Before heading to Marrakech, I'd read a bit about the tannery tours. They are still making leather the old fashioned way--which is not necessarily a good thing--but certainly worth seeing. The tanneries are run by Berbers--the traditionally nomadic people who are indigenous to North Africa. If you get anywhere near the tanneries, you're likely to be approached for one of these tours. They will tell you it's free.
So, on our first day, a small man in a red outfit approaches us, "There is special Berber holiday at tannery only today!! I will show you! Free tour! You must see!" Since we'd only been in Marrakech for half a day, I wanted to get the lay of the land before getting roped into a tour, so we tell him that we don't have any money and we're waiting for the bank to transfer it. He doesn't seem phased by our excuse (or doesn't understand it) and continues on the pretense that it won't cost us anything and that he just wants to be friendly. He ushers us in the direction of the tannery. I look at Cecily and shrug and we begin to follow.
He introduces himself as Abdoula and tells us he just likes to help foreigners see his city. His nose looks as if he's been socked in the face a few times, and alternates between straight faced storytelling and cackling at almost everything we say. He seems harmless enough and we figure we'll see how far this will go before we are pushed to spend some money.
While walking, he is speaking to Cecily, teaching her some Moroccan phrases and laughing at her, and I manage to surreptitiously transfer all of my dirhams (Moroccan currency) out of my wallet and into a back pocket. After about 10 minutes of walking, several reassurances that this would not cost us anything from Abdoula, and a few WTFs between Cecily and I, I stop and pull Abdoula aside.
"Look Abdoula, you seem like a nice guy, but I know that nothing is free and I don't want to waste your time."
"No worry, No Money, No Honey!"
He uses this phrase incorrectly, but he loves it and we get the gist. He's trying to say that it will be free. He says it a dozen times throughout our walk as we remind him that we don't have any money to spend. No money, no honey! Finally he concedes a bit...
"Is OK, I promise,
I not make you pay nothing."
"Wait, will someone else charge us? Is there anything we need to pay for, because really, we are waiting for the bank..."
"There is small fee to enter tannery, but no worry."
I pull out my wallet and show him that I have no dirhams, but he sees some american bills popping out of another compartment. Shit.
"Is OK. They accept american dollars."
"Honestly, this is all we have and we can't spend it in case the bank..."
"No, it's okay. Come, come."
"Look, all I have here is $4."
"4 dollar is enough. I talk to them. Is fine. Come."
"Okay..."
We continue, even more skeptical now. But since we were very clear about the $4, I'm fairly confident Cecily and I can fend off any further pressure to spend with our bank story...
We get to the gates of the tannery and he tells us to wait and not talk to anyone else (he doesn't want to lose his customers to other enterprising "tour guides" that are floating around the entrance to the tannery).
He returns with a few sprigs of mint which you are supposed to sniff while walking around the tannery--it smells absolutely awful--like sour milk and burnt hair. I'm sure the fresh animal skins weren't helping, but the real smell, as Abdoula stated multiple times, was the "pigeonpoo." Apparently
pigeonpoo contains ammonia which helps break down the leather and soften it. The leather is then kneaded in the vats of
pigeonpoo with the workers' feet for about 3 hours until it's soft enough. While it's a nice idea to have the sprigs of mint, minty
pigeonpoo is not a whole lot better than
pigeonpoo straight-up.
 |
| Pigeonpoo! |
Abdoula walks us around the tannery and begins to deliver his tannery tour spiel. It's mostly incomprehensible and there's quite a bit of his mouth spray heading our way. It's now apparent, after spending close to half an hour with him, that he's pretty shitfaced, which explains his slurred speech and his unfocused glossy eyes.
 |
| Abdoula's drunk... |
After about 3 minutes of walking around the tannery, which really is amazing to see, Abdoula directs us to a roughly constructed 2-story building in the corner of the tannery. He says we'll get a great view of the tannery from the top floor. We wind up a staircase to the top, finished leather products lining the walls, and there is a big opening that looks out over the tannery.
We take our pictures and Abdoula leads us down the stairs and we stop on the ground floor. The ground floor is a 12 by 12 foot room, with leather products on all sides and hanging from the ceiling. Abdoula tells us to sit on a bench so that one of the Berber men can "give us a presentation." An older Berber man comes out and asks us how we take our tea:
"With sugar?"
"Sure"
"Perfect. Like
real Moroccans" and winks.
He kind of looks like a wizard, but I also notice that under his woolen Berber tunic, he's wearing a full Adidas jumpsuit...He immediately begins to tell us about the process of making the leathers. His "presentation" lasts all of about 4 sentences, listing a few of the fruits and vegetables used to dye the pelts.
Then he begins taking products off the wall and throwing them on the floor, until there are about 25 leather goods splayed out in front of us at our feet.
"Which your favorite?"
I look at Cecily...we know this one...If I tell you, you're gonna sell me hard on it...
"I'm sorry, we told Abdoula that we are waiting for the bank and we really don't have any money to spend."
"No problem! We take credit cards! Please, which you like best?"
"Honestly, we told him we couldn't buy anything and we have no room in our bags anyway"
He then takes one of the leather stools (it's just a shell that you're supposed to stuff with the material of your choice), and begins to show us how small it can get. We stand up and tell him that we really don't want to waste his time and that we really could not take anything with us. He then proceeds to try to stuff the stool into Cecily's purse to assure her that we could easily take it with us.
"Look, we literally have $4. I'm happy to give you the $4 for the tea and your time, but we told Abdoula--"
"That not enough even for pictures of tannery! It is fine. Forget. Give money to Abdoula." and he throws up his hands.
As we gather our things to leave, he begins to smile broadly and pats us on the back and tells us to enjoy Marrakech, as if we'd won the game, and ushers us out in a fatherly sort of way. When we get outside, Abdoula is there and we hand him the $4 and begin walking up the street. The older Berber wizzard pops his head out the door and we hear him sharply chastise Abdoula in arabic, as if to say "don't bring these cheap ass foreigners here to waste my time." We walk as fast as we can back into the winding streets of the Medina in hopes that no one else approaches us for a tour.
Well worth $4.
Not only is driving crazy in Goa, but it's on the left side! As is the stick shift! And the steering wheel on the right! Damn redcoats and their stupid empire. So, no sleep, left side of the road, and first time driving stick on the left side with wheel on the right...but we made it! It was a hell of a journey, but thanks to an amazing offline maps app, CityMaps2Go, we were able to navigate the whole way (thanks for the tip, Dad). As soon as we got there, even though we rented the car for 3 days to make it worth the guy's while, I left it parked at our hostel the entire time. This was not a normal rental car by the way -- it was just some dude's new car -- there was a stuffed tiger in the trunk, a Ganesh on the dash, green and white flowers around the bottom of the windshield, and best of all, a CD with sweet Indian jams on it. I called my brother to tell him about the situation and that I wasn't excited about having to return it to Vasco and pay for a taxi back--he said in all his years in India (he spent about 10 years on and off in India), he's never driven himself nor would he ever recommend it. What he did recommend, however, was to pay someone to drive the car down and take the bus or taxi back, assuring me it wouldn't cost very much. I was skeptical, but called the same taxi driver who had taken us to an outdoor party the night before and he said it wouldn't be a problem. His price to do it was 1200 rupees--the same price I'd been quoted just for the taxi from Vasco back to where we were staying. He came the next morning, drove it down, no problems at all. AND...the taxi strike was back on that day, so I would have been totally screwed again! Anything is possible in India. And this is something they say a lot with a head bobble left to right, "anything is possible."
