The Coast of Morocco

I separated from the two young boys in Marrakech and was on my way to the station to go to the coast of Morocco, when I found out that the train doesn't go there, but only the bus, and they leave every hour. So I shared a taxi with a French Bison meat salesman who buys his Bison meat in Saskatchewan, and went to the market or Medina, where, OK, I bought a rug and had it sent home....and spent the day in the market, and then was invited to the home of the rug salesman, and shared Tagine, a delicious Moroccan dish with lamb and dates and prunes eaten from one large platter in the centre of the table, which was a coffee table, for FIFTEEN PEOPLE...(There is no exclamation mark on this keyboard, or I would use it there) There were babies, and teenagers, and little boys, and sisters, and cousins and aunts, all crowded around, there was lots of laughter, and a "thousand welcomes." The "tagine" was delicious. They have offered everything from a thousand camels to two thousand five hundred, with a down payment of two hundred, for ME. Of course, they all want to marry an "etrangè" preferably a rich one like me, and have me take care of them for the rest of their life in the lap of luxury in paradise, aka Canada. They really don't see any other way out.

After that lovely evening at the home of Shakib, one of the other rug salesmen came and took me to find a hotel for the night, but they were all full, so he suggested I take the bus to Agadir, which is a seaside resort on the coast of Africa; which I did, but I had to sit in the seat at the front of the bus that is usually for the bus driver's assistant; so I SHARED THE SEAT with this Moroccan man for four hours, while they talked in Arabic about me, and I suspect about the fact that I am a single "American" woman traveling alone in a Muslim country.! (At a time when the Muslims are watching very carefully what is happening in Israel.) I had a long conversation in English with a young Moroccan man who wanted to share his religion with me. Of course it all boils down to the same thing, we only attack to defend ourselves.

Anyhow, back to the man squished into the seat with me at the front of the bus; he told me that the other man said he was going to steal my bag, (I have only a small back pack now, as I stashed the rest in Spain near the ferry at a Christian place for backpackers, for free.) So I could not sleep all night. Then I arrived at four in the morning in Agadir, and there were no hotels open. The taxi driver drove me around for twenty minutes and then gave up, then threw a temper tantrum when I only gave him double for trouble, (it cost me 60 Moroccan Dirham (about eight dollars) to get from Marrakech to Agadir, and 40 (about five) to get to no hotel) So I walked the streets until I found a two star hotel that was waiting for a client, but he had not shown up, so he gave it to me. I slept all day, then went out in the evening, after a day spent reading inspirational meditations on the virtues of patience and courage and obedience, etc. I ended up in a French Moroccan restaurant suggested by a French couple on the street. IT WAS GREAT. I had pepper steak and a small bottle of red wine, and afterwards listened to the French Moroccan sing English songs like "Summertime" in a thick French Arabic accent. Thank God for my high school French, is all I can say. But the language of music is universal, and when she went into her own music, I could not restrain myself. I jumped to my feet, kicked off my shoes and started belly-dancing. This was after they had a birthday song for a group of gay men who were British ex-patriates and like the young Moroccan boys. Shades of Suddenly Last Summer (Tennessee Williams.) After that I met an interesting couple of women from Germany. They were sisters-in-law. We talked about relationships for a long time, and I am meeting them again tonight at a different piano bar. It is MUCH cooler here, only 28 at night, and probably thirty or thirty one during the day. And there is a breeze. I got a copy of the Herald Tribune, and caught up on the news. There was a hysterically funny piece on Mel Gibson, who was busted for drunk driving by a JEW, now that is all part of the Jewish conspiracy, you know; we are everywhere!!!!!! (I found the exclamation mark....it was the "equals sign," which is supposed to be the equals sign, which is the dash, which is.....you get the idea....total confusion!!!!!. ) So now I am figuring out simple things like how to find laundry soap so I can wash my clothes, then take a dip in the pool at the hotel. This, after a wonderful Basque ommelette and fresh squeezed orange juice, while I wrote postcards.

It is amazing what a night's sleep and a little company will do for your spirits, especially when there is no hot water in your hotel room shower! Thanks everybody for being there while I record my adventures for you. It does make a difference, knowing you are there, and reading, truly! I will come back to Spain on Monday, travel to Granada, and maybe back to Barcelona, and then to France, after I send MORE of my stuff home from Barcelona.

Next to me a Muslim woman and man are looking on the websites and reading some Ayatollah's instructions and opinions regarding Lebanon. It is a little weird being a rich Canadian in this poverty stricken third world country that is clearly sympathetic to the Hezbollah. Scary, if I wanted to go there, but thankfully, I don't, and everyone is very friendly, and I have not been robbed, YET!
Love you all,
Shelora