Marruecos

The earth is truly a different color in Africa. At least in Morocco. As my flight came into the valley that cradles the ancient city of Marrakech, I stared out my window at different shades of reds, orange, yellows and pinks that stained the soil below me. This amazing valley is framed by snow capped mountains that millenniums ago, held an ocean, long before Berbers, Arabs, and imperialist Europeans fought over the landscape.

Stepping off the plain was equally surreal. When I left Frankfurt that morning, it was -8 degrees (Celsius, about 17 degrees F), now I felt the warm breeze of +21 (about 70) and the familiar smell of burning trash that perfumes the air of so much of the developing world (incidentally, I happen to like this smell. Perhaps its some sort of positive associations I have from previous trips).

After finding the "fabled bus", as Lonely Planet puts it, I rode into this historic city. Having no idea when to get off the bus, and lacking any sort of decent map, I waited until I saw a large square full of people and signaled to the bus driver that this place looks as good as any. I guessed well, and soon found myself in the center of Djemaa el-Fna, the huge square in the center of the Medina of the old city.

The air was thick with smoke, a combination of incense and goat heads (more on that later). Music permeated the smoke, as old men dressed in hooded outfits played little flute like instruments surrounded by fortune tellers, monkeys, and food stalls. The smell of burned 2 stroke motor oil mixed with that of a petting zoo as mopeds and sheep zig zagged across the square. I didn't know it yet, but I had arrived on Eid ul-Adha, the holiday commemorating Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son, before god intervened and told him a sheep would do. So everyone was busy with their sheep. A few folks sped by me on mopeds, with live sheep under their arms. Baaah. They seemed more afraid of their fate than not wearing a helmet.

With the help of allah (and a guy named Abdul who I had to tip), I found my way through the souks (market stalls) to the Riad I was looking for. This hostel/Riad is the nicest hostel I've ever stayed at in my entire traveling life. Giant walls enclosed patios full of carpets and pillows, fireplaces, free internet, a rooftop deck, plush beds and fancy bathrooms that look like they belong at a 5 star hotel. In any case, I dropped of my bags and started to explore the Medina.

Within 5 minutes I was completely lost. The winding streets felt like valleys between the tall buildings. Tarps draped across the top make for an even more confusing labyrinth of chaotic foot traffic. It reminded me a bit of venice, and the maze of streets their, but this was much more confusing. Around every corner were people, mostly kids, with propane tanks and torches setting fire to the remains of the sheep/goats from that day. There were a lot of dead sheep all over the city. I don't think this smells as nice as burnt trash.

2 hours later I found my way back to the Riad where I passed the rest of the evening chatting with other travelers who had just returned from desert and mountain treks. It began to rain, but it was still so warm compared to Germany that I didn't even mind. Eventually, my lack of sleep caught up with me and I crawled into my plush bed of Moroccan pillows and Berber blankets for the best nights sleep I've ever had at a hostel.

More to come.
Hope everyone is doing well, and has a great holiday season and new year.