I struggle to find the words to describe the energy of Marrakech, Morocco. Past the orange fruit trees that line the manicured main boulevard, and surrounded by almost twenty miles of high walls, lies Medina — the ancient, spiritual, center of Marrakech.
The narrow streets wind like disorganized serpents, randomly weaving themselves through the maze of small shops that drive the engine of every day life.
The colors are vibrant; the energy palpable. Yet there is a certain hustle as merchants bargain for every Dirham as they sell their wares.
The main square, the epicenter of daily commerce, bustles with snake charmers, food vendors, and street performers. The proverbial monkeys who are unwilling participants perch on tourist shoulders to help create memories for the family album.
I like this beautiful city. Everything is not perfect. The challenges of poverty sit silently in the eyes of many of its residents, yet it speaks volumes of their every day struggles.
The energy on the streets is contagious, the belle dancers are exotic and the food is sumptuous. These “Muslim” people are some of the nicest in the world. I have met some fascinating people and shared some fascinating experiences. Marrakech is not what I expected — it is even better — it is a rare African jewel that must me cherished and enjoyed.
About Hemant Rustogi