Had two horribly similar nightmares last night that began with me mailing the Walkabout Club (the then-London hub for Australians visiting the UK) and ended with me back home with my Africa trip unfinished, frantic that I shouldn’t be home yet: “What happened to the rest of Africa?” Very real and I was overwhelmed with relief when I woke on the truck. Vicki heard my rapid breathing and wondered what was going on.
All screwed up and tense for ages. Drove into Marrakesh where we booked into Hotel Foukald. Warm bath with shower although bath only a metre long so had to wash in parts with bits of me hanging over the edge. Washed lots of clothes and had short rest before meeting Kelvin downstairs. Organised to meet for dinner at 7.30pm and headed off into the Medina.
Some of the group had already ventured out and experience the hustlers - for the rest of us it was an unwelcome aggravation. One bloke followed us for ages, even going to Cafe de France with us. Drank delicious fresh orange juice overlooking the town square. Set off together into the maze that is the Medina but ended up with Bob, Jim and Ton in the carpet shop where we spent 1¼ hours haggling over carpets both Jim and Bob decided to buy: Bob’s a beautiful wool kilim-carpet they told us was 120 years old but was definitely used.
Headed off into the alleys and worked our way through clothes, dagger, carpet, jewellery and odds and ends shops, wandering for a few hours before heading back. Jim realised he’d been working with the wrong exchange rate and couldn’t afford his carpet but, unfortunately, our exit route took us back past the carpet shop, and all hell broke loose. Jim’s salesman ranted and raved and followed us all the way across town to our hotel where he besieged us, trying to get Jim’s money. Bob paid for his and was happy and we tried to get Jim out of his hassle. The carpet seller even threatened to get the police and I told him to do so. Instead, he got some thugs to apply pressure, and Jim ended up emptying his pockets of 25 dinar and paying him that for his troubles. The showy performance to make Jim feel guilty enough to buy the carpet were a stage-worthy melodrama.
Went to the post office, then wandered through a bustling square now filled with stalls selling fish, chips, kebabs, kofta, beans, all looking and smelling delicious. Locals stood around watching a strange musical “session” that appeared more talk than music; a herbalist cum witch doctor surrounded by hedgehogs (alive and stuffed), other stuffed animals, guinea pigs, plates of whole herbs and spices and a huge plate of paste decorated with flowers, spoonsful of which he placed on a sheet of paper, ranting - preaching almost - over a book that contained numerous photos of plants. Another man sat amid snake skins, throwing his hands in the air as if he had lost his mind. Wished we’d had someone to translate for us.
Back to our hotel for delicious dinner of bean soup (two huge helpings), chicken with olives and tamarind, a lump of which I regrettably consumed mistaking it for a piece of chicken and which had a horrible citrus flavour, followed by burnt caramel custard. Dashed back into the town square to take photos but everyone had gone except a few food stores. So returned to the hotel to sleep in a real bed.
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