Cats

No, not the Broadway play. Real live cats…the ones I’m allergic to…everywhere. I thought Lima was bad but it doesn’t hold a candle to Essaouira where they are underfoot at every turn.

I went out to a recommended restaurant to eat a couple of nights ago. A magnificent place, cavern-like with tables tucked away in nooks and crannies and at different levels. There were a couple of tables at the top of a narrow set of stairs next to me. I looked up at one point and a cat was bounding down the stairs. It paused momentarily, looked around the room, then jumped up next to – of course – me. And it was quite insistent about staying there until I explained my position with a series of hand gestures…

Today at brunch in a small, sunny square, same scenario. Cat jumps up on the seat next to me. I explain in two languages to get the hell away from me. Kindly, of course, but I can’t risk what’s happened to the guy at the next table…

In other medina news, I was propositioned by a shopkeeper today…a guy in a stylish, brocade-covered dress. It always starts off so innocently. In this case, “I like your bracelet” turns into tea in his shop followed by him offering to cook me dinner at his place tonight. This is not someone my age. He has a three-year-old daughter which could make him anywhere between 16 and 55. I’m thinking early 40s. He says I have eyes like a Berber woman…if that means sick and tired of male bullshit, then I’ll take that as a compliment.

As much as I’ve enjoyed this little break, I’m ready to leave Morocco. Being vegetarian in most countries isn’t an issue but I’ve really struggled here. Not only with meat dominating menus, but with the markets where the sights and smells of slaughtered animals are impossible to avoid. The taste of meat seems to be in everything whether it’s actually present or not. And then there are the cats…