On the Place of the Hanged

02/01/23 Marrakech The souks of Marrakech - it was clear to me from the beginning that this would be one of the highlights of our Morocco adventure. I'm not the type who reads books before a trip to get information. I don't want to build up expectations based on the impressions of others, which would influence and prevent me from perceiving all the new things with my own eyes, with my senses unadulterated.

The souks of Marrakech are an exception. I was a little bit afraid that this powerful firework of people, colors, smells and noises would simply wash me away. 2600 merchants. Fabric and carpet sellers, grocers, butchers, blacksmiths, leather dealers, in between fire eaters, acrobats, storytellers, snake charmers, tooth dealers - new and used! - shoe shiners, sellers of love drugs, bards, prostitutes, money lenders and and and ... An inner voice told me that I must not go there unprepared, and the more I read, the clearer it became to me why that is ...

The starting point is Djemaa el-Fna, the Place of the Hanged. I don't want to know exactly why it's called that. It is considered one of the most famous squares in all of Africa. An old saying goes: "If you have a day in Morocco, spend it in Marrakech. If you only have an hour, spend it on Djemaa el-Fna." Now I know why. This is where the heart of this bustling metropolis beats.

We come back to the city center by taxi. In five minutes we are on the Place of the Hanged. Ricci arranges meeting points, because it is clear from the beginning that we can quickly lose sight of each other in this hustle and bustle. I want to avoid that, so I try to keep two or three crew members in sight. It quickly becomes clear to me that I have to set limits here. What do I want to see? What interests me? What overwhelms me here with impressions like a flood takes my breath away.

I make the mistake and try on a leather cap. A young salesman immediately stands next to me and engages me in a conversation. I don't want the cap, but he can't accept that. I tell him that it's too big for me and hope that will make everything clear. Yeah right: not ten minutes later - I've probably already walked two or three hundred meters through a labyrinth of alleyways - he suddenly stands next to me again with a leather cap, a smaller one he thinks. What should I do now? I don't want this cap! I tell him that, but he doesn't give up. So I point to a scratch on the cap and say that it's not good quality. He smiles and disappears into the crowd. I have a bad feeling, and sure enough, he's back in less than five minutes with a flawless cap in the right size. I smile at him and say: No. He smiles back and says, "Good price, best price. 300 Dirham." That's 30 euros. I wave it off. He says, "What's your price? What do you want to pay?" I say, "50 Dirham." He throws his hands over his head. I inwardly clench my fist: Yes! Now you got him! He says, "250." What should I do? Then, like an angel from the side, an Englishman or American, asks me where to get these caps. I can't believe it! I point with both index fingers at the young Moroccan salesman, pat the American Englishman on the shoulder, and flee into the crowd.

Here you learn to bargain, to haggle. There are recommendations: The merchant gives you a price. For example: 100 Dirham. Your counteroffer should be around 20 percent, so in our example, 20 Dirham. And now it starts. Back and forth, back and forth, not too serious, a little bit of fun, and always act as if you don't really need the goods in question anyway. Yes, and if you end up paying less than 50 percent of the starting price, so less than 50 Dirham, you have done everything right. That's how business works here. 365 days a year. It runs and runs and runs. For me, it's over after almost three hours. It was nice to see the souks, but I don't need any more of it.

Fortunately, we went into this adventure well fortified. We still had Martin's 70th birthday dinner ahead of us, and together with Gerd, the jubilee birthday boy came up with something special: onion meat from the pan with noodles and salad. All morning, a whole gang of vegetable choppers and helpers stood ready until Gerd began to circle with the cooking spoon in the huge pan over the gas flame. He stirred and stirred and stirred, until at 1 pm the knives could be sharpened. Hmmm ... It tasted totally delicious! Hopefully, the next birthday won't be too long in coming ...