From Marrakech to Munich
In the last two weeks since Hurricane Helene hit, I’ve felt a lot of guilt for not being in Asheville and able to help our Western North Carolina community. It’s hard to be so far away and watch the people you love struggle and watch the region you love be decimated. We want to be there to help and we feel like we should have to suffer through it with everyone else. But we’re, obviously, not. I’m trying to let go of the guilt that I feel and to use my grief in a more constructive way. A lot of my friends reached out to tell me the newsletter and tales of our travels have been a source of escapism and joy for them and I’m so glad to be able to bring a small piece of relief to the people we care about. With that in mind, let me tell you about our week.
We arrived in Marrakech and could tell we were somewhere brand new right away. The landscape was flat and dusty and sprawling, with the Atlas Mountains sharply piercing the sky in the distance. The roads had no demarcating lines; motorbikes, cars, and trucks carrying impossibly big loads weaved around each other, completely opposed to ever touching the brakes. We saw kids hanging off mopeds, sitting between the handle bars, loosely perched facing the wrong way on the back, looking into the window of our taxi trailing behind them. The familiarity of western culture was completely gone. It was exciting.
We stayed just outside the medina, the vast and complicated shopping area made up of narrow alleys and vendor booths, in a beautiful riad with bright white walls, thick walnut doors, and a very kind host. Cars weren’t permitted into the narrow, covered streets of the medina. But motorbikes and overloaded donkey carts were, we learned as they whizzed past us and hundreds of other people.
Rightly intimidated by Marrakech before we even landed in Morocco, we booked a food tour with a local guide for our first night there. Our guide took us through the medina and Jemaa el-Fna Square (a large food vendor area), stopping into stalls tucked around corners, dipping through inconspicuous doors that opened up into a new maze of alleys, to try the foods that a typical Moroccan would eat throughout a day. By the end of the 3 hour tour we had eaten: crepes and a simple soup, fresh fried donuts, delicious menemen, skewers of liver, chicken, and beef, a lamb’s head - a fellow traveler ate the eye but I’m not that adventurous-, a shawarma wrap, and Moroccan spiced tea. All served with the distinct and tasty Moroccan bread: knobz. One of my favorite things from the tour was slipping into a small corridor between the buildings to see a man sitting below a hole in the wall, vigorously throwing sawdust and wood shavings into a raging fire tucked into an oven, concealed in the rammed earth walls of the building. With every handful, the flames flicked out as the man, barefoot and in a ripped t-shirt, unflinchingly reached for another fistful. There was no way this was OSHA approved, was my first thought. The man was keeping the fire going that warmed the water and floors of the local hammam-the traditional Moroccan baths. As a side hustle, the man took coals out of the fire and used them to cook locals, and local restaurants’, dinner in a traditional clay pot.
If you’re ever looking to furnish your home with interesting light fixtures, stunning rugs, and unique brass knockers, I cannot recommend the medina and Marrakech shopping more. The strongest urge to buy something that I’ve had on this trip yet came when I turned a corner and came face to face with stunning, vibrant, textured rugs. I died a little inside every time I had to pass the vendor knowing I couldn’t bring one home.
The rest of our time in Marrakech was spent wandering; watching the sunset behind the Atlas Mountains in the Sahara desert and enjoying a surprise thunderstorm (in the desert! Who knew!); resting in our riad when Grant caught a cold; visiting museums; and, unfortunately, getting sexually harassed. The day Grant stayed in bed with a cold, I went out with the intention of getting takeout for lunch and got so severely harassed I turned around within 10 minutes. The most scared I’ve been since leaving home was at 1:30pm walking through the crowded streets of Marrakech. I quickly turned back, to drag my sick husband-whom was more deserving of dignity and respect than me- out into the streets of Marrakech to get food for us to eat. With Grant by my side, the same men who had just shouted at me greeted us with a demure and reserved “hello, best prices in my shop” as if they’d never seen me before, let alone harassed me. The quick solo stroll, naturally, colored my whole view of the city. I’m trying to separate that from the rest of our experience there but I’ve never been good at compartmentalizing.
We could not have chosen two more disparate places to go to back to back than Marrakech and Munich. We arrived in Munich during the last weekend of Oktoberfest and with colds. The cultural whiplash was immediate; we landed in a completely silent airport, devoid of huge masses of people. It was cold (finally) and wet and the leaves had begun to fall. The vast subway system and stations, perfectly quiet until we got to the stop for Oktoberfest. Marrakech was a cacophony of sound at all times; people yelling, donkeys braying, motorbike engines revving, the call to prayer echoing through the city. Munich turned out to be the quietest city I’ve ever been to; not in an eerie desolate way, but in a soothing way. Construction noise? Didn’t hear it. Loud buses starting and stopping? Didn’t hear it. People driving around blasting music? We heard it only once and he promptly, considerately, turned the volume down at the red light. Maybe my nervous system is a bit overactive, but I have a harder time relaxing in places that are constantly bombarding you with sounds. Even during the biggest festival of the year- and the second biggest in the world- it wasn’t overwhelming. I liked this a lot about Munich.
In the tent at Oktoberfest though- all bets were off. For those who haven’t been, Oktoberfest is a fair that’s been taking place for the last two-hundred years. Originally created to celebrate the wedding of Bavaria’s second king, the party just kept going. In the tent, they only serve liters of beer (that’s 34 ounces for the folks back home). The servers carry a shocking 12 at a time to festival-goers dressed in the traditional Bavarian outfits: dirndls and lederhosen. The atmosphere in the tent is overwhelmingly happy and convivial, strangers drunkenly becoming best friends and singing and dancing together. Even though I was coming off my cold and couldn’t drink much, everyone’s happy, drunk energy was infectious. And who knew Germans loved Sweet Caroline and Country Roads so much.
After traveling to 5 countries in a little more than a month, we’ve been able to discern what we like and don’t like about a place and it turns out the way it smells is high on the list! Munich and Seville were the best smelling places so far with smells ranging from jasmine and orange blossoms to the simple lack of a bad smell. In contrast to every single place we went in Spain and Portugal, way fewer people smoke in Munich and the city generally doesn’t have many bad smells. Marrakech had a wide range of smells: ground saffron, sandalwood, tanned leather, food fried in open air oil vats, and mint. While all of those smells individually were incredible, it would only be a moment before a motorbike would speed by and the smell of exhaust would overwhelm everything else.
In many ways, Munich felt like we were letting out a deep breath. After being under the baking sun for weeks, Munich’s cloudy skies and, comparatively, cold temperatures were such a relief while we explored the city. While everywhere we’ve been has felt safer than any places back home, Munich felt incredibly safe. So safe, it felt like I could leave my purse somewhere and come back to it an hour later, untouched. It was a relief to let our guard almost totally down. And after the monotony of Spanish food and the Moroccan food that tasted great going down but turned quickly in our stomachs (they recommend against drinking the water and I’m assuming the restaurants use the water in food preparation), the abundance of options for food in Munich, and the comforting Bavarian food, was exactly what we needed. In Munich we stayed with a friend from the states; after sharing sterile spaces with strangers for so long, to be at ease in our friend, Chris', home was rejuvenating.
It turned out that Marrakech and Munich were exactly what we needed: something different and something unfamiliar but comforting after a long month of discomfort. While you may have read this newsletter and thought: “damn she went to Marrakech and the food made her sick, and the motorbikes half gave her a heart attack, and she got sexually harassed-she should have skipped it” but I’m so glad we went. This trip isn’t about comfort and having a good time as much as it is about satisfying our curiosity. If I wanted a comfortable, blissful vacation I would have kept my life and taken my two weeks once a year. I’ve been curious about Marrakech and what it's like there and now I have an idea of it.
I’m excited to be visiting more countries more often now. Spain was amazing in many ways, but by the end of it, we were yearning for less of the same. We just started our time in Croatia today and it’s stunning. I’m excited to tell you all about it a week from now.
Tschüss!
-Amelia
We didn't keep track of shit this week! The usual counts will resume next week.
P.S., I didn’t share much about Seville but you can check out the pictures here!
