Marrakech Continued

We walked through the Djemaa al-Fna, the great market of Marrakech, on the way to our next destination, but I'll come back to that later. Our destination was the Ben Youssef Medersa, a school for Maliki Islamic law built by the Sa'adians in the 16th century. It continued to operate until the 1950s. Students would typically begin their studies at age 12, stay 5 to 8 years, and be able to practice law upon graduation. The building was centered around a large open courtyard with a pool in the center and exquisitely roofed chambers off to the sides. The stucco work on the walls and roofs was intended to remain unpainted except for tiny green accents. The professor would sit in one corner of the courtyard (the "zawiyya"). Since many of the students came from out of town, the upstairs was used as a dormitory. The rooms were loft style, and pretty small, but many had beautiful views overlooking the courtyard.


Nearby, we stopped at the nearby Qubba, just about the only surviving example of Almoravid (the founders of the city) architecture in Marrakech. It was built around 1100 and there is some question as to its function. It is a kind of pavilion, far below the current ground level and decorated in lovely arabesque; all around it are the remains of latrines and a giant cistern.


We were given free time in the afternoon, so my friend Grace and I decided to go on an adventure to Jardin Majorelle, the private gardens and home of Yves St. Laurent. It was a beautiful idealization of everything a sophisticated European would imagine Morocco to be. We were protected from the intense heat by a cool canopy of palm trees, bamboo, exotic flowering shrubs, and eye-popping gazebos. There was a lily pond bordered by every possible breed of furry cactus near the house itself, which was bright cobalt blue.



After leaving the garden and getting questionable directions in French, we headed off in foot in search of a bookstore where we could buy Arabic children's books. Eventually we found one, and we had a great conversation in Arabic with the bookstore owner, who was eager to recommend stories to us and teach us new words. Then, in the early evening, we met up with our classmates at the Djemaa al-Fna. By this time, the plaza had become crowded with snake charmers, henna artists, water guys with garish costumes, orange juice stands (we became good friends with #38), shoeshines, and monkeys on leashes. Leading off the main square are labyrinthine passages of shops, like the Khan al-Khalili in Cairo but seemingly much bigger and more confusing. There were lots of tourists of course, but we ran into our professor and he brought us to an open area swarming with (mostly old) Moroccan women in abayyas haggling over piles of used clothes they had laid out on the ground. Professor Shoup explained that this was the old market for slaves brought up from the Sahara -- it operated until 1905. The shop he brought us to was that of an elderly magician whose shelves were stocked with bizarre wooden objects, bones, and beaded knickknacks. He's in the business of selling charms, which several of my classmates bought. While they were engaged in that, I struck up a conversation with the jolly bearded owner of the shop next door, who was sitting outside with his friend. He seemed really pleased that we were learning Arabic, and taught us the words for various parts of the face ("my beard, your beard, my beard, your beard.") After that, Prof. Shoup brought us to a reputable silver shop owned by some Berber friends of his. Many of their pieces were old medallions typically worn on the face. In my attempt to talk to the shopkeeper in Arabic, I accidentally mispronounced the word for allergies, coming out instead with a derogatory term for Africans. The man thought it was hilarious, but it was pretty embarrassing! After shopping here and at a spice store nearby, where the proprietor insisted that we smell everything he had to offer, including a black seed that is traditionally used here to cure snoring but left my nostrils black for two days, we headed back to the square for dinner. It had come alive, swarming with people. Miraculously, dozens and dozens of makeshift restaurants had been set up where there were none before, and we sat down at a communal table to kebabs and pastilla. By the time we finished it was 9 or so, and the performances had begun -- some were gnaoua musicians and others dancers. We took our leave after an unimpressive transvestite dancer heckled us for money. Here are a few pictures from the Djemaa al-Fna, although it's hard to capture the exploding color and bustle!









to be continued...