Marrakech, The Koutoubia Mosque

Finding our way around was much easier now in the daylight and we followed last night’s route through the tangle of back alleys past builders beginning work for the day on a building with wooden scaffolding that certainly wouldn’t comply with health and safety rules in the UK. On the street outside the King’s Royal Palace there were beggars and old ladies looking for holy day handouts (Friday is the Muslim Sunday), mechanics working from dark ill equipped and disorganised workshops with motor bikes and scooters in various stages of disassembly and reassembly at the side of the street and little shops that looked as though they may have been open all night.

The Rue Sidi Mamoun was busy with street traders setting up stalls near the bus station, workers congregating in groups ready to be taken off somewhere for a day’s work and street cleaners with besom brooms swishing the pavements and kerbs in slow rhythmic sweeps. The sun was shining and it was warm already as we negotiated a busy main road where snarling traffic with impatient drivers were trying to push their way past a roundabout that was holding everything up and where traffic was being rather hopelessly controlled by a policeman who was fighting a losing battle against the chaos and confusion.

Once across the road we entered the Koutoubia Gardens, a big green open space with rows of palm trees, and followed a main route through where rough sleepers were getting out of their cardboard beds and preparing themselves for a long day begging on the street corners. Ahead of us was the twelfth century Koutoubia Mosque, the highest in the city, soaring into the perfect blue sky above and we could see clearly now why the early morning call to prayers had been so loud because on each of its four sides were two enormous speakers that looked more appropriate for an open air rock band concert than a church.

The Mosque wasn’t open for business at this time but we wouldn’t have been allowed in even if it had because non-believers are forbidden from entering a Muslim Mosque at any time so we had to make do with admiring the structure from the outside and sneaking a look inside through any open doors whenever we could.

There was no going any further now because we had to return to the Riad for breakfast so we retraced our steps and back at the Nafis found Mike and Margaret already waiting for us at our table that was laid out on the sunny terrace. From the terrace we could see (past the satellite dishes) all over the city and away in the distance to the south the Atlas Mountains that this morning were obscured by a hanging heat haze which made weather prospects look promising for the day ahead.

Hotel breakfasts are always a bit of a lottery I find and they can range from thoroughly disappointing to exceptionally good and I am glad to say that this one was right at the upper end of the scale. There were pancakes and cakes, fresh juice and plenty of tea and coffee and some absolutely delicious fresh baked bread and a range of fruity preserves all served with an excellent and satisfying attention to detail. Over breakfast we filled in another official form which seemed to serve no purpose other than to confirm what we had said on the entry form but the owner insisted that it was important because she had to register us at the police station today. We all ate far too much and when we had finished we left the terrace and prepared ourselves for a day in the vibrant streets of Marrakech.

Marrakech, The Riad Nafis

Another turn and then a dead end with a wooden door in the wall but nothing to indicate that this might be our destination. He knocked and someone inside approached and let us in. Here was a complete contrast to the medley of noise and confusion outside with an atmosphere of peace and tranquillity in a tiny five room guest house with an inner courtyard and a swimming pool with floating candles. This was the Riad Nafis and it was immediately charming and delightful. We had chosen well and Laurent, the owner, introduced us to the staff, allocated us our rooms and showed us around, which didn’t take long because it was only a small place after all.

We had selected a Riad for our accommodation because we wanted to stay inside the walls of the old towns rather than in the modern corporate hotels of the new city on the other side of the walls. The Nafis looked perfect and had good guest reviews and we were not disappointed. We had excellent rooms on the first floor with internal balconies overlooking the pool, nicely furnished bedrooms and big bathrooms.

As it was our first night we had chosen to eat at the Riad this evening and on the open air terrace a table had been prepared for us so after we had settled in and Laurent had given us all the advice that we could possibly need for a four day stay we made our way to the top and settled down for evening meal. Being in an Arab Muslim country we had been concerned about the availability of alcohol and had brought some with us just in case but, and I don’t want to sound like an alcoholic here, we were relieved to find that the Nafis had a licence to serve beer and wine so we ordered the local varieties and then had an excellent first meal of Moroccan salad, chicken tagine and a fruit pastry desert.



It had been a long day and there was a lot to do tomorrow so we didn’t stay up late but went to bed looking forward to a good night’s sleep. Unfortunately no one told us about the adhan which is the Islamic call to prayer, recited by a man called the Muezzin at various times of the day and starting it seems in the middle of the night. In total the adhan is called out in every mosque five times a day, traditionally from a minaret, summoning Muslims for mandatory prayers and the main purpose behind the multiple loud pronouncements of every mosque is to make available to everyone an easily understood summary of Islamic belief. In the old days this would have been done by shouting from the highest window but now it is done with the help of loudspeakers and there was no way of sleeping through this. From the top of the highest Mosque, the Koutoubia, it went on for about ten minutes and there was a lot of activity in the Riad as the young staff woke up and scampered to the roof with their prayer mats to join in.

It was about five o’clock and it was difficult to sleep soundly again after that and anyway Kim was excited about getting out onto the streets with her camera so after an hour or so I gave in and agreed to join her.