Monday, May 14, 2007


Varanasi's deepest Papua New Guinea,
Siem Reap's Easter Island.

A few thousand Europeans (French happily following a proper baguette) -
all of whom right now in the medina -
have Marrakesh squarely in their holiday sites.
Americans not yet, not so much - it's still a bit glossy magazine stuff.

Though it's embarrassingly easy to get lost in the medina if various factors are in play (more on that),
the medina is signposted if you follow paddles held aloft by tour shepards,
or stick to alleys densest with leather items and decorative tangines,
or close your eyes and follow the "ooh, that's a lovely lantern..."

A culture/country is a big hit with a world scrambling for the foreign;
that I can't except myself is only tempered by the fact that I take up no space on a tour bus.

Your storieed souk is neatened, chickens hung elsewhere, shopkeepers only mildly wheedling, come-ons mild even as jezebels roam in Ibiza-attire, prices are firmed, nothing suspect's underfoot and ATMs are located in the main Place Jemaa-el-Fna.

Still the burnoosed figures hug the souk walls, the odd donkey cart, dates being bought but little mystery really. (until you get lost as I mentioned).

C - amidst them all (and adding to even as she gripes)

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