One of my highlights of my trips to Istanbul was going to the labyrinthine madness that is the Grand Bazaar. In Marrakech they are called the souqs (markets) and they also sprawl seemingly endlessly in all directions. Maps are pointless, as is asking directions. You might think you are backtracking, but in fact you are heading in a new direction. When you do find a particular store called out in the guidebook, or a fountain you seek deep in the souqs, or one of the monuments on the north side of the Medina, you feel pretty damn triumphant, like you weathered some form of ritual hazing. The problem, of course, is getting back.
The souqs are vaguely divided into different goods. There is the Carpet souq and the Leather souq. There are souqs for fabrics, babouches (pointy leather slippers), pottery, antiques, metalworking, leather, eggs, olives, dates and on and on. Many of the streets are covered by lattices in various states of disintegration to ward off the summer heat but still allow ventilation. The effect is a dappled light effect on a riot of colors and textures that overwhelms and delights. Within the souqs there are no safe harbors from the visual riot or the constant molestation of the shopkeeps and touts. The only possible places are the many small mosques, but those are off-limits to non-Muslims.
So be forewarned: enter the souqs prepared to be dazzled; expect to get lost quickly and not be bothered by it; and let the vocal harassment slide right off so as not to ruin an amazing experience.
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