From Drab to Fab: Stella and Lucille’s Moroccan Cafe Makeover

One thing's crystal: The best tales often have a table, some questionable choices, and a willingness to laugh at yourself. Morocco . Letter #9

Dear Ageless Wanderer,

I'm not sure if you know this, but Lucille and I occasionally get a wild hair in weird places and act on impulse. Our latest “wild hair” happened in the middle of the bustling Jemaa el-Fnaa square in Marrakech.

After taking Phillips “oui” suggestions of “good” breakfast cafes, and sampling many, we narrowed our favorites to three. Surrounding Jemaa el-Fnaa, the cafés are side by side, offering similar breakfast fare at comparable prices.

Do we order the cheesiest omelets at cafe #1, devour the olives that Lucille swears are the unsung heroes at cafe #2, or play it cool at the third, dubbed the "ghost town" café with the kickin' fresh orange juice?

Choices, choices.

More often than not, we settle at the “ghost town” cafe and order an extra freshly squeezed OJ (yes, blood sugar spikes are not recommended by USA MDs, but we do it anyway). Something about this café, with its evident lack of patrons, feels less touristy. Lucille and I prefer less touristy.

Remember this because a #contradiction follows.

So, in true Lucille-and-Stella fashion, our inner critics couldn't resist being very much aware of the hordes of tourists choosing the other cafés, rendering them touristy.

After a few days of observation, we concocted a theorem about “ghost town” based purely on the sun's position in the morning and the lack of table accessories like napkin holders or ashtrays (common on Marrakesh tables). I’ll also mention that the tables at “ghost town” were deep, dark brown, whereas the tables in the other two cafes were white.

Are white tables an important enough factor to draw the tourist crowd? Perhaps, and perhaps, not.

Lucille and I are known to be like cats basking in the sun each morning, but we don't like it reflected in our eyes or beating down on our heads when dining. Lucille and I are apparently in the minority for this breakfast preference.

So here we are, enjoying the extra dose of Vitamin C and the non-frantic turnover pace, when I was struck with the impulse of giving this underdog café a bit of a facelift. Imagine this: a self-proclaimed Joanna Gaines of Morocco, guerrilla marketer with a fiercely supportive Chip sidekick, creating ideas over table decorations to breathe life into the place. A dash of décor, and voilà, this cafe would be the toast of the town! (#contradiction - because we like a non-touristy vibe).

Off we strut to the souk like two overconfident peacocks, searching among the hordes of cluttered stalls for the holy grail of table chic on a shoestring budget. We are looking for something Moroccan with European flair, colorful, utilitarian, and NOT an ashtray?

Bingo—water bottle covers; different sizes and earthy bright colors. Fits the bill. Lean, mean, and clean.

We think it's wild that our spontaneous artistry might now be part of the restaurant's charm.

Or would it be considered clutter?

Picture us bartering haggling like it was our last dirham and we had ten starving children to feed; our selections sparking debates over their potential to transform the space.

Or cause problems for the wait staff?

The funny thing is, we also had to consider that we might cause offense to the owner and end up with thirty or so bottle covers for ourselves. As much as we would have liked, we didn’t have space in our luggage to haul these home.

But you know what's the most ironic part?

After all this wild hair ingenuity, we never presented our ideas to the café owner. We held back, suddenly questioning whether our intervention was a stroke of genius or whether we were meddling tourists overstepping our boundaries.

We even considered buying just one, placing it on our table as we dined, and leaving it to see what would happen. While BYOB (bring your own bottle) is acceptable, BYOD (bring your own decor) is strange.

What’s your wisdom? Are we visionaries or just busybodies on a mission from the Decor Gods, or perhaps it's all just part of the unscripted fun of travel?

Should we have presented our ideas to the restaurant owner?

In Love and Light,

Stella Isabella