Henry wanted to go see Essaouira - the fishing village on the coast. We booked a tour on AirBnB late Sunday, pick up at 8 am Monday! An early morning start. Not what we do best but we’ll be there.
It’s a long trip: 3 hours there, and three hours back. Add to that the few stops we make along the way: washroom break, goats-in-argan-tree, argan oil cooperative, we are left with about four hours in the town.
I had seen wonderful photographs of fishing boats floating about, sometimes with fishermen at work. But it is January, and when we turn the corner to see the harbour, there is a tangle of fishing boats sitting there, jammed one against the other. There are easily hundreds of them. It’s not scenic… It’s a visual mess. I try, and try again, to compose something even just a little satisfying, but there is no organizing this scene in anything visually pleasing. Or, at least I can’t do it.
“No fish to catch! There’s only frozen fish!” one of the men tells us as we walk by. It isn’t clear if its just that fishing is off-season, or if the ocean is been totally fished out. I’ll go for the first option. We wander around the fish market. There are still a few stands selling fish. Is that the frozen fish he was talking about? Looks fresh to me, but what do i know?
I try again to find a photograph, but I see nothing. “Relax!” I tell myself. “You’re trying too hard!” I take a breath, and I start seeing again. I find what looks like an abstract landscape on the side of one of the docked boats. I play a little, and my eyes start to open again.
We walk through the gate into the Medina - the large town square opens up in front of us. It’s windy and cold, and the place is nearly empty, only a few locals walking around. Once we get on the small streets inside the Medina, it’s much better, and when we get in a patch of sun, it’s actually warm. Here, we see a few more tourists.
We walk around. Shops, more shops, and then even more shops. I would love to photograph the displays, but the vendors don’t appreciate that all that much. I can’t blame them, really. My pretty pictures won’t pay their bills. There are many beautiful items. There are the lamps with intricate patterns cut out that throw the softest of light and the most wonderful shadows on the walls, and leather bags - every size, shape and colour, slippers, of course, carpets, big and small, from every style and tradition in Morocco. There are crystals, argan oil products, sometimes with a woman sitting in front of the store grinding the argan nuts on the mill that she winds round and round. Can’t you see how much work it takes to make this? Why won’t you buy some? Please? She seems to say.
So many wonderful things, and I can’t buy any more of it. I already have two pairs of slippers and a large bag of argan products that I will be taking home. My suitcase can’t hold any more. And as beautiful as these things are, I wouldn’t know what to do with them once I got them home. I don’t need any of it. I’m at an age when I am looking to divest myself of stuff, not get more.
So, I walk by. I don’t make eye contact with the vendors. Once I engage, they will try their best to sell me something. That’s their job, their livelihood. And I will do my best to say “no, thank you” and walk away. It doesn’t feel great. I wish I could buy a whole lot of it. Make someone’s day. Have them go home happy, smiling, because they made such a great sale today.
I find a few more things to photograph - an beautiful old door, a few alleyways, and a wonderful pattern of light and shadow. It will do. I’m happy with that.
We find a place for lunch - Chez Youssef - an obscure little place that is highly recommended on Trip Advisor. We make our way up two flights of uneven stairs. I am thinking: did I get the right place? This got 4.5 stars and a Trip Advisor Choice 2022? I must have got it wrong.
We finally find ourselves on a tiny little terrace where three tables have been crammed in. Two are already occupied. We sit. I check on my phone - do the pics online look like this?… one of the reviews mentions great live entertainment at night? But where would they fit that in? I check the pictures on Trip Advisor again - yup! This is the place!?! Okay!
The place is run by a middle-aged man, I’m guessing he is Youssef. A young girl - perhaps 8 or 9 years old is helping serve the meals. I’m guessing she is probably his daughter. She brings our cutlery. The table next to us clears out and another group fills the space right away. The man comes up and takes our order, and then theirs. We order another meal of tajine. It comes with fries. We wait a while and we see him coming up with our meal. The little girl is coming up behind him, carrying the plate of fries. It’s obvious she does this all the time. But this time, her foot seems to catch on the top step - she trips and the fries go flying everywhere. Instantly, the look on her face as she glances up at him, and then at the fries on the floor, and then at him again, her expression, a mix of shame and fear and disappointment in herself. Every one of the customers makes some sort of gesture or sound meant to reassure the sweet girl. I try to catch her eye to signal her that it’s okay. No worries.
The man sounds irritated, but not mad. He says something in Arabic. It sounds like he’s just telling her to go back downstairs - that he’ll clean it up.
I wish I could help her. I think of my grand-daughter who is about her age.
She comes up later with another plate of fries. I smile at her and say my trite little “Chokram bzef” (thank you very much}. She smiles back.
We finish our lunch and we have just enough time to find the Game of Thrones location we heard about. Fortunately, it’s very close by and we find it easily and, of course, take a few photographs, then we head back to take the bus for our three hour ride back to Marrakech.
Many people said we should not miss Essaouira. I am glad we went, but it isn’t fair for me to say whether it is a good place to visit or not. I think that, a little later in the season, when it is warmer, when the fishing boats have fishermen, before the throngs of tourists arrive, I think it would be a lovely city to visit - but you definitely need more than four hours!
Now, for the bus ride back…
I didn’t take a photograph of that little girl, but I can still see her face. I wonder how she is now.