Marrakech: Did you just give our food a pronoun?

As far as I can tell, this weekend has three chapters (aside from the epilogue, in which I got almost none of my homework done).

Chapter 1: Mosquee and Illness
We got on a bus at 7:30AM, first stop the Hassan II mosque in Casablanca. It is absolutely enormous, and right next to the sea. The sun was breaking through stormclouds here and there, so there was very dramatic lighting on the huge minaret, the archways around the courtyard, and the endless flagstones. We toured the bath complex underneath the mosque - picture a hall full of columns and long lines of marble fountains shaped like eight foot wide toadstools.

Long bus ride to Marrakech, driving in and out of storms. The whole weekend, Friday through Sunday morning, was absolutely, miserably damp. Our first outing in Marrakech was to Jamaa al-Fna, the main square, but I was battling some major nausea and stayed behind. My first Moroccan illness! (It's hilarious and also kind of scary that after a month here we're very used to updating each other about our digestive systems.) Ironically, I was too sick to go out and eat food from the stalls (sweet pigeon tagine, snail broth, couscous) that was very likely to make people sick.

Chapter 2: Chez Ali
Saturday we did some down and dirty sightseeing, hopping on and off our tour bus. My favorite was the al-Badia Palace, literally the palace of the favorite, meaning the favorite wife. Very nice digs. It reminded me of the Seville Alcazar, in layout and decoration (the two are very closely linked in style, I just can't remember who came first). Beautiful painted wood ceilings, amazing tile work, including suras and poetry along the walls which needless to say, I found exciting.
That night some of us went to Chez Ali, a three hour epic of tourism, overstimulation, and groaning hilarity. The experience is very close to Disney World or a Renaissance fair - the completely fake buildings in the middle of nowhere, the dancers in traditional attire who look completely despondent to be dancing in front of your table, and then a very absurd Fantasia show, including trick riders and a belly dancer. It was out there. And one of the dinner courses was quite literally half of a roasted animal. (Cliff?! Oh, poor Cliff...) The second we set foot in the place Christa and I were convinced it was all going to turn into a horror movie by the end, and we would have to steal the dancer's daggers, commandeer the show horses or, in a pinch, ride out of there on a donkey. The finale of the show was a fireworks display and huge flaming letters spelling out CHOUKRAN MAA SALAAMA (Thank you, goodbye), and if that isn't an eerie first step toward a horror movie I don't know what is.

Chapter 3: SUN!
At last, Sunday morning, the sun came out, which also meant that the Atlas mountains materialized out of nowhere. Oh my god gorgeous. There was still fog so we couldn't see them touch the ground, and they were covered in snow, pale blue and blending into the sky.
For our half day left we explored the souks. Michael and I ended up in a carpet atelier that was the full three stories of the building, went all the way up to the top and talked to le patron, who said he had been an interpreter for Dennis Hopper at Ouarzazate when he was filming Samson and Delilah. We saw two men weaving on a very large loom, another spinning on a bicycle wheel spindle. For the next hour he laid out carpets for us, served us mint tea... I started to get really upset that I didn't have enough money on me to make a purchase. Or did I?
We were very careful not to ask about prices until we'd seen over a dozen rugs. I pulled a favorite out from under the pile and asked him a price. 2300dh. Did not have that. He went down a few rungs. We asked about a second hand rug - nope, those are more expensive. Michael and I laid it out: we have 900dh on us, what can you do? Final offer was 1100, and he would be happy to let me go get the rest from the tour bus. So the final picture is of me handing over all my money and following le patron's nephew back through the souk (clutching my rolled up and packaged carpet) and through the main square to get on the bus.
Buying something like that after so much bargaining is a rush, honest to god adrenaline. And the rug! It's a Berber rug, kilim style, with red and black and wonderful gold stripes, about 4x6 feet. Unbelievable. Oh, and 1100dh is less than $140.

So yes, Marrakech was pretty great overall. And Sunday was proof that when the weather finally does clear up, it is going to be sublime.