Seagulls sing from the minarets

atmospheric dinner in Essaouira
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As I took a last stroll around Marrakech a young fellow approached me asking that I buy him something to eat.  I had just breakfasted but thought 'why not?' Especially after the night before I had been taken aback by a girlchild begging my uneaten bread then scrapping my plates for meat and vegetable scraps to put on it.  She left with a "Merci, Monsieur."

I bought him a yogurt and tried to get him to eat some cake which he refused.  He took me to a Hammam where the hairy little masseur scrubbed me over three times with stiffer brushes then attempted the same over the top chiropractic maneuvers that I pulled on me in Turkey.  Fear was in my eyes as he bent my legs behind me and I had no word in Arabic to say STOP.

street musician
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With minutes to go to get to my bus my hungry friend, Mourad, helped lug my bags to a taxi, negotiated a cheap fare and rode with me to the bus station.

I plopped down in a worn seat to find a Slovenian couple I had met yesterday at lunch in the seats ahead.  They too had made no arrangements for accomodations.  When we arrived it became readily apparent that we could choose from a dozen fellows to follow into the medina to a hotel.

I was led past one that I rejected due to the unpleasantness of the room but the second stop was much more to the liking.  It was a double bed with bathroom.  A nice decor with window that let out to the open air stairwell.   The price is 100 dirham or about 12.50 USD.

interesting juxtaposition
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I immediately met two French Morrocans on the balcony who shared some tea and a joint (my first of the trip) and a lively conversation about language that included me teaching them to say 'she sells sea shells by the sea shore'.  Which got a little slurry as they were drinking vodka.

We were joined later by a pair of Germans who supplied a bit of beer and we all hung out until after sunset and the cooling winds of the evening.

I was on my own for dinner.  Being both stoned and completely unfamiliar with the terrain I decided I would make only left hand turns and find the nearest spot.  I headed into a small enclave with menu boards visible when a Berber shopkeeper beckoned me into his shop.

in the medina
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Talking about a flirt.  This guy talked me into buying three things that I didn't intend to buy.

He showed me a nearby restaurant where I ate the best Morrocan meal so far.  The Cafe Beldy specialized in Berber cuisine.  The place was all atmosphere with cushioned seating, low tables, archways, low lighting and a funny soundtrack of old American music.  The Moody Blues filled my head with romantic visions of the 60's Morocco of Burroughs and Ginsberg.  Then unfortunately they were followed up by Lionel Richie.  Can we please have a moratorium on Three Times a Lady.  For the children's sake!