Monthly Archives: May 2015

The old medina of Marrakech

29 Friday May 2015

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Lying in bed listening to the sounds of the medina in Marrakech is one of my favorite things to do.

At night there’s a ruckus of activity of kids playing in the streets until super late, people laughing, singing, arguing; lots of moving about. But the night is completely silent only broken by the call to prayer at around 4:00 or so. It’s peaceful and it’s reassuring when the call comes; a way to know the time without having to rouse myself to look.

The birds start early and their song is glorious! The rooster crows. The donkey clip-clops with a cart bouncing behind. Motor scooters buzz by, and the garbage men’s babble makes me wish I understood what they are talking about. They sit on my front step each morning and yawn and stretch, waking up slowly it appears – – I can see their reflection in my open window, so I know they’re there with their bright blue and yellow outfits. Then the man selling things walks by. His call is what sounds like “zgite” and then sometimes “gyou” and he wants us to give him things to sell or to buy from what he has. One day I think I will give him something and see what happens.

This neighborhood is special. A mishmash of people. I see the same ones everyday but we all stick to ourselves and no one bothers me much. I might get the occasional “Hello Madame, are you fine?” but that’s all. It’s nice. I’m easing into it calmly and slowly. I enjoy trying to blend in, even though I know I don’t.

The butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker

29 Friday May 2015

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Want something for your new house in Marrakech? There’s someone who can build it or make it. Need it today? No problem; they’ll at least show up and measure the space for you, find out what you want, and take a downpayment. Then they might be back tomorrow to confirm what you said, ask a few more questions, and then voila! It’s finished!

I’ve seen the “cushion man” about 5 times. That’s not all his doing, though. I keep adding things to the list to make: a curtain covering the kitchen so the team can work in privacy, a cover for the pool that the previous owner claimed to have yet never delivered, shades for the terrace so we can sit without glaring sun, and now cushions for the new chairs and daybed! And the price? You’d die if you knew. Or at least move here and begin an export business…

Already the kitchen has been tiled, the plaster repaired and painted. The TV has been installed and positioned above the fireplace. The “wood man” has been here to measure for the cabinet and desk the team will use for house management and clients. Massive quantities of household goods have been carted down the narrow streets to this house by donkeys and men. It’s been a flurry of movement; constant comings and goings. And it’s been a lot of fun.

The only problem so far really has been with the representative of the previous owner, who is not a decent man. Looking like a young Jack Nicholson (whom I love), this guy looks flashy and untrustworthy. He stands out like a sore thumb in this traditional neighborhood filled with djellaba, hijab, and drab colors with his pink/purple striped shirts, straight-legged green pants, and loafers. Cute outfit in any other setting, except here it looks shifty and shady. He fake-smiles when he says ‘salaam alycom’ but the eyes are dead. He’s not nishen. ‘Nishen’ means straight, direct, honest in Arabic, and this guy is anything but. We refer to him as the mafia.

Turns out he has a long line of haters from the neighborhood, especially with the immediate neighbor. Mr. Shady promised him a new wall, among other things, and apparently never delivered. The neighbor is livid and says if he lays eyes on this man he will go crazy. I’m thinking now that that’s why Mr. Shady won’t come around.

The guy says he’ll call, he doesn’t. Says he’ll show up at a certain time on a certain day, and he doesn’t. Says he will bring the pool cover, but I know he won’t because I’m sure he never had one since there are no hooks in the tile to which to attach the thing. He took the faulty (and new) washing machine out of here and never returned the correct one. He won’t answer his phone and if he does he’s just lying anyway so what good does it do. He’s awful.

But if these are the only things to be wrong so far with a home bought in a foreign country, where you don’t speak the language, in a culture you are just learning to understand, that’s not bad!

So I’ll just have the “cushion man” make a cover for the pool for a good price. And if I need to buy a washing machine, I will. Anything to get away from this young Jack Nicholson character and proceed with my plans!

Boss schmoss

27 Wednesday May 2015

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There’s nothing like owning a home (that’s going to be a rental property) and having a team (Housekeeper, House Manager and Operations Manager) to show you, in glaring detail, how annoying you are!

My persnickety demands surprise even me.

  • No labels on anything. Not on pillows, sheets, towels, pans, bottoms of candles – – nothing. ‘No paper labels,’ I shout in my head like Joan Crawford. (This Mommy Dearest reference would be lost in translation if said aloud)
  • No clocks. Don’t let guests even inkle the time. Let them completely relax and lose themselves in the culture and flow of Marrakech life. Besides, if they knew they’d be eating at 22:00 hours, they’d freak.
  • No dust or grime on any light switch or electrical plug or ledge or moulding or surface of any kind.
  • These actual words came out of my mouth, “Your first priority is to make it pretty.” This came to mind when I noticed the House Manager had put a dish scrubby in a leftover container of spackle or something like that. “If it’s not pretty, don’t use it,” I say.
  • No matches or candles allowed in case a guest forgets to blow them out.
  • More sauce in the tajine (I did say ‘please’, at least)
  • Duplicate sets of keys sorted by color for each room. Each room has its color.
  • No talking on the phone when clients are here.
  • ‘We’re getting Dar Basyma tee shirts so we look professional’, I said. Yes! This came from my mouth! I absolutely hate having to wear the tee shirts/outfits my company makes us wear from time to time so I really can’t believe I said this.

And after all of this, the House Manager came to me tonight and said, “Put the coffee cups here, not there. You come here if you need them.” I had to laugh because this really isn’t my house; I’ll be here like 3x per year and they will run the place, for crying out loud!

Dar Basyma

26 Tuesday May 2015

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Three years ago, almost to the day, I visited Morocco for the first time. Within moments of that first visit I knew I loved it, especially the rural areas. A slow rhythm of life in the villages with children playing, animals roaming about, and women in traditional clothing talking to each other and minding the household tasks. Birds sang, winds blew, rain came and went, tranquility! And exactly what I needed at the time.

Marrakech, however, was my least favorite place of all the places I visited that trip – – and a few more trips after that! It seemed “too much.” Too much movement, too many people, too loud, too much traffic, too hot, just too much. But with each visit, Marrakech grew on me and I missed the activity and movement of it all when I was away. I came to realize its charm and wildness and joy. There’s a vibrancy here, a pulse. It’s undulating with life and activity and I like feeling a part of it.

On each visit I met more people and became more comfortable with my surroundings. I got more of a sense of the real place and not just the tourist view I held before. I explored the medina, the old part of town that most tourists see and the new city as well. It started feeling familiar by finding stores similar to what I’m used to at home and restaurants dubbed “my favorite”. It became a place I wanted to visit over and over again. And I did.

On the 9th or so visit, I bought a house! After looking at dozens of places and analyzing neighborhoods, researching the feasibility of purchasing as a foreigner, spending hours meeting with lawyers (notaries, as they are called here), interviewing accountants, and visiting various government offices (where everything is done with pen and paper, many times, at multiple stations around a room for checking and double-checking later), I finally selected an accountant, a notary, and a home.

Taking renters into the home means having a bonafide business registered with the Moroccan government. I created it and called it Myriad Property. It means ‘an unlimited amount’ but also, separated, it becomes My Riad Property, so it has double-meaning. It’s registered and operational, soon to be taking in revenue.

The place is named ‘Dar Basyma.’ Dar = house and Basyma = Big Smile. I had a choice in spelling to name it Dar Basima (which means ‘smile’) but I chose the spelling with a ‘y’ because I have a friend named Basyma in Beirut, Lebanon and wanted to take that spelling for her. I think ‘big smile’ fits better anyway! Exciting for sure!

So now I’m at the house, getting things up and running for guests. Already we’ve had two sets of visitors and there are four of us working on it: an Operations Manager, a House Manager and a Housekeeper. It’s a lot of fun and I hope it continues to be. It’s already busy enough that we’ve had to turn people away!

This is the beginning of something big, incha’llah.