Another Week on the Beach

Kester forgot to mention two important things. One, Taghazoute is drier than Zion. And two, the surf doesn't really kick in until November.

Our apartment is excellent; a kitchen, a cat, and a balcony that, if you fell off at high tide, would land you in the ocean.

We found a liquor store in the hub city on an errand day. It requires a passport just to browse, but the wine is cheap and delicious and three bottles cost less than a tube of sunscreen.

The Saudi Royal family has a place about ten kilometers down the road. It's five times the size of this entire town, gated, and surrounded by military. They arrived with police escorts yesterday. We showed up relatively unannounced a few days before that.

Ramadan Saves You Money

The most noticeable difference in the souk this morning were the piles of severed goat heads, billies on one side, nannies on the other. In separate piles feet were bound together for...ah, soup? Muddly, bubbly red puddles in the street which even the dogs let alone. The meat will go toward a great feast at the mosques on Monday at the Eid ul Fitr, possibly the biggest Muslim holiday of the year.

When one month ends and another begins is not scientific, it's observation (or lack thereof) of a new moon. I'm told there are people “on it” in Fes and it is now only a matter of days until Ramadan is over. The new month, Shawwal, begins either Sunday or Monday, fingers are crossed all over Arabia for Sunday, but, alas, it is Monday. One more cranky afternoon.

Admist all the disruption and chaos of Ramadan, it does save you money. Though, ironically, a lot of muslims put on weight this month, so rich and indulgent are the post sundown meals.

The Groove is ON

Time no longer matters. There is day and then there is night.

We read and we sleep. There is feast and there is fast.

Our bus surfs the countryside, mosques and souks, oases and dunes, rock and trail. And the trails roll on forever and our pace has hit its groove.

Where Goats Climb Trees

From the twisted branches of the Argan tree hang a fruit irresistible to the industrious goat, whose gastronomic engine delights in the hard outer fruit before the terminal end deposits the inner pit to sun dry in the scorched fields. Later collected, these pits are pressed for their oils, delicious in their own right or mixed with honey and almond paste as a spread.

So very pleased to be in the land where goats climb trees.

Not Exactly Fluent

Parlez-vous francais? Non?! Well so much for all those books, tapes, and tutors.

Hmm, is that Arabic? Or Berber. And would it really matter? Naw, we are doing just fine.

Second Biggest

I love Islamic mosques for the peace and serenity of their design work, quite the polar opposite of the macabre suffering that bombards you in Christian imagery.

Here Darlene looks out through the gates of the second largest mosque in the world, Casablanca. Only Mecca in Saudi Arabia is larger.