Friday, 28 September 2012

Alleys, doors and cats

We woke this morning to the sound of rain drumming on the roof and dripping from the terrace. We were supposed to head out of town with a guide to a waterfall nearby but the wet put an end to that. We debated about leaving for Fes today instead of tomorrow but decided it was too much hassle to change already made plans. So a slow and cruisey day it was.

Johanna downloaded the third book in a series onto the ipad and I raided the bookshelf of the riad. Colin sat in front of the computer. Later, as the rain eased and in between showers we headed back to the main square, Johanna taking photos of cats along the way (see her blog – Hmmm wasn’t expecting to have to share my camera!) We followed the crowd to a small market, the rain keeping many women from making the trek down the mountain to sell their produce. Also following behind the locals we stumbled across the meat market. There were some interesting carcasses and some unidentifiable animal body parts on display, it was red, bloody and a bit smelly. The fruit and vegies were a welcome relief and the bananas we purchased were delicious.

We know our way around the medina now and are familiar with some places and faces – the store holders never tire of trying to sell you something. We see some of the same recognisable locals going about their business. There is an old woman half Johanna’s height who hobbles around with a walking stick, a man who sits on the same step every day for most of the day and the blokes who sit around a board playing some kind of game. Three elderly gentleman sit on a seat outside the Kasbah most of the time (one of them is the guy reading the paper with his nose an inch from the page – photo in previous blog) We love watching the people, seeing kids go to school, muck about in the alleyways, women shopping and gossiping along the way. The men seem to congregate at cafĂ©’s and sit around drinking tea, I don’t know where the women are – home I guess. I would love to take photos of these people and their daily life but it feels rude to do so, a bit like the papparazi or a stalker. Occasionally I try to take a sneaky shot, but you can tell the locals don’t like having people photograph them, and fair enough too.

Alleys, doors and cats, the colour blue, these will be some of the photos we take from this place, but the daily life of its people will be the memories we take from Chefchaouen.