The Tale of the One Sister

“There was once one sister who was traveling along a lonely, golden beach at midday. In time, the sister reached face off with a horse galloping toward her, traveling too fast to avoid. However, this sister was learned in the magical arts, and so she simply thought to step aside and let the horse past. 

Morocco - out to get me

Her brain was halfway through the decision making process when she found her synapses blocked by the large Arab horse, whom she named Death.

Battlements

And Death spoke to her. He was angry that he had been cheated out of a new victim, for travellers usually died when hit by oncoming horses galloping at top speed. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the sister on her great decision-making skills magic and said that she had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him.

Downtown Essaouira

And then Death asked the third and youngest sister (for that is what she was) what she would like. The youngest sister was humble and wise, and she did not trust Death. So she asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, told her that she could pass unscathed and get away with simply that.

The not beach part of the beach

Then Death stood aside and allowed the sister to continue on her way, and she did so, thinking with wonder of the adventure she had had, and admiring Death for his gift.

 

Boats for safe-keeping

Then BAM! At the last minute, just as she thought that Death had left her alone and was going to let her leave in peace, he hit her. With force. And speed. On the shoulder.

Some more boats

But Death didn’t care. Death just galloped off down the beach. Leaving nothing more than a pile of Steph on the beach. And some stars in her eyes. The dizzy kind. Not the good kind.

Beach in Taghazout

Death, however, did not claim her on this day.”

Beach at Taghazout

Moral of this story: There is danger in everything, even a leisurely stroll down the beach in Essaouira.

Goats up the Argan tree

All Class

Having had a two-week spell away from Internet and the outside world, upon my return to civilisation I had numerous inquiries into what the time away was like.

Here is an accurate, if slightly biased account, of the most memorable 5 days of the trip.

Terraces in an village

I decided, early on, that it wouldn’t be a real trip to Africa without getting sick at least once. So I got sick.  

Down the valley

Day 1 was

“I’m all class… Look, I have vomit on my leg.”

“Hang on a minute, I just need to throw up.”

“You guys keep going, I’m just going to faint.”

“No, thanks, I won’t ride the mule… It doesn’t deserve to be vomited all over.”

Omar and his mule

Day 2 was

“I’m feeling a bit better thanks… Than yesterday… When I was chundering everywhere”

Boy selling Coke on a mountain pass

Day 3 was

“Well, I guess I’m still kind of functioning…”

Wild flowers

Day 4 was

“Never mind, I’m sick all over again”

“You really don’t want to know”

Abdullah

Day 5 was

“Oh, Dad… You have drugs… That’s nice… Thanks for mentioning that earlier…”

“Oh? You only just found them? Did you look earlier? No? Oh, well that would explain it…”

“You know Steph, you’ve come right so quickly, I just don’t think it could be the drugs.”

“I am not sold on that hypothesis, Dad.”

Lac d'Ifni with mule in the foreground

Needless to say, I was and am still, a little resentful about the 5 day lag period Dad put on looking for the drugs that were, at least in my view, my magic cure…

A mountain village

DONKEY

This week, I have been observing different creatures participating in activities that are highly specific to their species.

Examples:

Tourists doing tourist things… Like taking photos of everything.

The Bus-Goers

Cats doing cat things… Like sleeping all the time.

The Sleeper

Donkeys doing donkey things… Like speeding and pulling big loads.

The Speedster

Camels doing camel things… Like chilling out and walking on sand dunes.

The Awesome

Mum doing Mum things… Like buying things.

The Consumer

Dad doing Dad things… Like protecting himself from the Sun.

The Protector

So… I decided to play a little game, just with Mum, Dad and myself. The game is kind of like DONKEY, in that any time on of the three of us doing anything remarkably stupid (RS), genuinely annoying (GA) or excruciatingly touristy (ET), you get a number of points assigned to your name (number of points determined by me). 

Sahara Desert

Some examples of things that get you points are listed below with their classification in brackets:

Asking our driver, on more than one occasion to stop the car to take a photo (ET)

Having monkeys thrown at you and taking a photo (RS)

Not wanting to get lost (GA)

Worrying about how you are going to get all your new purchases home (ET & GA)

Forgetting your 29^th wedding anniversary (RS)

Slippers in Fez

Here are the points for this week:

MUM

Bought a 7^th carpet (ET & RS - 7 points)

Bought a tagine (ET - 1 point)

Bought three pairs of leather slippers, a leather backpack and a leather cushion (ET - 5 points)

Bought a teapot, tray and glasses (ET - 1 point)

Donkeys in Fez

DAD

Looks like a Moroccan cowboy (ET - 1 point)

Getting annoyed when I break his plastic knife (GA - 2 points)

Nomadic Berber family

ME

Royally flooded the bathroom (RS – 1 point)

Camels in the desert

The final standings are:

Least Touristy = Me (1 point)

Moderately Touristy = Dad (3 points)
Most Touristy = Mum (14 points)

Mum and Dad being Mum and Dad

Better luck next time, Mum and Dad (especially Mum)!

Double Barrel

So the main event this week has been a double barrel: arriving in Morocco and meeting Mum here. Needless to say that the compliment of each on the other has vastly improved both.

Welcome to Morocco

I arrived in Morocco to be met by Haddau and Mum and Dad.

As a side note, Haddau is pronounced “How-DO.”  Dad happily (although with a  sly simle) told me simply to think How do you do? And proceeded to spell out the importance of leaving off the “you do” at the end.

Hassan Tower 

One of the first things they told me was that Mum had bought a carpet. Which turned out to be a lie. She had actually bought six. Because we all know that one, two, three, four or five carpets are never enough. I have no idea what she plans on doing with six carpets. I highly doubt that she does either.

Carpets in Morocco

In addition to buying six carpets, she has also taken photos of me, declared the picture to be heinous before thinking it appropriate to send it to the entire family and informed me that I have no friends and that I am a terrible person. It is only day one.

A rather attractive building

Speaking of day one… We did rather a lot… So much that none of us can remember where we have been, what we have seen or what anything is called. It was a blur – an incredible blur – but a blur nonetheless.

Ancient Roman ruins

When we arrived at the hotel and were mulling over the events of the day one of our company (who shall remain nameless) stated that while the day had been incredible, there had a been a few too many mosques for this particular individual. How many mosques you ask? One. Just one. But that was one too many, according to this team member.

One too many mosques

You may ask why I put a rhetorical question in the above paragraph and again here? Well, I’ll tell you. This is a skill that our guides seem to have mastered. Asking partial rhetorical questions, looking around smugly at the dismayed and slightly awkward tourists (who have no idea about anything Moroccan), waiting longer than a comfortable amount of time, before proceeding to tell us the answer.

Having a nap by the road side

The answer, by the way, is never anything that we could possible guess, because usually it is Arabic. Or French. Or Berber. Or anything other than English. Which, personally, I’m not so good at guessing.

Islamic Arch

In order to avoid this as much as possible, I would wander off and take pictures of the creatures that call Morocco home (they don’t ask questions, or usually want money):

King Cat at the Mosque

Kitten asleep in a flower bed

Horse at the King's stables

A snake