Skank hole market square

Trip Start Oct 01, 2006
Trip End Ongoing

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Flag of Morocco  ,
Monday, October 30, 2006

Ok, this is a little entry just to chronicle my trip to marakesh.. the boat arrived in a small town called Safi where there is fuck all.. i was booked onto another granny bus trip to marrakesh, but this time i knew it wasnīt really feasable to do it on my own.. the coach ride to marakesh lasted 2 hours.. i was sitting at the back and i soon found out the bus hasnnīt got any shock absorbers that worked, we were bouncing up and down all the way.. and that includes the old boys who nearly flew out of their seats more than once.. So as we pulled out of the port i saw a guy on a horse and cart navigating the roundabout.. i thought 'nice one.. what great timing to see a guy still using that ancient type of transport still'.. anyway further along the journey i realised that is the main type of transport around.. driving to marakesh was boring.. i feel for the farmers around there, it looks as though their fields are just full of rocks and dirt.. i donīt really know how they grow anything on it..

so getting of the coach my first smells were spices, horse shit and mega pollution.. i also noticed our tour group had attracted a few more shady looking guides who looked like they were getting close to pickpocket the not so streetwise of our group.. i later found out they were hired to keep away any pickpockets and keep the group together.. which they done succesfully..

so marakesh became the usual tourist tacky trail for me.. some really boring kings gardens then onto a tour guides trap of a morrocan resturant which had tone deaf musicians and 3 moody belly dancers that were so fat it was lucky they covered their bellies or i wouldnīt have been able to eat the lovely lemion chicken and cous-cous that was prepared.

We had a look around the labirynth of bazaars but i really wasnīt interested as i was dyingt to go toilet.. we finally emerched on to the infamous market square where my second battery became depleted as soon as i stepped onto it, so sorry no pics, which is probably lucky as the touts try to charge money for you taking pics.. i was with my mate larry who wanted to have his picture taken with snakes around him, i done it then suddenly the guys surround us and became very intimidating telling him it was 20 euros for it.. we told them to piss off and gave them his lowest note which was 5 euros, which is still way too much and they still werenīt happy but fuck 'em..

another snake charmer guy tried to get me to take photos around my neck.. he kept on putting more snakes on whilst i was telling him i havenīt got any battery left so take them off.. he didnīt listen still pestering me so i said 'ok if you donīt want your snakes back i'll keep them', so i turned my back and walked off.. he didnīt like that so grabbed the snakes and whipped them off.. what a wanker.. i didnīt see the charm of marakesh, i'm sure it's there.. and i'll give it another chance on my own
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Kirsty on

I was going to be polite and simply say how upset I was to hear your report of Marrakech. But actually it's more accurate to say that you sound like a real wanker not the snake charmers in the Djemma el fna.
You have no idea at all about Morocco and the culture - you're a total dipstick with lack of respect for other people i.e. those trying to scrape a living in Marrakech having to deal with wankers like you every day of their lives. You should feel ashamed, but I'm sure you won't.
I hope that you have a better attitude to other native people on the rest of your trip. My advice is do some research about the culture, try to integrate and not be one of the arrogant English abroad wankers that you look like becoming.

I'm sure you'll reply to this because you won't be able to handle the criticism and I'm expecting ignorant expletives from you. I live in Morocco and your account is so very inaccurate it makes me spit like a cobra!

kris on

zzzz... zzzz.. zzzz.. zzz.. zzz...

Jason on

Kirsty - You need to lighten up, people have the own experiences, its called feedom of expression.

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