Since I was smart enough to book five nights at Dar Ayniwen, and by now I was good buds with Stephane, I told him that as much as I was happy never stepping foot from “my estateâ€? I felt I should try to get off my lazy butt one night at least for an evening…
After my relaxed week in Fez, I was ready to tackle the hustle of Marrakech. (Compares to traveling from San Francisco to New York.) But I couldn’t decide if I wanted to stay right in the medina, the pulsing heart of Marrakech, or in the plush rarified atmosphere of the Palms area, so little piggy…
Our first few footsteps out of the airport and we were already haggling away, trying to find a taxi that wouldn’t cost us the earth. Luckily my French allowed me to bargain quickly and fiercely and reserved us a taxi; we jumped in with a local young Moroccan and quickly struck up a conversation. Taxis…