Undies anyone?

A short tale.

Walking the medina of Rabat, I spied many brand name undies, Calvin Klein being the most prominent. I sent an email to a mate asking if he wanted some. Self correct on these devices is a wonderful thing. For once it comes out saying it more accurately than the original. The email said:

Do you want me to pick you up a pair of Calvin Kleim (correct spelling) undies. All genuine, ridgy dodge for $2.80. 

Rabat’s fortress, the Kasbah les Oudaias, stands high on the south bank of the river. We took a stroll in the late afternoon past its massive door, through the village inside the walls, to the large courtyard overlooking the coast.

In this quiet place, young sweethearts held hands in corners, spoke softly by the stone wall and leaned on each other by the lookout. 

Another gate opened onto the Andalusian Garden where a vigorous tom cat had been busy earlier in the spring. His progeny overran this lovely space.

You can’t judge a book by its cover in Morocco. The street might have a pile of rotting garbage in a corner waiting be collected. There is a strong odour coming from the drain in the street and the walls we walk by look as if no attention has been paid to them since the date above the doors. Ours says 1431. When we open the book, its a marvellous read!

Here’s a few covers we saw yesterday.

Rabat is an interesting place.