Morocco, Part Deux

After our first day of lounging pool side at La Plage Rouge, we decided to hit the souqs in search of lovely gorgeous things to buy. Heidi was dressed in a cream tank top/mini skirt combo which made visible her hot pink bikini. She remedied the situation by shrouding her fair skin and blond hair in a translucent red shawl which without doubt added to the titillation factor turning her into a sort of walking sex present wrapped in red gauze. In her defence, our decision to hit the marketplace had been a spontaneous one, so she had dressed for a day of lounging by the pool.



After several unsuccessful bouts of haggling that ended with angry shop keepers yelling that we had wasted their time (classic), I found a leather shop with a friendly young chap who left me alone to survey the offerings and gave me mad respeck when I said I was from Marseille (my name was Chantelle). Rita scored a double hit with a leather pouf and bag but complains that the pouf is stinking up her flat. I, a few days later, annoyed my sister and mother greatly by haggling over a berber instrument for 20 minutes while everyone waited and my sister got accosted by a local perv. I got the instrument at long last and think it will make people like me more when they see it in my (future) apartment but it too is a bit smelly. It is made from goat.

After our first night of being ripped off at a mediocre tourist restaurant, my sister tightened the organization hat she wears daily and decided we should make some reservations. Initially, we asked reception at our flee bag hotel for help.
"We would like to dine at a nice restaurant with local food that isn't a tourist trap" Helly explained en Francais to the receptionist who stared back at my sister with annoyance like she was a defective science project. Thanks to the Lonely Planet guide, and lots of poolside calling from Helly's blackberry, we got our names down at some impressive eateries and ate very well indeed for the duration of our stay.

Flight back at crack of dawn with well shameful airline (sort of easy jet version of Royal Air Maroc), and back to the Maiden of Heads after train and car rides. Once home, mom and I had energy enough to switch on the telly and chew food. Happy to be back, who would have thought? The river never looked so beautiful, the vegetation so green...but then everything looks better when you are tan.


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a.