So here we are. The Marrakesh Menara Aiport. Getting on a local bus towards Jemaa el-Fnaa. The bus driver says: ‘pas de monnaie, après, après!’ and keeps the rest. No time for discussion, we gotta go. The bus runs through the streets of Marrakesh.
Looking around, we can see plenty of old motorbikes moving freely with the no-helmets-needed drivers wearing Berber dresses blowing in the breeze. Palm trees, oranges hanging from the trees. The yellow-painted buildings look so solid as if they stood here forever.
Jemaa el-Fnaa – the voice of the bus driver, brings us back to the present moment. ‘Here you are: your change’ – he adds.
Our noses surprisingly easily get habituated to the smell of the horses’ stool. And we start our walk through the streets of Marrakesh.
I have never been bombarded by so many different colours, smells and sensations at once. Little monkeys, screaming fishmongers, owners of all kinds of stores, restaurants. Street food offered on every corner. Despite all this crowd and yawp, Marrakesh reveals its second face – the smiley face of warm-hearted locals who just want to earn a plate for their families.
You will certainly bump into those who will be trying to rip you off just because you look ‘Western’. Stay focused and breathe Marrakesh because all the pieces of these puzzles will make perfect sense in the end. Chaos has its order, too.