Meknes
On the bus journey to Meknes I joined forces with a gentleman from (to my memory) Argentina called Matthias who was in his 50s and a builder. He was rather recklessly necking back litres of water on the bus, and missing or ignoring the disgusted looks of his fellow travellers. He exhorted his abilities of negotiation, which normally involved walking away from people while they were in the middle of talking to him, which he was to demonstrate repeatedly during our time together. We set ourselves up in a very pleasant hostel where each room faced upon a courtyard with an orange grove and a hundred small chattering birds.
Carpet baggers.
Stone lake.
Flying buttress.
On the bus journey to Meknes I joined forces with a gentleman from (to my memory) Argentina called Matthias who was in his 50s and a builder. He was rather recklessly necking back litres of water on the bus, and missing or ignoring the disgusted looks of his fellow travellers. He exhorted his abilities of negotiation, which normally involved walking away from people while they were in the middle of talking to him, which he was to demonstrate repeatedly during our time together. We set ourselves up in a very pleasant hostel where each room faced upon a courtyard with an orange grove and a hundred small chattering birds.
Carpet baggers.
Stone lake.
Flying buttress.
posted by Ian Blaney at 12:38 AM
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