we bid farewell to the land of constant smiles and instant brothers. a
talkative land of intent listeners. a fairytale built upon sugar
cones, dusted with cumin then drowned in home-made olive oil. of
seatbelts held together with twine, and backtracking impassable passes
at the last. a land cornered through history, yet never giving in. In
Morocco, a map helps your direction, but the destination usually
chooses itself.
after five weeks the expected reflex actions are now well-ingrained;
dumping two huge lumps of sugar into a miniature pot of tea and
pouring a cup back and forth to the pot at least three times before
drinking; cradling a coffee for an hour whilst staring at the
pedestrian traffic with no obvious motif; checking first if there is
anyone with whom to share my food/tea before partaking; the obligatory
entry laugh at the proposed price before the haggling begins; a
cursory glance before crossing the road and "respect the vector"
instinct; "bismillah" before eating, or any endeavour really, and
"inshallah" for a safe journey or potential return.
for now, as always, a change of scenery is just around the corner.
i'll meet you in Cairo. inshallah.
hugs and love
joe
