Don’t get me wrong. We love Marrakech. But we don’t love everything about Marrakech.

It feels like Morocco is on a ton of people’s bucket lists, and Marrakech is at the top of the bucket. It’s also easily accessible from Europe, and it’s practically a backyard for the French. Cheap, safe, and culturally comfortable while still being exotic. If I was French, god forbid, I’d certainly vacation in Marrakech.

That all makes it super crowded and intense here. The crowds in the souks are frequently claustrophobic, shoulder to shoulder and barely moving. Except to let one of the ubiquitous and inappropriate scooters squeeze through a space that only logically accommodates pedestrians. And the aggressive merchants are such an established fact that when we read about other places, like Fes and now Essaouira, the locals all say, “No, no, no, it’s not like Marrakech. We don’t try to close a sale by assault.”

Essaouira is a classic port city with lovely beaches and the laid back vibe of most beach communities. It’s a little funky, a little loose, like Ocean Beach in San Diego by way of North Africa. The salt tang in the air when we got off the bus was both refreshing and nostalgic.

The Medina

Like most of Morocco’s cities, the heart of Essaouira is the Medina. We stayed right in the Medina, a few steps from the primary shopping street for fruits, vegetables, olives, bread, and the like. Way more convenient than our location in Marrakech, whose Medina doesn’t have much space for low-margin foodstuffs.

The streets of the Medina in Essaouira are much broader and more gracious than those of Marrakech or Fes. There are also way fewer people, and no scooters to speak of. I think we saw three scooters in four days. The pace is slower and the overall feeling is chill and relaxed.

Shopping & Crafts

Even though Essaouira’s Medina is way smaller than Marakech’s, all of the various handicrafts seem to be represented. There’s a higher percentage of woodworking here, which I suspect is because they’re closer to the source of the traditional Thuja (pronounced twee-ah) wood than Marrakech. But other than that, there’s ceramics, glass, weaving, jewelry, clothing… Just less of it. Which is fine. Do I need 1,000 shops selling nearly identical babouches (leather slippers), or will ten do? Ten will do. And is very likely an improvement over 1,000.

Even better, as promised, merchants are practically a different species from Marrakech’s vendors. We went into one shop and Dorothy was admiring jewelry. Next thing you know, the shopkeeper had brought out private stock that wasn’t on display, pulling out Berber necklaces and bracelets, each one more spectacular than the previous. We explained that we weren’t buying jewelry, just looking, and he kept right on going. When we finally got up to leave, he thanked us for coming into his store.

On the other hand, we had a Marrakechi shop owner chase after us as we left, after he’d quoted us a patently absurd price for a shawl, yelling “Give me your price. I need money. I need money!”

We didn’t buy much in Essaiuira, because we live in the Medina in Marrakech and shopping is practically all there is to do. But we bought a lovely pottery bowl made in Safi, just up the coast, and a Thuja bowl. They were bargains compared to the prices in Marrakech and Fez, about a quarter of the going rate. We were bathed in regret that we hadn’t done most of our shopping in Essaouira.

The other thing we bought was a small hand-turned wooden container. We ran across this tiny little shop, just slightly wider than its doorway. On the outside hung a little display with the various bowls and containers on offer, and on the inside was an adorable little elfin man covered in sawdust, making love to a lathe.

After we picked one out to purchase, he insisted on showing us how he made them, which involved me climbing into his workspace past him and Dorothy watching from the front. He explained how he’d made all his tools, how many years he’d been lathing wood (40 years), and his various other pursuits (shoemaker, machinist, loving husband of decades – we met his wife, too), all while taking a plug of Thuja wood and turning it into art while we watched.

Because Marrakech has jaded me, I was certain he was only having us watch him make one so he could sell us this special piece when it was completed, special price just for us, his new friends. But he didn’t. He just wanted to share his joy in creation.

Fine. I’m an asshole.

And truthfully, we totally shared his joy. It was like watching a skilled magician at work, conjuring art from a chunk of wood.

The graceful, beautiful piece we bought from our new friend. It’s about 3″ tall.

Hammam Life

Hammams are traditional Moroccan baths, but that’s ungilding the lily. It starts with a sauna, to open the pores and relax the mind and body. The steam room has heated benches, and after a relaxing ten minutes or so, you lay down on the heated stone bench to get a thorough soaping and washing, front and back. Wearing, it must be noted, a pair of utterly ridiculous disposable panties. After rinsing comes exfoliation, a head to toe scrubbing with a mitt and some mildly abrasive substance. Another rinse, then the application of some kind of tiny black seeds for another round of more intense exfoliation. Then more washing and rinsing, more steam, and finally a shower, back washing provided, to finish up. The whole process takes about 45 minutes.

Dorothy can’t hammam, because her skin is too delicate for the intense exfoliation. So we went to a spa, with me opting for a hammam and a short massage and Dorothy getting the long massage. Massages are great. Wonderful. Super relaxing and, dare I say it, helpful. To one’s health and all.

But I will take a hammam over a massage in a heartbeat, no second thoughts, every single time.

Dude, someone bathed me. I was given a bath. It was luxurious and silly and amazing. It felt like every kind of wrong and right all rolled up into one big ball of Sweet Jesus. I’m hooked.

Turkish baths are a flavor of hammam, but it’s not clear what the differences are. Maybe just the names. I can assure you, when we hit Istanbul I’ll be doing extended research, and I’ll also be reporting from Tunis. For the children. You’re lucky to have me.

There are no pictures for this part of the post, and you’re welcome.

The Port

Essaouira is a working port, and the waterfront shows it. There’s an active seafood market right where the fishing boats dock, with a wide array of fresh ocean things that either swim or crawl. The restaurants that ring the docks sell by the pound and grill to order.

Unsurprisingly, gulls outnumber cats in Essaouira. And they don’t appear to sleep. They shrieked all night long. Thankfully, we learned to sleep through ambulances when we lived in Manhattan.

Beaches

We would absolutely love to return and spend some quality time during the swimming season. If we make it back to Morocco, that’s certainly how we’ll do it.