Marrakech Part 3

Breakfast at Riad Vert consisted of fresh orange juice, bread and jams, and coffee. Mr F-P asked the lady who served us if I could perhaps have some fruit and yoghurt. She looked at me in that same askance manner, and asked me if I wanted banana, orange and apple. I said oui s'il vous plaît, and she said, in French obviously, that it would take about 10 minutes. So I waited and watched Mr F-P enjoying the bread. There was the lovely French-style bread of the previous night, and also what looked like home-made English Muffins, and some little yeasted pancakes. Eventually my fruit arrived - I'd been anticipating a fruit salad with yoghurt. What I got was a plate with an apple, an orange, a banana and a knife on it. No yoghurt ever materialised. Anyway, I ate the fruit, and drank my juice and we battled our way through a great big pot of 'economy' coffee (hot, dark brown water!). Then we set off to 'town'..........



So, said Dominic when we asked him, to get to the main square, the Jmaa el Fna, all we had to do was to go 'droite et droite et droit sur' (right, then right and then straight on). Sounds simple enough, non? We managed the right and then right, but after that there didn't actually appear to be any 'straight on'! We were trapped in the 13th Century and couldn't find our way out. We passed metal workers' yards with little donkeys and carts waiting outside. At one point someone had tipped a truckload of stones onto the 'road' and were patiently shovelling it into buckets and moving it into a yard, while a lot more people who could have helped stood around watching. There were people carrying covered trays of unbaked bread to the communal ovens. Women in hijabs whizzed past on scooters. Car horns honked constantly and we were forever diving out of the way. I'd got flip flops on and after about 10 minutes my feet were FILTHY! Eventually a kindly local took pity on us and offered to show us the way - for a not-insubstantial sum of money of course! Anyway, above is a photo of the Jmaa el Fna from the cafe Argana, where we finally got a decent cup of coffee!



Once at the square it was easy to find ourselves on the map Dominic had given us, and after our coffee, and after Mr F-P had bought some very cheap Converse trainers, we walked to the new town to get some more money. You can't buy Moroccan currency anywhere except in Morocco, so on the advice of some idiot at Thomas Cook's bureau de change, we had taken our spendoes in Euro Travellers Cheques. Don't do this! We could only find one bank in the whole of Marrakech that would change Travellers Cheques, and their bureau de change was closed from 1 to 3 every day! (we didn't discover this pertinent fact until the following day!).

Anyway, in the new town, after a series of incredibly nerve-wracking road-crossing exercises, we settled at a table outside the Grande Cafe du Poste, which is rather swish and seems to be frequented by Moroccan 'yummy-mummies' with designer babies, designer jeans, huge heads on stick bodies, and trout-pouts. We had mint tea, and then coffee (Mr F-P had a cafe Moroccaine, which was a small stripey one in a little glass, and I had iced, which was a massive black one in a big glass with coffee beans on the top). Then we asked for a table inside so we could have some lunch. For lunch I had grilled sardines with tomato marmalade, and Mr F-P had a cheese omelette. There was lovely bread again. They don't even charge for it you know! Then I fell down the stairs! The floor outside the loo - which was upstairs, and was lovely with little flannels to dry your hands on - was being washed when I came out, and I had flip flops on, as I've already said, and the stairs were marble and spiral, and I managed to slip down the last 5 or so, in a skirt, so no doubt flashed my undercarriage to the 10 waiters who just happened to be standing exactly opposite the bottom of those stairs at the exact moment I fell down! What fun!

So after that excitement, and the very small bill, we went off to catch the open-top tourist bus to have a look at a couple of palaces, the Bahia and the Baadi, one a ruin and the other not.

photos here...... http://www.flickr.com/photos/arowan534/

Marrakech Part 2

Riad Vert.

It’s a traditional riad, which is a Moroccan house, set around a courtyard. These houses turn their faces away from the street. Outside it was MENTAL! Narrow, dusty lanes full of honking car horns and kids running and donkeys and people shouting and all kinds of furore. Once we stepped through the green door, hidden in a little alley off the narrowest street, it was a different world. A short passage brought us out into the courtyard, with palm trees growing in the middle. It was covered with a canopy, because it’s COLD in Marrakech at night in the winter. There were tables set out in the courtyard for dining, and rooms opened off it with sofas and low tables. The owner, Dominic, a rather groovy Frenchman, greeted us and we sat and had mint tea with him and some other guests, also French. I smiled and nodded and pretended to understand while Mr Fuss-Pott chatted away. I’d really been looking forward to that mint tea, and it wasn’t a disappointment (but I discovered those lovely silver teapots need some kind of holder for the handle, as the heat doesn’t know where to stop!).

Monsieur Dominic said that he had put us in a larger room, so I was a bit upset that I wouldn’t be getting the pretty drapey bed – I’d so looked forward to that. The room we were in was lovely though, and the bed was incredibly comfy. I think the room we’d originally requested was on the next floor up and perhaps they didn’t use that floor if they weren’t very full. I will say that although the bathroom LOOKED gorgeous, all terracotta plaster and marble with brass fittings, it wasn't terribly efficient. The shower was passable, I've certainly stood under more dribblesome ones, but the sink was just silly! It was a lovely brass bowl set into a tiled worktop, with a brass tap. Trouble was, the plug didn't work, the tap only trickled, and the trickle barely went into the bowl, it was mostly over the tiles! It took a fair while to get enough water in there to wash your face! There only seemed to be 3 other couples staying at the riad. A French couple who seemed a bit mad (they hired scooters one day and a car the next – totally bonkers!!!), a Polish man living in Switzerland, and his partner, I think she might have been Swiss, I’m not sure, and a very young and rather perfect-looking French couple with a lovely toddler.

After the madcap ride through the streets of Marrakech in the taxi, and having noted how far we seemed to be from anything vaguely resembling a restaurant, or even a shop, we decided we didn’t actually dare to go out of the riad in the dark, so we opted for dinner a la maison. I gather Riad Vert do wonderful meals. Dominic looked at us quite strangely when we explained (well, Mr F-P explained) that neither of us ate meat – most French people look askance at you if you tell them that! In the end we decided on a meal of omelettes, salads and strawberries. That sounded perfect. We got all our stuff sorted out (which means I forced Mr F-P to unpack – he always tries to just leave his things in the case and the case open in the middle of the floor!) and then went down for dinner.

We were served at a little table in the courtyard, under a palm tree. First we were brought a basket of bread and 2 earthenware bowls of ‘salads’, which were in fact cooked dishes. Both seemed to be aubergine based, but were quite different, and equally delicious. I did indulge in some of the bread – it was like French bread but even nicer – golden and really crusty on the outside and fluffy inside. We were also brought a big bottle of water. Then the omelettes came, one each, great big things, gorgeously cooked and oozing with fresh herbs. The waiter left the remains of the ‘salads’ so we had those with the omelettes. Mmmmmmmm! Pudding was fresh strawberries with vanilla yoghurt, and we had coffee to end. It was the most delicious meal. Later, back home, Mr F-P promised me he would email Dominic and beg for the recipes for those aubergine salads.

We went to bed quite early – you’re always knackered after travelling, aren’t you, even if you didn’t have to get up especially early or anything. Funny that. I didn’t get much sleep cos Mr F-P makes little noises in the back of his throat when he’s asleep, and I could hear him despite having cotton wool balls in my ears!