Finding the Footpath: Morocco then Menton, France 2018

It's not hard to see why Marrakech has been a hot spot for travellers since forever. Flanked to the south by the High Atlas Mountains tipped with snow, it's a garden paradise, a pink city, an insanely busy mix of adventure, culture, and lowbrow shopping. Well, there's highbrow too, but we mostly skipped that.

The main event in the morning was a guided tour of a few major sites. We headed for the Jardin Majorelle, one of Marrakesh's most famous gardens, and home to the Yves St Laurent Museum and memorial. The story is that after several years of abandonment as a public garden, YSL and Pierre Berge bought and restored the garden. The gardens, now an internationally recognized collection of succulents, are accessed by well constructed pathways lined with boldly painted urns and pots: saffron yellow, sky blue and orange clay. It made me think how dull my own garden pots are! YSL and PB also donated their substantial collection of Berber artifacts to the museum, housed inside the garden in the original art studio of the first owner, French orientalist painter Jacques Majorelle. There are over 600 artifacts but my favorites were the musical instruments, many of which we had seen in the South, and the baskets. I love the baskets and I 'll be on the hunt for some when I get home.

We hopped back in our van and drove through heavy traffic to the Jewish part of town. Throughout the city it's obvious why Marrakech is called 'the pink city'. Virtually all of the buildings, old and new, are what I would call desert pink. Apparently they were once adobe, made from the local clay which is, yes, a soft peachy pink. Our hired guide suggested that it is also because the sun is hot here almost all year round and the blistering white would be very hard for the eyes.

As we drove through the Jewish district the apartment buildings are the same desert pink, but you can't help but notice the black iron balconies facing out to the street. In the Medina, an Islamic architectural design, dark damp alleyways littered with cats (not cat litter, but remarkably clean), there are elaborate doors, many of them studded with metal buttons in the traditional two-part style. But if you happen to get a glimpse inside you will find an elaborate courtyard, surrounded by rooms on several levels. Balconies face inward, toward the courtyard and concealed from public view.

The Jewish mellah (market) is electric with activity. Lining the narrow aisles is a mix of goods: fruits and veges, flowers and meat, spices, herbs, dyes and incense. We shared the narrow aisles with mini-trucks with monster tires hauling loads of who knows what, old men leading donkeys laden with alfalfa or merchandise, shoppers in djellabas haggling for a deal, gawking tourists with gaping mouths. The ever-present scent of mint mingles with human sweat, leaving me with the earthy feeling that this is Marrakech life as lived.