What’s a city without street food? Went back to the Jemaa Lfna square to look around and try for dinner. Got fried sole so greasy (oily) it can’t possibly be good for me. At a stall called Chez Aicha No. 1. It tasted really really good, good for me or not.
Tourists and Marrakechis alike milled around, sitting at the stalls to meals, the smoke of open-air grilling rising like an offering to a gastronome god. As I waited for my order, a posse of Europeans join the table beside me. The noise becomes a mix of Arabic, Spanish, French, and my English when I recommend one of the girls should try the tagine d’angeau (lamb) if it’s on the menu.
Dinner done, I walked around a bit and people watched then headed home.
Here’s the thing. I walked confidently to my riad, the confusing streets had cleared somewhat in my head. Just when I’m about to leave the medina for a hotel in the New Quarter. Home becomes familiar and then it’s not home again.
A bunch of kids were playing football just outside my street. I smile and nod, they smile too and it’s good night.
#Travel #TravelWriting #OneAfrica #Nigeria #Morroco #Marrakech