Marrakech has played with my mind

Morocco was high on our bucket list. Expectations were high, and they were raised even higher by Instagram photos and TikTok videos. Yet, when you enter this chaotic part of the world on your own, you can only form a picture, an opinion about the country, the city and the people who live there. I seem to have constantly oscillated between feelings of fascination and excitement to, one could say, frustration. I will try to explain as best I can what I felt in colourful Marrakech.

Oh, that feeling when you step out of the airport and the warmth of the sun caresses you! We land in Marrakech, where we are greeted by a balmy 26 degrees – the perfect contrast to the January winter at home. The jacket is becoming redundant, and I’m beginning to wonder whether I might have packed too much for winter. The sun instantly lightens our mood. This January getaway to Marrakech immediately proves to be one of the best decisions of 2025.

We continued our journey to the city by airport bus, which takes us along well-maintained roads surrounded by pavements and parks. The scenes of locals playing with children warm my heart again and again. But the ideal is interrupted when we arrive at the main square, Jemaa el-Fnaa. When you’re in Marrakech, everything revolves around this square. You’ve probably already got that by now. :-)

In a hot bus full of tourists, it suddenly stinks so badly that my thoughts are already running to: “What did I have to do that for?” I just can’t stop the avalanche of questions. We will be here for 4 days. What if it’s like this everywhere? But somehow, as the bus starts to move forward, the air slowly improves. My thoughts calm down.

We get to the next stop, we get off. In a flash, we are accosted by a homeless man who follows us for a few metres. This was the only such situation we experienced in Marrakech, but it still makes my stomach tighten uncomfortably for a moment. I really do not like situations like that, anywhere in the world, but I try not to let them bother me.

Our accommodation is about 15 minutes’ walk away. Jure checks the navigation. Our bags immediately mark us as “first day tourists”, so we are easy targets for the taxi driver who offers us a ride at a “reasonable” price. We decline.

We walk along the side of the road, where pavements are almost non-existent, while cyclists and mopeds overtake us. In the narrower parts, we dodge cars and wild taxi drivers, who are of course in a hurry. A carriage drives past. Then it dawns on me where that unpleasant smell came from earlier – horses.

It’s noisy, and the smells range from sweet and spicy to food and the smell of a mechanic’s workshop. At some point, I don’t even know what I smell anymore. It’s all too much. The whole thing is chaotic, but at the same time fascinating. The pulse of the city is lively and completely different, although so far I don’t see anything that would leave me breathless.

We turn off the main street, a few corners left and a few right, and we’re in a completely different world. Peace, silence, a neat little street, a big front door – we enter our riad. And here it is, the moment I was waiting for – being speechless. We are greeted with a smile by the helpful staff, charmed by the beautiful riad, served a delicious Moroccan mint tea and then surprised by our gorgeous room. The terrace overlooking the city may not offer the most inspiring panorama, but the ambience on the terrace is sophisticated and extremely pleasant. Every little detail has been carefully thought out to make the guest feel as comfortable as possible. The housekeepers are so meticulous and tidy that I would be happy to take them home with me. And I won’t even waste words on the breakfast – superb! Can I just stay here, forever?

If I have written all the praise I can for the villa on Santorini, then this riad deserves an equally special mention. If you don’t know which house I’m talking about, you can see it here. Riad La Claire Fontaine was truly our second home, and if we ever return to Marrakech, we will definitely choose it again. The price of bed and breakfast was €100 per night – worth every penny!

Well, let’s go back to my feelings and thoughts… hunger. When I’m hungry, I’m fed up, so we don’t complicate things and choose the first restaurant near the riad. We order the traditional chicken tagine with lemon and couscous with vegetables. The restaurant is so small, that they obviously don’t have a storage, because the waiter walks into the next shop to get the two Coca-Colas we ordered and serves them to us. A few minutes later he walks by with a bag of olives, which turn out to be part of Jure’s tagine.

Jure is satisfied with the dish, but I more often than not gobble the couscous and eat only the carrots. The rest of the vegetables taste strange (read: I taste mould). My mind is racing – will I stay hungry? No matter, if I do, I can afford to lose some weight.

Fortunately, or unfortunately for me, we then ate perfectly well all the next days. Only due to a hurry of the day one, the choice of restaurant was not right. We had a great tagine, couscous and you won’t believe it, I had the best pizza of my life in Marrakech. And I live near Italy all my life. Oops.

As the sun slowly sets, we head out into the Sunday streets of the medina, full of tourists and locals. The medina fascinates me. I honestly don’t know exactly what to have, I don’t need anything, but everything is so colourful, beautiful and inviting that I wish I had it all.

It’s lucky that we were travelling with just small bags, so there is no room for unnecessary things. Still, I managed to fall in love with slippers and, by accident, also sandals. But I don’t need to rush to buy these, I allow myself time to observe, feel and absorb everything I don’t know and don’t have at home.

The sun sets and we find ourselves in the centre of Jemaa el-Fnaa. The smells, the colours, the voices are so mixed at once that I honestly don’t know who to look at and listen to anymore. It’s too much for my taste, so we retreat back to the streets, which are still intense, but more subdued.

On the last day, the mission is to buy slippers I’ve seen on the first day. The price in the centre is 200 MAD or more, and in the suburbs, where they are actually made, it’s 120 MAD. Great, I think to myself, the task won’t be too difficult. But it wasn’t, as we are met by a little boy in the shop where these are manufactured. Yes, when I say a boy, I really mean a boy – about 10 years old or a bit older, by my estimation. He speaks surprisingly solid English and confidently sets the price from the start – 150 MAD.

I would have preferred to pay and be done with it myself, because, I admit, I don’t like haggling, and besides, the boy is so cute. But Jure can’t. He starts arguing, negotiating and insists on a lower price. I have to admit that he is not doing very well, but he is not giving up. At some point, I get fed up with it all and I settle for 120 MAD.

But here’s where the problem occurs – the boy has no change and runs to his neighbours to find some loose change, which gives me time to look at other things… I just happen to notice a nice pair of silver sandals. I already had similar ones, but last summer I threw them in the garbage and I need new ones. They’re so cheap here. These are leather. A logical woman’s decision.

And that’s where the show begins. Our shopkeeper (still a boy) is too small to reach the sandals on the higher shelves, so Jure takes on the role of an assistant. He climbs up by stepping on an old loudspeaker and starts picking up all possible sandals size 39 from the “warehouse”.

But the final negotiations for the sandals are tough. We almost leave the shop without them. This time the boy gives in – 200 MAD gets me the slippers and sandals. Mission accomplished!

When a woman gets a new pair of shoes, the world is instantly a better place. And the city automatically becomes a fond memory – because those shoes will be with her every step for months to come. Kind of.

Marrakech is a beautiful city, but it is culturally different, so it can cause mixed feelings. On any trip, a bad experience can dampen the good moments, but I don’t let that affect me. Now, sitting at home and reflecting calmly, I can say with certainty that Marrakech is beautiful and special. I would visit it again without hesitation.