 I'd always wanted to go to Marrakech. I pictured myself walking through the North African city's famous souks in a floaty white dress as the sun kissed my skin. I'd sashay through the market to beats of traditional Moroccan drums as children waved and women in colourful kaftans smiled at me as they passed by. Colourful spices like turmeric and cayenne powder would line every corner piled up high into pyramid shapes. After tucking into one of the world's sweetest oranges handed to me by a tiny trained monkey, I would then be whisked off my to my stunning riad by my charming Moroccan guide. I know I'm not the only one who conjures up these kind of images at the mere mention of Morocco's Marrakech. It has successfully fostered this global image as the jewel of North Africa. Now while some visitors may live out that dream, my experience was slightly different… The concentration of people near the Jemaa el-Fna square during rush hour on one of the squares in the old town of Marrakesh (Picture: Getty) The main square in Marrakech could be summed up in one word: Intense (Picture: Dom Hines) The rooftop view from the quiet riads showed the stark contrast of the surrounding bustling markets (Picture: Dom Hines) Advised to just keep things practical, I wore a pair of shorts and a loose-fitting top as I walked through a seemingly endless labyrinth of claustrophobically narrow alleys to get to the famous markets. These alleys should be strictly for walking, yet countless motorbikes appear out of nowhere revving by terrified pedestrians within touching distance. You will breathe a sigh of relief when you finally make it into marketplace, but then another type of chaos ensues: people. Lots of people! Especially in the main square, Jemaa el-Fnaa – the most famous part of the medina (Medina is a historic part of a North African town or city, accessible mainly through the former city entrances/gates, referred to as){kind=link}
NEWS… BUT NOT AS YOU KNOW IT
I’d always wanted to go to Marrakech. I pictured myself walking through the North African city’s famous souks in a floaty white dress as the sun kissed my skin.
I’d sashay through the market to beats of traditional Moroccan drums as children waved and women in colourful kaftans smiled at me as they passed by.
Colourful spices like turmeric and cayenne powder would line every corner piled up high into pyramid shapes.
After tucking into one of the world’s sweetest oranges handed to me by a tiny trained monkey, I would then be whisked off my to my stunning riad by my charming Moroccan guide.