Re-enchanted

Normally I just breeze through Marakesh on my way to everywhere else...

It is always streaming with tourists which proves annoying. I'd rather not be thrust into a throng of happy shoppers and site see-ers just to find a place to sleep for the night.

(A scene at La Majorelle Gardens)

When I woke up Thursday morning and found the transportation strike still in effect I had no choice but to stay put. I decided I might as well enjoy it.








Another volunteer directed me to Le Café du Livre where I found a bit of British/American heaven: classic English book titles lined the shelves, goat cheese salads on the menu and Gipsy Kings playing in the background. I settled in and read for hours each day.


















Not having petit taxis at my disposal. I decided this was a great opportunity to actually explore the fabled Marrakech.





I roamed streets, strolled through beautifully refreshing parks, and dined on scrumptious lemon fruits du mer pastilla.

La Menara, a park I've seen painted and photographed dozens of times was a bit disapointing. The grounds were unkempt, the water dirty, the backdrop to the dramatic structure at the end of the gazing pool was ... bleachers.

Jma Alfna was calling. One of the most famous outdoor markets in the world.

I couldn't resist it's allure any longer.

Every evening throngs returned from wandering city streets to fill the massive square, standing about in circles listening to an orator or African Ganaoua music; pet monkeys, have hands tattooed with henna.

dining evenings at the bustling outdoor street-cart cafes that huddled in a mass in the center of the square...

men begging (or praying?) in the middle of it all ...

Shop keepers ready to serve you whatever your heart desires..

Shish kabobs?

Fresh orange juice?

Steaming snails.?





It's a gourmet dish. I got through most of my little bowl... and that was enough for me.

At night the lantern shops glow with a thousand colors swaying in the breezes.

Everywhere one looks there is color ... in great abundance.

And Moroccan mosaics, tiles, patterns guiding you up stairwells and leading you through archways ..

Henna ladies beg for your hand..

This is the enchantment that is Morocco ... sometimes in my lonely little Agdz I forget what a glorious place I live in ... and that's what I gained from a transportation strike.

And pause for a transportation strike..

I'm afraid I'm stuck in Marrakech

But with local I admit I've been blessed

It could have been M'Hamid or Tingdad

Or another particular douar unsaid

Why, you ask, am I sitting here?

Well therein is a tale to hear

The taxi drivers and buses

Are worried and all making fusses

About a new government policy

Regard: driving-accident injuries

Let's say your bus, as along it flies

Accidentally hits someone who dies

Off to jail you go

For five years whole

And 50 million dirhams' your fee

Which you'll be paying for eternity

So that's the new policy rumor

That has made traveling a blunder

For every tourist walks the streets

With miserable, tired defeat

And stare down at their feet

Wishing for comfortable sneaks

Because fancy heals don't cut it, I say

When "no taxis" means walking all day

Thus settling in we all are

Since one simply can't travel far

Rather wander through blossoming parks

And get lost in Jma Alfna's larks

Tafroute in all it's glory

In my continuing attempts to highlight enamored landscapes of Morocco... I bring a few shots from my friend Andrea Lueke.

Tafroute valley region.