Marrakech (2017)

Marrakech street peddlers, won't leave you alone. They buzz in your face along with the incessant heat, leaving briefly when you slap them away just to come back moments later.

The crux of the problem is their sheer amount. The poor are on every corner of the giant maze of the ancient Medina. I have no problem giving 50 cents to a kid who helps me turn four different corners in the dark as I walk home. But making this ritual the center piece of my day is annoying.

This is why well off travelers go to upscale spots where prices are the those of the international market, but so are the quality of interactions (usually).

A street in old Marrakech is shared by foot traffic, cars, bicycles, scooters, horse drawn carriages (from the days of the French protectorate), farmers dragging loot laden wheel barrows, tuk-tuks and of-course donkeys.

Gates, not big enough to fit two cars parse the cross neighborhood traffic, managing two way flow of everything that scampers through the ancient city.

I see a man selling shoes out of a hot dog stand. I can wonder the streets for days, but because of endless pandering I would prefer to do so with the cloak of invisibility.

I can only imagine what it's like for a woman.