DAY 213

Thursday 9 February 2012

With a good night’s sleep, no gurgling tummies, sore bodies rested from digging the van out of the sand and a comfortable (if not a bit chilly) apartment to wake up to, we counted our blessings and got ready to explore Tangiers. Knock, knock, “Who’s there?” It was Aziz who came by to tell us about a special farmers market that happened only twice a week to which the Berber women came down from the Rif mountains to sell their produce. He offered to take us in his car. The man was becoming our guiding light and trusted friend in what otherwise might have been a difficult city to navigate. (By the way we opted not to pay a hundred bucks to have “James” our GPS outfitted with Moroccan maps.)

We arrived in the market place and Aziz expertly drove between the stalls to park and show us the lay of the land. We joked that with people having to duck in to the stalls to let the cars pass they may have been in cahoots with the store owner. “Oh look dear, these are lovely, I might not have noticed them.” But truly there were no shortages of cool things to look and and buy. We said goodbye to Aziz then went to the Berber women’s vegetable displays since by then it was noon and we didn’t want them to pack up without getting to peruse their wares and take some photos. Charles bought some fingerling potatoes and peppers which he made into a really good dinner later on.

We went to the tobacco shop to buy stamps for a letter and ten postcards. We were astounded at the high price but it was a small price to pay for the smiles they would bring to family and friends. The fellow who helped to make sure we were getting the right amount of stamps said we could affix them at his restaurant, the Mamounia Palace. It was beautiful inside with tiles and Arabic carved wood. The musicians were tuning up and we opted to order just one price fix meal and share it. After an initial raised eyebrow, the waiter warmed to us and even gave us a heftier portion of couscous. We posed with the musicians and paid the bill thanking the fellow who had brought us to “his” restaurant. We walked through the fish market and meat stalls. Spices were piled high and if we hadn’t spent some amazing hours at the Grand Mercat in Valencia we might have been more overwhelmed.

Photo by Charles 

Our ever so accommodating maitre d

Electronic matters needed attending to so we followed Aziz’ lead and went to Tokyo Electronics the local fix everything electronics store. They were closed so we strolled around and saw some fantastic antiques at a store near the overlook to the harbor. With the king present for a Renault/Nissan factory dedication, the police and military were on every corner.

We finally got to settle a couple of tech questions at Tokyo Elecronics and Nicole took some cool shots of their gray parrot. Heading up the hill toward our apartment (well, Paul Bowles’ old apartment), we stopped at the American Church and cemetery called Saint Andrew’s. Many of the headstones said “A friend to the Moors” and almost all the names were English (even one for a certain George Bush). When the "plit plot" of raindrops began we hailed a taxi and were home in 10 minutes. During the ride back Nicole exclaimed, “There’s Aziz!” and sure enough he was standing in front of his kid’s school waiting to pick them up. Later he stopped by to check on us and recommend the American Legation and a bookstore for Paul Bowles’ music and writing. We had dinner, read some of Cherie Nutting’s book called "Yesterday’s Perfume" and went to bed tired but satisfied with our first real day of sightseeing in Morocco.