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ON HIS LATTST V SIT TO IVARRAKESH, ATISTA R McAIP NE SAIVPLES THt SOUK Ot THE DAY RECTIVES SONIE DIRTY MONEY AND ENCOUNTERS A PARTICUTARLY WELCOMING AMBASSADOR
The best-kept secret in all Morocco is the quality of the food in the Place Jemaa el Fna, the beating heart of Marrakesh. As the sun sets, the stallholders erect their stalls, much as a general might arrange an army. In the front row tea and cakes,
Behind them, egg-sandwich stalls, then the meat
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lamb
heads, hearts and livers. The rearguard are sellers oforanges, figs and dates. On the right flank, the row of snail-sellers, who
stand on high benches behind their stalls that serve food at chin height, or to customers perched on high stoois. Most tourists avoid this food as if it were being served by the armed forces of Attila the Hun. The plague, they believe, surely lurches amongst these less-than-mouthwatering delicacies. For two weeks I took my evening meal at one or other of these stalls and the food was not only hygienic but also totally delicious. My visit to Morocco was, on this occasion, truly a journey of discovery. Among the best of the discoveries was the Riya El Cadi, a small guest house of a dozen rooms. Built around a series of courtyards, the Riya is one of the most congenial hotels I have ever stayed in. The food is fresh, simple
and totally wonderful. The proprietor, the former German ambassador to Morocco, is a mine of information. Already famous for his collection of Tirrkish kilim, he now concentrates on Berber textiles. Much of his collection hangs in the guest house, and as it is arguably Marrakesht best collection in this specialised field, other collectors are drawn to his guest house. The politics of Moroccan textiles go well with the fresh croissants, pancakes and splendid jams at breakfast. The decoration of the Riya is impeccable. As for comfort, the Ambassador produced a new definition of that word in terms of a hotel. 'What shall I do with my dirty laundry?' I asked. ']ust drop it on the floor, it will be taken care ofj he replied. Just down the street - which is a euphemism for a short but immensely complex journey - is the Riyal Tamsna. This place, presided over by the elegant Madame Martin, is no
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ordinarytea shop. A selection of Moroccan lifestyle goods are available here. It is a haven for those who are tired of shopping in the souk; here they can buy Moroccan style with quality, a rare commodity indeed. Madame Martin, needless to say, knows her onions when it comes to quality, for she is the local adviser to an internet site, wwwcapitaltaste.com. This site is immensely useful to travellers as it highlights not only the best but the hidden treasures of many interesting cities. Shopping in Marrakesh is the raison d'ötre of the whole place and, like much else in Morocco, seems to lack logic. Offer.in payment a dirty dollar bill and it will be refused. Replace this note with a pristine dollar and, as change, you will receive a handful ofthe dirtiest notes you have ever seen in your life. Walk in the Place Jemaa el Fna and you will be warned of the dangers ofthe souk by a dozen guides who offer their services. Marrakesh, however, is a city where crime barely exists, for the simple reason that crime does not pay as well as trade. Swindled, you will most certainlybe; to be robbed, however, is a most unusual occurrence. For the true collector this place is a paradise. Textiies, unknown a year ago, are now on the market. As prices have risen, so have tribes begun to give up their treasures. Each day dealers have new textiles, pottery, woodwork and jewellery of great age andbeauty, objects whose price is the figure that the dealers can be persuaded to part with for them. In the souk is the textiles auction market, an auction in which foreigners cannot join. A foolish Swiss couple tried to bid; outrage spread amongst the crowd. They were still bid- ao ding when the lot was knocked down. Since the time of the ancient Sumerians, the system for conducting auctions has been firmly established, a system copied by the cattle auc- s tioneers ofthe Chicago stockyards; a system that is not about a to be changed by a pair ofopportunistic collectors. In its way, the resistance to change in Morocco is at least half its charm
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