Day 9

It is our last morning together and we all linger over breakfast. The 5 women from Britain are all heading out on the 5 PM flight tonight. Brahim has arranged a 5 seater taxi to take them to the airport. Allison is thinking about reducing her stay. Cami is going to Essaouira for a few days and Brahim is to drive him there. Danielle will leave tomorrow. Katie and Evan are waiting to see if they will be going to Egypt with the civil unrest there there is every likelihood that will be cancelled. They have been watching CNN and googling, trying to get the latest updates. There are hugs all around and promises that we will keep in touch.

I am going to go to the tanneries today and Allison is coming along not having fitted it into her schedule earlier. Part way along we are picked up by a man who insists he is not a paid guide that he just happens to be going along the same way that we are and is just being helpful. He gets some mint from someone at the side of the street, breaks the stems and hands each of us a spring. "A Berber face mask." he says. We can hold it to our noses when the smell gets too strong. The streets in this part of town have the smell of a barnyard from the cow urine and pigeon pooh used in the processing of hides. He shows us into one of the dyers courtyards which are filled with grey concrete tubs of varying liquids. He explains the first tub contains lye (it has a slight green tinge to it) used for the removal of the hair from the hide. The next tub is used to remove the fats from the hyde, the 4 th vat contains the excrement from the pigeons to cure the hydes. In the centre are large tubs of brown liquid, this is the brown dye used to colour the skins of cow. I take a picture of a mute boy, he indicates he wants to be paid. His skin is dark brown made all the darker by the dye he is standing in. We wend our way around and I see in the darkness of a room to one side, a hunched over man using a primative looking scraper to shave the hide. We are whisked away and our "non-guide" points out another dyer with vats used to dye the hides of lamb and goat. He leads us around and now passes us on to another man to continues our non-tour. We are brought to a leather cooperative. I try to negotiate the purchase of some small change purses; I had already bought some for 40 dh each. He offers his at 66 dh each. I counter with 10 dh. He takes the coin purses and tosses them down on the desk with an angry wave. I walk away since I already have some. We now begin to make our way home, but one false turn has left us without our bearings and no sure way to go next. A young man comes up and indicates the way we should go. We pay him a little but he insists on more. He has not delivered us to where I expected, but Allison recognizes where we are and leads us back to the Riad.

After a chance to freshen up, I ask Allison if she is interested in lunch or has some other plans. She wants to change her flight time, but can do that later. She asks if I am interested in someplace quiet that she discovered yesterday. She cautions that it is pricer that the standard fare. I'm game. We walk down and past the Bahia Palace. We are about to cross the street when a motorcycle stops in front of us. A Moroccan man extends his hand in greeting to Allison. She speaks to him in French and then he is off. She explains to me that it is the silver worker that she had watched for some time the day before as he engraved a silver tray by hand. He is the man from whom she had bought a small engraved brass tray. We turn a couple more times before we enter a small upscale riad with a dining room in the middle courtyard. A tall banana tree grows skyward, other regional plants grow as well. I order Moroccan salad and penne pasta with chicken. I am interested in carbo loading as tomorrow is race day. It is possible to order wine by the glass here and we do so. We have a very relaxing lunch.

When we get back to our Riad, I find Lynn and Danielle near my room. Danielle has been crying. Someone pinched her wallet from her purse. Already she has reported to her bank the theft of her credit card, but had not been able to get through to another bank about her debit cards. She has also been to the police station, but must go back after 4:30 PM when there will be an English speaking officer there. I say I will go with her as Lynn must leave for her flight. Danielle wants to get a police report which she can file with her insurance claim. We walk over to the police station which is not far from the hotel. We are lead up an outside staircase and walk along an exterior balcony which faces an internal car court. On the opposite side of the balcony are a series of offices. We sit on a wooden bench until called in to one of the offices. It is the quintessential image of police stations in foreign lands - there are 3 mis-matched steel desks, the walls, once white, are smudged with grime, on the wall, hanging slightly askew, is a picture of the king. A couple of the police officers smoke and a blue haze hangs above their heads. The only concession to modernity are a couple of computers. The English speaking officer is nice and takes Danielle's statement. She is given a copy with a report number which she will be able to use once home.

We go back to the hotel. I watch some TV in the lobby and read in my room. I don't feel hungry after my large lunch. I have an apple and walk out about 10:30 PM to mail some postcards before going to bed. Tomorrow is race day and I want to make sure I am well rested.