Morocco: Riad Real

Our taxi ride into the heart of Marrakech was a sure foreshadowing of the craziness to come. Moroccans have two-way lined streets. NO ONE CARES ABOUT THE LINES! It is a fast and careful game getting from one place to another. The only rule they abide by is stopping at lights; everything else is a free for all. We took two taxis, both blared Moroccan house music, holding dance-offs between taxis at stop lights, they raced each other weaving in and out of traffic, and we streamed by colorful buildings, souks, and dozens of busy people.

The taxi took us to Dar del Baccho. Following some friendly locals: We walked through the souks, turned under the red brick archway between the leather store and the American snack stand, down the alley past the eclectic collection of doors embedded into the stone wall, turned at the hole-in-the-wall mosque where a legless beggar sat outside and guarded the assortment of worn shoes that had been taken off for prayer. At the end of this alley we read the graffiti ‘REAL’ for real Madrid, the locals favorite futbol team. We affectionately called our home Riad Real (Ree- ahd Ree-ale). Here we found a wooden door with a hand-knocker. Considering the fact that we were essentially in an alley our expectations we low. At the time we ducked through the door our expectations were blown away. We walked into a three-story riad that opened up to the sky. We immediately celebrated on our rooftop terrace that looked out over all of the rooftops with the Atlas Mountains in the background.

Riad Real had a real name, Dar Badra, and was managed by friendly Dominique. I would suggest to anyone to stay here. There were eleven of us, eight stayed in the three story, five bedroom, three bath, retractable roofed villa. The other three of us stayed in a similar smaller apartment directly across the street (one step would take you door-to-door). In the morning, traditional Moroccan breakfast was prepared by Fatima, the housekeeper. I loved the crep’e like food:  a thin airy pancake that we spread jam and honey on, and rolled like a crepe and ate with our hands. It was interesting how resistant Dominique and Fatima were to tips after they were perfectly hospitable.  It cost me less than 20 USD for one night.

That night when we left the riad there were dozens of children in the street. We danced, sang, played futbol, and celebrated who knows what with them. As we made our way out to the street we ran into a friendly American from Boston. Joy came to Morocco in her twenties, fell in love with someone as well as the country and bought a place similar to ours. She let us tour it. I love the open ceilings of the Moroccan homes. It was surreal staring up at the bright stars through this retired hippie’s hideout. She was graceful and helped us bargain for a cheap taxi fare. Add a riad in Marrakech, Morocco to my list of future real estate locations.