TIA: This is Africa

 30 September 2009
Where to even start? This is the sight that greeted us after we stepped out of the plane into the 90 something degree sun in Marrakesh, Morocco. We had left Madrid - a bit later than expected thanks to yet another delay by EasyJet- ridiculously excited but also about apprehensive about our trip to Morocco. The mantra of the few previous days had been "Guys, can you believe we're going to be in Africa tomorrow?" and after a 2 hour flight with extremely impressive flight attendants - how did they know exactly which of their 4 languages(Arabic, Fench, English & Spanish) to speak to each passenger? - we had finally arrived.  I don't really know what I was expecting, but in all honesty Africa didn't really great us with open arms.  The glee of getting our passports stamped and entering a third continent, or even a forth for some, quickly dissolved upon the arrival of armed guards to herd us through full-body thermal scanners- checking for slight elevations of body temperatures possibly indicating the swine flu. Our hopes to stay calm and remain together throughout the security checkpoints quickly disappeared when the guards pulled aside Rachel after the scanner indicated she was running a fever. 
They took her into a back room - the rest of us completely lost as to what to do- but she  thankfully emerged several minutes later amidst some guards talking sternly in Arabic. Apparently they had decided that her fever wasn't high enough to prevent her from entering the country- I can only imagine what we would have done if this decision had gone the other way. Reunited but already feeling rather shaken, the exchange of our beloved euros for large strange bills  didn't make matters any better. Knowing that we were being royally ripped off by the taxis, but having no other options, we piled into two very small Mercedes and headed out into the strange country.

We quickly learned that Morocco has absolutely no traffic laws. The streets are rarely labeled, the lines on the road are clearly option as the taxis literally drove directly in the center to make for quicker passing on the left and right, and nearly every citizen rides about on these ancient, rickety and some must have been homemade motorcycles. In the first few minutes alone I saw 5 or 6 motorcyles- not meant for more than one person- being riskily shared by two adults- the second teetering on the back and holding his legs off the ground while zooming through traffic at breakneck speed. The further sighting of a man- driving one handed and holding a baby to his chest with the other- coupled with the not-so-picturesque drive through the poor shanty suburbs of Marrakesh did nothing to soothe my anxieties. By the time we arrived at our hotel I could have almost cried. After a final incident with our taxi cab driver -him getting out of the vehicle and screaming in Arabic at people he had no business approaching - I was left just hoping to survive Africa let alone have any sort of a vacation. We pulled ourselves together enough to check in to our hotel and thankfully their wonderful hospitality stood in stark contrast to our first hour in Africa.
Heartened a bit by the comfortable lodgings and brief respite our growling stomachs finally convinced us to leave the oasis of our hotel. After a delicious first lunch- with even better prices- we were feeling bold enough to search out the famous Moroccan souks (markets). The walk - nearly 40 minutes was a mixture of admiration and unease. Crossing the busy streets required complete concentration and very good timing- we still hadn't seen any stoplights and apparently the motorcycles have the option to stop at crosswalks- and the open gawking and comments of locals made me wish I was safe behind the full body dresses and head scarves of the local women.

We kept on however and finally arrived at Place Jamal el Fna-home to one of the biggest markets in the world. Warned that getting lost for several hours in the maze of stalls was a real possibility we stuck together fiercely. At the end of the day- and after the purchasing of several items- we had learned how to navigate the crowded aisles, and to look for some sort of sunlight to indicate an exit- groundbreaking right? Lugging our purchases the 30 minutes plus back to our hotel I wasn't feeling well at all- feverish, achy headache - so I called it a successful- if you consider not dying successful- first day in Africa..

Meanwhile: The rest of the group was feeling brave enough to venture out for dinner. The brief version of their night is this: While walking around looking for a restaurant they were shadily approached by a man on the street. He told them that he worked for a tourist agency and wanted to to know if they'd be interested in an excursion for the next day. Apparently he wasn't too creepy because they went with him to check out the agency. Long story short they agreed to go on an excursion to the Atlas Mountains the next day. After completing the transaction the man suggested a place that they should eat for dinner and even drove them there. They were led up the back staircase of some building- putting more faith in this man than I would have at this point- and emerged on the roof of a building overlooking a square. Everything turned out for the best though- because it was a private, invitation-only restaurant where they were served an exquisite Moroccan meal seated in their own colorful, silk tent. They had a great evening and came home to tell me all about it- I was sorry to have missed it  but was very much looking forward to the next day- having been promised that camels would play a large role :) Oh morocco, all you had to do to redeem yourself was to promise me a ride on a somewhat smelly but uber cute pack animal- am I an easy sell or what?