Ma’a salama Morocco: Back to London.
I was pretty much ready to leave the Hotel Ibis by about 10, but my flight didn’t check in until 4:20. So I left my pack with the front desk and took off for the two mile walk to Jemaa el-Fnaa square, just inside the medina at its southern edge. I actually walked over five miles by the time I got back to the hotel around 1, as I did quite a bit of meandering, veering off the Google Maps route whenever I saw something that looked interesting. Getting there was pretty easy. I just had to keep my eyes on the Koutoubia Mosque, which became quite prominent after a while, and is just a few minutes from Jemaa el-Fnaa.
I’m very glad I did decide to take the walk, and not simply to get to see Jemaa el-Fnaa again, but because I saw the most contemporary and well-taken care of part of the city, and particularly on my walk back.
The route took me along Avenue Mohammed V, the city’s main north-south artery, from the new city, Guéliz, through Ville Nouvelle toward the Medina, winding up at the Mosque. It is a wide boulevard with clean sidewalks lined with palm trees and modern and well maintained shops, cafés, restaurants, hotels, businesses, and apartment buildings. It even had a fountain, the Fountain at Place de la Liberté, and the first monument type feature I’ve seen in the city, and soon after I passed a small sculpture park, Jardin des Arts. This was definitely a different and more sculpted and showcase part of the city.
Soon after, I veered off the boulevard to walk through the very lovely, very green, and very beautifully maintained Parc Arsat Moulay Abdeslam, a lovely and peaceful refuge from the busy city and streets around it.
I continued to Koutoubia Mosque, and from there Jemaa el-Fnaa. I looked at photos of the square from 1969, and it looks very much the same as the square today, although with fewer larger buildings around the square, and more locals than visitors, but otherwise essentially the same. As Graham Nash visited Marrakesh in 1966 and Marrakesh Express was released on 1969, it’s very likely that he was writing about Jemaa el-Fnaa, when he describes the square, looking then very much as it looks today, colored cottons in the air, charming cobras in the square and all.
I had a delicious banana smoothie from one of the many fruit stands there, wandered around a little, and then headed back, avoiding simply returning the same way I’d come.
After walking through and sitting in the park again, I took a different exit, heading back a less direct way. I noticed the park is flanked by walls on a couple of its sides, and discovered these were part of the Wall of Marrakech, a little over 6 miles in total, and built in the early 12th century. These are the walls that enclose the medina, and the park is therefore just adjacent to the old city, initially built during the 18th century.
I kept walking. This is clearly an affluent and mostly residential part of Guéliz, with many upscale Moroccan-style homes, apartments, and businesses, mostly in the pinkish ochre color that characterizes the Red City. Here it was not just clean, but super well maintained, without derelict or worn down buildings, broken sidewalks, or empty lots filled with rubble and trash that marks other parts of the new city. This area, Ville Nouvelle, was, for the most part, immaculate. Even the wide sidewalks here were not just clean, but often had lovely decorations built into them.
After picking up my pack from the hotel I walked just a few minutes to the area in front of Gare de Marrakech plaza where I knew the airport bus stopped, as I’d seen it with my own eyes yesterday, even though there was no actual bus stop there and there was no scheduled time for the bus to arrive. I waited and waited, which was no big deal as I had plenty of time, and I waved off endless taxi drivers offering me a ride. I not only wanted to save a few bucks, but I actually wanted to take the bus. Eventually, one driver offered me a ride for just a dollar more than the bus, and I’d waited long enough. Just as we were walking to his cab, I saw the bus swinging around the corner. Whether it stopped or not I’ll never know.
It’s been an excellent trip to Morocco, although not sure when or if I’ll be back this way. There’s clearly much more of Morocco to see and experience, not to mention neighboring Algeria to the east and Mauritania and Senegal to the south, and, of course, Cabo Verde, sitting in the Atlantic off the west coast of Africa. So you never know, I may be back in this part of the world one of these days. Although prices varied, with street goods pretty cheap, overall I didn’t find the country to be inexpensive, and certainly not when compared to Vietnam , and even Japan. Many things cost almost as much as they would in the U.S., even including many goods from the souks.
Still, costs aside, I found the trip to Morocco refreshing and exhilarating, in the same vein as my trip to Japan and, especially, Vietnam. That’s what really made the trip. I’m sorry to be leaving.
I caught my short flight to Lisbon and then transferred to the two plus hour London flight seamlessly, landing at Heathrow just after 11 pm. Because I carried my pack onto the plane I didn’t have to deal with waiting for my bag, so walked straight through border control and customs and less than 25 minutes after landing was the on the tube, and 75 minutes after that, Claudio picked me up at Oakwood.
I was surprised by how cool it was in London as I got off the plane, although granted it was 11:30 at night. Last time I was here, a couple of weeks ago, it was still pretty damn hot. I was still wearing shorts and my sandals, so had to slip on my long pants and put on a pair of socks, as well as putting on my sweat shirt.
It’s a little sad. Tonight’s the last night I’ll see Hilary for quite a while, as I don’t plan coming this way again soon, and she and Claudio aren’t thinking of coming to the U.S., but I guess we’ll have to figure something out. I’m sorry to be having to say goodbye tomorrow.
Actually, it is tomorrow. Right now, it’s 2:35 in the morning so time for bed. Good night.