After an extended afternoon of shopping at the Marjane on the "other" side of town, we returned with our goodies to a much appreciated cooler Oudaylas. While not as posh as the "other" side of town, it is so much cooler here.

T. schlepped the HUGE bag of dirt upstairs to the terrace, where we had deposited the plants yesterday. Then made a run to the wonderful corner sandwich shop. We had turkey, sausage, and fries.

For some unknown reason the street was filled with candy wrappers and those sticks that go in popcicles when we returned. After putting everything away, having lunch, and watching some Battlestar Gallactica I went out to get water and bread. Again with the trash in the street. For the second time today I went out with a plastic bag and picked it all up. I am amazed at the difference of such a small act.

We looked at several tables and umbrellas but decided the ones at the nearer Marjane are more what we want. I found a great covered swing, but I think T. is correct when she says it would be too big. The river appears to be higher and the breeze blowing across the terrace is quite cooling.

I love shopping. For everything but food is fun. We got some pots for all the plants; T is up there now shifting the dirt about. I found a great new trash can for the kitchen, and TRASH BAGS! Funny the things that are hard to find. Paper is more expensive than food. I renewed my candle supply, and bought some new cushion fillers for those silk pillow cases I bought in Fez; and a new pillow and a set of 200 count blue sheets for the bed.

My task tomorrow is to take a beach walk and gather rocks and pepples to go on the tops of the plants. I have found that keeps the dirt and moisture in. We are also trying to discourage the neighborhood "roof cat" from using the dirt in the pots as a litter box.

We continue to have crowds of tourists passing our front door two to four times a day. They are for the most part, SO RUDE! We were going out the door and a middle-age woman (French) pokes her head in the door and says to her friend, "Oh this riad is quite nice." Q tried to tell her it was not a riad, and she acted as though we were not even there! An American today came up to the lovely man at the corner fresh squeezed orange juice hanut and posed him, then took photographs; and bought NOTHING! Even when Tara tried to encourage her. I am amazed that in a Muslim country none (a rash generalization, I hope there are some) of the tourists ask permission to take photographs. The Muslims, especially on holy days, do not want their photographs taken. I don't want my photograph taken! The children are always ready to pose; but one should still ask.

The older fellow who runs the hanut around the corner speaks dargia, english, french, and italian! I continue to be amazed at the multilingual ability of the Moroccans of all social and economic classes.