Marrakech, Morocco: Day 3

Today we begin work. My uncle is moving from his house in Morocco, so the (official) reason I'm here is to help him pack all the remaining stuff up in boxes. We sort through my grandma's things first and find, among other surprising things, a butterfly knife the size of my thumb. I also find a Moroccan peasant hat I take a liking to, and I wear it for the entirety of the trip. To the left and the right, I exemplify the only two expressions I ever have in photographs. 

After lunch and the nap/swimming/reading period, we go to the ultra modern train station, which is basically like a mall, to eat "une p'tite glace." The KFC (which we would go to for lunch on Day 8 , partly as a joke) and the MacDonald's are packed with happy looking people. I receive my first batch of dirhams from the ATM and feel rich. 10 dirhams is about 1 dollar, but when you're holding 200 dirham bills, you feel awesome because of the zeros. 

Later on, we drive (I'm getting used to the roads by now) to the artisan ensemble and look at beautiful Moroccan knick knacks without buying anything. It's quiet and empty. We then go directly to the souks, the traditional markets that meander through a long labyrinth of alleyways. These are anything but quiet and empty: the souks are bustling and full of strong smells and colors. Vendors call to me insistently. Hello! Hello! HELLO! If I smile at them, they think I want to buy something. They smell the weakness and follow me a ways through the souk talking about how great their product is. At first this intimidates me, but I learn how to look straight ahead and say no forcibly enough to seem like I mean to. We would go to the souks three more times, and I would buy lots of things but let  Dominique do the hard core, a la Marocaine price bargaining. The souks end up being my favorite part of Marrakech. I think they're really most symbolic of the vibrancy of the Marocain culture. Some souks are  more touristy than others, but in any case there's a healthy mix of Europeans, savvy locals, and the whizzing passing scooter that go by. Unfortunately, I find taking pictures in the souks to be frustrating due to the lighting situations and the fact that I'm worried people will notice I've taken a picture of them. Oftentimes if you try to take a picture of someone, they'll ask you for money and I don't want to get into any sticky situations so I try to be sneaky. Still, I end up taking pictures almost exclusively of buildings, inanimate objects, and cats because none of these things mind. I don't think I have the right personality to be a good photographer. 


 In one souk, on a different day, a 20-something Moroccan walks by and starts talking to my uncle. I'm immediately hesitant about what he has to say, thinking he's a persistant vendor. But turns out he's just walking in our direction, and tells my uncle "She is very pretty. How much are you selling her? I'll offer a million camels." My uncle laughed and said I wasn't for sale. Although this was kind of strange it, was also strangely flattering. 

Unrelated, but another angle of my rose. Low-grade obsessed.