it's so loud and dusty and hot and loud and hot and loud.
my homestay, hopefully an oasis of calm, is on the other side of the main square, jemaa el fna. the noise is unbelievable. the worst is the noise of the performing animals. i can't give you a recap of how badly they are treated because i tried to ignore it as much as possible. it's probably bad. who wants this?
earlier that day i had arrived at the airport, a striking modern building so utterly at odds with where i found myself now. a thrilling taxi ride got me to the medina, surprising the taxi driver with my french saved me a few dirham, maybe.
le compteur! le compteur! s'il vous plait.
a man reaches out with a brush and says something to me, as i had made the mistake of making eye contact. i think he wants to shine my shoes. i look away as quickly as i can, i couldn't make out what he said against the background cacophony. i would prefer to wear my sunglasses to avoid making eye contact, but i realise that i only packed a pair i bought at an op shop several months ago in the expensive part of my home town. they look and feel expensive. they probably were. but i don't have time to explain that.
in averting my eyes i see a young couple similarly overwhelmed. the woman on the left is fully dissociating. the woman on the right has a firm grip on her hand, leading her through the crowd. they both have hats, one is red, one is white. i need a hat.
after several more near misses with vendors and one time a scooter, either driven with extreme recklessness or extreme precision depending on the aims of the rider, i made it to the homestay. ahmed greeted me with a large glass of cold water, with a sprig of mint. he apologised profusely for the lack of rose water as they had just ran out. in retrospect it was cloying, at the time i could think of nothing but cold. i desperately wanted to pour some in my eyes, but i was inside and the rugs looked expensive enough for it to be rude.
his wife asma led me to my room. there was a comfortable but basic bed, a small desk and chair, and a pathetic ceiling fan whizzing at an alarming speed. it was trying really hard. it didn't make an impact. there was wi-fi.
after catching my breath, i plot out my route to one of the botanic gardens in the interior of the medina. le jardin secret was the easiest to get to, and it was possible to find my way there without traversing another square. instead i picked my way through narrow alleys lined with stalls. another scooter raced by me, and i saw the unmistakeable blue smoke of a two stroke engine. the smoke seemed to pass over one the stalls array of spices. that can't be good.
into the garden after a more expensive than expected ticket. it proves to be a sanctuary. several water features ensure the only sound is of gentle running water. leafy plants from around the world maintain a cool temperature. i see the couple from the square across the gardens. they still have their hats. i realise i can finally put on my sunglasses.
a few minutes later i wander closer to the couple and they notice me. presumably, they recognised me from the square, and the one crowned in white spoke to me in a language i didn't understand.
tiedätkö kuinka välttää aukio?
swedish maybe? I ventured the only word I knew in swedish.
engelska?
the couple both shake their heads. a lost opportunity.
i take a seat under the rotunda at the centre of the garden. i sit for a while. i struggle not to fall asleep. i will myself to stand up again and instead walk to one of the water features and look into the pool. it has a flawless marble bottom, devoid of any sort of foliage. if i relax my eyes a bit it melds into a consistent off white colour that i lose myself in for a while. i could stay here for a long time, but i need to get dinner. i hope i don't have to go through the square.