Профессиональный фотограф в Санкт-Петербурге. Sergey Grachev freelance photographer St.Petersburg, Russia

North Africa, Kingdom of Morocco. Essaouira is a small fortified city on the shore of the Atlantic. It seems that all the winds of the world blow here. This is their headquarters. The wind is everywhere; it sometimes gets quiet, but never ends. You can escape only behind the fortress walls. Apparently, it was built as a shade.

 Medina is an ancient city inside the fortress. Here everything is as it was 300 years ago.

   Monsieur, madame… then something in French. Sorry we don’t speak French. Oh, you are England?! No. Ah, Germany. Try it again. Spain. No.Hmm, Holland, maybe? Come on, try again. Apparently, the list of countries has run out. After a few seconds. Is it Poland really?! No, Russia. Sincere surprise! Buy a locket. What does it mean? Well this is when  the star watches the way through the desert. This, this… GPS Tuareg! Ah, I see. Good stuff, we will take it.

  Seagulls are second to the wind here. There are many of them, and they lazily sit and wait for the next fishing boat. This is like a supermarket for them. To fly to the ocean, fishing? What for? Home delivery is better. This is Civilization.


Madame, Monsieur… Orange Juice, fresh. A glass for few cents in the local currency the dirham. Ah, that’s the  taste  of real oranges!

                  Morocco tea: a large bunch of mint and 5 slices of sugar! Tea, Monsieur? Yes please. just sugar separately.

  2 hours by bus. Marrakech is a red city, an ancient capital. The wind was left behind us at its headquarters. Here is the foot of the Atlas Mountains and Sahara is close, it is +40 °C on the street during the day.

The ancient square of Jem El Fna. Here, life does not stop for a minute. There is a sea of ​​orange juice and tourists. The heat turns down, the local food sellers appear. They open their street cafes and make fire in the fireplaces. Water carriers, snake charmers, musicians, medicine men and beggars come to the place. Tourists gradually dissolve. Local people are moving towards the square, as if some celebrity arrived. Maybe this is also a local holiday of peace and labor? No, it happens every day. As people say, for a thousand years. People just come to have dinner, at the same time it is possible to pull out a tooth right on the square at the local healer. People say they still keep the old medical secrets of  of mysterious Maghreb magicians, which exctracted love medicine from ambergris,  used coral for heart diseases, and rhino horn for sexual disorders.

  Madame, Monsieur… the cabman invites you to his carriage. Night walk in Marrakesh. Clatter of hooves, huge ancient walls in the dark. Royal Palace, no photo, Monsieur! Fine, I will not. The carriage turns into a narrow street. A couple more turns, and if the driver decides that the walk is over, we will never find our way out of here! We drive past the night bazaar. From above we see it well. What is missing is a cork helmet on the head.

 Majorelle — that was the name of the French artist. He left behind a delightful garden in Marrakech and the bright blue color that bears his name.

  It’s time to return to Essaouira. After the fire-breathing red city on the ocean, we feel as if we are at  home. And there is much more blue majorelle. It is on the windows, in the paintings of the artists, in the china shop, in the sky and in the ocean.

 Passport control, airplane. “Mushchina, close the lid of the shelf!” That’s it, the fairy tale is over. For 12 days we were Madame and Monsieur.