Mo'Rockin' the Weekend

My first hour in Marrakech was one of the most exciting/frightening experiences of my life. We arrived in Jemaa el Fna, the city’s central square, to a scene that none of us could have possibly expected. The first thing I noticed was a very distinct odor…but what was it? The jars of olives sitting at the entrance of the market? The smell of exhaust from cars and motor bikes that somehow seamlessly weaved in and out of traffic? Dung from the horses, donkeys and mules pulling carts amongst all of this chaos? Quite frankly I really didn’t want to know. While my nose was being overloaded with this distinct aroma, my eyes were taking in the sights of the old city. The buildings were built with a distinct Islamic architecture dating b

ack to the 12^th century: arches, beautiful tile work, towering minarets, all in a reddish-brown clay color, making Marrakech the ‘Red City’. Being a third-world country, most of the buildings were run down, which added to the mystique of the town.

As the tour guide led us around, I remember looking around the city in complete amazement. There were snake charmers playing their flutes; coaxing cobras out of a basket, men with monkeys attempting to put them on your shoulder, store owners

pleading for you to take a look inside their store, beggars asking for money; it was complete sensory overload. Women walking around in traditional ultra-conservative clothing to respect the Islamic faith. Hearing the call to prayer blast over a loud speaker from the minaret high above reminding you that this is not Christian Europe. Oh, and while you took this in you had to avoid the endless amount of motorbikes whizzing around not only the major streets, but the side alleys as well.

While wandering the market streets of Marrakech, you knew you were in a city with a long history. No U.S. grid pattern here, Marrakech was a labyrinth of twisting and turning side streets that had everyone (aside from the guide) completely bamboozled. When we turned onto a different alley, it was common to see someone in our group doing a head count, just to make sure no one would be lost. The Marrakech Souk Market contained thousands of tiny corner shops selling a limitless amount of items; food being bombarded by swarms of hungry flies, sacks of aromatic spices linking the city to the influential spice trade, souvenirs ranging from hookahs to knock-off Louis Vuitton purses to the colorful traditional Berber rugs. Our guide explained to us that the bargaining nature of Moroccans was somewhat of a tradition; consumers and vendors enjoyed the social aspect of it. It was somewhat similar to the social aspect of the markets in Spain, only far more intense. Men would grab your arm trying to sell you anything, and when you resisted they only tried harder. Marrakech was filled with different sights and sounds that would give clues to the city’s cultural history. The most obvious (in my opinion) was the balance of Arabic and French signs throughout the city. Morocco had been a French protectorate from 1911-1956; the language as well as some architectural aspects of French culture are still prevalent within the city. Although there were many signs in the touristy Old town of Marrakech, Arabic signs became more and more numerous the farther you went to the outskirts.

We as students have traveled to many places during this trip so far, but there has been no place where I have felt more singled out than Morocco. While Marrakech was one of the more touristy cities in the country, this was probably the first time I truly felt completely different than everyone. While there are many cultural differences between Europe and the US, I have never quite felt culture shock like I did that first day in Morocco. As exasperating as it was for parts of that day, I came back to Luxembourg very happy that I was able to have experienced it, and hopefully being able to travel to more “Off the Beaten Path” destinations in the future.