Marrakech: How I got lost in an unfamiliar city

I got lost in Marrakech by accident, although now, remembering this story, I realize that the word "accidental" here describes my actions too affectionately. I decided to turn off the usual tourist route myself, because it seemed to me that if everyone goes in one direction, then the real life of the city is probably somewhere in the opposite direction. At that time, it seemed to me that this was a great idea, because I was walking with my phone in my hand, the card was open, the charge was almost full, and my confidence in my own abilities to navigate the terrain was off the charts.

For the first twenty minutes, everything was really going great, and I even managed to praise myself several times for not just walking along the central streets with a crowd of tourists. There were narrow alleys of the medina, small shops, doors behind which some completely different life was taking place, the smell of spices, fresh bread and something fried, which I could not come up with a name for. I took pictures of everything and thought that it was for such moments that you came to an unfamiliar country, and then I took another turn, then another, and at some point I realized that I had no idea where I was.

The map decided to confuse me completely

The funny thing started when I took out my phone and opened the card with the expression on the face of a person who can easily solve any problem now. The map showed that the street I needed was literally a few minutes away, but for some reason there were several walls, closed passages and alleys between me and this street, which on the screen looked like completely normal roads. I went to the right, then came back, then decided that I should go to the left, and after a few minutes I found myself again near the same bench with copper lamps.

Menard Gardens

At that moment, for the first time, I suspected that Marrakech had just decided to play with me a little. I was particularly struck by the fact that I could walk forward for several minutes without changing directions at all, and then find a familiar door in front of me, which I had already passed by. The phone confidently showed the arrow, I also confidently followed the arrow, and only one small circumstance prevented us from succeeding – I did not understand at all where this arrow was leading me. I wanted to see the Menard Garden, but it took me a while to visit the historical landmark. 

And then I remembered the "Clone"

At one point, I stopped in the middle of the alley, looked at the walls surrounding me, at the people who were quietly going about their business, and suddenly, quite unexpectedly, I remembered the TV series "Clone". Apparently, my brain decided that if I was already in Morocco, lost among the oriental streets and everything around me looked so unusual, then it was time to get the old TV classics out of my memory.

I even imagined for a second that I was the heroine of some episode, who now had to walk beautifully down east street in a flowing dress, mysteriously look into the distance and know where she was going. The reality, however, looked much less romantic: I had a bottle of water, a backpack, slightly disheveled hair and a completely confused expression on my face, because the heroine of "Clone" would at least roughly understand where she was going. At that moment, I could only say one thing for sure: I was definitely somewhere in Marrakech.

I was saved by a man I didn't even ask for help.

I was about to admit defeat and call a taxi when an elderly man appeared nearby, who, apparently, had long been accustomed to watching tourists trying to defeat the local alley system. He looked at me, then at the phone, then back at me and asked me something in French, and I explained with the most serious look that I needed to get to the Menard Gardens or one of the mosques.

Qutubiya Mosque

He smiled as if he had heard this phrase a thousand times before, waved his hand and motioned for me to follow him. At first, I was a little doubtful, because my mother's inner voice immediately turned on in my head: "Don't go anywhere with strangers." But the man just led me through several alleys, turned off near a small shop, then turned again, and after a few minutes I saw a familiar street. The stranger pointed to the Qutubiyah Mosque.

All the locals know where it is, it is very difficult to get lost in this place. It took me a moment to believe that we had really got to where I needed to go. I thanked him, but he just smiled, waved his hand and calmly walked back, as if every day he rescued lost tourists armed with phones and absolute confidence in his navigation abilities.

It turned out that I had found more than I had lost.

The most interesting thing happened after I returned to a familiar street and saw several sights and ate. I realized that if I hadn't gotten lost, I would never have seen those small workshops, quiet courtyards, benches and completely ordinary corners of Marrakech that would not have been included in any of my pre-planned routes. Sometimes we try so hard to plan everything, open the map, mark the sights and calculate the time, that we forget to leave a little room for accidents.

The ruins of the first Qutubiya Mosque

Now that I think back on that day, I no longer think about how long it took me to find my way and how many times I passed by the same door. For some reason, I remember the ruins of the first Koutoubia mosque, the smell of spices, the sun spots on the walls, that same unflappable man, and the moment when I suddenly thought of a "Clone" in the middle of Marrakech, even though I hadn't thought of the series in many years.

That's probably why I'm much more relaxed about small failures now. If you get lost in an unfamiliar city, you should first check the map, phone charge, and direction of travel, but sometimes you can just stop and look around, because it's the next wrong turn that may turn out to be what you came to this country for.