Robert Groos Photography

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Carpet shopping in Marrakech, Morocco

“Get out. Go. I won’t sell to you,” cried the shopkeeper, waving his hands.

I exited, down the concrete steps. Twice. Each time, the man ran after me with an entreating voice: “Come back, come back.” After two hours, I owned a 2’x3’ hand-woven carpet. For a student traveling on a severely restricted budget, the $75 price was rich.  

Forty years later, I returned to Marrakech. I knew I would buy another carpet; the one I previously purchased had been stolen. Did the shop still exist? Could I find it? 

Wandering Souk Semmarine, I spot something familiar: concrete steps leading up into a shop, the only shop with steps. My heart pounds with excitement as I recount my story, in French, to the owner of Aux Merveilles de Marrakech. Throwing his head back with a laugh, Saïd exclaims: “Oh, that was grandfather! We don’t do business like that any more. Everybody friend. Big discount.” 

Perusing the copious stacks of woven art, my wife and I pull several aside. “How much?" I ask. Then, grimacing solemnly at Saïd’s reply, I declare in carefully rehearsed Arabic: “Your carpets are very expensive.” 

“Big discount for friends. Hillary Clinton bought here,” retorts Saïd, and the haggling continues.

In Morocco, it is customary to conduct business over mint tea. My wife protests, leery of drinking local water. Saïd claps his hands. A helper rushes out of the shop, returning with bottled water a few minutes later. Impasse resolved. We are soon drinking tea, and complete our purchase of four exquisite tribal carpets.

Moroccan tribal carpets

We had the carpets shipped home. No worries about paying a large customs bill when we picked them up: hand-woven rugs are considered works of art, and enter the U.S. duty free.