Arabian Nights

They say variety is the spice of life or is it spice is the ingredient for life, or is it too much spice is a liability? Whatever it is Morocco has it all; spices, variety and a lack of liability, making it a wild and enchanting place that has not changed in thousands of years.

Arriving in Marrakesh we found ourselves fully immersed in Arabian culture. The veiled women and turban sporting men soon became familiar and comfortable sights. The few Arabic words we picked up dissolved any disconcerting moments or thoughts of unrest. The people of Islam, despite the negative hype are actually a very open and tolerant group. Morocco represents this full heartily, it is one of the most progressive Arabic nations. As a trading hub it has a deep history of diversity and global awareness giving it a very liberal yet traditional culture.

Making our way deep into the Souks we felt as if we had stepped into a scene from Aladdin. Snake charmers, henna artists, storytellers and of course a few con artists all rally for our business but more then anything just our attention. Genies sell magic positions and the Berber people sell magic carpets; nothing can explain the frenzied atmosphere of the markets. Moroccans have an uncanny ability for language, many can not read or write yet they speak at least four or five different languages. They can peg your native tongue, crack a joke and lure you into their shop in one grand swoop.

The few nights we spent in the Sahara were truly Arabian nights. Arriving via camel in perfect sync with the setting sun, we enjoyed the show on top of a dune. Following this we ate a traditional Tajine stew with our hands while seated on magic carpets . The after dinner trio (Sandy Bottoms) of local tunes was a bit all too cliche, yet brilliant. I thought the stars in Grand County were vivid, but this sky surely used up three wishes to create such allure. The next morning we awoke before sunrise to witness the desert´s transformation into dawn, Arabian nights warming into days.

Leaving the desert we traversed into the Atlas mountains where we dipped in and out of Oasis retreats. The Kasbahs would disappear into the terracotta colored mountains if it were not for the Indigo and Saffron colored rugs hanging from the windows. We ventured into one of these fortress/commune villages and found ourselves engaged in a rug barter. The nomadic salesmen could earn Oscars for their skill in persuasion and drama. Buying and selling rugs is an all day affair involving mint tea, a tour of the family house and formal introductions to the actual weavers and wool dyers. Not to worry, they do accept American Express but you still have to haggle for a fair surcharge.

It is amazing how a smile and hello can lift the veil of a culture and that a hand shake still holds true value.


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