Marrakesh was predictably a little overwhelming for us–one result of which is a shortage of photographs.  But this one kind of captures our range of responses to the endless call to buy something:

Zoë: I’m not even looking.

Betsy: Nice try.  I like the patter.

Nancy: Did he just say what I thought he did?!

The famous snakes of the Djema elFna made Jeremy nervous (and their handlers, demanding high payment for a 20-second pause while strolling) made his parents nervous.

We took refuge for a while in a café above the Rabia qdima, where the shops selling herbs and spices (and tourist trinkets) are complemented by stands of hats and gloves (and tourist trinkets) in the center of the square:

People-watching is always our favorite thing, anyway.
 Nancy bravely bought some things at one of the herb shops: was it the “Moroccan Chanel #5” (musk) or “Moroccan mothballs” or something else altogether?

But it took Jeffrey’s arrival to make us understand that Marrakesh is indeed a city for shoppers, and it embraces those who understand and embrace the delights of the urban market.