Mesmerized by Morocco!

The port on our itinerary that Rob and I were most nervous about was Morocco. We docked in Casablanca but in a bold burst of Travel Whimsy, we decided to spend our one Moroccan day in the ancient city of Marrakech – over 3 hours away.

That's us! In Morocco!
Having a great time!

Hearing about pickpockets in the exotic city, and merchants who follow you or lock doors behind you if you show any interest in their wares, and general chaos in the tourist areas, Rob and I were decidedly twitchy. 

We stacked the deck in our favor by booking a “let’s-be-safe-sheep” Princess-sponsored tour, tucking minimal valuables in hidden travel pockets, and agreeing that there would be no purchases. Or at least very negligible ones. We also agreed that as far as any merchants knew, we were deaf and oblivious to their existence. It feels terribly rude to completely ignore someone, but it works.

And you know what? We were totally overprepared and unnecessarily anxious. 

We both enjoyed Marrakech so much more than we expected! Morocco is a lovely country, with friendly people (SO many local folks waved at our tour bus as we rode around Casablanca), colorful sights and sounds, delicious food, and merchants who didn’t harass us.

In all honesty, after attending a Destination Talk onboard about Morocco, I was having buyer’s remorse that we were pretty much skipping Casablanca and spending 7 hours on a bus. 

I was bummed we weren’t going to go into Casablanca’s landmark Hasan II Mosque, one of very few mosques in Morocco that non-Muslims can enter. I also wondered if I should be more interested in seeing the locations of one of Hollywood’s most famous movies (I later learned the entire 1942 Bogart-Bergman movie was filmed on a Hollywood set, so no loss there). Turns out we totally made the right decision to trek to Marrakech.

The best photo available of Casablanca's
Hasan II Mosque. Ah, touring by bus.

Rick's Cafe in Casablanca, within 
walking distance of the cruise terminal.
It was built by an American woman
in 2004. Clearly a fan of the movie...
and tourists.

The countryside between Casablanca and Marrakech was fascinatingly repetitive. Lots and lots of wheat fields, olive trees, sheep, and old ways of hauling bales of hay (horses, donkeys, rickety trucks). I quickly learned to look for the shepherd anytime I saw a flock of sheep in a field. Often, he was sitting on a bale of hay or under the one tree or on the road. I’m not sure what the shepherds were protecting their herds from, but I loved that they were there, watching over with commitment and responsibility.

Old timey but it worked!

Olive trees outside a small town.

The landscape was very brown and flat and dry.
It sort of reminded me of southern Idaho or Nevada.

Lonely, responsible shepherd.

We stopped for a potty break at a 
Shell gas station. I always get a 
kick out of seeing foreign languages
on everyday things. This lemon
bubbly drink was very tasty, too! 

Also spotted at the Shell gas station: the aftermath
of the fanciest gas station meal ever.
Baskets? China dishes?? A teapot?!?

As we arrived in Marrakech, I quickly understood why it is known as the Red City. Many of its buildings are the red ochre color of adobe. Our tour guide explained that each of the four Imperial Cities in Morocco (cities that were each the country’s capital at one point in its loooong history) has a different dominant color for its buildings and therefore a nickname. Marrakech is the Red City, Rabat (the current capital) is the Green City, Fes is the Yellow City, and Meknes is sometimes called the White City but that better applies to Casablanca even though it’s not an Imperial City.

Red buildings on a seemingly typical street
in Marrakech. And lots of traffic.

LOTS of mopeds and small motocycles
all through the city. Not a lot of helmets.

It did not take long for me to decide I liked Marrakech. I loved the red buildings, the endless number of statuesque date palms, the mixture of old and new architecture, and the fact that there were no tall buildings. We learned that no buildings in Marrakech are allowed to be taller than the 12th Century Tower of the Koutoubia Mosque, which is only about 250 feet tall. This law helped Marrakech feel much more authentically Moroccan than the skyscrapery Casablanca. Casablanca – from just driving around it in a bus – felt like any large city but with particularly squiggly letters and flowy, breezy fashions.

You can easily spot the mosque's tower! 
Marrakech somehow felt both old and modern
at the same time. And surprisingly green in parts.

So many date palms! They were beautiful. And
no irrigation is used. A drought several years ago
resulted in a number of new trees being planted.

Us and the mosque's tower.
It looks taller than 250 feet.

The grounds surrounding the mosque
were beautiful and very serene.

Squiggly letters in Casablanca

The words on the left are written in Berber,
the native language of Morocco.
The words on the right are written in Arabic
and are read from right to left.
I have no idea where it says we are going.

Men in flowy fashions! We were told women
do not typically hang out in coffee shops.
They do their gossiping at communal baths.

Women's fashions were pretty diverse.
Lots of were flowy, lots were very
modern. Some revealed only eyes.

Our tour included a walk through Bahia Palace – a fascinating home from the 1800s used by a Grand Vizier (basically a Prime Minister), his four wives, and his 24 concubines. We learned that there were no windows facing outward (only to interior courtyards) because privacy was paramount, as the Grand Vizier knew he had things to hide. One lonely guy on our tour quickly had all the women shaking their heads with a mixture of pity and exasperation as he asked soooo many questions about concubines and Muslim marriage and polygamy laws.

The palace's courtyard for the wives. The concubines
had a bigger one but without any trees. Or fruit.
Or tourists, since it was still being repaired from
an earthquake in 2023.

Ceiling in the main wife's bedroom.
The main wife was chosen for her beauty.

Part of the room the Grand Vizier
hosted parties in. Apparently the 
musicians who played at his parties
were blind, so they could not report
anything or identify anyone.
Really not impressed by the 
Grand Vizier.

We had lunch in a traditional Moroccan restaurant that I could never find again, as we walked through a maze of cobblestone alleyways lined by bored salesmen playing on their phones. Each stall was pretty small and was long and narrow. Most specialized in an item -- like shoes or jewelry or fabric or spices. I took tons of photos as we whisked through.

The salesmen didn't bother us as long as
we expressed zero interest in what they were
selling. They were very good at spotting an eye
that lingered just a little too long on a scarf or purse.

Shoes and magnets!

Small appliances for sale (except for the fan -- I think
that was because it was freaking HOT)

Fabric store 

Nuts! I think.

Bedding store.

Local artist store.

Upon arriving for lunch, we were treated to homemade bread with a variety of sauces as an appetizer (lentils, carrot, a jam of some sort, and tomato sauce with cinnamon that was bizarre and I might have loved? It was such a weird combination!). The entree was chicken tagine cooked in the iconic pyramid clay pot, with a side of couscous. Dessert was sesame cookies (dry and crunchy and crumbly) with cinnamon-sprinkled orange slices for dessert. The orange-and-cinnamon combo will definitely be repeated at Woodhaven – SO GOOD! I had no idea how magical cinnamon could be. Our beverages were an unexpectantly good Moroccan red wine (a “blend” so we have no idea what grapes it was made from) and a delicious mint tea that I slurped up even though it was served hot and I was still sweating.

The array of sauces, with bread and our own 
plates this time. This place was fancy.

The tagine!

The tagine chicken and veggies. Lighting was 
tough. It looked less AI-y than this photo.

The couscous. Late in the meal, another table
told us there was more meat under the cabbage
leaf. Consensus says it was lamb.

We sat in a decadent, dimly lit room filled with soft fabrics and rose petalled fountains and stained glass. A fez-wearing musician played a lute as we ate, with a mosque-defying belly dancer as the grand finale. The wine, the music, the bare shoulders and tummy – it all felt something like a mildly naughty Arabic speakeasy in a desert oasis. It was a blast!

It felt like a swanky
underground hideaway. And
it did NOT feel like noon.

Lute player. It was very...
twangy. Not my style of music,
but it fit the scene.

The belly dancer started with a 
robe trimmed with lights.
Mr. Lonely Guy -- and a few
others who had enjoyed the
wine quite a bit -- were mesmerized.

Before we boarded the bus for the long ride back to Casablanca, we were given about an hour on our own to explore the notable (some say “famous”) Souk of Marrakech. 

This ancient market is a spaghetti bowl of alleyways in the Medina (old part of town). This is where Rob and I planned to be on high alert as we explored all the things we should buy. The center of the bowl was a large area called Jemaa el-Fnaa that would have likely been a smush of people had it not been a holiday (the Islamic New Year – Happy 1448, everyone!). Instead, Jemaa el-Fnaa was pretty manageable. And the light crowds made it terribly easy to spot the monkey dancers and the snake charmers.

Yep.

I was all set to be enthralled by both of these exotic ways to separate me from my money. Instead, they both felt like contrived – if not exploitive – tourist traps not unlike “entertainment” you might find at San Francisco’s Fisherman’s Wharf or The Strip in Las Vegas. The monkeys looked hot, the snakes looked bored (or drugged), the handlers looked eager to pounce on my wallet. So, I took photos from a disillusioned distance and moved on.

The monkeys are Barbary macaque monkeys
and there is a movement trying to protect them.
If you Google it, your heart will break.

Snake at his feet, poking its head up. The snakes
only stayed visible for a matter of seconds before
a cover was placed back on top of them.
Maybe if you paid more they would stay out
longer?

So yes, much to our complete surprise, Rob and I both had a great day in Marrakech! It was so colorful and unfamiliar and other-worldly. When we got back on the ship, I truly felt like I was returning from a romantic journey to a foreign land and not just getting off a tour bus in a cruise terminal.

Would I go back to Marrakech? Yes, I think I would! Would I go back to Casablanca? Only to go into the Hasan II Mosque. Would I go back to Morocco? Totally unexpectedly, 100% yes!

Who knew?!?

Right before we got back on the bus to head 
back to the ship. We toasted our travel bravery with
 a nice glass of port when we were back on board.

Next stop: La Coruna (Santiago de Compostela), Spain!