Marrakech

Isn’t it magical to see a city inverted? We arrived in Marrakech under looming rainclouds. Below the horizon of grey, the Medina is a swath of pink maze-like walls. It’s the inversion of what we’re used to: cities of grey high-rises against pink sunset skies.

Alice, Claudio, and I stayed in the Northeastern neighborhood of the Medina (old city) that had a rooftop patio that overlooked a tannery. The narrow stairwell leading 4 flights up to the rooftop smelled strongly of jasmine incense. It was only at the top could you smell the unpleasant but bearable scent of raw animal hide.

Despite the scent, we enjoyed spending time on the rooftop where we had a sweeping view of the entire city. Drying clothes, drying food, and broken furniture scatter the neighboring rooftops. The rooster crows at odd hours. Moped motors purr in the distance from every which way. And most strikingly, when the clock strikes three, chanting male voices sing through loudspeakers situated throughout the city—none of them in unison—a powerful hum echoing across the city in a call to prayer.