trans-saharran express

• after my last post i finally rode a camel. i can't believe that it took me so long to do it. the guy wanted about $40cdn initially, but i bargained hard and got him down to $12. I was then prepared to gallop mightily across the beach and over the dunes on the back of my savage beast, but apparently they don't trust reckless tourists with their precious camels (but how precious could they be: I met a guy who told me that a moroccan man had offered him 10 camels for his girlfriend, which is a pretty poor exchange on camels) so someone went out with me. It was pretty awesome and i would do it again, but just as it was getting really exciting, the guy said we had to turn around. when i complained he said, "what you expect for 100 dirham?" i guess that is reasonable, but those lazy camels just sleep on the beach all day and eat, except for the half hour they actually have customers, which is a lot of wasted camel power.
  
  after that i met some americans who were in the process of getting drunk and they made me come with them to eat an enormous feast on the roof of a restaurant in the medina. it was pretty good and a very warm and clear night, but it was outrageously expensive. good thing they wouldn't let me pay.
  
  the next day i bought a bus ticket to Marrakech. the first class bus company i had travelled with before was too expensive and didn't leave until 8pm, so i just walked to the bus station and got on the next bus, which was half the price. of course, the seats were small, ripped, the air conditioning was broken and the windows didn't work, and i was really worried about my luggage the whole time because they didn't think it was necessary to tag my luggage or even give me a card. after all, who would take luggage that didn't belong to them?
  
  on the bus i made friends with a group of spanish people and, after i found my bags (entirely unstolen), we went to the hotel they had stayed in last time they were in Marrakech. it's a great place, built around a central courtyard with a terrace on the roof and every surface is covered in tiles. also very close to the centre of the medina.
  
  the city's most famous feature is this enormous public square full of people selling shit called djema el fna. it reminds me of the pne because it is big, smelly, and mostly overpriced. the only real difference is that cars, motorcycles, donkeys, and horses are all going as fast as they can through the square and there are no lines painted on the ground. the street theatre is part of a thousand year old tradition of ripping off tourists and is a UNESCO world heritage thing, but i thought it was pretty shitty. It was mostly just a bunch of dudes in robes hitting drums and dancing badly, with very little snake charming or suspended rope from a basket climbing (you know what i mean) going on. And the worst part is that if you stand even remotely near the crappy show, some dude with a box will come over and demand you pay. i have no idea how i kept getting singled out from the hundreds of other people in the square but it was pretty tiresome and i eventually just pretended to be Danish. the only language moroccans don't know.
  
  we met this old weaver guy who the spanish people had made friends with before, and he invited us into the back alley and up into his workshop. it was really weird, but i would compare it to a castle for a really poor person. He served us mint tea and talked like we were old friends before he tried to sell us the same junk they sell in every other store except at a slightly higher price because he claimed his cousin made it. i almost bought a pair of sandals from him for 36 dollars, but on the way to an ATM i asked a guy in a shop how much his were and it was less than half that. The old dude was really mad that i wouldn't buy his overpriced crap and he called me a child and told me not to come back, but i think that is only stage two of the bargaining process. now it is my move. on the way out of the market some guy offered to sell me a fake Cartier watch and the same slippers for what the old guy wanted for just the slippers. what a country.
  
  my spanish friends left this morning and it was very sad. who knew i would ever be sorry to say goodbye to europeans?