Tom is Allergic to Marrakesh

It started in the riad - a small courtyard hotel of the type that are popular in Morocco.  Tom began sneezing badly and two anti-histamines later he is still sniffly.  My guess is the diesel fumes from the heavy traffic set him of: it happened in France as well, but not as pronounced.  I certainly hope he is not allergic to Marrakesh or we may be stuck in the riad for three days, though being stuck in the riad would be no burden.

Our room in the Riad

If I have overused the word gorgeous in these blogs I am sorry, I should have saved it for here.  We were taken as far as the medina outskirts by our driver, as cars do not come into the medina, the old city.  Our riad host collected us and walked us in, I was lost after the first turn, but Tom managed to remain focussed and take some bearings.  It was very early in the morning - an hour earlier than we expected because apparently the Moroccan government decided last minute to alter the time zone from 1 October.  A fact that had our Ryanair flight attendant very confused when she was trying to give  us the local time.  This was our first Ryanair flight, and I wish I could say it was our last.  Ryanair is the cheap Irish outfit that is much used by Brits holidaying at spots in the Mediterranean sun.  I recall the hue and cry when their CEO suggested a charge for inflight toilet use.  I do not know if it applies, I did not test it on our flight.  We had decent seats in row 5, but I could not understand the melee with all the other passengers until I realised that most of them do not have reserved seats.  The system involves getting on board and sitting in any available seat - just like the Belgrave train.  I guess it keeps the costs down.  I should not complain - they got us here. 

Anyway - back to the riad.  We were terribly early so we had hoped to just dump our bags and head out to breakfast.  We had not accounted for the legendary Muslim hospitality.  We we ushered into an ornate and cool vestibule and invited to take a seat on the comfy, many cushioned couch. Tea then came along, in the pewter pot and poured into the coloured glasses. The tea is poured from a great height, more for the theatre I think than any other reason. I  Tom does not like tea, and I was wondering how he would cope with the sweet, mint tea.  He not only managed to be polite and drink it, I think he actually enjoyed it.  Of course the experience was greatly enhanced by the accompanying pastries.  You certainly could not be nut intolerant here.  

Jo relaxing on the terrace

So refreshed we headed out.  My first impression was how very like Bombay it is - hot, crowded, busy, but not as dirty.  Today is Friday and while the morning was busy, when prayers started at lunch things became much quieter, but hotter.  We had two encounters with locals, and I was wary as the local trick is to get chatty with the tourist and then lure them along to the 'only craft shop open madam'.  But the first gentleman who spoke to us could not have been nicer, he only wanted to help us find our way, which he did first in French, and after assessing my appalling French he reverted to perfect English.  Unfortunately, Abdul who latched onto us 20 minutes later, was not so nice and despite trying at first to shake him we found ourselves following him, you guessed it, to the only craft shop open madam.  Abdul was full of praise for Australians as we traipsed along behind him getting further and further into the crowded souk, until my aching feet steeled me to action and I refused to go a step further and fared Abdul well and headed off in the opposite direction.  I speak no Arabic, but I deduced that Abdul's tirade was a curse on me, my children and my childrens' children and probably all Australians. 

My first day of shopping yielded two more pairs of shoes, but sadly, again not for me.  My first Moroccan purpose are little slippers are for Siena and Jack. 

Our travelling companions arrived later in the evening.  Jan & Dave, old friends from the Bombay days, are joining us for the next 10 days and we enjoyed a tasty Moroccan dinner in the riad courtyard.  Dave  had the foresight to bring a couple of bottles of red from Spain which we enjoyed with dinner, because, although the riads will not serve alcohol, t
hey do not mind you drinking.  

OUr local Mosque from the terrace