Paris - Before Sunset

I decided to make a habit of going to my local cafe each morning to get myself a croissant or toast and a cup of coffee. For some reason I also got into the habit of waking up a little later than usual which quite often meant that I was running the 50mtrs or so to meet the 10:30 breakfast deadline. Seems a little farcical to be trying to make up mins in a 50 metre run just to make breakfast, would have saved more time trying not to fix my hair up. In any case, I wanted a little corner of Paris that I could own eachday and this place was it. The waitress was so cool, she already knew on the second day what I wanted and was in preparation mode as I took a seat. Here's a view of my morning outlook, through my standard pre-morning, pre-caffeine haziness.

This look is out from the cafe onto Rue Royer-Collard and down to the left is Rue Le Goff which intersects with the street I was hanging out on for the few days there. Even though where I was based was considered to be on the edge of the Latin Quarter which is known as being a student area, I was getting into character in my own way. Late morning kick-offs, faux introspective looks into the distance, internal commentary on the goings on around me...ok, so perhaps it's a little bit of bullshit but the point is if you're not adopting or soaking up the atmosphere of a place in the way that its suppose to be then are you really experiencing it for what it has to offer ? The conundrum, whether to be a moderately pretentious twat and reject the very cultural edifices, cultural norms and characteristics that make a place or get into the mood and go with the flow of whats surrounding you. For me its the later and if I get called a touristic 'sell-out' for doing it then so be it, I just think it would be stupid of me not to.

To make most of the late morning start I decided to walk down towards the Seine and see another Parisian icon, (how many are there !?). Along with learning a hell of a lot about the metro system in Paris, a building that I became more than familiar with was Notre Dame de Paris (Our Lady of Paris). This is a spectacular Gothic cathedral on the eastern half of Ile de la Cite, so basically an island in the middle of the Seine. Other than it's Gothic constuction the additional thing that I remember being taught was the 'flying buttress' supports - the (arched exterior supports) of the building, which from memory made it one of the first in the world to adopt the technique and ofcourse gave the building an additionally unique look. You can clearly see the supports from the picture that I've added below.

Like many of the popular tourist attractions in Paris, the lines are long but with that said they're orderly and they move rather quickly. That's always a thing that suprises me, most places are like that. Once you get use to the pace of movement and you're patience is reasonable then the wait isn't altogether bad and if you have a few people with you then you'll always be able to create a little bit of amusement.

My fine research on the Notre Dame de Paris also tells me that its sculptures and stained glass windows are heavily influenced by the naturalism movement. Well, that may be the case, pity that my knowledge of artistic movements doesn't stretch further than being able to name impressionism and surrealism as my favourite periods but not being able to name when the hell they commenced, ended or what triggered their beginnings.

There are good and bad aspects to travelling solo. The good is the lack of the need to compromise, the ability to take the time you want in the places that you want, especially when they catch you buy surprise. I've got to say, this building did catch me by surprise but more for its exterior, its presence and the understanding of the era in which it was built. I've included a few additional pictures below that really highlight its Gothic feel.

After reliving year 7 French class yet again I decided to make my way be to Le Marais for a bit of lunch and perhaps....perhaps....to get those locks chopped off. Now, I can't remember at what point that I thought that cutting my hair was going to be a great idea but I do remember walking into a 'salon' and asking them if they spoke English (of course they did), then it was 'well, what can you do for me'. As the hair fell to the floor I couldn't help thinking that it was a terrible idea but also, 'the first cut is the deepest', and after that point there was no going back without another twelve to sixteen months growth...*Sigh*, all that commitment, all the hard work towards looking like Bernard Fanning and Dave Grohl, gone in a Parisian minute. The strike from the glistening steel of lovely lady's sharpened implements of doom and then the artisan in her took over and she sculptured a Euro-trash style never before seen on this son of Serbia. In all truth, the cut was pretty good, and there's always something liberating about going for a new look....damn, I'm such a girl sometimes.

For some reason this afternoon tended to move by pretty quickly. After making my way back 'home' and chilling out for a few moments I went back down to St-Michele Notre Dame station and decided to walk to the Eiffel Tower in order to capture its spectacular light show. It was a hell of a walk, wondering by the law courts (liberte, egalite, fraternite), then onwards through the Louvre, into the Tuileries Gardens, along the Seine to watch a magnificent sunsent and then to the Eiffel Tower to see it lit up in a glorious blue. From what I've been able to find out, the blue light was apparently representative of it's 6 month presidency of the European Union which commenced on 01 JUL 08. Again, I've added a few photos below of the walk that I took. Sometimes a photo can convey a sentiment, feeling or expression more than any line or paragraph.

Outside the Louvre

A magnificent sunset

Of course I'd be remiss if I didn't include some of the shots of the Eiffel Tower under lights. For me its got to be one of the great sights in the world. I mean I've seen a few good ones thus far, some of which are included in earlier blogs, i.e., Angkor Wat (which is by far the greatest thus far), but certainly the Eiffel Tower at night is pretty special, and in the City of Lights what more can you really ask for ?

Paris - The last village of Paris

I was walking north in the City of Light , basking in the sunshine of a great Summer afternoon. What was north of the centre ? Well, a little area of Paris called Montmarte, comprising of a kind of artistic, fairly eclectic person, although you could very well argue that this type of element left long ago and now it's just a very rich district masquerading under an alternative Parisian identity. So be it, that's the route that my mental compass would take me. Although for some strange reason, following my fairly accurate internal GPS and a light on Lonely Planet map I ended up at Gare du Nord, which was a stop that I had made the night before. Well, at least I knew I was travelling north.

A little while later I encountered the infamous Pigalle, basically on the border of the 9th and 18th arrondissements, the entire area is a red light district, sex shop central basically. Although at the time of day I was there it was fairly tame, plenty of tourists around, leering and pointing and probably wishing that their partners had the guts to walk into one of these places with them without feeling self conscious. The drawcard I guess of this area is the infamous Moulin Rouge - known ofcourse for its risque type of entertainment, and from the prices, a little ridiculously positioned. Never the less, took a couple of photos for the price of a walk by.

I cheated a little as this is a night shot that I took a couple of nights later but eh, you get the idea. After cutting through Pigalle I started on my way up to Montmarte, making my way up the 130 mtrs or so to the highest point in the city.

It's amazing, almost everywhere you turn you see a place of importance or a well known site. As I made my way up to the top of the hill I encountered the stairs of Rue Foyatier. I don't know how many black and white shots I've seen of this staircase and at the end of the day, they're just a set of stairs right, but it's Paris and even if you're single you can help but get wrapped up in the romance of it all - yes, the little sensitive Cancerian that I am, it's a blessing and a curse all in one.

Walking through the area I couldn't help but thing how damn quaint, cute and cool it was. I absolutely loved it and it ended up being one of my favourite areas of Paris, probably just behind Le Marais and on par with the area that I was staying in, the Latin Quarter.

The most famous building in the area however is the Basilica of the Sacré Cœur, a white domed church on top of butte Montmarte (so yeah, the hill of Montmarte) which overlooks Paris and can be regarded as probably the third best view going around, after the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe. I've got to say, another breathtaking site of real beauty which holds a commanding position and definitely acts as a reference point when you're trying to triangulate positioning when walking the streets with no particular destination in mind. Kind of reminds me of Sydney in that sense, I often say to visitors, if you can see Sydney Tower then you should know roughly where you are. In Paris if you can see the Eiffel Tower and the Basilica then there's no reason at all you should be lost unless you're drunk out of your mind.

As the afternoon drew on I headed back down into Pigalle and picked myself out a bar for a couple of afternoon cocktails, from memory I took on a Mojito and some other concoction with a Kahlua base. What the drinks did was to spark my appetite and for me that could only mean taking on a little inspiration from Anthony Bourdain and heading down into Le Marais area to check out a little placed called Chez Robert & Louise.

As I've already said, travelling around Paris and zipping from one side to another is not a difficulty at all. In an instant I was on a train, the station name currently escaping me, making a fast break for Les Halles and then perhaps another change to get to Hotel de Ville. Again, I think the naming is close but I'm not quite on the money.

Le Marais , meaning 'marsh' in French is said to be a bourgeois area of Paris, cutting across the 3rd and 4th arrondissement. You know, Wikipedia told me that - although back in the day when the area was marsh, I hazard a guess and say that it definitely wasn't for the 'well to do'. Just walking around however I could see what Wikipedia meant, chic bars, restaurants, cool bookstores, antique shops, any shops. You also get a bit of a community mix, distinctly gay but also Jewish and I was also feeling a strong Turkish presence. In any case I loved it and ended up spending a little more time there in the next few days plus getting my locks chopped off (silly, silly move - there was really no point)....but yeah, definitely my favourite area of Paris.....a favourite amongst many favourites.

Now, a little about Chez Robert & Louise. As Bourdain does, he cruises cities and hits various areas of a town picking up bits and pieces of culinary interest. This stop, on his Paris show was one that intrigued me. The food was distinctly 'old school French', hearty, tasty of course, and cooked on an open fire in the back of the restaurant. Now I call it a restaurant but this place is extremely small, like a large kitchen. It squeezes in its customers who I don't think mind too much due to its great rustic, earthly setting and has an overwhelmingly homelike feel.....my type of place. I pulled up a seat at the counter and just had to take down the blood sausage. Yeah, it may sound fiendish but bloody hell, was it tasty. Here are a few shots from this fantastic little pitstop.

I've got to say, Bourdain got it absolutely right. Sitting back having a few glasses of red with my blood sausage, some fantastic pork belly and an unbelievably homely and cool environment the place and the city was already starting to grow on me, like I new it would. Truthfully Paris never had a chance, I was going to 'claim it' from the get go.

More than satisfied I walked through the Marais with the late evening twighlight illuminating the tops of the buildings and giving the whole area a magical type of feel. Wanting to continue on with my day I decided that I'd get my tail over to the Arc de Triomphe and take a few photos at night just to capture the lights of Paris. I've added a few photos below, this is what rounded out an amazing first day in my favourite town going around.

Twighlight on the streets of Paris





Arc de Triomphe

Paris - Metro station

So much to see, where the hell to begin ? Usually my adventures in a city are less be design and more by good fortune, actually, that's always the case. I never plan on being or seeing something at a certain time, I just use a 'rough mental guide' and make my way. As such, on this Sunday morning I took a nice stroll down Boulevard St Michele, absorbing everything around me. In the grand scheme of Paris and it surrounds, probably not a unique or special area as such, but to me the whole damn experience was something to be savoured. As I walked down the road closer to the Seine, I thought, coffee time. Lets kick off with a cliche and just get more and more 'cliche hardcore' from there. I guess that the adage of 'When in Rome' applies to 'When in Paris'. I pulled myself up a seat, and went the whole nine yards. My French is almost non-existant but I went at it, disgusting pronunciation and all, one croissant and a white coffee, si vous plait.

I've got to say, as much as I was tempted to hold off my first visit to the Eiffel Tower I just couldn't do it. Six months of looking at it on a wall in French class, nearly 20 damn years of thinking about 'one day' going to the place to pay a visit, ladies and gentleman, it was on. To the metro my fine fellow. The St-Michele Notre Dame station was literally a few mtrs away, so I picked myself up the equivalent of a travel 10 pass and headed west on the Metro. Past stations that for some reason I had been taught about and brought back teenage memories, Musee d'Orsay, Invalides, Pont de l'Alma and then Champ de Mars Tour Eiffel. I was at the station baby, my exit was near and the time had arrived !

I remember walking out of the station and seeing the Eiffel Tower peaking over a tree lined street. I took my camera out and took a shot, I've got to say, It was one of the most cheesiest smiles I've pulled but also one of the most pure. For the sake of posterity in capturing a truly great moment for me, I've added it just here. Man, just looking at it now it makes me laugh but hey, a more genuine smile you couldn't get, c'est la vie.

There I was, walking along the Seine, Eiffel Tower in view and me feeling a little giddy would you believe. It's amazing, for it's day and age this structure is a monster. In total, 324 mtrs, the only building of any real significance in Paris (in terms of height) and one the most, if not the most iconic structures in the world. Crossing the road and walking up to it and seeing the Champ de Mars beyond was a memory I'll never forget, neither will I forget the crowds waiting to buy tickets to enter. Although on closer inspection the lines moved relatively quickly and on my return a couple of days later gettting up for a spin was not going to be a problem at all.

I walked beneath the Eiffel Tower and out into the parks immedialtely beyond, all I wanted to do was absorb my surrounds. So I parked it, I must have sat there for close to two hours. I know, just a building to some but a never ending mental quest to get here for me, and so it was. There's no need to put too much emphasis on it but hey, have added another picture just as a memory of what it looked like.

After taking a few shots too many I decided to walk the streets for a while and then make my way up to the Champs de Eleysees. If your going to go hardcore Parisian then this is the way to do it right ?

I guess what impressed me, other than Paris being the archetypical European city is just its feel or presence for. It felt like the eternally chic and romantic city that it has been billed as by anyone and everyone.

I cruised the streets for a little while long, taking in as much as I could, finally making my way up to the Champs de Elysees and also pulling into the view the almost as iconic Arc de Triomphe. Just for the hell of it, have also added a photo below.

The funny thing about this photo, and I guess with many people that take this shot, is they they are dodging a fair bit of traffic in order to get it. Many people stroll across the road and just hold the traffic up in order to get the 'perfect' shot. Funny for me, not so amusing for a Parisian I'd imagine. I guess the only disappointing thing about walking down the road was that it was overtly French, in that almost kitsch, overdone touristic way. Of course the guidebooks have warned of this. Sometimes the guide books are wrong but on this occasion they were on the money. The cafes in this area were way overpriced also. Not that Paris is a cheap place to be, I'd say the prices are 30-40% above those of Sydney on most things but on this road some of the items actually made me laugh out loud. Seriously, 6-7 Euro for a coffee, something like $10 ? If you were really hanging out for one but damn, I could jump down a few side streets and get it for about 2-3 Euro.

I walk most of the way down the Champs de Elysees making a left hand turn 'somewhere', who knows really. I had the aim of cutting through the backstreets and making my way up to Montmarte...but I'll save that aspect for another entry.

Paris - Arrivè deux

After walking for quite some distance and dragging that good ‘ole Billabong bag behind me I decided to jump a cab and get to my destination sometime sooner rather than later. After 15 seconds we were back onto rue Faubourg and I was thinking, ‘hey, didn’t I just come from there’ – then I saw the Seine, ‘wow’, another headspin for me. After looking at maps in French class for I don’t know how long now I was actually driving next to it, and then we took a left hander
across Ile de la cite (amazement yet again), and now we were driving right across it. Now we were onto the Boulevard Saint-Michel !!!! ......and finally cruising up a relatively moderate incline we made it to what would eventually be my place of residence for the next few days. How funny, five mins in a cab had brought all those apparently useless lessons of studying the Parisian UBD well and truly into focus, I was 'living the dream' ! (....I thank Ben Dalton for the useless line...and if you knew him, then you'd know how funny it would be to relate that line to him).

So, # 17 rue Malebranche was to be ‘my base’. From the instructions that I’d read it was quite easy. Buzz at the door, keys to unlock, up to level six and then walk up one flight of stairs. Use the ‘other keys’ for the apartment door and you’re in. I jumped out of the cab and had a quick look around the area, the ‘Latin Quarter’, which is apparently one of the older areas of Paris. I was already loving the charming, older style feel that this area had. With a bag full of optimism I made my way to the ridiculously small lift and exited on the sixth floor. This is where the fun commenced !

My apartment was a level up from the lifts last stop and of course, by arriving in the late evening I encountered a floor where the lights were out !! Bloody hell. The instructions that I’d received from the Melbourne based, ‘French Experience’, was to go up one flight of stairs and turn left. Ok, that I could manage, but they failed to tell me that there were two apartments , one on either side of the hall, which one was I to be in !!?? Fumbling around in the dark I found my keys and listened for noise in either apartment, assuming that the occupied one was NOT to be mine……ok, both quiet, lets just hope that people aren’t sleeping in there, I’d hate to have an irate Frenchman smashing my head in with a stale baguette for being ‘honestly’ mistaken. I decided to go for the ‘left, left’ option and feeling my way down the door notice that there were three locks !!? WTF !? I only had one key to operate this medieval door. Feeling around on the other side of the hall didn’t resolve my issue either. I all of a sudden envisaged myself waking up with rays of sunlight streaming through the hall window and people standing around me thinking ‘typical Australian, they’re all mental – sleeping in the hallway, no surprise’.

As most people know however I’m much more stubborn than that, I couldn't be beaten by a French door, could I ?! So I felt around the keyhole and managed to locate a key of similar size to that which I assumed would open the door. I tried it out and ‘hey presto’, it fit ! Two turns right…..nothing with the door, ok, two turns left, nothing again. One turn right, nothing, one turn left, nothing. This little game went on for approximately half an hour with self admonishing swear words becoming the norm as time progressively ran on by. Then, finally and almost rewardingly, with one turn and a ‘half door’ pull I unlocked the damn thing and was in !!!!!!!!!!! Mèrd !! That nearly drove me insane – F**k you Paris !!! F**k you for messing with me so early on, lol !

Paris

Paris (France)

"If you are in alone on a street in Paris, France, and you become unconscious, as long as someone calls the number on the bracelet, we can tell them who you are.”

Chief Donald Poirot

On the Seine - Paris - France

 

French class for me was an awkwardly positioned one hour a week venture that only lasted for six months of the year during year 8, that would have made in back in the good 'ole year of 1989 if memory serves me correctly. I remember not liking U2 back then as their song Desire was being played on the TV and radio endlessly, I remember still thinking that a Hits Compilation album was the best thing you could ever buy because obviously you got all the hits in the one convenient package, there was also the small matter of the Berlin Wall coming down and some racy catchwords like glasnost and perestroika filling the the air with some type of pervasive enthusiasm and wonder. So, what's my point here? French class, that's right, that's what I was getting to. It was a short weekly escapade into the wonders of the SNCF, a complex Parisian city map and the few lines of French that somehow always stuck with me. There was a huge poster of the Eiffel Tower on the wall and for some reason I always remember the background of the image being a very dark blue, perhaps it was just that the picture had a dark blue feel, perhaps, never the less, those memories were somehow always special and the need to visit Paris and to check out a place that I'd always had a soft spot for without ever having been there was kind of overwhelming. So it was, on the 5th of July, I jumped a plane from Madrid and made my way into the town of my dreams.

My first steps on French soil occurred when I disembarked at Paris-Orly airport, looking out from the ceiling high glass windows I was kind of amazed that I had actually arrived and that it had taken me this many years to finally get here. Looking into the city I could see that famous structure protruding out of the Parisian skyline, it was a mere14kms away and I must have had the cheesiest smile on my face of all the disembarking passengers, but that's OK, it's something that I was more than happy to live with.

So understanding the the rail system and the fabled metro is one of the most efficient and practical ways to get around Paris, (please see Yr 8 French class reference for reasoning), I jumped the Orlyval automatic metro service and made my subterraneally to Antony (Paris RER) station. OK, there were a few moments of confusion when I tried to get into the actual station at Antony because my ticket was giving me a big rejection signal but hey, I hadn't come all this way to be denied by some militant train ticket facility. I threw my bags over, jumped the barrier and away I went. So I took the RER B line to Gare du Nord, cheesy grin in tow and considered jumping a subway line to another station where I was suppose to pick up the keys for the apartment that I was renting somewhere in the 5th arrondissement for the next five days, but eh, I wasn't the exact route that I ended up taking. In my haste to get to my destination I simply jumped in a cab and made my way down to the office at 62 rue du Faubourg Saint-Martin. How cool was this! I was in a taxi cruising the streets just trying to absorb as much as possible and I've got to say, from the moment I arrived I just fell in love with the place. A slightly biased call, obviously, but at least I wasn't disappointed, not by any stretch of the imagination. Once I picked up my keys I decided that walking might be the way for me to do it, why the hell not? My sense of direction is reasonably good, knowing that the apartment was more than a simple walk away I decided to try my luck and see where the hell it was that I'd end up. Along with that cheesy grin I was rolling my suitcase down these Parisian streets and if I didn't look like a foreign head case previously, well, I sure knew that I looked like one now. About 15-20 mins later and following my own internal GPS coordinates I came across Les Halles, a place in the 1st arrondissement, named for the large wholesale marketplace that use to take pride of place in the area. I have to thank Mr Anthony Bourdain for the background on that one, at least I knew that I was travelling in the right direction and as the sun set and the lights came on around me, walking the streets of this beautiful city was the best and only place I could think of being at that moment.

Marrakech to Madrid - The Hype

Marrakech (Morocco) to Madrid (Spain) - Flight No. U2

What better flight number to have than U2 ? So it was my flight ID from Marrakech to Madrid landed me with 'They Hype', of course I kept the boarding pass and of course I'm tragic but do I care ? No, not at all. I still like Bryan Adams also and am happy to admit it.

You can see just how close Europe is to Africa - 14kms at its shortest point!

 

After my Moroccan gallivanting I was ready to take up sangria taste testing in the capital. A couple of hours out of Marrakech and I was skirting over the Iberian peninsula with a golden sunset veiling the continent where I had just spent the last 10 days. Actually flying from Africa into Europe was a definite highlight, in fact the distance between the continents at its shortest point is only 14kms, that's just a ski paddle apart. Actually that's quite an interesting idea, make base in Spain or Morocco and then go out for a ski paddle for lunch from one continent and then paddle back for dinner later on. Of course there's always the ferry right ? But who am I to ever do things the easy way ? Just need to make sure that the passport doesn't get lost in the Mediterranean.

In any case, there I was landing in Madrid on the 4th of July, long hair intact and looking more and more like a Spaniard everyday, or so my Moroccan friends told me. I wasn't quite sure what to expect of Madrid, I'd already heard from many a people that Barcelona was their favourite destination and that Madrid was the grey to Barcelona's technicolour rainbow, well, whatever, not really sure what that last comment meant. So perhaps I arrived to the heart of Spain a little apprehensive at first but it was nothing that a carafe and a half of full sweet sangria couldn't fix in an instant

Plaza Mayor - Madrid - Spain

I've got to say, from my short stay, 48hrs tops, Madrid came across as a modern city, possessing all the infrastructure that you'd expect from one of Europe's most populous and financially important cities and yet it still had a look and feel of an older, more historic era. As I did the standard tourist thing whilst in town and walked my way from Plaza Mayor to Plaza de Cibeles to Retiro Park etc, I started to wonder what the hell people had been talking about. I also started to wonder as to how Spain had managed to keep all the most attractive women of the world in one city ! If only I could speak Spanish or was a metre taller, perhaps I would have had a chance but then I would have needed to split my sangria ! The inevitable pitfalls of a travel adventure. What I also loved about Madrid were the tapas bars, mixing in some beers with bits and pieces of every food and hey presto, one great evening in progress.

I love you Madrid!

Plaza Cibeles - Madrid - Spain

The Lonely planet guide described Madrid this way, a description that I found to be very apt;

If Madrid were a woman, she’d be a cross between Penélope Cruz (beautiful and quintessentially Spanish) and Madonna (sassy, getting better with age). If it were a man, it would have to be Javier Bardem (not the world’s most handsome but with that special, irresistible something). And if you could distill the city to its essence, it would be this: Madrid is a rebellious ex-convent schoolgirl who grew up, got sophisticated but never forgot how to have a good time.

Sangria going down quite nicely on an evening in Plaza Mayor

 

Strangely I think Madrid and Barcelona have the same competitive fight going on that Sydney has with Melbourne. Sydney and Barcelona in a purely aesthetic sense are stunning cities, colloquially eye poppers that cannot help but overtly display their beauty. Madrid and Melbourne on the other are attractive in their own way but their charm, sophistication and elegance lies away from their physical characteristics and can be found in their build, their make-up, it's style, diversity within it's barrios, nightlife and fantastic tapas bars, which of course I'd already tested out with reckless abandon. Truthfully my time here was much too short and not well planned, mostly because my itinerary had a few last minute changes. In any case I know better now and I know that next time I'm here I'm going to spend a lot longer and learn a few critical lines of Spanish , as they say, you never know your luck in a big city !

Streetscape - Madrid - Spain

Bear and the Madrono Tree, heraldic symbol of Madrid - Puerta del Sol - Madrid - Spain

Marrakech - Take your pick, it's a Marrakechi speciality

Marrakech (Morocco)

It's funny, the more I reflect on Marrakech the more and more I begin to like it, even though I'm sure I got ripped off on every corner, had my mobile stolen and was eyed off by ALL the pick pockets in D'jemma el Fna as an easy target it still seemed to have something magical about it.
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Knowing the dodginess of this place I did manage to spend a great night watching the sun set over the main square, sitting back drinking their main speciality, a sweet mint tea, which is 1) very refreshing and 2) more than an enjoyable drink to have even if the temperatures were pushing up to the 40 degree mark. I've forgotten the balcony where I took up residence but I spent hours just watching the square and the way that the mood of the square changed into the evening, swelling constantly with more and more people as the night drew on. It's just during the sunset phase that the square comes alive as all sorts of entertainers mark their territory and start performing for the crowd. Obviously these days it's predominantly tourist orientated but it was more than a lot of fun to walk around and check out the snake charmers, henna tattooists, jugglers, storytellers (even though I couldn't understand them, all were vibrant and animated), musicians, etc. Not only are there entertainers to draw you in but the numerous food stalls set up just on the edge of the souk fills the air with strange and wonderful smells. The foods were also quite varied from the standard kebabs, kefta and grilled meat cuts to a lamb heads broth (which was fantastic), grilled heart, lung, etc. Just walking through the food stalls and trying to dodge the spruikers is quite an art in itself. They are however good natured about it ,(the spruikers), and should you choose to not dine with them for an evening they'll simply ask you to remember their stall number for the next night.
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The only real problem that I encountered in the square were pick pockets. I understand that this is an ever present danger wherever you travel but due to the sheer number of people and the fact that the mind of a tourist tends to be concentrating on 100 other things going on around them other  rather than the idea of having their wallets / purses stolen, it makes the foreigner an easy target. So I guess I was deemed quite an easy target by the professional thieves that inhabited the square, and thinking about it, yeah, I would have looked like a shoe in. There I was, walking around the crowded circles engulfing each entertainer, camera in hand and at the ready, not looking to be even giving a second thought to the whereabouts of my wallet, but alas, I was. I think I was a little more than hyper vigilant as I was constantly checking to see if it was still there every 30 seconds (thinking back on it, I should have just left the damn thing in the hotel). In any case, I was standing on the periphery of one crowded circle, just taking my camera out and getting prepared to shoot. Now I don't exactly remember if I spun to see if anyone was in close proximity to me (which I was also doing every now and then), or if I caught someone out of the corner of my eye that felt  too close to my person for things not sexually related, or if I simply sensed that someone was in my personal space but I spun around at exactly the right moment. As I turned to face my potential thief  I'd have to say that our faces would not have been more than 30cms apart. I immediately did the wallet check and realised that it was intact, I smiled more out of relief than anything and just said to the guy 'you nearly got me didn't you, huh ?' . The young guy just smiled and casually walked away from me. I don't know if he understood  my exact words but we both knew that I had just had quite a fortunate escape. Now I don't know if it was a sense of bravado or whether I was pissed that I'd nearly been ripped again but I took out my camera and started to film this guy as he decided to stalk other prey, basically I just wanted to ask him about what he had just tried to do. As I closed in on him he just continued smiling and walked further away, still looking at other crowded circles and other easy targets.

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The fun begins
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My encounter with the Marrakechi pick pocket crew didn't end there however. As I walked away from the crowd and back to the food stalls two young Moroccan guys approached me and asked to shake my hand. I denied them their request and walked amongst the food stalls which is an area that is well lit and safer / easier to negate in terms of pick pocket threats. As I moved up and down the stalls I noticed two Moroccan guys on one side walking parallel to me, I also noticed another guy on the other side of the stalls tracking my movements also. Just to make sure that I wasn't paranoid I walked back to my starting position, turned once again and then walked back up that way I had just came. It was more that obvious these guys were following my moves and they made a piss weak attempt of hiding it. I sat down at one of the stalls for a while and these guys stopped, kind of hovering around, waiting for me to walk on. I stared at them for a little while and gave them a wry smile, showing them that I knew their game but also thinking that I was now in kind of in a difficult position. If I was to walk away from the stalls and get into an isolated area then it was going to be relatively easy for them to jump me, so I decided to sit in my spot and wait them out. I felt certain that they would get bored with the idea of trying to exact revenge, whatever their concept of revenge was going to be. I watched these guys walk into an area of the souk where they were easily hidden but could obviously keep a sight of me, if that was their choosing. F***, now I was in an even worse position. What I decided to do was head for one of the fruit & nut stalls that was on the edge of the square. A  place that was far enough away for them to have to come out into the open in order to track me but also a place that I could spot them easily if they were to make the decision of following me. I stood there for a few minutes and waited, nobody made the move to come for me, well none that I was able to spot. On reflection my thinking was that their only intention was to make me a little paranoid, which I guess worked a charm. Never the less when I thought the coast was clear I negotiated the dark  backstreets of Marrakech relatively quickly and just hoped that these guys weren't waiting somewhere to undertake an entertaining surprise on me, thankfully it didn't happen. Lesson learnt though, don't mess around with pick pockets, just give them every reason not to choose you!