OK, sorry for the extended absence. When last I updated, Sam and I had enjoyed a lovely first day in Marrakech. So Friday, we slept in a bit, breakfasted and then made our arrangements to get to the airport Saturday and to visit a traditional Arab bath, or hammam, in the afternoon.
We walked to the Palais Bahia (taking the direct route was much less complicated and much more successful than our short cuts of Thursday) and toured for a bit. There are two palaces on the tourist route; we were told at the riad that they were comparable, so we saved El Badi for our next visit. (C0me to find out, El Badi is a ruin, and so quite different from Bahia.)
There is a large center garden for ablutions, with, essentially, five houses surrounding it for the wives and concubines of the owner.There were several gardens with unusual flora as well as more typical palm and tropical fruit trees. The breezes throughout, along with the tile and stucco construction, kept the rooms cool as we wandered about.
The craftwork becomes overwhelming at a point. When passing from room to room of intricately patterned wall tiling and carved wooden ceilings, it is easy to dismiss the beauty of the workmanship. Bahia means "brilliance", and the palace certainly reflects that.
After visiting the palace, Sam and I walked up the adjoining arset and visited several souks, searching for bath scrubbies (for Monica's granpa) and tea glasses. The souks we found
on this side road near the palace were nicer than those closer to Jemma el fnaa, friendly, relaxed shopkeepers and
reasonable prices; probably as fewer tourists made the trek off the beaten path. We found some colorful tea glasses (blue for Fez, green for Islam, red for Marrakech the rose city, orange, purple and pink for who-knows-what) and a scrubbie for Monica's granpa, then headed over to boulevard Avenue Al Fatouaki or El Mouahidine and the hammam. After wandering around a bit, we stopped for directions and found we were almost there, so we soldiered on.
The spa was superb! With the exception of the extreme awkwardness of dressing only in a flimsy paper bathing bottom, snuggly robe and slippers in front of two complete strangers (and parent/child) the hammam was a treat. First, we entered a large, two-room sauna-like suite with alcove showers and a large massage table in the first area and seating alcoves and a massage table in the second area. After disrobing (!) we were plastered with an oil country soap and seated in the second sauna room for fifteen minutes or so. Just as the heat became uncomfortable, the ladies returned, scrubbed us with the soap and allowed us to shower off. Then, we hopped up on the massage tables where we were coated with an aromatic (from what I am told) herbal paste, and returned to our little seating alcoves for another 15 minutes of sweating. Toward the end of this sitting, I was getting pretty uncomfortable, but just as I was contemplating screaming, the ladies returned and we were allowed to shower off. I took a cooler shower this time. Finally (I thought) the ladies massaged us with argan oil. (Apparently, the argan tree is only found in Morocco; fas-ki-natin.) I thought I was done, but noooooooo.
Back to the sauna for another 15 minutes. OK. By five minutes in to the session, I was ready to run out screaming. Ten minutes in, I began to fear heart attack or stroke. Just as I was getting my Mersault on, the ladies returned and I sprinted to the showers. This time I took an ice cold
shower and stayed there until they made me leave. I thought the treatment was over, but little did I know they were taking us to individual massage rooms! The massage was fabulous. They massaged places I didn't even know I had places. We were left to rest (I hope I didn't snore), and when we returned to the changing room I felt dazed, but thoroughly relaxed.
We enjoyed boeuf tagine, probably accompanied with appetizers, tea and mousse, but honestly, I don't remember! We were one with the couches in the salon, Morroco and the universe.
We met Youssef, the weekend host of the riad, and had a nice chat over dessert. He suggested my husband and I purchase a riad in Marrakech that Sami could manage for us and we could all enjoy the good life. He told us about his family. They are nomadic Berbers and live in the desert. He shared data about their livestock posessions, goats and camels, as well as what it's like to live in the desert. It was really interesting, but when he began to question Sam about her knowledge of Islam and dating status, it began to appear that we had inadvertently entered into a courting ritual. We exchanged email information (but of course I can't find it now), then headed to bed.
Morocco was lovely, but we were excited for the next leg of our journey -- meeting David in Paris!
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