marrakech too hot to handle

It’s 3.15am and I can’t understand why I have been woken by what sounds like Arabic chanting. Then I recall that I am in Marrakech and it is Ramadan. The call to prayer is echoing throughout our riad via a distant mosque loudspeaker. I ask Fox if this is the call to breakfast to which he responds I should stop being sarcastic. When I insist that I am in fact being serious we both burst into uncontrollable laughter. It must be the heat. We discover during our stay that this is the hottest summer in Morocco for the last 60 years. Proof that I am not handling the 51°C heat very well lies in random strangers, locals and tourists alike, taking one look at me as they pass by then spraying me in the face with water squirters. Charming.

Our introduction to Marrakech is at Djemaa-el-Fna, the main city square. By day, one is likely to encounter mainly fellow tourists and some sad looking donkeys bearing heavy loads but at night it truly becomes the heart of Marrakech. As the sun sinks, the call for the break of fasting resounds throughout the city and along with it comes the setting up of street restaurants which draw crowds-upon-crowds. Everywhere you look there are just people – some whizzing through on scooters, many feasting, others mesmerised by the snake charmers’ cobras or the men with monkeys on chains. The square also serves as the gateway to the souks. There is little the sellers in this labyrinthine marketplace will not attempt to coax one to purchase their wares. From catch phrases to grabbing your arm or telling you that “looking is free”, my favourite has to be “What you want? You want scarf? Bag? Ah, belly-dancing…you want this belt to be like Shakira?” Priceless.
While I smile at these attempts to rid me of my dirham, less amusing are the many poor who tug on one's arm for a handout. Between them, the mistreated animals and countless scrawny, battered stray cats who roam the city, one has little choice but to become hardened to the harsh surroundings for fear of being overwhelmed.

Another day of sightseeing means having to cross more chaotic roads (it’s no wonder we witnessed a scooter accident the day before), being at the center of a fight between taxi drivers and the bustle of the square at 10pm. All of this craziness plus the sweltering heat means that not even the acquisition of my own trusty water spray bottle is enough to cool me down by this point.

Thankfully our third and last day is spent exploring the Ourika valley in the Atlas mountains, outside Marrakech. We visit a traditional Berber village where a kind lady makes us peppermint tea in her house, climb a mountain to a gushing waterfall and admire some of Morocco’s notable scenery.

We conclude our trip, surrounded by other westerners who also look to be escaping the mayhem for a bit, on the chic rooftop terrace of Kosybar. As we sip our cold drinks and chat about travels with our fellow mountain tour mates, Andy and Aletia, I considered how much more I can appreciate Marrakech when looking at it from a distance in the cool of night.