I’ve decided to call us Mr and Ms Beignet, which is a little pastry with flour and eggs and different sorts of fillings. There’s an expression in French that goes ‘se faire rouler dans la farine’ which means ‘to be taken advantage of. We are the Beignets!
We’re doing our best, but I haven’t had to bargain in many years, not since I was in Indonesia when I was twenty five or so, so around thirty years.
For the moment we are losing the daily battles, but my partner was able to get a car with tires that weren’t bald. I’ll wait to buy any gifts until I’m more used to it. It’s tiring, but it’s the game and I tend to lose myself in the place before noticing what’s up. We’re in Africa! My eyes are wide with the beauty and the ugliness.
Passing by Casablanca by car yesterday hurt. I’ve seen worse ghettos in South America and Asia, but not for a long time. Not seeing them doesn’t make them go away, but it hurts to see them. So much wasted human potential there (see how being a teacher has affected my world view? I see young prodigies wasting away without ever living up to what they might be capable of, simply because they were born poor.)
Today we head into Berber territory. We have a rendezvous with a friend in Todra the 20th (tomorrow), but the long, easy part of the route is done. No more highways, but good routes hopefully.
I’m hearing birds I don’t know, among all the other things I don’t know. We’ve hired a bird guide much later in the trip, so hopefully we’ll learn some names later.
Onward and outward go the Beignets, bleeding bits of flour everywhere.
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