14 Jun


{\fonttbl\f0\fnil\fcharset0 ArialMT;}

\f0\fs26 \cf2 \cb3 \expnd0\expndtw0\kerning0
\outl0\strokewidth0 \strokec2 \

The little winding streets with the cobblestones that gave me traction as I tread up and down the hilly streets of the old medina with its fortress type walls definitely reminded me of sidi boo said near Tunis, Tunesia. I had been to the later in 1984.

The people seemed so carefree here in Tangier. The bustling people went about their business in a caring way, friendly, compassionate. One day a few sprinkled came down. The sun had just fallen beneath the horizon., only a tiny top like. a crescent moon shone. I loved this time of night by far the best. It seemed as if music flowed, then repetitiously syncopated threw an orange misty haze as people sang the call to prayer, or perhaps the call to prayer pulsed through this magical city as the prayer itself.

I spoke enough Farsi to understand maybe every twentieth word of Arabic. So I didn’t really have anyone to ask. I traveled alone at that point. I will save for another time how I got there by subway, train, bus, ferry, then taxi from Spain. I at that point, had had many interchanges in English and Spanish. As I proceeded South to Morocco I began hearing more French and Arabic. Then in Tangier a huge percentage of talented people tried with total patience to understand me. Granted, as a Westerner I suppose they thought I had money to buy their beautiful crafts and foodstuffs. I did care; it just made me feel sort of famous. Also, I felt their caring as rain fell on my feet covered by socks and sandals. One man looked at me and shivered saying something that I knew was, “Your feet must be cold.” In actuality I was fine, just using new muscles and strengthening old
Ones to keep the momentum of my climb, wether up or down hill. I won’t lie, it taxed my stamina. I was so spoiled driving it Oregon. Oh sure, I’d do some hiking. Here though I had a lot I wanted to see, so 5-15 miles a day started building my strengthening muscles. At that point I felt too tired to be cold.

So I slipped into a shop where a sweet old man with only part of his teeth repeated this like a mantra, “you my new best friend; you my new best friend….” And so on he chanted in such a smiling, endearing way that I bout three intricately woven hats too small for my head. I’d find someone to appreciate the uniquely Moroccan patterns.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: