Dyer's Market

I think it was a Lonely Planet description that likened entering the souks of Marrakesh to jumping into a cold pool on a hot summer day.  Disorienting and when you do manage your way out you may question the wisdom of entering.  But, if you’re lucky, you’ll emerge with a new carpet in tow. 

We set out on our first full day in Marrakech with an ambitious itinerary.  After a brief tour of Djemaa el Fna, we saw the city’s tallest minaret dating from the 13th century and strolled the paths of a manicured rose and orange tree garden. After a quick bite of Fried-Stuff-in-Bread we struck out to Medersa Ben Youssef, a must see attraction on our city map.  “Are you ready to brave the souks, Donica?”  Michael was full of confidence, the Medersa was only three or four turns away.  Several hours later, as we stood next to the wall of a mosque discreetly consulting the map, again, an older gentleman appeared to take pity on us.

As you read this, keep in mind that anytime we were out in public, we were being hailed by someone to buy something. Sometimes a person would see us with the map out and ask us what we were looking for. They don’t actually care about helping a poor lost tourist. They want a tip, or even better, to steer you instead to the shop of their brother/father/friend/whatever. And also get a tip. Not a bad thing in and of itself, if it weren’t happening incessantly; a guess - upwards of 50 times per day.  But this old man seemed different, seemed genuinely helpful.  And having given up on ever finding the Medersa we let him lead us to something, anything.  After several quick turns through the souk we were at the dyer's market, where he handed us off to another man.  "Come, look, you have camera, take picture.  Then we go to roof."

Freshly dyed yarn drying in the rafters.  Donica was drooling.

Hanging dyed scarves out to dry.

Natural pigments.

Michael’s brother, Andrew, told us his story of wandering into a Moroccan rug shop in a fit of nostalgia.  The proprietor and his assistant pulled down absolutely everything Andrew looked at, even if to only admire the color or feel the texture.  This went on for several cups of sweet mint tea until a pile of some thirty-odd carpets were stacked on the floor.  He said he felt as if he couldn’t leave without buying something.  At the time we didn’t quite understand the sentiment.  After our experience in the dyer’s market, we do.  Thinking back, we're not quite sure when we realized that we were going to have to buy a scarf or three.

Blue is the traditional color of the Tuoareg.

Sipping tea while negotiating.