After a busy week with Poet in the City I suddenly find myself sipping sweet mint tea in the heart of the Souk in Marrakesh. Bright shafts of sunlight, visible in beams, cut between the awnings of the shops, which are hunched around narrow lanes. The shops are cornucopias of silver teapots, carpets, spices and Arabic-style lamps. From the roof of a café we can see the hazy outline of the Atlas mountains to the south, with snow on their peaks.
It is not my first time in Marrakesh (I came here on a walking holiday in the 1980s), but a lot has changed. Back then I remember watching from the roof of my hotel as tourists left the building and were mobbed by would-be guides, carpet salesmen and taxi drivers. Quite a few got no more than 50 yards before scurrying back to the refuge of the hotel. This time we have walked the streets of Marrakesh for 3 days without anyone bothering us. Without exception the locals have been charming and helpful.
On the street Moroccans wander by with mobile phones glued to their ears, or surf the web in one of the many cyber cafes. I am not sure if my memory is deceiving me but 20 years ago the Souk felt like a medieval market, but now it feels a little bit more like a heritage zone. Were so many Moroccan women wearing full veils back then? This also feels like something new.
Outside the walls of old Marrakesh the foundations of a new city are being laid, to house the many thousands of Moroccans who, like people all over the world, have moved from the country to the city. The boulevards are lined with flags and crowds today because President Sarkozy of France is in town to sign a trade deal. Bored soldiers play with the safety catches on their sub-machine guns.
The hotel room has BBC World and a mini-bar. And the water from the tap is safe to drink. Morocco is going global, just like everywhere else. Sometimes I guess you need to go away to realise just how much things have changed at home.
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