Happy Holidays

         “We should order our holiday cards soon.” This was my out loud reminder to myself that I repeated to Art a few days after Thanksgiving.  Sending cards to friends and family is what we have always done.  It is a habit that comes from a lifetime of moving.  So many friends and acquaintances left behind, new friends made, and many years later I stay connected through holiday cards.  It’s like a thread running through our lives. The weeks leading up to Christmas we eagerly check the mailbox daily to see who sent us cards in return.

            Having always sent a photo card we sorted through the most recent photos from our November trip to Morocco.  It gets harder each year to find a photo of the two of us we are satisfied with.  That thought made me hesitate about sending a photo card at all.   Should we keep doing this?  Do friends of our age still send photo cards?  Some do…but many have switched to the grandchildren. I am leaning towards that idea for next year.  After all, our grandson is far more fun to look at than we are!

Still, because time was short we only sorted through Morocco pictures of which there were few good ones of the two of us.  We chose one.

 “Where was that taken?” I asked Art.

And he replied, “Don’t you remember, that was taken in front of the mosque in one of the souks in Marrakech, the day we tried to go to the Ben Yousef Mederasa and the Marrakech Museum.” 

I did remember and it was not the best memory.

“Let’s use it anyway. ”  So, we chose the photo taken in front of a mosque and clicked on the Happy Holidays label to put across it.  Imagine sending a holiday card taken in front of a mosque, I thought.  How ironic but it goes along with our ecumenical philosophy. No one looking at this photo can really tell where it was taken.  Except us, who know the real story.

Art and I pride ourselves on being independent, savvy world travelers…and we are most of the time.  Having poured over the guidebooks and the “top sights to see in Marrakech” we set out on our second day in Morocco to visit the Majorelle Gardens.  These are magical gardens in the middle of the bustling city that were once owned by Yves St. Laurent and have now become one of the top tourist sights.

  

Art had read down to the fine print in the guidebook, which advised not to take a taxi from the gardens to somewhere else because they would inflate the price for tourists.  “Go to the main road and hail a cab,” The Rough Guide to Morocco advised and you will be charged accordingly.  The truth is, no taxi ride in Marrakech is expensive but they don’t have meters.  You must set a price before getting into a taxi, which usually is no more than $2 to $4 a ride. You tend forget all of this when you are caught up in the bargaining culture of a North African country which we were.  No one was going to take advantage of us even though we were visibly Western tourists!

After the Majorelle Gardens we would visit the Ben Youssef Mederasa, which is one of the most beautiful buildings in Marrakech dating back to the 14^th century that once was a Quranic school for boys.  Just a short distance away from that we could continue to the Marrakech Museum and see some antique arts and crafts.

Having agreed on a price, we got in a small shabby taxi that took us through the winding, traffic jammed streets of Marrakech.  It all looked like complete chaos and yet after we had been in Morocco awhile we commented on how we had never seen an accident…not even a  “fender bender” and concluded there must be some underlying order to it all.  Ten minutes into our ride we approached a souk and suddenly the taxi driver stopped indicating in French that cars could go no further.  He signaled to us to just go straight ahead and we would come to the Mederasa…no problem.

We have been in souks before in the Middle East but am not sure wandering around a souk which is literally like a maze is wise without a guide or specific directions.  The narrow alleys go every which way and are crowded with shoppers speaking in Berber, Arabic, and French with occasional European tourists wandering along.  It was not long before I felt completely lost looking for the Mederasa that was supposed to be a short way ahead.  It wasn’t.  Most people ignored us but suddenly a nice looking man came up to us and in fairly good English asked if he could help. 

“We’re fine,” I replied. 

“Are you going to the Mederasa Ben Yousef?”  the man inquired.

“Yes, and the Marrakech Museum,” we answered.

“

They are closed today,” he replied.  “It’s a holiday and a special day for people working in the tanneries.  There is a big festival going on…can I take you there?”

“Closed?  A holiday?”  We were dubious and yet he repeated what he had just said.

“Come with me and I will take you and show you the mosque and also you can come to the tannery festival.”  And he started to lead the way.  Art followed  talking with the man and inquiring again about the holiday.  I hung back more cautious, not sure about all of this.

We were once again in the maze of the souk following along through the narrow, dark covered lanes that twist and turn.  I was not having a good feeling and yet when I tried to pull Art back he kept whispering to me “It will be fine…don’t worry.”   A ten-minute walk and suddenly our pick up guide in perfect English pointed to the mosque, which we could stand in front of but couldn’t go in.  Mosques are not open to non-Muslims.  Before I could protest, the man was reaching for our camera and offering to take our picture in front of the entrance.  Which he did.

I was feeling angrier as the man was getting more pushy and suddenly I  stood my ground and said to Art,” I’m not following this man any further.  We need to find our way back.”

Of course, the man wanted payment and Art gave him some coins, which infuriated him because he expected more. We started walking fast.  How we found our way out of the souk, I’m not sure but we hailed a taxi having aborted our plan.  We went back to our Riad (hotel) to rethink what we would do next.  We asked the woman at the reception desk if it was a holiday that day that we did not know about.  She looked at us puzzled and said no.  We told her the story of our mishap and she made a quick phone call or two.

Turning to us she said, “it’s a regular day today…no holiday.  The Mederasa is open as is the Marrakech Museum.  I will arrange a car to come and pick you up tomorrow morning and take you there and wait for you.  No charge to you.”  And that is what she did.

I am still puzzling over how that photo in front of the souk ended up being one of the better ones of us.  How could I have imagined it would be on our Happy Holidays card for 2015?