Stall #31

Since I don’t know who suggested it, I can’t really blame them, but I came armed with a year’s worth of toiletries. That’s 36 Gillette Mach 3 razor blades, after guessing how many times a week I might actually shave. Well, a trip to our first grocery store revealed that Mach 3 blades are not in short supply, and furthermore, they cost perhaps 40% less than they do in the states. And it’s not just Mach 3s. Our trip to Acima, the high-end grocery store in Gueliz, revealed any toiletry you could want even if the text is in French or Arabic. Another thing Acima tought us: you can learn a lot about a culture’s food by what they purchase in bulk - I don’t think I’ve seem stacks of 1-gallon tubs of honey before, or raisins sold in 5-kilo bags.

The next order of business was to get a power adapter for our computers and various electronics. We’d used up our battery power, and now could not take our computers to the internet cafes. This might not seem like a big deal, as there were computers galore in dozens of internet cafes for about 90 cents an hour, but they all shared an unfortunate problem: they had French keyboards. Ten minutes of frustrating hunting and pecking and searching for missing symbols (@ was nowhere to be found, though it is rather handy when emailing) and we realized we hadn’t even logged into our email accounts yet. We needed our computers, and the time to get the adapter was now. I thought it was better to get this in Morocco rather than back in LA because, well, because I’m sure I had a very good reason for thinking so at the time. The concierge in our hotel directs us to Marjane, a large, Walmart-like shopping center a short cab-ride away, and off we go. While we did find plenty of flat screen TVs and a good selection of single malt scotches, it turns out that they did not have any adapters. Two friendly employees give us directions to an area back in the medina that stocks electrical equipment, but warn us that since it is the holy day of Friday, they’ll likely be shut. Reverse the taxi route, go back to our hotel, and set off for the electrical stand. We walk in circle after expanding circle, periodically stopping for directions. Each person tells us we’re close and gives us directions to a location a block or two away. What we thought would take us 15 minutes has now swallowed three hours and we haven’t even succeeded yet. We pass a storefront of a chic boutique that Caitlin has read about in a magazine, and she asks if I want to go check it out. “Not until we’ve got the adapter!” I hiss, and on we go. Finally we come to a little electrical shop and a friendly old man sells us two adapters – a regular one, and then a sort of local three-prong/two-prong adapter.

Mission accomplished, we head back to our section of Gueliz and to a late lunch at Kechmara, a chic little lunch spot filled with well-dressed Moroccans and Europeans. (While the menu looked great, the food was pretty mediocre, with a lovely raspberry tart excepted.) Back at our hotel, I put the adapter on the end of a power strip we’d brought with us and plug it in. A spark and a pop, and we’ve blown the fuse. Oh, yes, we’d bought an adapter that changes the shape of the prongs, but had neglected the fact that we were taking 240 volts of Moroccan power into a power strip built for the 110 volts standard in America. Mission, as our pal George W. knows, not-so-easily accomplished. Back off into the Medina, and this time we find a place that sells the transformer we need. The shopkeeper is very nice, but refused to sell us anything unless we bring the computer in and he can see exactly what we’re trying to do. Well, dusk has settled, so we take his card and promise to return the next morning.

We stroll back to the Place, as I will call it from now on (so I don’t have to remember how to spell Jemaa el Fna), and wander around as the crowds come out. The stands selling wares during the day are replaced with food stalls. While the stalls are conveniently numbered, and Caitlin read that #31 has the best merguez sausage in Morocco, we find that the stalls aren’t arranged sequentially. Here are a few photos of our first evening in the Place.

Once we locate stall #31, we each order a plate of merguez sausages, and they are wonderful, wonderful. We will go back, and if you plan on visiting us here, we’ll take you there, too. We even eat the flat bread and side of some salsa-like tomato sauce laced with fresh herbs, though we fear for our stomachs. And when the man and woman sitting next to us start eating a dark stew-looking thing, we order up a plate of it. I think it was called Raat, or something like that. It was a mixture of meat, caramelized onions and perhaps lentils. A miscommunication as we were leaving made us think we’d just eaten brain rather than liver, but all was good.