CASABLANCA, MOROCCOWent for a walk this morning to find the beach, but the morning haze turned into a light sprinkle and I didn’t know where to hole up if it started to really rain, so I came back and read for a while. Eventually set out again and walked about five miles to find a nice beach. The sand was medium brown, marbled with fantastic designs in dark brown sand. When the waves went back out, the remaining sheet of water made the beach look like highly polished mahogany. In spite of the size of the place, there were only four or five people in view and no one in the water. I went in and found it fabulously refreshing— just the right temperature (chilling) and prefect-sized waves.
I’ve become so paranoid about rip-offs that I kept my glasses in my hand while in the water. The chances of someone stealing them might be a thousand to one, but the consequences would be disastrous—I’d have been lucky to find my hotel again, let alone continue the trip.
After a long, late-afternoon nap and a big couscous meal, I took a walk in the European shopping section. This is the hustlers’ quarter and nighttime is when their adrenalin is really flowing, but I didn’t let any of them stop me. It’s unfortunate that on a trip that I designed in such a way as to meet people easily, I’ve become so preoccupied with avoiding them. If in my peripheral vision I see someone turn and walk toward me or if, God forbid, some smiling, Western-dressed, young Moroccan’s eyes meet mine, I automatically quicken the pace and veer away, or even cross the street, and I never answer anyone who calls me.
PHOTO CREDIT
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