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A Train From Marrakech

Morocco looked the way I’d imagined it, full of tiny twisting streets that are old, narrow and confining, and where being lost is simply a part of tourist life. Dead ends, doors that look exactly alike and giggling teenage boys lurking in shadow, watching bemused as you wander astray were daily occurrences. Summer in Marrakech is dry and cracked, and I felt sorry for the nested storks perched atop the old city walls. The souks are thronging during the day and shuttered in the afternoon, and only animals and unwise tourists are caught outside at midday. Riads, cool and quiet, are enclosed sanctuaries, more calm and beautiful than any castle I’ve ever seen. Sitting on a rooftop, surrounded by skulking cats, you are overlooking history. … [Read more...]