Lost and Found in Morocco

The four Musketeers.

Today, three of the four musketeers drove our friend, Judy, the fourth musketeer, to the airport. She has flown home to the USA to be with her daughter as she gets married. (OK, we get it; she needs to go home, but we will miss our fourth musketeer.) We had done several practice runs to the airport following others, so we had a bit of confidence going into the event. Bon Courage! as they say around here. Of course we got off track somewhere and got lost in the City. Judy prayed.


Within a few minutes, after driving in various circles, we spotted a gentleman to ask directions. He spoke both English and French, and he was amazingly kind in being careful to review all his directions and make sure we understood. He put his hand to his heart as we thanked him, and I think he said "De rein (it's nothing or better translated, "You're welcome".) We marveled at his patience with us, and I said to Judy, "There's your answer to prayer."

His directions were right on, and we were at the airport in time for Judy to relax before her flight. After dropping her off, we circled around a bit, but eventually found Paul's. Paul's is a french restaurant founded in the late 1800s. It is very French. I practiced my French throughout the ordering process, and I feel like I am making progress, un peu. We commented on how the locals have a French accent that is often enhanced with the growlish throat noises like the arabic language.


I think French is pretty if it is not too throaty, but I know I am prejudiced. I love the Italiano language. It has no throaty sounds at  all, but lots of rolled Rs and pretty endings.

After a lovely breakfast, at a very reasonable price, I might add, we drove right to the frame shop and picked up my artwork that had been framed. Most of it is still in our car, but I wanted to show you the painting I picked up at the shop. It was painted by a Moroccan who was a rising star in the late 1980s. However, he became a drug addict. So, he has basically dropped out of the art scene altogether. I tell ya, those temperamental artists....I'm going to pray for him. I love the vivid colors and lively brushstroke. I am going to try to copy his style.


Then, the real fun began after we left the frame shop. We drove in more circles, rounded more roundabouts, and careened around more donkeys, mopeds and cars than I care to remember, but we had no time limit in returning, so we could laugh about all our efforts at getting to the next stop - the Marjane. It is the local K-Mart. When you go there, plan on 3 or 4 hours because everything seems to take forever here. I got a little electric heater because there is no central heat in my apartment.

Mertle, do you see those crazy red taxis going too fast, again today?

As we headed for home, we spotted the usual cows in the median, and Jill was sure the roughly made sign in the median said, "No cows in the median." I assume she is correct, but no one is paying any attention to that spiffy sign. The last interesting thing we saw on our way home was a variety of stands selling large chunks of charcoal. Everyone buys charcoal with which to roast their slaughtered sheep during Aid. They call it "having a bar-b-que."


Too much fun in Morocco!


Here are the pictures that would not load last night. The charcoal seems to be in long sticks rather than in the usual chunks found in little hole in the wall shops. These are being sold in the city, so maybe they are nicer?

The sign right by the cows.

Charcoal shop.