Fond Farewells

I'm not going home -- or at least starting my homeward trek -- until Thursday, but today was my last day with my guide and driver. They are so nice! We did a lot today; nearly every day has been a series of new experiences. Today it was riding in a horse-drawn carriage (which I've done before, but not in Marrakech) to the Majorelle Gardens. There we had a tour and went through a wonderful museum where I couldn't take pictures. There were many pieces of ancient clothing, implements, pottery, and carved objects. What's really interesting is that the artisans still craft most of these works in the same way they have for centuries. The Gardens sat empty from 1966-1980, when they were bought by Yves St. Laurent and restored. His home is on the same property with a fence separating it from the open gardens. (He doesn't live there -- or anywhere -- anymore, but his ashes are on the property.)

Next we shipped my box of stuff-that-wouldn't-fit-into-my-suitcase. It wasn't as bad as I had expected, either in cost or in hassle. I decided I wanted to look at camels, not quite sure at that point whether I wanted to ride one. My companions took me to a "nice suburban area with better camels". Technically, the one-hump guys (and gals) are dromedaries; camels have two humps and are rare, found mostly in Eastern Asia. I was a little bit afraid, but I did it. I kept feeling like I would fall off, but I didn't. I was inordinately proud of myself, and again had that childlike feeling. I told my guide about pony rides for little kids, and said I kind of felt the same way I had when I rode a pony as a child. He rides camels often (sorry, I can't get into the habit of calling them dromedaries), especially when he does summer tours into the mountains for camping. I asked him if the mountains were cool in summer. The answer is yes, but you have to go through the desert to get there. Of course, the desert is very hot, like 120 degrees or more. No, thanks. Well, maybe. Someday.

I invited my companions to join me for a last day lunch and they accepted. It was hard to say goodbye. Spending so much time together in close quarters for a week has made it seem like we've known each other longer. (That may not have come out the way I meant it. It's a good thing.) I wasn't sure if it was okay to hug them goodbye, but it was. We shared a warm embrace -- me with each of them, not all three of us together -- and went our separate ways. Tomorrow will bring new solo adventures as I take a Moroccan cooking class in the morning, eat the meal we make with the class, and spend the rest of the day wandering the medina on my own. My guide was funny; he said if the food was bad I could only blame myself. It's not as funny when I say it here.

When I was ready for dinner, I asked the concierge where I could get a good pastilla. I may have mentioned this dish before, and I intend to learn to make it when I get home. She mentioned a few places and then asked if I'd like to try it at the hotel restaurant. I said I hadn't seen it on the menu. She told me the chef here makes an excellent pastilla, and she would have him make one for me and serve it wherever I wanted it. I enjoyed it in the lobby bar, looking out the window. The waiter bought my tea for me, a gift, he said. I'll put a picture of it below. Mint tea is a big deal here, a kind of welcome and blessing in one. This pot had a little handle cover that looked like a tiny butler. (My battery is about to die!)