as the world starts to seem more and more similar everywhere you go, finding a place that is unlike nothing you’ve ever seen becomes harder and harder. not in morocco. the souks in marrakesh were dumbfounding in their vibrancy, bustling crowds, chants from shopkeepers, and beautiful items for sale. i could have wandered around in them all day, i was practically torn away by my friends who were dying to head out to the beach. the little shops were equal parts beautiful and bizarre, some selling mops, terribly ugly shirts, or odds and ends, and others selling gorgeous, hand-wrought lanterns that i insisted on taking home with me covered in a mountain of bubble paper (extra baggage fee definitely cost more than the lantern…). also, dont even try to use a map, its not worth the effort.
equally entertaining are the shopkeepers themselves. my long blond hair was endlessly amusing to them. shakira happened to be giving a concert later that week, and the city was abuzz with talk of the big event. this somehow transitioned to me being told countless times that i look like shakira. for the record, i absolutely do not. im six feet tall for starters, not remotely colombian, and occaisionally my hips do lie (sorry, i had to…).
other gems that were overheard at the souks, directed at me or my very patient friends:
“small shop small price”
“i may be small, but i know how to jiggy-jiggy”
“we are like cafe au lait, i am coffee, you are milk. marry me.”
“i will give you all of the sahara”
“stall 27 stairway to heaven”