Road to Marrakesh, Part II

Okay, I think I posted too many photos, so stupid Blogger is making me do this in two parts. whatever. Anyway!

We continued our way into the Atlas mountains to commence our hike. I was thinking 'How hard can it be, our guide said he was in the discoteque all night and he's still wearing his club clothes'. I was wrong. You know those rickety wooden bridges, like in Indiana Jones? I crossed about 5 of those, and we had to cross the river several other times just by hopping over rocks, but despite Mustapha's club clothes, he proved to be quite the mountain goat, and a great guide. He only had to carry me part of the way.
Just kidding!

We also saw some amazing views during our hike:
Berber villages, nestled in the mountainsThe little restaurants along the river. Note the rickety bridge!

On Monday Molly and I explored the Souks further:
Some snake charmers in the square. You're supposed to pay them for photos, but this fellow took a liking to me. I think it's because he could tell I love snakes so much. The cobras were a little much, though, they would hiss and strike when people walked by. That's a little much, even for me!These guys just ran up to us and threw monkeys on us, although we had no money. They feel just like little humans though, especially their hands, and they're so soft and furry, I want one!!!
We also bought nuts and dried fruits from this guy. Booths like this are everywhere in the square, and for some reason he insisted I be in the booth for a photo. Oh well, why fight it? All the people were so nice!This is the Berber Pharmacie we went to-it's just tons of these brightly colored unlabeled jars and the fellow explained what everything is. It smells great with all the spices, oils, soaps, dried herbs, and the colorful powders are for dyeing fabric.

Morocco totally blew me away because all the guidebooks I read and all the people warning me had me prepared for rude people, especially towards Americans and even more towards women. I was prepared to be punting men out of the way and constantly have my defenses up, but it wasn't that way at all. Moroccans are incredibly helpful, friendly, and proud of their culture, and they were especially nice to each other. We would go in shops and they would invite us to stay for tea, and they just fawned over us and made us feel very special. The worst thing that happened was some guy grabbed my arm and said "sex machine", which really just made me curious: Am I a sex machine? Is HE a sex machine? Does he HAVE a sex machine? And some men whistled and stuff, but it's nothing more than I experience everyday living in the Mission district.

And granted, we were in a very touristy area, but we saw no extreme poverty, everyone looked happy and healthy (except you would think it was a British colony, not French, because lots of people have bad teeth), and it was great to be in a country where it seems like everyone is always smiling (despite the bad teeth). Such a great break from Madrid! Everyone's so serious here. . .

Also, if you're white, Moroccans tend to automatically assume you're English, so lots of the men hollered, "Victoria and Susie! Hello, fish and chips!" which was really just funny more than anything.

There's also raw meat just hanging on hooks everywhere, with flies buzzing all around it
In the US it would violate about 800 health codes, but at least you know it's fresh!

And of course, me being the vintage freak that I am, managed to find the one antique booth in MarrakeshIt was full of vintage cameras, and God knows what else is buried under that wonderful vintage rubble.

Kamal, who worked at the hostel we were staying in, took us to the chicken market (per my request) and we got to see the entire process of chicken slaughter. Molly and I picked out a live chicken and gave him a name and a back storyAnd then we took him to the slaughter booth. The two men working in there showed me how they slit the chickens' throat to kill them, then they put them in a bucket of hot water (not exactly sure why), then the other guy cuts off the head and feet and sticks them in the de-feathering machine. Every time I got sprayed with something I told myself it was just water. It was really crazy to see a massive pile of chicken feet and heads on the floor of this booth and blood and feathers flying everywhere. I tried to explain to Kamal that Americans like to have their meat arrive in shiny, cellophane packages with no evidence that it was once a living creature, but all I got from him was a weird look.The man on the left cuts the throats, the one on the right is working the de-feathering machine. Kamal barbequed our chicken for us, it was delicious, even the heart.

We also went in a booth in the area where they make and dye all the fabric, and a fellow in there showed us the process of how they color the cloth and then he wrapped me up Muslim style:
Do I look the part?

Then he took us onto the roof and we got a great view of all the fabric drying, and of all the souks:So pretty!

So that was my trip, in a nutshell. I'm already planning my next trip to Africa, Molly said she'd come with me, and I'm going to hold her to it! I want to see more of Morocco, Algeria, and Egypt. I will return to Africa soon, enshallah! (Arabic for God willing)