Life's a Stitch

Chuck has a new persona. No longer called Hemmingway, as on the Camino, in Morocco people call to him "Ali Baba!" It's the beard. 

Back to the tour. We walked through the Jewish Quarter ins on to The Bahia Palace, built in the 1800's by Si Moussa, the Grand Vizier of the Sultan, and named for his favourite wife. It's good to be the favourite wife. 

The detail in this building was spectacular, particularly the ceilings, something we don't pay much attention to in North America. But when they are over 20 feet high, the room feels airy no matter how decorated the ceiling.

You'll notice the geometric patterns and shapes in the artwork, as depiction of the human form or animals is viewed as idolatry and is not allowed in the Sunni Islamic faith.

Skirting the large city square, Jamaa el Fnaa, we'll come back after nightfall when things get lively with snake charmers, storytellers, snail eating stalls and other food and entertainment 

We wound through the souks in the marketplace and found the Ben Youssef Madrasa, an Islamic college founded in the 1500's. the word 'ben' in a name means 'son of.' C's last name, instead of the Scandinavian version, would be Ben Bo. Someone has to think about these things 😉

View from a 16th century dorm room:

Walked a little way more by the Hammam  (public baths), still used today. Women's hours are during daylight and men's at night. You scrub up with black soap a use an exfoliating glove. Massages are available. Underneath a man keeps the fire stoked, by shovelling sawdust into a furnace with his bare hands, to heat the water. In the ash are buried tagines, someone's dinner-to-be. He is also a renowned musician. C had a lesson in tassel twirling:

One more stop at "the Stork House," a mansion donated by a western woman for the purpose of turning it into an arts centre, then past the Koranic school still used today:

We said goodbye to Nour, our excellent guide an ambassador for Marrakech. 

After the your we successfully found my first African geocache, just 60 meters from our riad. It had a lovely story. A family, concerned about the lack of water available to the poor, installed a water spigot outside their little business, for anyone to access. The older generation has passed, but the adult kids keep up the tradition. They also maintain the cache, which is owned by a friend in Germany.

Tomorrow Ali Baba and I are scheduled to leave for our camel camping trip on the Sahara.