Cocktail Dreams

I found the peaceful town of Taghazout by jumping off a local bus after a hurried conversation of “Ta –ga – Ju?” accompanied with frantic gesturing that hopefully implied “here”. Nodding, my fellow passenger, an old and wizened man, affirmed “Taghazout.” As the door opened, that omnipresent Moroccan hospitality reminded me once again I was far too close to the tourist trail, as a very small man questioned, “Mister, hotel?” Between my broken French and his broken English, I found a small dirty apartment with a seaward facing balcony. Wandering about town I became enamored with the architectural delights such as one charming beach front home sporting a spiral staircase in bright teal against rose colored stucco draped with flowering vines. Colorful buildings contrasted with dull, dusty mud brick and stucco traditional houses reminding me I was far from home. The main road was lousy with hotels, restaurants, and surf shops that were upscale by local standards. During the next two days I wandered the beaches, drank tea with locals, swapped stories with other travelers, and thoroughly enjoyed myself. Evening came along with amazing multicolored sunsets sinking slowly into the ocean. The gorgeous vistas made me crave a strong fruity cocktail. I searched the whole town only to find Taghazout is a dry town. Disappointed, I left after two days intent on finally enjoying that elusive cocktail. Arriving back in Agadir though, all I could think of was a tiny shack I had found that blended up beautifully layered, fresh, delicious fruit juices. Leaning against the makeshift bar and enjoying my first sip of my fruit juice, I realized that the last thing that Taghazout needed was a bar. Instead, I realized as I sipped the delicious nectar made solely of local natural fresh fruits, leaning against a shack on a busy street clogged with traffic, that Taghazout, like my all natural local fruit juice, had everything it needed but nothing that would detract from its natural magnificence.