Tuesday March 3, still lovely weather, not a cloud to be seen.
Three more sleeps after tonight.
Great to be in the same bed two nights in a row in the best hotel since we came to Morocco.
Off we went to the required look at one of the tallest Mosques in the world, or so we think we were told. So.... no building in Marrakech can be higher than the Mosque which translates to six stories. So now you know why there are no high buildings in Morocco as the same rule applies to all cities, towns and villages. The Mosque sets the maximum height for all buildings. No Trump tower ever here!
Next was the Royal Palace, built in the 19th century. I find architecture as interesting as the history behind the building and am fascinated by Islamic Art and design and further intrigued by the skill of the craftsman who made these wondrous buildings and the intricacy involved.
Next on the Agenda was a tropical garden that was resurrected by Yves Saint Laurent. The walled city-block-square gardens had lineups that stretched for a few hundred feet. Once inside it was very, very pleasant with cacti and palms with winding trails, pools etc., that could not help but induce solitude and tranquility. The experience was diminished only by the rather large crowds.
Next was lunch in another garden out of the traffic of the busy street. We had a very pleasant and restful lunch that was made longer by the making of the Sangria pitcher that took maybe 15 or 20 minutes. But who is in a hurry, right?
Next was a quick stop in a shop that has an oil for every ailment in the world. It is a miniature Carpet Experience that we mistakenly thought would show the making of the oils that are used in the myriad of oils, rubs, creams, sachets etc. We sat through the 15 minute presentation very maturely and stoically, I thought. At least it was rest.
Somewhere, late in the day it was our time to shop! I had a belt in mind for myself and a purse for Fellette before we left home. After some fiddling and haggling we got them, plus a bit. Jim has been searching for the right kind of belt for about seven weeks. Finally he got one which I think he likes.
A word about hygiene here: I suppose that I am a Germaphobic sort of guy. I could not eat a sandwich at noon if my eating hand had petted a stray cat at 7:30 in the morning, I would be aware that that hand was 'dirty'. Same with a toilet door, handrail, holding a dirty menu before eating etc.
There is a lot of handshaking here, it is the socially correct thing to do thing. After shaking a hand, I am aware that that hand could be 'dirty'. Foolish me I suppose. The tender hearted should now skip this next paragraph or two.
Ever since New Guinea, I have noticed that many men seem to touch their genital area, not sure why, just rearranging things, scratching or checking to see if things are still there? Who knows.
Same as nose-picking. I know that we all have a tendency to touch or scratch our nose at certain times, but when the finger is up to the second knuckle I want to close my eyes and throw up.
Now, back to my subject of shaking hands with people we may encounter: Do you understand my concerns about munching down on a bun after shaking hands?
Dinner for us four was an intimate dinner in our hotel room composed of the remnants of our survival rations plus a trip to a grocery store for some supplemental supplies. They seem to serve too much for for us after eight weeks on the road! Our guide said the grocery store was 150 meters across the road and turn left. Jim and I headed out and left the girls to relax and try to unwind. A mile down the road, we discovered our destination.
Now, two guys on a mission to get wine and food is a fool's mission. First we got the potato chips and then decided we needed to bring something more substantial back. Jim spotted a Pate and of course that led to bread, [a loaf of French bread], we then rounded it off with a small tray of peeled fruits. We had some cookies from our desert camp survival stash so it was to be a well-balanced meal. We took a cab back to the hotel. The total cost of the meal, including the cab, and tip, was 1/4 of what we four paid for a buffet in the hotel last night. Tonight's cost for four: $19.50. [The wine was quite good as well.]
It was a good day possibly a great day...
Winston Churchill slept here during WWII.
Treking to the Mosque.
Floor tile in one of the rooms in the palace: We infidels are not allowed inside most Mosques. [Fortunately.]
Ceiling in a palace room.
Us two.
More ceilings in the palace.
Shopkeeper sweeping her space. They keep the places as clean as they can under the circumstances.
Leopard skin. Our guide says it was painted cow.
I disagree. We saw a 15 foot python or anaconda skin later for $440.
Different coloured dried flowers,
Pity the donkeys in Morocco.
Again, pity...
These chaps used to sell water in years gone by, dispensed from a goat skin that he is holding in his left hand. Now they make a living by posing for photos like this. It cost me $1.50 by the time it was over.
Leather goods are everywhere. The vendors can be a bit pushy and are a turn-off. Some are understanding but you must be firm with them.
Potpourri.
In the French Garden as I call it. Methinks it is a pilgrimage for French Visitors.
A decent Sangria was a nice drink at lunch
A myriad of scents and very nicely displayed. The middle front is Frankincense.
This man was making a chess set. His lathe was a hand help strung bow as a turner, and he held the blade between his toes! An absolute unbelievable thing to see before our own eyes.
Our 'Farewell Dinner " in Marrakech tonight'
The toilet roll was our napkin supply and it added a bit of class to scene.
