Found a few more CF cards of Moroccan shots, so thought I would match a few with my diary notes from lunch that same day.
We pull in for lunch at
a large town in the middle of of another vast plain and chow down on lamb tagine,
local bread and Coke for 50 drh including tip. The open air butchery and BBQ
style cooking may not inspire, but the scent of meat cooking with all sorts of
spices and local herbs wins the battle. And who knows how yesterday’s camel
burger was produced?
We are parked in by a
family who've pulled up behind us to fix a flat tire, so I wander along the
main drag grabbing some “alone time” and a few shots with the G12. I “chat”
with an open-air butcher about his motorbike - he in one language and me in
another. I have my Deus Ex Machina tee on and point to the bike. We smile,
laugh and wave goodbye.
Along the little road the
smells of cooking are replaced by fresh manure mangled with diesel fumes from
poorly maintained vehicles. There’s buses and cars and trucks with animals
stacked on top of crates that are stacked on top of other stuff and look like
they’d topple in this wind. Folks are heading home after the big festival
holiday and this little town is some sort of crossroads for commerce and
communication.
Nobody’s interested in
another traveller with a little camera. I’m not really into the social
documentary type of photos, but can see why that crew love their little high
quality Leica’s and Fuji’s. I capture a few more snaps of the friendly chaos
remembering not to shove the lens in people’s faces.
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