Tthe rising sun scorches the snow-capped peaks of the Atlas Mountains. After a while, the shaded valleys glow with warm terracotta colors. I turn my back on North Africa’s highest peaks and look north to where Marrakech – the Red City – rests like a rugged ruby amid jade palm trees and silver olive trees.
As I floated 800 meters (2,625ft) above the rocky desert in a large wicker basket, I tried to imagine what the scene would look like if the camel trains traveled this way, loaded with salt, spices and the enslaved people bound for the places in Marrakech.
The area around us is full of many balloons flying in the hot air, which are like a camel in the Sahara desert. The largest suspended baskets hold 16 passengers, many of whom will have left the inns and rids in the labyrinthine old town before the dawn prayer call.
“That’s the Koutoubia minaret over there, to the west,” says pilot Daniel Penet, founder of Ciel d’Afrique. “That shadowy area north of the minaret is the medina.” [the old town].”
I realize that “shadow” might be the perfect word to describe the medina. Although the tall towers of Gueliz (the new town) are tall enough to catch the first rays, it takes a long time for sunlight to penetrate the streets and markets of the medina. Now I can make out the huge triangular Djemaa el-Fna (The Place of the Dead), so called the heads of rebels and criminals that once adorned the walls of the great square. I’ve been to Marrakech maybe a dozen times, but this unique flight offers the perfect opportunity for me to feel at ease.
Since my first visit 30 years ago, I have enjoyed the atmosphere of “shadow” whenever I enter the gates in the city walls. I enjoyed the adrenaline rush that came with running a crowd of hustlers false guides on every tour of old Marrakech, although the city is a much more relaxed place these days, thanks to the efforts of the tourist police.
But Medina is still resisting the arrangement. It swallows you whole. No matter how carefully I study the tunnels, arches and boltholes around my abode there is only one thing I can be sure of; I will, at some point, be completely and hopelessly lost.
I’m safely back down at the city gates after an early morning balloon ride, falling on the back step of a djellaba-clad man driving a heavy mule in front of him. Rabbit warren leads me in the general direction of Derb Farnatchi (Farnatchi Alley). Farnatchis are wood-fired ovens that serve two important purposes: a heating fire Hammam steam baths are also used by the inhabitants of the quarter to bake their daily bread.
Finally I arrive at the converted old house Riad Le Farnatchi, a collection of suites, restaurant, spa and even a swimming pool – a retreat from the world outside. There are now over 7,000 riads (historic houses, converted into boutique hotels) in Marrakech and this is one of my favourites. Many are hidden in the depths of nondescript alleys and I noticed that the best of them – like Le Farnatchi – avoid signs that you are forced to memorize the old features of the doors, like the familiar lines on the face of old people. Visitors should see the challenge of walking as part of the fun.
Marrakech has its share of world-famous sites, of course, but if you want to dig deeper into the secrets of this amazing city, an experienced local guide is invaluable.
I am signing up for a tour with Intrepid, who have been working to help Moroccan women enter the traditionally male-dominated tourism industry. Their journeys provide interesting insight into this Muslim city from a feminist perspective.
Atika Aït Nejjar takes us to endless parts of the souks where donkeys outnumber tourists and introduces us to the owners of small stalls where the best cakes, olives and mint tea have been sold for generations. He knows many local women who gather around the few that are left a furnace worker the ovens every morning with trays loaded with dough on top are ready to bake khobz flat bread. He takes us to a humble place, where the adobe walls are collapsing (nothing) as evidence of the earthquake that hit in 2023, to the house of his friend Fatima, an Amazigh (Berber) friend who prepares a big plate of delicious vegetable cousine for us.
Later, when the underground fires burn the steam rooms he guides my wife through the problems of the meeting about the truth of women. Hammam. It’s the biggest Hammam they have a section for men and women but in low-class areas the afternoon is usually for men while the morning is reserved for women only: “Sometimes they spend hours getting hot,” Atika smiles. “It’s one of the few places where women can gather to gossip and joke … away from the ears of men.”
After leaving Atika, I wander more, I like to get lost. The endless street theater of old Marrakech continues its procession down the street. History without number fundouk (caravanserais) are still there, recognizable from the large gates that would have been wide enough to drive the camels. Some have been renovated and turned into craft stores selling cedar wood products and decorative lamps. The most impressive ones are in various states of decay but with such endless air that you’d imagine the Saharan salt trains being unloaded at the end of a long journey from Timbuktu.
Although there are souks that appear a thousand times a day on Instagram, others you will find by searching for them, or maybe by getting lost and pulling all your senses. Place des Epices (the spice souks) has its own aroma, while the lesser-known Souk Haddadine (the tinsmith souk) is best found by earplugging for the sound of hammering rhythms. Souk Laghzal is close to the tourist groups at the Spice Souk but few outsiders ever find it. Those who do so should not think twice as this small area was once a place of slavery. These days there are mountains of fascinating bric-a-brac and traditional remedies such as herbs, ointments, dried reptiles and animal skins. There’s also a no-name restaurant here where Fatima – known to traders as “the mother of the souks” – serves delicious tajines to traders (at a fraction of the price charged on the shopping streets).
You can use all the tricks in the book to learn your way around the medina: go back often to register what the route will look like on the return trip, but make sure you memorize the architectural signs and buildings that will remain visible even when the stalls are closed. The lively souks during the day can be invisible when the shutters are drawn.
At sunset the medina is wrapped in a dark shawl. The lights come on and the smoke screen of the barbecue rings across the Djemaa el-Fna. The musicians make a few beats of their drums and the storytellers shout to gather the crowd around them. The stage is set for a new chapter in the medina of Marrakech.
What is the courage of Private Marrakech Medina, Palace & Tombs Discovery Tour costs €69. Balloon rides with Ciel d’Afrique from 2,400 in Morocco dirham (€225)
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