Up the road is the unruined Bahia Palace, which is opulent and magnificent, although not that old (1860s) and is only now used now as a tourist thing.
The garden is full of orange and banana trees, plus some other pretty trees we don't know the names of.
The old Jewish quarter is at the side of the palace so we took another look around there, having only wandered through a bit if it yesterday. This is apparently a very poor neighbourhood, but not as poor as it once was when the Jews lived there as they were confined to it, even in the early part if the 20th century, courtesy of the French who imposed it upon them when they established the Protectorate in 1912.
The main market is mostly foodstuffs and the ever present spices, as well today, some workmen unblocking the public toilets. It seemed like a sort of extreme sport though, with one brave bloke dangling down the sewer with his arm poking out of the manhole while clinging on with the other.
We're currently eating lunch in a cafe terrace overlooking the square and where those pesky snake charmers can't see us taking pictures.
The gardens behind the Koutoubia Mosque in central Marrakesh provide welcome shade from the heat that pounds down on the square. Divided into various beds of roses and with alleys radiating out from a central but empty fountain, the somewhat wild grass is very lush and cool, with benches all along the little walkways. It's a very French looking park.
The white square tomb of Fatima Zohra is next-door....she was the doughtier of a 17th century religious bloke, and was reputed to be a woman by day and a white dove by night. children are named after her for blessings.
The mosque minaret is huge and towers over the centre of the city but like most mosques, non Muslims are banned from entering it or it's minaret. Its 70 m high and until the 1990 was covered by pink plaster but when it was renovated, all that came off and the original sandy coloured stone was exposed. It is also the minaret that subsequent minarets were based on, like the giant Hassan 2nd Mosque in Casablanca and La Giralda in Seville, Spain.
Another interesting fact is that there was a previous mosque on the same site but it wasn't properly lined up with Mecca, so it was knocked down and a 'new one' - which itself dates from the 12th century - was built in its place.
As we walked back to the square, the afternoon call to prayer started. None of the mosques in Morocco use recordings but they do use wired in megaphones. Having been in the country for two and a bit weeks now, it's one of those sounds that has blended into the background and we hardly notice it anymore, but we did today because the muezzin was having a bit of trouble. He started off ok then stopped, then there was a bit of huffing and puffing, paper shuffling then muttering under his breath as if he'd forgotten the words. He recovered quickly and started again but his voice cracked and he coughed. And if course, this was all broad cast over the tanoy to the city centre and the ears of locals and tourists alike. There were a few smiles and sniggers at ground level but then it all carried on as normal as it does five timed a day, everyday.
There was a minor kerfuffle in the alleyway outside our room when we got in this afternoon. Its open air but covered by branch matting and one of the local cats - presumably a fat one - whilst tiptoeing across it, fell through and on to the people below, leading to lots of shouting and catawauling.
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