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The story of Marrakech


The story of Marrakech

Erica Caligiuri

After our stay in Paris, we hopped an Easy Jet to Morocco with our friends who are currently living in Switzerland. What a crazy start. I had forgotten what it's like to be in a culture with no lines. Everybody just crowded together for the the passport line, and I practiced 90 minutes of gently "boxing out" just like my 7th grade basketball coach taught me. By the time we got to our hotel, it was dark. A man from the hotel met us on the street to show us the way. Toto, we're not on a grid system anymore. Down an alley away from the busy streets, take a right and toddle down some crooked stairs, to the right past a building in shambles, to the left past the sound of people making dinner and another left down a silent alley. It was almost scary, but not quite. Until we got to our tranquil Riad and had dinner on the rooftop, where we spent so much time during our stay.

Marrakech was a wonderful place for kids. People were so nice and friendly with them, and connected easily to the adults as well. We wandered the souks, where the streets were lively and busy. Ferris bought a magic box with a snake inside that scared me even though I knew what was coming. We (Nick!) fell for petting a monkey with diapers so we held him and took pictures. We watched snake charmers from afar. We wandered through Yves Saint Laurent's gardens and neverending palaces. Ferris drew in his notebook. Athena played with the hotel room key. Cats ran amuck and feasted on leftover meat. I took a few pictures. Some Nikon D750 and many iPhone6, one-handed and fast, to avoid being hit by a scooter. We'll be back when the kids are old enough to ride a camel.