Couscous & Chaos: a crazy trip to Marrakesh

by Sandra Acosta (Brazil)

I didn't expect to find Morocco

The trip`s destiny was Iberic Peninsula. It would be four weeks of jamón, Goya, pastel de Nata, Porto wines and blue wall tiles. But my husband and I were still looking for some kind of exoticism. Why couldn’t we take advantage that Morocco was soooo close to Spain and explore all those sandy scenarios? We decided to spend four days in Marrakesh, providing all the repertory to create our own amazing histories, in a Sherazade style. Our hotel was close to the main square of Marrakesh, from which innumerable alleys emerged to compose what they called souks, the traditional Moroccan market. It seemed a time travel. It was so much to see, that we couldn’t see anything. We were constantly interrupted by those noisy scooters that moved through the same space used by pedestrians to walk. And there were also the annoying street vendors. About them, I can say that it was impossible to see something in a store without hearing an endless bargain. It was worthless to say 156 times “no, I don’t want the Genie`s lamp”. They would pursue us, commenting that they would let that relic for the incredible price of 11 dirhams plus a keychain (the original price was 150 dirhams). It wasn’t enough to be in the middle of that mess that mixed Naja snakes dancing, a 56 degrees Celsius temperature, Couscous as the ONLY option in ALL restaurants, waiters touching us to offer their menus. We needed an experience as a nomad, living in tents on the desert, using turbans, counting 1876 stars in a sky that we were imagining to be the most awesome ever. With that in mind , we hired a company to take us to a Sahara Desert experience. The route took us nine hours with a lot of curves, many road works and all of this with, as a background music, Arabian songs of women out of tune, singing “aaaaaaiiiiiaaaa”. I don’t know how we survived. At least, after the 9 hours , we would have the camels` ride. After almost 50 minutes (15 minutes would be enough for the pictures), we arrived at our desert tent. We were introduced to the only person that would be with us: a Strange Tuareg that was going to be our cook-waiter-securityguard-drumsplayer. After a few seconds of superficial interaction, we discovered that he didn`t speak any English, once he answered that the dinner time was at 9h00 pm in writing the number “9” with his finger on the sand. After leaving our tent and looking to the sky, another disappointment: there was a mist covering everything, even the moon. I almost missed the polluted sky of São Paulo. Inside the restaurant-tent, we had the 19th couscous of that trip. The dessert, a basket of fruits, looked tasty but “something” served itself before me: a mouse inside the basket was enjoying the grapes. After the surprise (or horror), I nervously tried to alert our host. In a surprising attitude, the Tuareg joined the mouse and ate one of the grapes from the basket. Have you ever seen a waiter eating something from your plate, in front of you? Well, in that moment, we saw it… We went to the tent. And then, like a great joke from the universe, I saw over my suitcase another mouse. After crying and screaming for some minutes, I decided to cover my body with the blanket trying to forget the temperature over 40 degrees Celsius and willing not to see the other mice on the ceiling. My imagination didn`t help, since it kept wondering that the wind`s noise could be the Tuareg approaching to our tent to attack us with his Scimitar sword. Oh God, we were the portrait of desolation and dehydration. Marrakesh is uncomfortable, extreme, chaotic. I think it is only possible to love it or hate it, it isn’t possible to be indifferent to this city. For me, all I can say is that my mind has expanded so much with this experience of stories, frustrations, sweat, mosaics, sounds, adventures, fears and smells. But please don’t invite me to eat Couscous.