My last morning in Marrakech.
I sat beside this guy and his mint as I ate my breakfast. It was like bathing in mint.
Going up the stairs was a bit less terrifying than coming down them when I arrived, and this time I four guys instead of two doing the hauling.
Note the flimsy strap, that would be the only thing between me and death.
It’s amazing how quickly what once seemed completely strange and different can become familiar and even comforting. After only a week I’d become adept at dodging donkey carts and hardly noticed whole sides of beef dangling in front of the corner butcher shop. I don’t miss the heat or the dust. I do miss the smells, the colors, my daily orange juice fix, mint tea, mint tea, and more mint tea, fresh everything, and and and. And I wish I’d bought more spices.
It’s hard to do things and write about them at the same time so I’ve got a backlog of Marrakech posts in my mind. I prefer to post more or less as I go but in this case I’ll be posting retrospectively. So, for the next few weeks, as far as this blog goes, I’ll still be in Maroc. I’ll be imaging the early morning call to prayer when the 5:18 RER goes by and will pretend to wake up to doves cooing and fountains burbling instead of the usual city noises. One good thing about posting after the fact is that I’ll be able to put things in a more logical order, though maybe that’s not so good. We’ll see.