I sat in my usual cafe, over looking the Djemaa el Fna square, with its orange juice stalls and crowds of tourists like insects, swarming around a honey pot. I ordered a dish of couscous accompanied by something else, the description was lost in translation, so I ordered, hopeful that it would be something nice. It turned out to be couscous covered by a selection of vegetables in an aromatic Moroccan sauce. It wasn't as good as last nights meal of Rabbit Tagine.
Deciding it was not a day for photography, it seemed like an oppertunity for shopping. I disappeared into the souks, to browse an endless assortment of dimly lit stalls with interesting objects and shiny silver jewlerry stalls. The sellers were friendly and I recieved the usual ‘Moroccan face’ comments. I did my best to play up to this and knew I was getting a good deal when the store holder put my chosen silver items on the scales to work out a good price for me. He told me I was getting English price not American, and I told him I was getting Moroccan price because I was an English friend. It helped that he had an older brother in Bristol and liked the English, but I came away with lots of pretty things. The glass lamps here are gorgeous, but the thought of carrying them back with all my other hand luggage doesn’t appeal. Instead I settled for taking photographs of them, glistening through their coloured panels in the darkness of the souk. I think I shall print them out big and stick them on my wall.
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