn carts and cobbled pavements. The residences are tucked right in with the commercial in winding picturesque alleys branching off from the main street. Mosques with their distinct minarets raise theiir heads tall above the low rise landscape. It’s culture and architecture are rich and sultry day to night. When the dusk falls the clamour rises. The streets are filled with hustle and bustle as shoppers and sellers (Who are shy and quiet during the day) emerge in all their voices and joy to bring life into the night streets. The courtyard house (Riad) Where I am staying(Airbnb) is right in the center of the city with a friendly Moroccan family. The house is designed to have a central courtyard with family rooms (ground floor) and private rooms (1st floor) which all enjoy lots of natural light and ventilation. So safe to say if you are a tourist (and it is pretty obvious) You will be the main attraction in the souk (market) I went to the famous Jamaa el Fna; which is a large glorious square with roads of markets springing out from it. The square is filled with snake charmers, dancers, fruits and merchandise. Be prepared to spend money you didn’t think you had. I like the energy of the place and its life, color and in-your-face culture but my goodness the vendors make it terribly hard to say no. Also I was conned.
Yes, yes, shrewd little me was duped by some merchants. Judge me all you want, I deserve it..:) Here is how it went down. A man walks besides me apparently helping me with Moroccan directions and telling me you are supposed to walk on the right side of the road etc. You feel kindly because at last here is someone who isn’t trying to sell me something. He is in a hurry but super polite. As he is dashing off he mentions that: "The Berber festival which is finishing today is having an exhibition at the tanneries about how they make their leather… it happens once a year and is finishing today. They come down from the mountains….."..He trails off ad shouts some random directions which I begin to follow…straight then 2nd left …cool. It peaks my interest because it is free and you know ….”Berbers from the mountains" At the end of the street he finds me again and kindly tells me I am going in the wrong direction and looks around (super theatrical) and his gaze happens to fall on a friend who is going in the right direction…(my spidey senses tingle alittle)....and alas the friend is kind enough to take me as it is on the way home….and then (here is the clincher)... He says don’t worry I am not a guide this is free Alas like sheep to the wolves I am endeared again. How nice and polite these people are....my future self wants to throw hot moroccan tea on my hair!! Then I follow this second guy and he is talking good English telling stories of his sister who is in England and blah blah and I share stories too…Not paying attention to where the hell we are going. This is starting to sound like a Nigerian movies with Arabic subtitles explaining the con. Thereafter I proceed to the leather tanneries when yet another guide appears all too willing to show me 10 stinking pots of Pidgeon poop, rotting sheep skin and saffron. Followed by men skinning skin and knee deep in sheep fur etc. . Luckily he put a bunch of mint leaves in my hands so I keep these at my nose, least my Moroccan breakfast returns to sender. Trust me it wasn’t pretty or sweet smelling. I really thought I’d be seeing some exotic Berber leather making dance as colorful and musical as the snake charmers (of which I advise to keep a safe distance). Anyway the tour was over too fast to display my displeasure. Quicker than quick we took weird photos with stinking drying leather and were out on the street again. After this he proceeded to take me (in haste) to where I can find the finished product. I was hurried through winding streets before landing at a random air conditioned leather goods store and handed over to yet another merchant selling me stuff( here we go again) at ridiculous prices(again) and I mumble and claw my way out (again) professing I will come back (never). As I stumble on the street I happen upon all 3 guides asking for money for the tour. I slap my forehead. They are asking for 200 DH -which is about 20 Dollars. Each. I slap my forehead again. The con has dawned on me. So I get my fierce and feisty on and say nonsense! You said it was free and it was not really a tour and if it was it was rubbish(literally). And my gosh how do you all know each other? They say the money is for the tannery association….. yes they used those words..…and on and on Basically these guys have it figured out. If the shop makes a sale they get a commission for sheep luring(of the human kind). If They don’t make a sale they get tour money or last but not least money for the association. And trust me there were not less than 6 tourists in the tannery with me and more when I arrived the shop. The con is a bestseller. It’s brilliant and a little squeamish. Like the snake thing. I managed to part with 50 DH only because I was in a random alleyway was with 3 angry male guides claiming I owe them money. I should have just said I live with lions and zebras and don't speak English. After speaking to my Moroccan friend some facts arose: Those weren’t real leather goods. The tanneries are open 24/7. No Berbers have ever come down from the mountains (at least not recently) All through the day I was asked by about 10 guys o separate occasions if I wanted to see the Berbers from the mountains in the tanneries.Sigh, I must really look like a naïve tourist. I need to stop smiling…..:)….that made me smile…that too…:) p.s Moral of the story tanneries aren’t that interesting. |