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.