Wednesday 25 October 2017

Three Ms of Marrakech today.  Majorelle, Momounia, Musee

The Jardin Marjorelle is located in a classy suburb of Marrakech.  Established in the ‘20s by French artist Jacques Marjorelle, it is a vision of blue, yellow and orange pots.  The blue is so unique, more cobalt than cobalt, that it is officially now a colour  – Marjorelle Blue.  He was inspired by the Moroccan colours in the mosaics.

The colours define this garden, which were such an inspiration to Yves Saint Laurent who, with his partner Pierre Borge, bought the property in 1980.  It had been open to the public since the death of Jacques Moselle in 1962 but was slated for a high rise development in the late ‘70s.  Saint Laurent and Borges fought the development and ultimately purchased the property to save it.  They lived in the house next door, which they named Villa Oasis, and restored the garden to Majorelle’s vision by retaining the glorious colours

installing irrigation and engaging 20 gardeners to maintain it.  The gardeners are, of course, colour coded.

It always remained a public garden and retained the name of the original owner/designer.  Majorelle built his studio in the gardens, the sight of which is arresting

which Yves and Pierre converted to a fascinating Berber museum.

Saint Laurent died in 2008, his ashes were scattered here, and there is a memorial to him in the garden.  His partner, Pierre Borge, who was 8 years older, died just last month and his ashes will also be scattered here.

Winston Churchill used to spend time in Marrakech and it is evident that he visited this garden too

The brand new Musee Yves Saint Laurent opened next door just last Thursday, and we go to visit that too.  But, of course, Wednesday is ferme day.  So, we walk down the end of the road instead and Abdul Raheem loads us into a horse drawn carriage, which he says is included in our tour.  We’re not sure about this, and how fair to the animal it is, but we placidly obey and we are drawn to the public gardens in Gueliz, the new town. It’s a pleasant stroll through the garden but nothing special. I spot a large van which looks like a mobile library but Abdul laughs me off and says no, it is a van with gardening equipment.  I feel foolish, until we walk to the other side where the sign on the van clearly says Bibliotheque Mobile.  I stay uncharacteristicly quiet, but I am satisfied that our guide also sees the sign!  Oh, the smugness.

From there, we go to the second M of the day, the Hotel Mamounia.  This is where Lois and Gerry (remember them from the desert camp and Skoura?)  stayed last year and loved it so much they have come back.  Perhaps to buy it, who knows? The Mamounia was built in the 12th Century is a luxury five star hotel, where we are NOT staying.  It is indeed amazing and we walk through and around the lush foyer area, guided by Abdul Raheem who shows us interesting things like the bar where Churchill used to drink, the original woodwork and the new carpets which have, somewhat regrettably, replaced the hand woven rugs etc.  But it is the garden which we are here to see and glorious it is.

This is one luxurious hotel and we feel rather out of place amongst the beautiful people.  We are more at home amongst the workers who are harvesting the olives from their plentiful plantation

I guess this just confirms what many of you have already observed- that I am most comfortable with a big stick in my hand.

The third M is the Museum of Contemporary African Art.  Neither Abdul Raheem nor Jilali have ever heard of it, but fortunately Cherrie has the address.  It is in the golf estate (there are 27 golf courses in Marrakech) and it’s fabulous, with a collection from artists all over Africa.  Abdul accompanies us through this small museum, which opened in November last year.  He is grateful to have learnt about it.

It’s lunchtime, and finally our pleas are heard.  We are delivered to that well known Moroccan institution, Le Pain Quotidien.  We could be in Paris or London, but no, we are in Marrakech.  Abdul Raheem leaves us here.  Jilali has parked somewhere.  No one in this international French shop speaks Anglaise or Francaise  it seems.  We have no idea what to do, but eventually succeed in purchasing a tomate sandwich each, which turns out to be mostly tuna.  At least we get a coffee.

Post lunch we ask Jilali to take us back to the souks, so we can wander at leisure, but he goes into meltdown because he is, after all, a driver and not a guide. He has no idea which gate of the Medina is best for the souks and really doesn’t want to risk it.  He knows somewhere much better anyway, with prix fixe, and he begs to take us there.  We don’t have the heart to tell him we are not buying but rather looking so we reluctantly agree and get dropped off at a two storey department souvenir store.  It’s actually quite fun perusing all the tat, but not the same as the souks.

After being dropped back at the hotel, we decide we want to see the main square, and the snake charmers.  This area is hopping at night, and the place to be.    The hotel gives us a map and explains the route for the 15 minute walk.  Plenty of places to eat around there too they tell us.  The 15 minute walk takes us 50 minutes.  And, we cross the road three times, miraculously surviving.  The trick is to just look ahead, do not look at the traffic, take no notice of the traffic, walk to the other side of the road, pretending to be confident that the trucks, bikes, cars, vans, mules and donkeys will go round you.  You can be sure they won’t stop for you.

The square is like sideshow alley at the Easter Show

Complete with drag belly dancers

 

 

And the snake charmers.  We didn’t get close, because those cobras were slithering all over the pavement and we feared that one wrong note from the flute might reflect poorly on the reptilian behaviour, to potentially unpleasant result.  Besides which, the charmers demand 100 Duran (about $10) per photograph.  Our photo editor caught a long shot, as it were

 

We decide that dinner is not an option in this square.  Neither is walking back to the hotel.  Instead we walk some way to find a taxi, which by some good fortune takes us home.  Picnic dinner in the room suffices nicely.