BRIIINNNNGGGG, BRIIINNNNGGGG- its the fucking rug squad- I know it is, who else would have this number. Well they can forget about it. And ffs I thought I left specific instruction with the concierge? Well Hammed an Co can be a persuavie bunch- Maybe the front desk all have got new rugs? Doubt it. Im not picking up, I know they wont go away- so clamber outta bed and dead lock the door. Under seige- how long can I hole up for? I scan for essentials- Ive 400 smokes, so no prob there- the mini bars fairly well stocked so im not going thirsty and theres a big fruit basket (admitedly a little worse for time and I dont really like fruit) but it'l do for a while. I roll back to sleep- woken peridocally by phone calls and knocks at the door.
Its 2.30pm. No calls or knocks now for over an hour. Im hungry, fruit wont do- fuck em, they aren't gona ruin my holiday, hey whats the worst they can do? Im leaving the building. Stick the head out the door and scan the Hall- no sign. This is ridiculous, what am I worried about- im a paying guest, they are hustlers in my hotel. Besides, with the depoist im losing on the carpet and the money I gave Hammed for driving me around they've had about £80 of me- thats plenty. Even so I goose step pretty sharpish toward the Lift then across the lobby.
Jump into a Taxi outside the hotel. 'To a restraunt please'- he doesnt speak English- great. I start making frantic feeding gestures toward my face- he looks more than a little puzzled. Hmm, what French do I know- not much. 'Bein A'la Carte?' I start rubbing my belly in circular motions- Hes really confused. We sit for a bit- me rubbing my belly, making feeding motions with an imaginary spoon- repeating 'Bein A'la Carte, Bein A'la Carte' in a Northern Irish accent. Finally he gets it- 'ahh Cafe?' He says- Oui Oui Merci. He laughs and starts the car.
Down Mohammed V Boulevard- (pretty much everyone and everything is called Mohammed in Morrocco- The Eskimo's have 40 different words for snow- The Morrocans seem to have one word for everything- mohammed). Were passing lots of what seem like perfectly acceptable eateries but still he keeps driving- ffs, what kind of hustle is this- see if i end up at a bloody rug shop again ill be sooo raged. Eventually we stop at what looks like a butchers. It is a butchers- u pick the meat u want from a glass fronted counter and they cook it for u- I see a dirty great sheeps brain :( I thank the driver and am really plesently surprised when he doesnt stick the hand in for the journey. No tourists here only Morrocans, the waiter directs me to a seat right in front of the raw meat counter- hmm, this is a little weird. I order a couple of cokes and ask for a menu- no menus. Its a case of telling him what I want from the meat counter and he doesnt speak English- melt. Hes an Affable chap tho. I point at half a cooked chicken- thats ok, then i point at a side of ribs- hes unsure what ive choose and starts tapping his body; 1st his kidneys, then his ribs, then his brain and his heart! Boke! No brains or hearts for me today pal- I point to my ribs. Tbh the whole exp would be enough to turn u vegetarian- but im hungry.
3 or 4 street hawkers come up to me while im waiting for my food- one wants to polish my white runners, another wants to sell me fake designer sunglasses or a watch (preferably both)- another couple just want cash. Im in no mood- im hungry and hung over, and besides wtf do I look like? A UN aid drop? An Eldery Down Syndrome Morrocan man emptys left over olives, bread and meat into a plastic carrier bag. I feel bad for him, but no-one else is taking any heed and besides he has one of the widest smiles Ive ever seen on anyone anywhere. The food arrives- Its just meat. well meat, olives, spices and bread. Its gets ate. Ive gorged out and feel a bit sick- ask for the bill, pay and walk away- 'Monsuier, Monsuier' I hear the waiter calling after me- he hands me my camera that'd i'd left behind. U know maybe these Morrocans arn't so bad.
Head up Mohammed V Boulevard- the city is buzzing- see a stop for an hop on hop off open top bus tour and decide to buy a ticket. Im buyin my ticket and the conductor says very matter of fact- 'The King'. I turn round to see a 6 deep motorcade of Black Mercedes go past- and the King of Morroco driving by in a style on Mercedes AMG Kompressor sports car. I wave- but he obviously doesnt see me. I wonder if he still has our strimmer.
Get on the Bus and make my way up to the top deck- its cold up here. Theres a headphone jack for some tour commentary so I plug in my mp3 player headphones- unfortunatly its faulty and my options seem to be limited to Spanish or Japanese. As we pull away I see a kid being apprehended by the police. It is cold up here so when the bus stops at the city Mosque/gardens I hop off.
Chanting comes from the Mosque, suddenly dawns im quite a long way from home. I make my way across the wide courtyard. Unsure if i'll go in- I'd quite like to, but dont think id be very welcome. Im gona take a look anyway. Outside the Mosque is an old beggar woman wrapped in white, rocking with her handout. God forgive me but her face looked as rough as arseholes. The years and the sand storms have not been paticularly kind to this old woman. I give her a few quid. Then they start appearing- Old women. From outta a bush and behind walls. 'Please' 'Please'- fucking hell this is kinda scary. They are desperate, and they look it. Bit Dawn of the Deadesque. Pulling at me pleading- 'Please, Please'. Luckyly I have plenty of change- I try to give something to all of them- but still more keep coming. Eventually I get away, but the desperation in their eyes shakes me.
I walk for miles. Ive no idea where im going or what im doing- I walk thro the gardens of the mosque, across roads, thro side streets. The colours, sounds and smells of Marakech are unfamiliar and at times overwhelming- still tho keep walking. Every 20min or so I'll stop and take a photo. Its getting dark when theres a dangerous rumble in my belly. Oh oh. I hope that meat wasn't bad, tho it could as easy be the booze from lnight. Ive gotta find a Taxi, I dont fancy using a public convience- or even one in a cafe for that matter.
In the taxi en route to the hotel- another rumble- this is becoming urgent. After what seems like an eternity we arrive- pay the man, bound up the steps when who's eye do I catch nursing a coke in the hotel lobby- Hammed. He jumps to his feet with open arms 'Nitan!' If this fuck trys to hug me- or even delays me- im gona be having a serious brown accident in a 5* lobby. 'I changed my mind about the rug Hammed and I have to go'. 'But Nitan'- he makes a reach for my arm- I back off and signal to the front desk- their coming over. 'No- in a raised voice- Hammed, I have to go'. Its amazing how ignorant u can be with a turtles head. I cant wait for the lift so start up the stairs.
Climb outta the bath and lie on the bed. Flick on the TV, a daft sexy sitcom in French- flick to Sky news. Some bastard has murdered all these women in England and has been setenanced to spend his natural life in Jail. What kind of animal would do that? I dunno, I dont want to know. TV off. Suddenly I start to feel quite alone. I decide to order a couple of skesh kebabs from room service- im not hungry, but I might be later and the restraunt is closing soon. Eventually the Kebabs arrive- beautifully presented on a dining cart with flowers. Feel even more alone. Consider ringing Sinead, but leave it. Guess these windows of loneliness are the pay off for the freedom of travelling alone. I make a concious decision to get over myself- pick at a kebab and pick up my book.
I bought 4 books in Dublin airport- Id been reading Joe O'Connors 'Secret life of the Irish Male', id liked it to begin with, he can be very dry and witty- and I really liked 'Desperado's', and the 'Salesman'. But cant help feeling in this book he's a little 2 up himself. Ive just read 20 pages of a Roddy Doyle inferiority complex and now hes starting into James Joyce and thoeries of Irish Idenity ZZZZZZZZZZ it does the trick and im asleep in 30min.
Monday, 3 March 2008
Morroco, casino and rugs.
FFS. Had a feeling this trip was gona be a bit more eventful that just lazyn by the pool all day. Well looks like I've been married off and sold a 400quid rug. It all kinda started weirdly when I arrived in Casablanca- I was wrecked- hadn't slept in 30hrs, get to passport control and receive some serious dodge looks- 'do I have a green card- er do i fuck, I only want to stay a few days-not looking a jab. She takes my passport and consults with another dude who has a gun. Turns out everything is ok and they let me in. Think its cos the my name on my passport is Nathaniel- may as well be called Jewy McJew from Jewtown. Then I look up at the big picture of the King of Morocco- he looks like Mark Lynch- the thieving deviant who stole our strimmer, bucked his sister and was hounded out of the country by the RA- it couldn't be...
So get husselled at the airport an paying 30quid to the train station- so tired at this point i don't give a fuck. Get on the train- Ive a 1st class ticket but I've got on at the wrong end and the train is like a mile long- after offending what seems like the whole of Morocco squeezing thro corridors with 2 rucksacks I find an compartment with on two businessmen. I'm reading but I'm overtired, buzzed of my face on 5 tins of redbull- (well the Moroccan equivalent- energyhorse) and cant focus. Bout 3hrs in a 4Th joins and strikes up conversation- usual stuff, what are u reading, where are you from, why come to Marrakech? For some reason I said I wanted to learn about Islam lol. So we have a bit of a religious discussion the other two join in. He then says do not get a taxi to ur hotel- I will take you- meh, why not I think. I should have known better when the 2 business men started arguing with him in Arabic in front of me- and their 'good luck' parting comment set of an alarm bell. I tried to ditch the mofo (Mohammed)- but nope it was shit to a blanket and before i know it I'm in a minivan.
'Just to the hotel please', 'Yes, yes of course'. The van turns of the main road and starts thro this maze of back roads- a left turn a right turn, its dark, I'm tired and my head is spinning. 'Are we going to the hotel?' 'I just want to take u to meet my sister and her daughter 1st- they will be so happy to see you' replies Hammed. Fuck, I'm thinking- I'm in Marakech 15min and I'm gona get my throat slit. Were way out by this stage. I'm gripping my keys and the energy horse is making the vein on my forehead pulse when the van stops. 'Come, come'. He has my bags- laptop, mp3 player, camera and is walking up a dark alley. I follow. Then he opens a door- a toddler bounds toward him- 'Papa' she yelps. A thousand bricks lift of my shoulders- I'm not gona get stabbed up in front of a toddler.
He introduces me to his wife (shes about 16 he's 40+) his sister and her only daughter. They are eating soup- a sort of minestrone dish- I'm given a bowl and invited to join- the soup is delious, they keep filling my bowl and pretty soon ive had 3 bowls. The talk is pleasant, But im kinda unsure of myself- i mean 20minutes earlier I was semi anticipating violence, now I'm invited into their lovely home. But above all I'm sooo tired. Sakina- the 19yr old niece is making eyes at me and touching my arm- Hammed's eyes dart btwn us and he smiles- theres a definite subtext at work her I'm just to wrecked to fully comprehend. I hope he doesn't want 200 fkn camels for his niece- I only got B&H at the airport. After an hr so I'm falling asleep- Hammed offers to drive me to the hotel. Sakina jumps in too, with the baby- but the baby starts to cry so she gets out a couple of hundred meters down the road. We arrive but Hammed says they will be back at 9am to with his sister and Sakina to see the sites- umm ok. Anything to get checked in. Hes says he does want anything only friendship, i hand him a score anyway for petrol.
Checking in is Bliss- the hotel is style fucking on. One of the nicest Ive stayed in-its 5* so thought it would be gd but its exceeded expectations. After sliding outta a sunken bath i get my 5th/6th wind. Head down the lobby, grab a corona and make my way out to explore the grounds- The swimming pool looks bliss but in the distance I hear frantic drumming and that Moroccany music so scoot on round for a gawk. A dude in white wearing a Fez hat ushers me inside. The room is half full, draped in multi-coloured curtains a belly dancer is giving it rice to dudes on bongos and other instruments im unfamiliar with. A seat, a smoke and another Corona before the show ends. People filter outside, as do I, and I notice a sign for the casino, well sure- why not.
A heavily manned door is finally opened after lots of scrutinising looks (I look like a tramp tbf) and I walk in- no registration process, which I find a little weird. The casino is plush- very Monte Carlo. I walk over to the cordoned of high roller area but am denied access because of white shoes- ffs- however I can play the slots and the kiddy's Black Jack table. I take 3 boxes on the kiddies table and stake the max (100 dirhams- bout £7) play for an hour and leave for a slight loss. Incidental the casino has 1000 dirham poker games every night- after I finish writing this I'm going to buy some black shoes and see if these Morocco dudes know how to fold top pair top kicker. So its about 2am when I get back to the room- Coup out on the bed, I doubt seriously I'll wake for 9 to see Hammed an Sakina- but I set my mobile alarm for 8 anyway.
BRRRINNNNGGGG BRRRRINNNNGGGG- fking fire alarm- nope, hotel phone. 'Hello?' 'Nitan, we are outside, u ready to go?' Fuck- no im not- I want to sleep for another 4hrs, but, 'Yup give me 5min'. Melt. Check watch- its 9.30am- Water on the face- least im not hung over- wander about the room in circles trying to wake up- time is passing, get outside 30min later- left them outside for an hr, bad show. Into the once feared minivan and the whole family minus baby is here- apologies, pleasantries and away we go. 'Where are we going today?' I ask, today we go to the Palm groves, ride camels. Cool, 'Can we stop for coffee 1st?' 'Of course'.
We pull in by a nice cafe and take up a table- I order 3 espresso's which they find amusing but I need them to enter the world of the living. The conversation turns to family, then shopping for family, then rugs- ok, then Hammed drops this little beauty 'If you love your mother you buy her a rug', lol, even Sakina had the grace to laugh at that. So coffees downed and we head of into the desert.
I'm gettn the vibe were heading thro a very affulent part of Marakesh as we pass one of the Carters house- nice place- on a hill. Camels start appearing outta bushes and in clearings- ugly fuckers, but cool with it. We stop. For some reason I thought the whole Camel buzz was gona be a joint experience- nope. 'Hop u up there on that camel' (in broken English) okay, I get on- Hammed takes a couple of photos, the camel is told to sit down again- back in the van- er thats it?? Yup thats it. On to the main event- the carpet shop.
Thro the back streets of Marrakech at break neck speed, toward the 'government' carpet shop. Our driver side swipes (lightly) a lorry as he bulls his way across 3 lanes of oncoming traffic. Scratches the van- hes raged. We get into the place- its huge, walls lined with carpets of exotic colour and design, I'm the only 'customer' in the place. A well dressed African sporting a pair of gold rimmed aviators puffing a cigar, comes over for hand shakes- he speaks good English but talks to Hammed in Arabic- we have been expected?? I'm shown photos of Will Smith and Puff Daddy buying carpets... We sit and are brought glasses of very nice mint tea. The history lesson begins- Berber carpets, Arabic carpets, what dyes, techniques (I'm shown a woman making an actual carpet) The time and effort that goes into making these carpets is huge, and not for one second under-emphasised. Pretty soon the whole floor is covered in every design, material, colour of carpet. Its a daunting site. But not as daunting as the price!
I tentatively as the price of a large very attractive red piece- 'that is 24,000 debenham vouchers' (bout 1700quid) but of course we do discount for more pieces. 'TAKE THEM AWAY- LET ME OUT OF HERE' was roaring thro my head. I laughed and glanced at Hammed- he was staring nodding with a big smile as was his sister, I shifted my gaze to Sakina- she too was staring with eyes that said only one thing (buy a big carpet an ill buck ye). 'But im a student, I cant afford such beautiful carpets yet, but thank you very much for showing them to me' Not one to be easily dissuaded- Our African Hannibal carpet salesman proceeded to tell me how credit cards worked.... I know how a credit card works ffs and ur not getting it. I got stung buying a video camera in Singapore and it was a bitch to sort out- I don't think they'd take kindly to a Moroccan cock up a year later. Anyway- fuck that- wtf do I need a big fucking carpet for?? That is not where my head is at right now.
I insisted- saying as politely as possible that there is more chance of a baboon crawling outta my ass than me walking out with that carpet. 'Ok, this is no problem- we have rugs' He claps his hands and 5 guys appear and drop 5 rugs on the ground- then another 5, then another 5 lol. FFS- here we go again. By this stage I could tell my Arabic from my Berber- woven from knitted- so he invited me to walk over them, study them. Then the 5 dudes held them aloft and i had to dismiss them one at a time- like some sorta fucking pop idol only made of rugs.
I suppose my mistake was playing the game- I was kinda getting of on it a bit tbh. Eventually were left with one- a really beautiful rug, a mix of knitting, weaving and embroidery- A truly beautiful rug. 'That rug is 8500 Dirhams (600quid)' I cant do it. Its to much cash. And wtf do I really need a rug for? No matter how beautiful. The paper and clip boards come out. Hammed and his sister either side. 8500 is written down, then 6000 below it- then 7000 in the middle with a star beside it. lol- thought this was supposed to be the fixed priced government shop. Sakina is dis-interested by this stage- she wanted to see some hardcore carpet buying action, now were reduced to haggling over mats. Still it was a sick amount- 500 fuckn noop for a rug. muck aff. Sorry mustache. Real sadness came over Hammend and his sisters face when I relayed this to them. 'Ok we go'. Silence in the Van- I felt really guilty. 'What is the most you could pay for that rug?' asks Mohammed- Feeling almost like id kicked a cat to death i said well the absolute most I could pay would be 5000 (350ish) and even then the ATM only lets me have 4000 dirhams a day and i need money so id hav to come back tomorrow for it. His face lit up- Harmony was restored in the Van- whitey got his cash out. 'Okay, lets see what we can do'.
So its back into the rug machine with a revised offer- still tho- what the fuck do i want a 350 rug for????? Hammed does the talking- 5 is mentioned- bottom line- 6 counter, Hammed looks at me I shake my head. Hammed winks and turns me around and tells me to go 5500- buy this stage im tired and disappointed in myself for ending up in this position- but I have a plan. 'Ok'. Hands shake- deals done. We hang about as the Rug is parceled up- Hammend says tip the parceler 50- I do. The ATM situation is explained and I leave a deposit of 500. With the balance to be paid the following day. Out of there- thank fuck.
Back to Hammeds where his child bride lays on a spread of Delicious cous cous with baked vegetables and sheep. Male sheep- they don't eat female sheep for some reason- maybe religious- i dunno. One big dish is shared by all. Hammeds wife is straight in with the hands..... the rest of us have spoons- im sure- as like most of this the spoons are for my benifit. Its delicous- really nice, the meat is tender the vegetables too. I eat as much as I feel nessesary but am told to eat more and more- im cool with this, its good food. Im thirsty tho so ask where the shop is to buy some coca-cola, Sakina comes with. This is Marrakech suburbia- its still Africa, u can tell. We walk past a moped garage and the mechanics shoot me death stares- we talk, she asks me if I have a girlfriend. I say kinda- I ask her if she has a BF, she did- she broke it off. Her English isnt great (her third language after Arabic and French- shes in university- they are a very well educated family). We talk a bit about school systems- I can tell she only understands at most half of what im saying- im still tired and not fully over the journey so decide to shut up a bit instead of riskin making a dick outta myself- tho we talk about liverpool- she'd never heard of the Beatles.
We get back- I hand out bttles of coke- which in hindsight might of been a bit insulting givin the way we all ate from one dish. Meh. Then Hammed starts saying I had to buy spices- that spices in Ireland are no gd (shades of 'If u love my mother u buy her spices' spring to mind) He tells me safforn (the flower- stuff in the west is all chemicals apparently) sells for 60euro per gram in Paris- here only 2euro a gram. He names spices asks me yes or no then writes them down, i like yea whatever- then he says so 20grams of saffron be enough? Ive had it buy this stage- 'tell u what Hammed lets skip the spices, and tomorrow i think i just want to go exploring on my own'. (he was dangling the possiblity of another outting tomorrow). The Dirham dropped and he called his driver friend to pick us up and run us to the hotel. Not before phoning the carpet dude, took my room number and arranged for the carpet to be delivered to my hotel tomorrow morning at 11am... We exchanged numbers of course and Sakina gave me her msn and number- his sister told me i was to come to Fez (she is from there originally and she would show me around (his sister- I cant rem the name- is a very nice, smart woman).
Okay totally bored writing now and about 2/3rds of the way down a bttle of Clicquot. I started writing this at 3pm- took a break and a taxi into town for some black shoes, scooted past the casino and enquired about the poker- no tournament tonight but nl cash game- ive no idea about the blinds yet but it starts at 8 (just started) The plan is take 2500 dirhams (180quid) down if i win 7500 ruggy gets paided- if not ill be slippn the reception 200 to say ive checked out- split the breeze and they can keep my 500 deposit (+tip). Right, Im of to win me a rug.
LOLZ- well black is back baby :)
Im a wee bit pissed by this stage so forgive me- but yea headed over the casino with the stated intention of spinning up a rug. Ive got new shoes so the velvet rope was no bother- I only took 2500 dirham with me and sauntered over to the cash game- blinds 100/200 (approx £7.50/£15) 3000 min sit. For anyone who knows poker $15/30nl is a big game. This is not Africa money. I dont have enough on me to sit down so I get chatting to the floor manager and watch- he speaks perfect English. I double check all the rules (if u sit u sit for 1.5hrs- or part there off) and after complain that its raining- he says Ive brought the weather with me and im unlucky- you don't say that in a casino! Well i dont have enough to play so I say im gona try and spin it up on the wheel. I go over change a 1000- 1st spin I play a few numbers- no joy- put the rest on black. Its red :( Change another 1000- no fucking about with numbers this time its all on black. Its Black- sweet. I let the 2000 ride on black again- its black. Cool. I can sit now.
So i buyin for 4000 dirhams (£280 or so) I let a couple of orbits go through me (1st hand i get 109s- 4 limpers, its a loose game- sb makes it 1000 to play, I fold and would have flopped a straight- but he had QQ so gd play by him) I pick up A9 on the one from the button and make it 900 (£65) to play (were 7 handed and i didnt sit to fold all day). button folds, sb completes bb completes- hmm. flop comes 394. check, check- i push all in for what looks like a short stack continuation bet, sb folds- bb calls- OH OH. Im a top pair top kicker merchant and ive been looked up- he flips 88 :P hes with no straights or flushes on board hes 10/1 to beat me on the turn, when it draws a blank hes 20/1 on the river. I win :)
Only played one other hand after that- 33 one from the button after 5 limpers. flop 262 double suited. Im pretty sure my 3's are good- but its such a high stake game (for me anyway) i check. turn comes Q- checked round to me again- I thro out 1000 to steal- but it gets called by the button- hmmmm. river Q. board reads 226QQ- no flush no straight. I have to check- any bet here can be re-raised for my stack (av stack at the table was around 18,000 dirhams or £1250). I check and of course sensing weakness he throws out 1400- now it looked so much like a busted flush- but could have as easy been a raggy 6 or even the nut Q. I cant justify calling off £100 to find out- I let it go. The clock ticks down from 1.5hrs and i play out maybe my 5th orbit- ive left my smokes in the room so I check the dealer a £10 and go. I have 5 chips 3 1000's one 50 and a 5000. Im gona take a photo :) Ive opened my other bttle of Clicquot and debating with myself wether or not to go back- i said i would- i will be back- its just its a very high stake game for a 2 table $5/10 limit grinder like myself- tho they are all loose fish/mupptards in there. Hmmmmmmmmm. Well Ive won the rug- with £40 quid to spare- an tbh that was what i wanted to do- btw its not a tatty rug- its style on handicafts. Hmmmm well im gona have a glass and listen to some music, take some photos and post em up. Actually Fuck that rug. I don't need it, and it was some serious high pressure sales. Down to the concierge, I explain the situation. We have a laugh, i slip him 200 dirhams and he says I wont be disturbed.
Pleased with the result at the casino and confident in my play I logged online and run a couple of $5/10 tables for a few hours- lift a couple of hundred bucks and crash out round 6ish on the wrong end of 2 bottles of champagne.
So get husselled at the airport an paying 30quid to the train station- so tired at this point i don't give a fuck. Get on the train- Ive a 1st class ticket but I've got on at the wrong end and the train is like a mile long- after offending what seems like the whole of Morocco squeezing thro corridors with 2 rucksacks I find an compartment with on two businessmen. I'm reading but I'm overtired, buzzed of my face on 5 tins of redbull- (well the Moroccan equivalent- energyhorse) and cant focus. Bout 3hrs in a 4Th joins and strikes up conversation- usual stuff, what are u reading, where are you from, why come to Marrakech? For some reason I said I wanted to learn about Islam lol. So we have a bit of a religious discussion the other two join in. He then says do not get a taxi to ur hotel- I will take you- meh, why not I think. I should have known better when the 2 business men started arguing with him in Arabic in front of me- and their 'good luck' parting comment set of an alarm bell. I tried to ditch the mofo (Mohammed)- but nope it was shit to a blanket and before i know it I'm in a minivan.
'Just to the hotel please', 'Yes, yes of course'. The van turns of the main road and starts thro this maze of back roads- a left turn a right turn, its dark, I'm tired and my head is spinning. 'Are we going to the hotel?' 'I just want to take u to meet my sister and her daughter 1st- they will be so happy to see you' replies Hammed. Fuck, I'm thinking- I'm in Marakech 15min and I'm gona get my throat slit. Were way out by this stage. I'm gripping my keys and the energy horse is making the vein on my forehead pulse when the van stops. 'Come, come'. He has my bags- laptop, mp3 player, camera and is walking up a dark alley. I follow. Then he opens a door- a toddler bounds toward him- 'Papa' she yelps. A thousand bricks lift of my shoulders- I'm not gona get stabbed up in front of a toddler.
He introduces me to his wife (shes about 16 he's 40+) his sister and her only daughter. They are eating soup- a sort of minestrone dish- I'm given a bowl and invited to join- the soup is delious, they keep filling my bowl and pretty soon ive had 3 bowls. The talk is pleasant, But im kinda unsure of myself- i mean 20minutes earlier I was semi anticipating violence, now I'm invited into their lovely home. But above all I'm sooo tired. Sakina- the 19yr old niece is making eyes at me and touching my arm- Hammed's eyes dart btwn us and he smiles- theres a definite subtext at work her I'm just to wrecked to fully comprehend. I hope he doesn't want 200 fkn camels for his niece- I only got B&H at the airport. After an hr so I'm falling asleep- Hammed offers to drive me to the hotel. Sakina jumps in too, with the baby- but the baby starts to cry so she gets out a couple of hundred meters down the road. We arrive but Hammed says they will be back at 9am to with his sister and Sakina to see the sites- umm ok. Anything to get checked in. Hes says he does want anything only friendship, i hand him a score anyway for petrol.
Checking in is Bliss- the hotel is style fucking on. One of the nicest Ive stayed in-its 5* so thought it would be gd but its exceeded expectations. After sliding outta a sunken bath i get my 5th/6th wind. Head down the lobby, grab a corona and make my way out to explore the grounds- The swimming pool looks bliss but in the distance I hear frantic drumming and that Moroccany music so scoot on round for a gawk. A dude in white wearing a Fez hat ushers me inside. The room is half full, draped in multi-coloured curtains a belly dancer is giving it rice to dudes on bongos and other instruments im unfamiliar with. A seat, a smoke and another Corona before the show ends. People filter outside, as do I, and I notice a sign for the casino, well sure- why not.
A heavily manned door is finally opened after lots of scrutinising looks (I look like a tramp tbf) and I walk in- no registration process, which I find a little weird. The casino is plush- very Monte Carlo. I walk over to the cordoned of high roller area but am denied access because of white shoes- ffs- however I can play the slots and the kiddy's Black Jack table. I take 3 boxes on the kiddies table and stake the max (100 dirhams- bout £7) play for an hour and leave for a slight loss. Incidental the casino has 1000 dirham poker games every night- after I finish writing this I'm going to buy some black shoes and see if these Morocco dudes know how to fold top pair top kicker. So its about 2am when I get back to the room- Coup out on the bed, I doubt seriously I'll wake for 9 to see Hammed an Sakina- but I set my mobile alarm for 8 anyway.
BRRRINNNNGGGG BRRRRINNNNGGGG- fking fire alarm- nope, hotel phone. 'Hello?' 'Nitan, we are outside, u ready to go?' Fuck- no im not- I want to sleep for another 4hrs, but, 'Yup give me 5min'. Melt. Check watch- its 9.30am- Water on the face- least im not hung over- wander about the room in circles trying to wake up- time is passing, get outside 30min later- left them outside for an hr, bad show. Into the once feared minivan and the whole family minus baby is here- apologies, pleasantries and away we go. 'Where are we going today?' I ask, today we go to the Palm groves, ride camels. Cool, 'Can we stop for coffee 1st?' 'Of course'.
We pull in by a nice cafe and take up a table- I order 3 espresso's which they find amusing but I need them to enter the world of the living. The conversation turns to family, then shopping for family, then rugs- ok, then Hammed drops this little beauty 'If you love your mother you buy her a rug', lol, even Sakina had the grace to laugh at that. So coffees downed and we head of into the desert.
I'm gettn the vibe were heading thro a very affulent part of Marakesh as we pass one of the Carters house- nice place- on a hill. Camels start appearing outta bushes and in clearings- ugly fuckers, but cool with it. We stop. For some reason I thought the whole Camel buzz was gona be a joint experience- nope. 'Hop u up there on that camel' (in broken English) okay, I get on- Hammed takes a couple of photos, the camel is told to sit down again- back in the van- er thats it?? Yup thats it. On to the main event- the carpet shop.
Thro the back streets of Marrakech at break neck speed, toward the 'government' carpet shop. Our driver side swipes (lightly) a lorry as he bulls his way across 3 lanes of oncoming traffic. Scratches the van- hes raged. We get into the place- its huge, walls lined with carpets of exotic colour and design, I'm the only 'customer' in the place. A well dressed African sporting a pair of gold rimmed aviators puffing a cigar, comes over for hand shakes- he speaks good English but talks to Hammed in Arabic- we have been expected?? I'm shown photos of Will Smith and Puff Daddy buying carpets... We sit and are brought glasses of very nice mint tea. The history lesson begins- Berber carpets, Arabic carpets, what dyes, techniques (I'm shown a woman making an actual carpet) The time and effort that goes into making these carpets is huge, and not for one second under-emphasised. Pretty soon the whole floor is covered in every design, material, colour of carpet. Its a daunting site. But not as daunting as the price!
I tentatively as the price of a large very attractive red piece- 'that is 24,000 debenham vouchers' (bout 1700quid) but of course we do discount for more pieces. 'TAKE THEM AWAY- LET ME OUT OF HERE' was roaring thro my head. I laughed and glanced at Hammed- he was staring nodding with a big smile as was his sister, I shifted my gaze to Sakina- she too was staring with eyes that said only one thing (buy a big carpet an ill buck ye). 'But im a student, I cant afford such beautiful carpets yet, but thank you very much for showing them to me' Not one to be easily dissuaded- Our African Hannibal carpet salesman proceeded to tell me how credit cards worked.... I know how a credit card works ffs and ur not getting it. I got stung buying a video camera in Singapore and it was a bitch to sort out- I don't think they'd take kindly to a Moroccan cock up a year later. Anyway- fuck that- wtf do I need a big fucking carpet for?? That is not where my head is at right now.
I insisted- saying as politely as possible that there is more chance of a baboon crawling outta my ass than me walking out with that carpet. 'Ok, this is no problem- we have rugs' He claps his hands and 5 guys appear and drop 5 rugs on the ground- then another 5, then another 5 lol. FFS- here we go again. By this stage I could tell my Arabic from my Berber- woven from knitted- so he invited me to walk over them, study them. Then the 5 dudes held them aloft and i had to dismiss them one at a time- like some sorta fucking pop idol only made of rugs.
I suppose my mistake was playing the game- I was kinda getting of on it a bit tbh. Eventually were left with one- a really beautiful rug, a mix of knitting, weaving and embroidery- A truly beautiful rug. 'That rug is 8500 Dirhams (600quid)' I cant do it. Its to much cash. And wtf do I really need a rug for? No matter how beautiful. The paper and clip boards come out. Hammed and his sister either side. 8500 is written down, then 6000 below it- then 7000 in the middle with a star beside it. lol- thought this was supposed to be the fixed priced government shop. Sakina is dis-interested by this stage- she wanted to see some hardcore carpet buying action, now were reduced to haggling over mats. Still it was a sick amount- 500 fuckn noop for a rug. muck aff. Sorry mustache. Real sadness came over Hammend and his sisters face when I relayed this to them. 'Ok we go'. Silence in the Van- I felt really guilty. 'What is the most you could pay for that rug?' asks Mohammed- Feeling almost like id kicked a cat to death i said well the absolute most I could pay would be 5000 (350ish) and even then the ATM only lets me have 4000 dirhams a day and i need money so id hav to come back tomorrow for it. His face lit up- Harmony was restored in the Van- whitey got his cash out. 'Okay, lets see what we can do'.
So its back into the rug machine with a revised offer- still tho- what the fuck do i want a 350 rug for????? Hammed does the talking- 5 is mentioned- bottom line- 6 counter, Hammed looks at me I shake my head. Hammed winks and turns me around and tells me to go 5500- buy this stage im tired and disappointed in myself for ending up in this position- but I have a plan. 'Ok'. Hands shake- deals done. We hang about as the Rug is parceled up- Hammend says tip the parceler 50- I do. The ATM situation is explained and I leave a deposit of 500. With the balance to be paid the following day. Out of there- thank fuck.
Back to Hammeds where his child bride lays on a spread of Delicious cous cous with baked vegetables and sheep. Male sheep- they don't eat female sheep for some reason- maybe religious- i dunno. One big dish is shared by all. Hammeds wife is straight in with the hands..... the rest of us have spoons- im sure- as like most of this the spoons are for my benifit. Its delicous- really nice, the meat is tender the vegetables too. I eat as much as I feel nessesary but am told to eat more and more- im cool with this, its good food. Im thirsty tho so ask where the shop is to buy some coca-cola, Sakina comes with. This is Marrakech suburbia- its still Africa, u can tell. We walk past a moped garage and the mechanics shoot me death stares- we talk, she asks me if I have a girlfriend. I say kinda- I ask her if she has a BF, she did- she broke it off. Her English isnt great (her third language after Arabic and French- shes in university- they are a very well educated family). We talk a bit about school systems- I can tell she only understands at most half of what im saying- im still tired and not fully over the journey so decide to shut up a bit instead of riskin making a dick outta myself- tho we talk about liverpool- she'd never heard of the Beatles.
We get back- I hand out bttles of coke- which in hindsight might of been a bit insulting givin the way we all ate from one dish. Meh. Then Hammed starts saying I had to buy spices- that spices in Ireland are no gd (shades of 'If u love my mother u buy her spices' spring to mind) He tells me safforn (the flower- stuff in the west is all chemicals apparently) sells for 60euro per gram in Paris- here only 2euro a gram. He names spices asks me yes or no then writes them down, i like yea whatever- then he says so 20grams of saffron be enough? Ive had it buy this stage- 'tell u what Hammed lets skip the spices, and tomorrow i think i just want to go exploring on my own'. (he was dangling the possiblity of another outting tomorrow). The Dirham dropped and he called his driver friend to pick us up and run us to the hotel. Not before phoning the carpet dude, took my room number and arranged for the carpet to be delivered to my hotel tomorrow morning at 11am... We exchanged numbers of course and Sakina gave me her msn and number- his sister told me i was to come to Fez (she is from there originally and she would show me around (his sister- I cant rem the name- is a very nice, smart woman).
Okay totally bored writing now and about 2/3rds of the way down a bttle of Clicquot. I started writing this at 3pm- took a break and a taxi into town for some black shoes, scooted past the casino and enquired about the poker- no tournament tonight but nl cash game- ive no idea about the blinds yet but it starts at 8 (just started) The plan is take 2500 dirhams (180quid) down if i win 7500 ruggy gets paided- if not ill be slippn the reception 200 to say ive checked out- split the breeze and they can keep my 500 deposit (+tip). Right, Im of to win me a rug.
LOLZ- well black is back baby :)
Im a wee bit pissed by this stage so forgive me- but yea headed over the casino with the stated intention of spinning up a rug. Ive got new shoes so the velvet rope was no bother- I only took 2500 dirham with me and sauntered over to the cash game- blinds 100/200 (approx £7.50/£15) 3000 min sit. For anyone who knows poker $15/30nl is a big game. This is not Africa money. I dont have enough on me to sit down so I get chatting to the floor manager and watch- he speaks perfect English. I double check all the rules (if u sit u sit for 1.5hrs- or part there off) and after complain that its raining- he says Ive brought the weather with me and im unlucky- you don't say that in a casino! Well i dont have enough to play so I say im gona try and spin it up on the wheel. I go over change a 1000- 1st spin I play a few numbers- no joy- put the rest on black. Its red :( Change another 1000- no fucking about with numbers this time its all on black. Its Black- sweet. I let the 2000 ride on black again- its black. Cool. I can sit now.
So i buyin for 4000 dirhams (£280 or so) I let a couple of orbits go through me (1st hand i get 109s- 4 limpers, its a loose game- sb makes it 1000 to play, I fold and would have flopped a straight- but he had QQ so gd play by him) I pick up A9 on the one from the button and make it 900 (£65) to play (were 7 handed and i didnt sit to fold all day). button folds, sb completes bb completes- hmm. flop comes 394. check, check- i push all in for what looks like a short stack continuation bet, sb folds- bb calls- OH OH. Im a top pair top kicker merchant and ive been looked up- he flips 88 :P hes with no straights or flushes on board hes 10/1 to beat me on the turn, when it draws a blank hes 20/1 on the river. I win :)
Only played one other hand after that- 33 one from the button after 5 limpers. flop 262 double suited. Im pretty sure my 3's are good- but its such a high stake game (for me anyway) i check. turn comes Q- checked round to me again- I thro out 1000 to steal- but it gets called by the button- hmmmm. river Q. board reads 226QQ- no flush no straight. I have to check- any bet here can be re-raised for my stack (av stack at the table was around 18,000 dirhams or £1250). I check and of course sensing weakness he throws out 1400- now it looked so much like a busted flush- but could have as easy been a raggy 6 or even the nut Q. I cant justify calling off £100 to find out- I let it go. The clock ticks down from 1.5hrs and i play out maybe my 5th orbit- ive left my smokes in the room so I check the dealer a £10 and go. I have 5 chips 3 1000's one 50 and a 5000. Im gona take a photo :) Ive opened my other bttle of Clicquot and debating with myself wether or not to go back- i said i would- i will be back- its just its a very high stake game for a 2 table $5/10 limit grinder like myself- tho they are all loose fish/mupptards in there. Hmmmmmmmmm. Well Ive won the rug- with £40 quid to spare- an tbh that was what i wanted to do- btw its not a tatty rug- its style on handicafts. Hmmmm well im gona have a glass and listen to some music, take some photos and post em up. Actually Fuck that rug. I don't need it, and it was some serious high pressure sales. Down to the concierge, I explain the situation. We have a laugh, i slip him 200 dirhams and he says I wont be disturbed.
Pleased with the result at the casino and confident in my play I logged online and run a couple of $5/10 tables for a few hours- lift a couple of hundred bucks and crash out round 6ish on the wrong end of 2 bottles of champagne.
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