Jack and Paul decided to get barber-shop shaved. While waiting for a spot we sat in a blue-painted alley. Some young girls were on a step a bit further up and were interested in us.
Paul showed them a couple of card tricks. While he and Jack went to get shaved, I went to sit with the young girls. More and more gathered as we all spoke to each other in different languages.
Together in a blue alley in an ancient city we forgot everything except the teaching and learning of the correct folds to make a paper tulip. The slow, exquisite activity resulted in a lasting memory of smiles and laughter and ten white flowers. They amateurishly painted my arm and hand with henna.
Next stop, Abdul Salaam. Haggling thus far had included a long dinner and hours of carpet and blanket discussions. This day brought with it a gift for his new baby and more hours of intense price planning. Eventually it was just Paul, Duncan and myself with Abdul, surrounded by and covered in blankets and carpets.
Discussions are quite formulaic. He asks what you will pay, you say something low and affordable. He smiles or laughs and says something about you being crazy or you killing him. He names a hugely high price. We say no, no, way too much and then we move on to other things, a TV show, a story about someone, playing with his daughter or the neighbour’s children who run in and out. And then we name prices again. This goes on for forever. I got a 1000DH cashmere and cactus thread blanket for 300Dh and a straw hat. Beautiful reds and yellows. After all the bartering and money exchanges, we all join him for a second breaking of Ramadan dinner. When thinking Chechaouen, my images are sky blue alleys and Abdul Salaam’s colour-rich rooms of beauty and mint tea.
