Led down an alley in Morocco by a stranger, far from other tourists. Any idiot could sense that perhaps we were in danger. Except this idiot.
We had earlier been approached by a suspicious looking character in the tangled web of small streets in Marrakech. He offered to take us to a nearby Berber leather market. Of course we said no. Any idiot knows not to follow a stranger offering directions in Marrakech. Even this idiot.
But the leather market did sound pretty cool.
Sometime later a friendly Moroccan in line with us at a shop asked where we were from. As we chatted, he casually mentioned the Berber leather market as something worth seeing. He paid for his items, wished us well and headed off. No weird vibes from this guy. He hadn’t offered to take us anywhere.
Independent corroboration that the market existed. Now we were really interested.
After we walked some distance in search of the market, we happened upon the friendly guy standing outside a shop with several friends. He said hello and asked how things were going. No mention of the Berber market. It was I who said that we were trying to find it. The man then said something to one of the friends who was about to leave the shop. He turned to us and said, “Ahmed here works near the market. He is heading that way now. He can show you the way if you want”. He did not push. It was up to us.
I enthusiastically agreed. We all wanted to see the market. This gift of a guide was our way to do it. But my wife’s radar went off at the offer. She wasn’t so sure. Naturally I became annoyed – we needed help to find the market, and we had clearly avoided the earlier scam. Time to live a little.
Ignoring her protests, we began to follow the man through the impossible web of tangled alleys. Each was filled with tiny shops selling all manner of goods and with smells from open air butcher shops, the sweat of donkeys, sewage, spices. It was exhilarating and overwhelming. We soon left the tourist district behind us.
Now the children joined my wife in protest. Too much walking. But just then we began to see signs for the tannery and leather district of Marrakech. The smell became overwhelming as we passed courtyards filled with leather hides being stretched in the sun. We MUST be almost at the market!
We rounded a corner and came upon a tacky tourist shop called “Berber Leather Market”. Several intimidatingly large men stood outside. It was immediately obvious, even to this idiot, that (a) we had been scammed and (b) we were someplace we ought not to be. We beat a hasty retreat to the safety of the main road, without further incident.
As we trudged back to the tourist district, I was a mix of contrition and annoyance. Both aimed squarely at myself. I apologized to the family. I moped. I placated the children with chocolate. Then I promised my wife that I would write a blog about how she is always right and how I should always listen to her. What kind of idiot makes such a promise?
PS: It turns out the Marrakech leather district scam is well known to those who read tourist blogs.
[If you know someone else who might enjoy a lighthearted story to begin their week, kindly forward them WordsfortheWeary. The more the merrier.]