Back to the hustle and bustle of Marrakesh

Posted Wednesday, April 11, 2007, 5:30 PM by Lonely Planet

Sylvia takes a final stroll through Marrakesh's alleys...

The road to Essaouria is a rollercoaster ride north of Marrakesh. The landscape is bleak and empty apart from a solitary minaret standing at the roadside. Why it stands there is a mystery as there seems to be no one to hear its call to prayer except the occasional lonely shepherd with his skinny dog.

Essaouria is known as Morocco's windy city, but it was a refreshing Atlantic breeze that swept through the white alleys of this attractive town. In a courtyard below the ramparts, woodworkers create high-quality jewellery boxes and furniture from thuja wood, which is unique to the High Atlas area, and calligraphers paint Berber or Arabic symbols on goatskin. Around every corner there stands an art gallery with art for every budget, from the cheerful mass produced oil paintings of Gnaoua horsemen to the high art dreamscapes of La Mancha.



Back in Marrakesh for our final day we saw a less salubrious side to Moroccan creativity. A chance encounter at a mint stall led to a guided walk down endless alleys with a toothless man to visit his family's tannery. Random animal entrails lay scattered on the street and the air was thick with the ammonia-fumed aroma of pigeon droppings (used to soften the leather). We were offered a sprig of fresh mint to act as a gasmask as we made our way up to the rooftops to balance between great vats of quicklime where animal skins are soaked before being laid out to dry in the sun. After that they are soaked in natural dyes - calico, saffron, indigo, kohl and mint to give the spectrum of colours that hang in the souks. Somehow those soft leather babouches (pointy slippers) don't seem quite so appealing now.

As dusk fell I took a final walk through the Djemaa el-Fna. At last, the Gnaoua dancers were out, performing their mystical Moroccan-style line dancing. With heads swirling and tasselled fezzes spinning, they took their turn in stepping forward to show off their best moves. As the drum beat ever faster they shut their eyes and worked themselves into a frenzy. One flash of my camera however and the tallest dancer was out of his trance-like state in an instant, hat outstretched with a smile that said, 'You know the score'.



Marrakesh is a magical place and seeing it through the eyes of a travel writer has enhanced the experience, as every sight formed itself into a sentence and every detail became so valuable. Thanks Lonely Planet!

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