Moorish Escapades

My only knowledge of Morocco comes from the movie Casablanca, which I later learned wasn't even shot there.

Before we left, I had mental images of Oriental splendour and deep dark intrigues in narrow alleyways. I wasn't disappointed.

The Riad - A home away from home

We spent most of the five days in Marrakech, in Southern Morocco, a couple of hours away from the sea. We decided to stay in a riad which are old Moroccan homes converted into guesthouses.

They usually have 3-5 rooms each and the owners or care takers stay on the premises. You get home cooked meals, a flavor of Moroccan life, and a chance to meet other tourists as well.

Riad Ghallia - on Derb El Khemis, Place Mokhef

Our riad was in the heart of the Medina (the old city) with streets so narrow that taxis had to drop us off on the main square. Maps aren't really reliable amongst the tiny unmarked streets and its best to orient yourself well during the day so you don't get too lost.

The Square and the Souks

Djemma El F'na, the central square in the Medina at the heart of the old city is a designated UNESCO world heritage site. With snake charmers, dancers, mini boxing rings and story tellers, the square buzzes with life.

While a lot of tourists do visit, a large percentage of the patrons are locals for whom the story tellers etc are a nightly entertainment.

The square also has innumerable stalls selling freshly cooked cous cous, calamari, dry fruits, juices, pastillas, snail soup and more.

Djemma El F'na - the main square in the Medina

Just off the square is the intricate maze of the souks. We spent hours browsing here for knickknacks from intricately worked baboushes (shoes) to spice holders shaped like tajine pots. Bargaining is elevated to an art form in the souks and we learnt that a good bet is to quote 20% of the salesman's initial figure, and expect to pay about 30-40%!

The Souk

A Gastronome's Paradise

The one great thing about travelling from the UK is that things are invariably significantly cheaper ever where else. If NY seems affordable, Marrakech was like paradise. We ate at some truly exquisite restaurants including La Trattoria and Pacha Marrakech

La Trattoria is an Italian restaurant in the heart of the new city (Gueliz). They have a beautiful bar and a delightful restaurant by the poolside. With warm fires blazing in the winter and excellent seafood, it was a great evening.

Pacha Marrakech is the newer, younger sibling of Pacha in Ibiza. Apart from a world renowned club, they also have two restaurants with luxurious decor and decadent indulgence all around.

The Ruins - Palace El Badi

At the southern end of the old city is the Palace El Badi, next to the Mellah (Jewish enclave). This 16th century palace was built by the Saadian king Ahmed El Mansour based on the design of the Alhambra palace in Granada. Much of its splendour was lost when it was stripped by a subsequent king, Sultan Moulay Ismail, to decorate his palace in Meknes.

El Badi Palace

Essaouira

After a few days in Marrakech, we decided to head to the seaside, and went to Essaouira. Earlier called Mogador, Essaouira literally means "well designed". And well designed it is! A beautiful tiny seaside town on the Atlantic coast, its white walls and buildings give it a very Meditteranean feel. We lunched here (you do notice the amount of eating we did!) at Les Alizes - which served up some delightful Moroccan fare, including the inevitable tajine.

We spent most of the afternoon sitting in a cafe in the port, facing the sea, enjoying the sun and reading our books.

All in all, a wonderful way to spend Christmas!

Every day at 3.30pm

The sun shines through the corner office and hits me in the eye.

Sun worshipper that I am, I enjoy seeing its gold orange glow reflected off the modern steel and glass structure opposite the window, and I imagine briefly, that I am sunning myself on some tropical island..

And I wish I could exchange the tweed umbrella in my bag for a tiny coloured paper one in my drink.

Of the small and sundry

There is a strange pleasure in the repetition of manual tasks.

In the slicing of an apple for instance.

The knife poised expectantly above the freshly washed skin. Leaping, almost, out of my hand in an eagerness to slice through the firm red fruit.

Thick creamy slices edged in deep maroon.

Or in the crispness of a freshly ironed collar.

I lose myself in the heaviness of the iron filled with linen water. Erasing wrinkles and crumpled lines on the cotton blend fabric with every movement.

A warm cloud of steam rises from the board mingled with the smell of cotton and detergent.

How she made sambhar in the London borough of Tower Hamlets

She waves her hand above the saucepan. The oil is hot enough. She throws in the mustard seeds that burst into life, crackling. Adds the chopped onions. Saute the onions until translucent.. she reads her mother’s neat handwriting. Recipes written for onions that were bright violet in the cart that Muruga brought around every morning. Her mother would run down in a nightgown and haggle merrily with him before returning with the day’s vegetables. Small tomatoes, potatoes still covered in spots of mud. And a handful of bay leaves that he would throw in for free.

How would she be able to tell, here where onions were white, in clear plastic bags under the bright lights of the vegetable aisle at the Tesco?

She guesses the best she can while measuring out the spices. It takes several tries to get it right. Too much salt (add some potates to soak it up). Too little tamarind. Finally, she adds the sambhar podi from a tupperware container.

Neatly labelled in tamizh, packed and sent from home, brought over by a cousin returning from a vacation. It was saved for a special occasions - when she was cooking for friends, when they were having people over. If it was only for her, she’d just throw in the “Hot Chilli Powder” (suitable for Indian curries) that she buys at the store.

But today although she's dining alone she uses the sambhar podi. On this rainy Sunday afternoon, she's trying to recreate, in Liverpool Street, a tiny slice of Abhiramapuram.