Into Africa!

26th November
  We arrived in Marrakesh, Morocco, with some directions to our hostel where we were
meeting two of David's Melbournian friends.  We'd been given some advice about Morocco,
the most substantial being not to accept help from strangers or else they'd bug you
for a tip.  This included directions.  I'd accepted this, and could remember it, but
suddenly we were faced with the realization on how much we'd depended on the kindness
of strangers.  Our directions were full of street names and left and right turns, though
the streets had no street signs, and our lefts and rights kept changing as we admired
the streets.  The market place striked me as that of con fest.  People playing drums,
fire sticks being thrown into the air, pythons being sedated by fute players, children
running madly through the crowds, and the basic stalls offering fruity juices and tanjines.
  It's all for the likes of tourists, I soon discovered, and don't bother even taking out
your camera - for they'll spot you from fifty metres away and send a boy over to demand
the tip for the photo.
  So we got a bit lost and, inevitably, a young man said he'd show us the way to our hostel.
We became more lost, walking form house to house where we'd knock on one of his friend's
 houses, show THEM the adress and hope that then they coud direct us.  This soon became too
much - we'd gone way out of our way and I was beginning to assume our snakey-eyed friend
didn't believe me when I said we had no money to pay him. So we snuck away and asked an
elderly for directions.  He passed us onto some other young men, who again took us to a
door of a friend of theirs, who - at last - happened to know the adress.
  We arrived at our hostel to see John and Cosmo (David's friends) peering over the terrace
waving like joyful little hobbits, welcoming us home.  We thanked our guides kindly,
 and though they seemed a bit dissapointed, they did not ask for a tip.
  The hostel costed the equivaltent of 3 dollars a night and it was comfotable.  The man
who worked there was in fact retired but enjoyed the company of tourists and was looked
after by his "woman" (who we assumed was the cleaning lady).  He told each of us that his real
job was something different (I got an airoplane engineer) so whatever facts I give you about
his life would only be approximate.
  That night we, and another tourist in our dorm, went out for a 3 dollar tangine. My very first!
They're delicious.  You can have lamb, beef, chicken or veggie tangines which usually come with
onions, carrot, and are T-Ped with potato slices, topped with a single slice of tomato. They're
hot and spicy and your generally expected to eat them with bread.
  The tea, like amongst most villiage or desert people I've come across thus far, is high in
sugar, though only sometimes comes with mint.  Keep in mind though, that the peoples change
all over Morocco, and its the arab peoples Im talking about now (or the burbers who have assimilated
to the city life - as most have).

27th
of Morocco, we met up with Andrew and Anna (who left a note at our hostel naming when and where to meet)
and all 6 of us head around the city to explore.  Marrakesh is heavily polluted, and through the slim streets
are many city motor bikes honking there way through the crowds of mothers, children, little street stores
(selling mint or eggs on wheely tables) and the occasional tourists...
  It's the young boys who are always running around, free to be as cheeky as they like. For the girls it's
another story.  But, compared to the two other islamic countries I've been to, I've been really impressed
with the attitude people take on religion her.  I'll develop this as I tell you about different villiages
and towns I've visited but in Marrakesh you can find a large variety of expression.  Some women are fully
coverered (face excluded - that's more for prostitutes, beggers (protecting their identity) or the desert
women who need to protect their eyes from the sand).  Many of these women ride the little scooters around,
(helmet or no), some even carrying men behind them.  Most women (on the streets...) don't even where head
scarves, though they're muslim rather than Christian.  This is fully accepted in Marrakesh.  One women...
i apologise for using you as an example...wore a head scarf, yet revield her legs and cleavage in a skimpy
little outfit.  It's winter, too, though the weathers no excuse.  This just baffled me.
  Anyway, we explored the old Badia palace, made around 1580, where along the walls were stalks! Their nests
making the up-down patterns of a true castle!! Stalks, if your not aware, make one nest wherein they live
for life, with their specially chosen mate which, too, they keep and live with for life. s2
  We visited some old tombs, too, from the same era.  The most beautiful things are the tiles - where tiny
tiles are made to look like interweaving patterns - celtic style - delicately weaving flowers and stars through
threads of coloured tiles.  Similar designs are engraved into wood.

  We explored the Jewish quarter; the synagogue and cemetary, too.  The lady who worked there shared with us
that the jews and muslims/burburs have always lived in harmony in Marrakesh.  They also spoke arabic, and french,
(which was all you learnt at school, back then - before the six day war when most of the jews left for israel)
oviously, though, as hebrew as we know it today is only 100 years old.  And the fastest developing language
around.

That night we had another tangine, yum!