ACROSS SAHARA 1988

Magic Laser 11/14/88

I have a tumor inside of me
It’s made of jealously & misery
Hate, sadness and tears.
It blocks the door to my heart
It pulsates and expands with each knock.
It is being eaten up
By the magic laser of the Sahara Sun
It is disintegrated
It no longer blocks the door to my heart
I am free.

I can remember it, grisly and black
burning with the intensity of desert wood
until not even the ashes were left.
I cry with joy and feel the pulse, now
of my heart.
In time, as if in an instant, the calcified walls
disappear
and there appears a pure corridor,
infinite of gleaming white tiles.
The doors, once rusted w/ disuse,
now stand as if new.
adorned w/ gleaming brass.
I push
The wound is healed.

At the end of the white corridor
Is an infinite night sky
As clear as my memory
The endless lights are endless worlds of
mystery to me
The crescent moon is a symbol of hope,
enlightenment and truth.
Love is my child.

Jeff Shea

Shea’s Good Travel Advice
1. Young children begging is not good. However treat them as if they’re your children. Give them food. You are one of their parents, no matter who you are or where you are.
2. You can go anywhere and do anything. You would be surprised where there is transportation. If there’s none, find a guide to bring you on foot.
3. Mix w/ the locals. Eat what they eat. Try to learn some of their language, however little. It will delight them. Be friendly and show people things you think might be of interest to them! Be polite, smile and give a friendly nod or courteous greeting. Shake hands offer to share your food.
4. Bargaining. The basic rule is to first ask yourself what a thing is worth to you. Decide in your own mind what you’re willing to pay for it. If the vendor is touting some sort of “authenticity to an item” decide what you would pay even it weren’t. Authentic, you can either offer that you think its worth to start and stick w/ that price or, if you are in an area where hard bargaining is the custom, decide what you think something is worth & offer 60% of that value, then work your way up to it. It is not unusual for people to ask 500% or more than what they are willing to accept. Bargaining. Balance your judgment of an item’s worth on the following criteria: how much time did a person take to make the item, what level of skill was used, what is the going rate for such an item.
5. Photos. Ask before you take a picture of somebody. Respect their answer not only because it’s good for your health, but to preserve human dignity on earth. If you see someone particularly striking that you want to take a picture of, you might offer money up front. Don’t look at it as if you are paying for a photo, look at it as if you are buying a meal for a friend.
6. If you are in trouble w/ the police or some one claiming to have authority, and I am assuming you are basically innocent of any real wrong doing and you are on the street, do anything you can to prevent the authority from getting you behind closed doors. ELLICIT help from bystanders. Protest that you are innocent. Try to get others to stand up for you, for example you are stopped by police on the street, and they take your passport and then want you come to inside to get it back, then tell them you will wait for it, where you stand. If they insist you come inside, look around to the people on the street, communicate w/ gestures. They will understand your reluctance to be brought in for no reason. In some country, Zaire in particular, you will be stopped by a man wearing ordinary clothes, maybe because you took a photo or for nothing at all. Keep walking & act like you don’t understand.
7. Bring a good map. Get a Michelin road map if you are going to Africa or Southern Europe. They are extremely accurate & absolutely essential besides being interesting reading avoid Bartholomews.
8. Leave away your guidebook & throw it away. By the time they go to print, they’re out of date. They will mislead you often, which makes them worse than worthless, but even more importantly, they steer your mind into a preset mode which can ruin the spirit of adventure you will find information from people enroute. Talk to other travelers, they will tell you what is ahead what is worth seeing, your map is your guide. If it’s good it will give you more information than you can handle.
9. Bring at least $200 worth of $20 traveler’s checks. These are useful when just leaving a country and you only need a small mount.
10. Be suspicious. New “friends” can be costly. I hate to say it, but it’s safer to expect the worst. You can still be just as friendly, but look after your things. Pay attention to details, for example does everything a person is saying fit together? Is the story believable?
11. Use authority to advantage, you can leave your bags w/ someone who owns a thriving shop. Be aware of a person’s business. If you know some one has a descent job & lives an honest life, you can trust them because they have enough to keep them going and they have something to lose, you can find them again. And they wouldn’t have the job or they didn’t have the work either. But don’t take what people say at face value. Just because someone appears to have a good job doesn’t mean its so.
12. Pick your guide, don’t let them pick you. When you step off a bus and you are approached, on one hand don’t be rude but keep in mind that in our culture we are not obliged to converse w/ a total stranger. Don’t be pressured into dealing w/ a person. You will regret it.
13. Keep a diary/ Journal, you will enjoy looking back on it later, you’ll be surprised of all the details that you forget about.
14. Practice your patience. You’ll learn to enjoy yourself while you wait for others to get around to what they’re supposed to be doing. Most of the world lives like that. Be dignified; don’t ever swear at local people. If they swear at you in your language, remember that they couldn’t have learned that unless it began with a western person directing that language at them.
15. Be extra courteous to authorities. Remember that they are often paid little for their responsibilities & that it’s likely they have bad run—ins w/ one Western person’s disrespect. If you greet them w/ good cheer & respect, it makes their job easier for them. Show patience.
16. Remember that other travelers will follow in your footsteps. Everything you do will help to form an impression in local’s minds of what Westerns are like. There are two sides to this. On one hand, build good will through courtesy, generously & respect. On the other hand, if you let a bad actor take advantage of you, it will only form a poor opinion of the Western person. You must stick up for your rights. Be fair with others, but demand that they be fair with you.
17. Don’t underestimate the utility of dental floss (waxed). It can be used with a needle (large eye) to sew shoes. The wax has a self-binding characteristic. You can use it in the place of electrical solder to bind wares to terminals! Divide the risk of theft.
18. Divide your traveler’s checks into two packages. Put the receipts from the traveler’s checks of one pack into the other pack and vice—versa. Put one pack in your suitcase or rucksack and the other into your handbag.

~~~
What we want out of life

We want to live a super exciting life:
Go traveling
Super organized (like clockwork)
Have mystical experience
See into other dimensions
Take beautiful photographs or other to see
Collect beautiful things for our home
See places—everything in the whole world
Meet people (Culture)
Learn about myself (all of my different style)
Discover something none has ever discovered before — put together a theory about our basic existence
Put our entire experiences together introit an art form.
To live a life of health, kindness + exercise
Eat new foods and learn how to cook them
Have an international home
To continually keep ourselves more fit and beautiful
To codify, pull together and organic all the facets of our lives
To keep improving ourselves in order to make the world a better place to live

Our physical home is our international base, which takes on all the color of the art of our lives.
To reach a point where we, our life, our work, our travel & our home are all melded into one
I view it like our life should be art music is a theme (Dance), color form.

Music does the same thing to me as travel
To record our lives writing & poetry.

1). How do we assess whether something is important enough to keep & how do we organize things, so that what is the most needed is most handy (close by) & how do we recognize the things that we aren’t doing or don’t have but are needed.

~~~

SF-UK-ISRAEL-SPAIN-PORTUGUL-MAROCCO
October 11, 1988
(S)
Can you imagine? Just two days after eating at Lord Nelson’s table, I dream that they have made me 2nd in charge of a small ship. Jeff & Gary are standing by, I’m feeling proud, Jeff says ‘Have they/they should change the name of ATS Products to my control,’ and he laughs. Just then I am literally run over by Paul Creasy, who has a Rolls Royce on the highest deck waiting for him – the commander himself! (The drug smuggler I met in 83 in Singapore, no less!) It was a frothy sea. They weren’t to move the ships because I was there. The telephone rings in my room and breaks the reverie. It wasn’t long before I made the connection with Lord Nelson – odd because I never dreamed of being a captain like that – doubly odd because I hadn’t made much of eating at his table. My body shudders, you know as if I had been touched by his spirit. Then there was the way connection that the guy who really makes out in the dream is in essence a modern day “pirate,” standing up there with a flight jacket in the breeze.
Real Ale
Ferry Inn or Boat in Parsley
Bonacord at Charing Cross
OKells in Isle of Mann

October 20, 1988
(A)
I walked down to Ferry Inn but the ale, which has to settle for 24 hours, wasn’t ready yet. Drank real ale at Pickwicks. Flew to Ireland. Found B & B. First beer I drink is in “ O’Sheas Merchant.” Real set dancing. Had a Guinness just up the block from the brewery.
October 21, 1988 (A)(F)

I think I am too troubled to have a high sense of well-being. I list: the selling of the business, my inability to share my thoughts with Dad, Dad’s seeming inability to grasp simple thoughts, the potentials I see ahead in business which could make it worth so much more my mixed feelings about whether it was the right thing to do for Dad to make an offer. Today, I: Traveled from Dublin to Kilarney by train Rode a bicycle in the rain mostly about 25 miles Went to the base of Ireland’s Highest mountain Saw the Dunloe, Gap Had tea & bread (cake) in a real Irish home. Heard the Gaebi language being spoken Drank an Irish ale Saw Ross Castle Ate Irish stew

October 22, 1988
(S)(A)(E)(L)(F)
Saturday 8:56 am
Perhaps I am having trouble assimilating it all: the modern world, my life journey, my immediate environment of work, my early objectives. I mention this because I find myself worrying all the time, a low-key subtle anxiety. I don’t worry about many things – that is, in some respects I think I worry about things less than other people. But I find myself my own victim, often about seemingly intangible things or things otherwise which should be a point of happiness.
My major point of happiness in my life objectives – financial success, adventures in excellence in the world art, sexual happiness and philosophical insight and well being. This is a short description of what I have sought. Have these objectives lost some of their luster? Or is it that my vision has become clouded by work or disappointed? have just lost moment turn?
Work has allowed me little time to really get into a proper mind set for production in any other field, or at least to the extent I would wish. Compounded with this is the addition of new tasks: take, for example, the import /export idea. Originally was I not primarily motivated by this as a means to support travel? Yet it will clearly interfere with my focal pursuits by consuming valuable time. I suppose it could aid travel by giving it a new purpose or reason for existence.
Photography has become an interest I did not expect, but it is something I now hold dear because it is a record of my adventures. It is I suppose the prime product of my travels. What else could there be? Writing which I would also like to do. Art collecting could be. Music could offshoot. I suppose there could be a lot of things, but really writing and photography and especially the latter because it has a rudder impact on the viewer and it is less involved, though I would like to write too
Music has in earlier times provide me with a joy I cannot describe, a joy which no other thing has given me. Yet in seems a thing of the past. I guess it has been a highly personal thing, because to some extent my effort to produce commercial process has been at cross-purposes to the original inspiration. I know I have been a miserable failure in music but I will always believe that I have a special gift in my head for it, I need a lot of time and solitude and encouragement to [get] it out of me.

I. Economics
II. Adventure – seeing countries of the world, climbing, adventurous activities
a. Photography
b. Writing
c. Music

III. Art
a. Music
b. Photography
c. Writing

IV. Love
V. Philosophy

Part of my problem is that when I have time off I spend it traveling. I love music but it seems that it always takes place indoors and I feel cooped up playing inside a house, to some extent, the ambience of the place would make a difference. Depending on the house, I could probably be content to sit in it. It would have to be so comfortable that I would not want to leave. In any event I plan to continue trying to record music.
October 27, 1988
(A)(L)
I began by solo trip 6 hours 19 minutes and 39 seconds ago at 8:05 am in Haifa Israel on Oct.27 1988. It is now 1:24:20 Madrid time pm where I am headed. I will arrive about 5:15. I called Phyllis this morning, my time about 6:20 am, her time about 9:20 pm I asked her if she was sure she didn’t mind. I feel like that would be like lying, like that would betray our trust. She said to me, “Take care of yourself so that are can live a long and beautiful life together.” As the Lord is my witness, I love that woman. I only hope, from the deepest well within me that she can forgive my trespasses and those times when I may have hurt her feelings, I hope so much that I can be worthy of her love and devotion and loyalty and most of all, that I can make her happy. 3:39:04 pm Travel, without some form of change, without some pain, without some empathy for the hardships of the people living in the land you visit, is vulgar and without dignity. On Judith: seeing her again has done me good. It was a very interesting meeting. She asked me many questions about why I chose not to come to Holland 3½ years ago. I told her that the arguments had something to do with it. Also that she lived so far away. I explained a lot of things. But I told her that it was not because I had lost anything towards her that somewhere what we had was still living. She told me many things. She said I was probably the most important man in her life, that I was her best lover because she tried to explain because she felt so free with me. I didn’t quit understand how the last 3½ years of her life had been spent romantically but she made it sound like she hadn’t had intercourse with anyone although she described “making love” with two men, touching, etc., but not “fucking.” We talked about our walk in India. I felt good when she told me that she did not regret having come with me, not at all. She described minute details of things I said which fact quite amazed me. She described how I gave her a choice to come or not and that I had done the right thing with forcing her to make a decision. She described my face, of how unattractive I looked sitting (in the small room in Pokhara, Nepal) with a stern look on my face and a rain hood over my head and she thought to herself “I love that man. I don’t want to stay here by myself.” She described how, when we fought before leaving for Pokhara, when she decided to come with me that we got in the bus and there were white curtains in the bus and the sun shone in and it was like a dream the whole ride and what a nice time we had. She said how sometimes we would fight and then just laugh forgetting why we were fighting in the first place. She described in detail what happened when we got to Varanasi, how the controversy unraveled – all of which I had forgotten. She described how she felt we had loved each other in another life and how this revelation came to her: we were walking down form the Junbesi Monastery and she had a shudder through her body. She added that she didn’t think we were meant to be together the same way in this life as we were in a past life, that perhaps we had been [together] too long. This life as lovers and that she figured it was for the best all that had happened. She said that she was jealous of Phyllis in that it was her dream to travel with me again.
October 28, 1988
(A)
Portugal enroute to Lisbon.

My priorities are as follows:
(1) To get to Lisbon. Here I will run through the streets for two hours in commemoration of my arrival 13 years from the date of my original intention to do so. In the spring of 1975 I wrote: “On July 15, 1975, I will depart – from San Francisco to Lisbon, Portugal.” Finally I arrive. Running is a good way to see the city.
(2) To get the Strait of Gibraltar. I have always wanted to see this beautiful and historic location. Earlier this year, I saw a photograph of Jebel Musa.” What a fantastic geography!
(3) To get to Fez. This once “forbidden city” to outsiders is renowned for its market place. Here I hope to take a lot of photos. In the film, “The Congo I Knew” by Armand Denis (1935, Belgium), I saw the city as it was 50 years ago. It was fascinating!
(4) Casablanca. Although I don’t know what to expect, I feel compelled to visit such a famous place. It is on the coast of Morocco. I will go swimming perhaps.
(5) Take the train to Marrakech. This is a world famous ride. Marrakech is supposed to be quite picturesque, nestled in the foreground of the highest peak in the Atlas Mountains, Jebel Toubkal (4167 meters, or about 13,000 feet). Again, I hope to have a photo-fest here.

(6) Climb Jebel Toubkal. Being at the top of a mountain is always exhilarating. First off, hard exercise makes me feel great. Secondly, the brisk fresh air is embracing. Third, the views, if they can be had, put the icing on the cake.
(7) Tamanrasset and vicinity in Algeria. In the middle of the Sahara desert near the Hoggar Mountains: They are renowned to be picturesque. I hope to spend a few days taking a Land Rover into them. The highest peak there is 2908 meters or 9000 feet.
(8) Niamey. This completes my trip across the Sahara. It also completes a single line of travel from Scotland to Togo. I like to have a knowledge of the progression of living and geographic change between regions of the world so I like to travel on the surface of the globe.
If I merely cross from Togo to Kinshasa one day and from Italy to Turkey, I will have virtually (with small exceptions) drawn such a line from New York to Scotland via the Solomon Islands and Egypt, from Scotland to Kenya via the Ivory Coast and from Oregon to Buenos Aires.
You cannot imagine how much I have fallen in love with Lisbon! I have been here only a few hours and have felt better than I have felt in years (with the exception of making love with Phyllis)! The atmosphere is superb. The buildings are old and full of character, not kept up too much and not too little. The people are friendly, almost unaware of any cause to be irritated by or notice my presence. They are not uptight. I took a train out to Sintra on the advice of a Portuguese man I spoke with. I marveled at the beauty.
For lunch, salsichas (sausage wrapped in cabbage)
Bifana (roast beef meat with bread)
Serra (small cheese)
3 delicious rolls:
small glass delicious red wine
sparkling mineral water.
Total: 360 esudos about $2.25

Lisbon to Faro Grey is knawing at the countryside Bleak October grasses My heart sings. Red tile roofs, white walls, A splash of green and blue at the windows. I do not choose to cross The most beautiful countryside Or the most spectacular mountains. My path is straight and true It leads where it will For the beauty in all things prevails. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

October 29, 1988 (A)(L)
8:54 am I have a few decisions to make - 1) To rent a car or to take the ferry & train 2) To mail my film with a letter
Last night I spoke with Phyllis. I am so in love with that woman. In my eyes she is perfect and can do no wrong. She is understanding and encouraging, loyal and loving. I am so lucky she is in my life!! I told her how much joy I have been experiencing! What a phenomena!! I am relearning how important it is to me to write! It is my therapy and keeps my identity on a straight course. It gives me peace of mind I am not in a rush! I have time now each day!

October 30, 1988
La Linea/ Gibraltar 10pm
(A)(S)(E)(L)

I left Ayamonte at 11:45 am. My impression of Spain is the countryside is well cultivated and well kept. In Seville, I walked to a park for a short while. There was an old building which has a large courtyard with a huge semicircle decorated along its walls with tiles painting depending the history of each area of Spain. I don’t know what the name of this structure is. There was also a small canal with people rowboat and bridge crossing it also decorated in tiles two lovers kissed underneath it in their boat. The countryside south of Seville was gently rolling with much cotton being in season I was fortunate to be sitting next to the driver and had for my window a huge pane of glass so the bus was quite large. The sun shone bright through the clouds so I put on my Vuarnets. The glass is dark Yellow & has the same effect on clouds as does a yellow filter for black & white film. The clouds were duly separated & intensified. I tilted my head back and looked out from behind my huge windshield of glass. I felt momentary like the Pilot an imaginary character I dreamt up in Iran. (The Pilot observed the Universe from behind a huge windshield of glass. The basic idea of the Pilot was that he watched thought & observed things but was unmoved & unaffected by the happenings of “reality.” His was really the only truth, for everything we feel & know is transient. I guess another way to “see” reality was first to observe and make no conclusions – for thought only interferes with what our senses pick up. Anyway it was only a whimsical method of relating my philosophy. The clouds were varied, deep, resonant, changing, I thought clouds are the breath of God. One could imagine as if God’s brilliance spread within the mighty chamber formed by the clouds. In the front was a dark cloud & inside behind it was like a huge shining bowl, which you could only see the side of. When I took the glasses off the blare was so bright there was nothing left of the awesome spectacle.
Note: I almost missed the bus as it pulled away from a stop.
Rounding a corner, I imagined I could see Moroccan Mountains shortly, I could see it was no mistake but indeed it was Morocco in the distance across the strait! Then beautiful magnificent Jebel Musa towering 2500 feet above the Strait. Further on Gibraltar though I had never known what it looked like rose from the sea – there was no need of identifying it – I thought, “How odd that in one place congregated so many astounding geographical (and this historic) features. A body of water only 10 miles wide separating two continents! Eye – catching monoliths on either side as if sentinels! The history of the spot is uncountable! How many ancients crossed these waters on untold adventures! I was wondering if tomorrow would be photography weather. I looked at the red streaks in the clouds (“Red sky at night, sailors delight”).
I was unaware that the British still maintained control. Gibraltar. A British hobby no less! Inside the enclave English & Scottish pounds were accepted currency. I found a hostel outside the enclave in the Spanish town of Ja Sinea. I studied Morocco on the map during my dinner had a coffee then took a short walk. I began singing la la la la la la la la la which become Ja la la la la Ja Sinea…..

I thought of Phyllis, my step in time to my melody. I come to my room and improvised the whole song on tape. I danced to it & entered a state of bliss unaware of where I was. The beat gently rocked me like the music of Tabu Ley. This was important. It was a song about Phyllis and my feelings of being apart, of my experience here at this wonderful location, of the central importance of happiness and joy in life. It was so historically important for me and essential if I am to continue to grow and be happy because… I crossed a barrier of taking a chance to sing about my real feelings and most importantly, my feelings of love and faith for the one I love which I have been unable to really express joyfully because of a fear inside me of having those feelings hurt. Somewhere in my past God knows what it was something must have happened. But now to be able to say “I love you, I trust you, I have faith in you I miss you I look forward to seeing you.” Not just to say it, but to open my heart up to it, this is what is so major. I can think of years gone by when I would disassociate my feelings from my music as if I was “afraid of investing that I might lose.” And now that this deed is done it was worth it in & of itself, because it was so beautiful to open my heard once again to love. I don’t know why it has been so difficult for me to remember what my relationship with Phyllis has been like. I don’t know why it is not easy for me to remember that it has been bliss! The time in my car on Kansas Street singing at night, making love on the beach at night at Asilomar with painted faces making love in the water standing up at Bear Lake in Stanislaus, her giving me fellatio in the parking lot at Nordstrom, the time we made love in my office, her making love to me at Granite Lake, the way she makes love to me in my room what she looks like when her legs are straight up in the air when I pump her, how it sounds & feels when I fuck her in the ass and she moans, how she eats my come, how we sang in the car at Asilomar, sleeping together on her couch on Thursdays, the time we made love on the hill in Napa, the manicure she gave me before I left the b’day party where we kissed at my doorway & then made beautiful love, running together around the lake, watching slides together, her phone calls in the morning at the office when she speaks so sweetly to me, the way she says she needs me the times she brings food over, how she takes delight in the little improvement we make in our life, our plans for a house & life together. It goes on and on and on. How I always carry her down the stairs, how she lies on top of me & we fall asleep, how we shower together & wash each other. Why is it that I have such trouble having these thoughts in the forefront of my mind? Am I afraid to face the truth of the beauty of our love because I am afraid of disappointment or due to some past “block?” God help me to cherish, as I should! Writing is such an incredible tonic. I am more interested in what I have to say than anyone else is! It gives me a sense of identity. I am tired now & will go to sleep (11:10). Before I close, I want to jot down how I –

(1) Prayed & thanked God today for a good while
(2) How I wish that I can write out all my thoughts & organize them for the future.

For example –
(1) What am I to do with all my interests.
(2) What about my deeper thoughts I never talk about: my “special purpose” my desire to rule my desire to become a philosophical/religious leader (I am perfectly suited to understanding the world because of my 1st hand acquaintanceship with it.

One last note: I have staked so much claim in the merits of travel. Yet I have felt so much negative towards it the 1st few days on my own: My father saying: “Why would anyone want to cross the Sahara?”

Combating loneliness, trying, to find the reasons why one would want to sacrifice a pleasant home life for insecurity. It has taken me a few days to relax and to feel the groove. It is amazing how blinded one can become by a routine of work and being stationary to forget how precious 20 minutes of time can be. Just briefly I will summarize some good reasons.
TRAVEL
(1) It teaches inner strength by forcing one to –
a) Combat loneliness (or homesickness) b) Dealing constantly with new environments c) Self-reliance personal dignity self-sufficiency
(2) It completes a schoolbook education
a) It is a memorable first hand geography lesson b) A first hand demography lesson c) A first hand language lesson d) A history lesson
e) A lesson in transportation f) A lesson in international relations
(3) It teaches one to get along with others. (4) It teaches one to organize their time, to plan, to be flexible (5) It gives you a chance to relax, plan your next move in your “regular life” to reflect & absorb what has been happening (6) It five you a chance to exercise & change your diet (which I think is healthy to do) (7) It forces one to take a new look at the world & give one a more realistic since of what truth is because you no longer have your focused world at home to occupy your mind. This broadens perspective. (8) It teaches you about other dress, customs laws (9) It helps you appreciate your own home. (10) It corrects common colloquial misconceptions about the world “The French are unfriendly to travelers.”(False). Muslims hate Christians. (False, their religion admits of Christ as one of the prophets). “You can’t go to Iran” (Yes, you can) etc. (11) You see beautiful places. (12) It increases your awareness of the availability of goods & services. (13) It helps you see how foreigners view you country.

October 30, 1988 from Seville to Algeciras (Gibraltar) (S)(A)

3:12pm - I need to have more pride in myself if I am to take care of Filita properly, I need to hold my head up high. (Leaving on a bus, I) Imagine there is a hook coming by you have a choice to grab onto it or remain where you are. You jump and take hold of it carries you away. You get situated comfortably on this new rector, off for an adventure never to return again.
November 1, 1988
on the bus to Jey Tamikis is a beautiful (but bumpy) ride. (A)

Those are mountains with villages at their feet. At the first stop Chechaove I had a pea-soup like dish into which they poured olive oil and a spice. (I was told it wasn’t soup) It had a most memorable flavor. It reminded me of an olive oil I had in Jordan. So flavorful. Farther down the road is Ouezzane where we had a brief stop. We took the Meknes Fez turnoff. Rolling far grassland [?] with ridges on either side. We passed one hill with an odd feature, hard to describe. It was as if there were a hundred little rectangular doorways about 2’ x 1’ and below them a fall out of some sort. Also of note:
1)_____
2) Way hay is stored.

We stopped for a lunch on the road. For 6 dirhams they (754) they served 3 spiced lamb brochettes in a flat ¼ round price of bread. It was virtually uncooked on the inside but I ate it anyway being as though there was 5 whole lambs hanging adjacent to where they were cooking and they looked perfectly fresh as did the brochettes. It was delicious. November 2, 1988
morning Casablanca (A) I am sitting a contented pose watching Casablanca come alive. By midday I imagine there will be an unusual cloud of exhaust I came on the sleeper car from FEY last night, which I enjoyed. I am “making up for last time” as they say, and with my schedule departure and arrival to Marakedi today, I should be completely on schedule. I realize that regardless, I will have to push if I am to be successful in achieving my eight objectives within the allotted time: 1) To see Lisbon 10/28 2) To see Gibraltar 10/30 3) Fes 11/1 4) Casablanca 11/2 5) Marrakesh 11/2 6) Climb Mt. Toubkal 11/5 as close as the Refuge (too much snow/word) 7) See Tamanrasset area Cross Sahara. But none of these is nearly as important except for the last. I think I will enjoy Mt. Toubkal. Mountain climbing has never failed to be well worth the effort. I will also enjoy having put behind me the last detractions from my real objective and to feel the momentum of pursuit without fetters. I know it seems like a lot of moving around but it is justifiable on a few counts:

1) Even a few hours in a place can result in a life time of memories and a base upon which to build more complete knowledge. You find that you become more attuned to news or facts about a place once up you have been there.
2) It may be the only chance I have in my lifetime to visit such places.
3) It satisfies a longstanding curiosity. 12;05 pm - Waiting for “the train to Marrakesh”

I just called Phyllis. I asked her if she still loved me as much as she did before I left. She said, More! I said the same I asked her if she would wait 3 more weeks, she said of course. (She also said it would be more than 3 weeks at which point I told her now I’d like to come home a few days each so that we could go away for the weekend. If I can, I’ll be home for Thanksgiving, but we will see) “I think you are the most wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, wonderful man in the world!” I told her “I think that you are the most fantastic wonderful woman in the world and I can’t believe how fantastically lucky to have your love.” I asked her if I “had anything to worry about and she said I didn’t. Then said she thought that maybe I had been having so much fun that I stopped missing her. I told her that it was painful to be away from her. She said something like “That’s not good” – whatever her reply was I interpreted it as meaning she was sorry I had pain. I asked her if it was O.K. if I still thought every night of the words she had told me to remember she said “I do!”(think of the words you told me to remember). We said if I could get home Thanksgiving we could leave after dinner. She said “That would be perfect because that will be the only weekend that I’ll be able to do that because I have so much I have to do…I have four projects going on school…and of course I’m going to want to drop everything when you get home” When we said goodbye I said “Don’t worry (about me crossing the Sahara desert). There’s a lot of traffic.” She said “But I do worry.” She said “Thanks for calling.” She also said that they had a dinner party for her aunt. She said that the Towners were there, Don, her mom, her aunt and that the conversation ended up revolving around me. “I love so much.” & I said “I love you so much.”
Phyllis is remarkable. Her voice & words put my head in a euphoria. 1:35 pm - on train -
I am thinking maybe I should go straight to Asni to begin climbing Mt. Toubkal tomorrow. Otherwise it’s going to have to wait till day after tomorrow. If I arrive at 3 or 3:30 I should get there by nightfall. All I must do is -

1) Find a place for my luggage
2) Get a map guide group of knowledge of the trailhead
3) Get food
5:15 pm - on bus to Asni from Marakkesh –

I could not even hope to hold a candle to the beauty of these (Berber) people! I ate a bowl (2) of soup here in the bus station. I could see how these people get so full of life and purity – you can just see it in their faces – it makes me think that our food is so bland for all of its fanciness and lacking in nutrients (every thing is affected by one process or the next). This food is grown purely & eaten straightaway. I am sitting in the front of the bus and the people are laughing 3 ladies a passenger on the engine cover & the driver my heart tells me they are so pure. There is no mental sickness here, no anxiety-there is a lust for life. I ate out of a ceramic bowl with a fashioned wooden spoon. (I would love for Phyllis & I to come back here and get a set of these to eat with.) Off we set to Asni. Me to Imlil tomorrow to climb Mt. Toubkal. I am being carried into a fascinating world, I can feel it. This is what I am crying out for inside when I tell people that travel is so exciting. I love the thought of getting into the mountains on my feet. There is no formula to having a good time traveling. It just happens – it can be to be suddenly surrounded with people who for their way of life you find yourself admiring so much that you want to emulate their behavior. All of a sudden the barriers drop, the notions of progress, the benchmarks of civilization, and you cannot focus your mind away from the central in fact only issue, which is the quality of life.
And there is so large any escape from the fact that you cannot justify the “quality” of your life by your latest achievements, how much you have earned or saved what your possession count is or even how popular you are. It is hard to face the nagging doubt that the quality of your life is not all it should be, but for me it is there in front of me all the time. Even though I am aware of this nagging dissatisfaction, I am unsure how to [???] it.
Then all of a sudden, my life becomes magic. There is on unknown quantity ahead. There is beauty…Knowledge, not false but real is there to be gained ahead.
Food can get better. But the beauty of it is that it gets better by becoming simpler, not by becoming more complicated and requiring additional processes. Life does become better, but fortunately (or unfortunately depending on the direction you are heading) it becomes so not be requiring additional possessions and additional processes, but by becoming simpler. People with golden hearts - they are what is the cove for woe and loneliness, for stress. People with pure minds from pure living exude a catching innocence. I suppose I have a certain fascination with the mountains. There is a mystery in them and none more so that what lies ahead of me. I am thinking that maybe I will not even return to Marrakech but contrast in to the hills and spend days going to Figuig. There is nothing to stop me.
The biggest fear I have had to overcome traveling are: 1. Not following the pack a. Am I wasting my time? b. Is this behavior irresponsible?
2. Loneliness – the harder the fight, the sweeter the victory remember that when you are fighting/struggling if you are doubting. 10:15 pm - Asni Morocco. I have not even written about Fes yet. It was a fantastic day. (Yesterday.)
Tonight I am sleeping in a “hostel” it’s sort of a weird place because thee are no innkeepers just many rooms and many beds – there is electricity too. There is a Dutch couple and an English couple here as well in the next room. Today has been as usual a long day. It began waking up in my sleeping car arriving in Casablanca. I pasted the Moroccan sleepers, which I bought for Phyllis and I in the souk yesterday. I called Phyllis. I caught the “Marrakech Express” at noon and watched the flat countryside roll by and turn into a red-hued Earth. (During my writing this morning I met a man who worked at the Hyatt Casablanca. He told me in to the old days not long ago that not only Fez but other cities as well were such that foreigners were forbidden to enter that everyone had to be inside the city walls by 5 o’clock or the end of the day and thereafter they would shut the huge doors. There were guards at the gates.) In Marrakech I had a taxi bring me to the center of the old town where, snake charmers and touts, drummers, cobras, adders and spectators created a fanfare. I bought a map of the area. I called the USA and yelled through the scratchy connection to Sterling’s secretary connection to Mona & Lambert’s phone machine. (As I have been describing….) I caught a taxi and got to the transport area for Asni. To my good fortune there was a bus departing to Asni. I had my soup & we set off. In the bus the woman sung & let out a shrill scream people clapped their hands. One woman with sunglasses (in the dark) and a gold tooth showed as all how she could push her pelvis in sexual gestures – we all laughed. Arriving in Asni I had delicious lentil soup bought beef & had it cooked and many mint teas. I talked with a German man who had spent four weeks in the beach – of - the – Atlas country. He described Erfoud, where there were 300-foot dunes of pure sand, thousands of date palms shimmering in the desert and an annual date festival (which he missed by two days). He described the gorge of Tarda 65 meters wide & hundreds high, which he said was fantastic. He recommended “Rich.” Anyway because he has gone this back country I probably will avoid going “this time” because it seem it would take a week. There is more to this day then I can describe.
November 3, 1988
Asni (A)(L)
I am having Berber porridge this morning for breakfast. I have rediscovered something about myself and that is I feel a lot happier with a warm belly. It is decision-making time. I have planned to climb Mt. Toubkal but I think I won’t make it because there is snow far below the top and the weather is not good & looks unpredictable there are clouds in the high Atlas no doubt some rain or snow & here over 10000 feet below the top we have a light breeze some clouds some drizzle. Even if I had proper equipment I might not make it because of the weather & the probability of not being able to find a guide who was experienced enough and dedicated enough to show me the way. Alternatively I could like on the lower ground, which might prove more rewarding.
7:59
It feels so good to know Phyllis is in the world, Love is a wonderful thing. The only thing I regret is that I can live forever so that I could truly love her forever. Our love is beautiful, lasting, trusting and growing. I am here in a Berber village. Today has been one of the most awesome days I have had in years. The valleys & mountains here are amongst the most picturesque places I have ever seen, if not the most picturesque.
What is so beautiful is the contrast between the white peaks, the brown red earth, the cascading earth gorges falling to earth villages and green terraces.
I cannot even recall seeing land like this except for in photos I saw of the Pakistani Himalayas where it was on an even larger scale – where you can look across a fantastic gorge & see an earth village (photo being taken of me) looking like an ant hill. It is not on the scale that was in those pictures at the Turtle fees, but it is just as beautiful.
The architecture is different here than I have even seen, though by first appearance one might equate it with other mountain culture architectures (the Andes, the Himalayas). These buildings are very rectangular. The windows are painted blue, blue & white, green, etc.
The Main comparative difference must be in the altitude. These mountains are not so high. I get more of a feeling of mildness than I would in the Andes or Himalayas because environment is not so harsh. Would I be going to far to Admit that I’m [in] Shangri –La? When I get home (if I am so lucky) I would like to have in my house a room as cozy as the one I am in right now. It would be a great place to make love! November 4, 1988
(A)(S)(!!)
The way I feel is incredible! I emphasize must a total back of anxiety a contentment a feeling of well being relaxed confident content for the future a joy of life, with myself with my strengths & weaknesses I will attribute this to many factors: 1) A lot of exercise (and it is towards an end) 2) Beautiful mountain scenery (nay exquisite) 3) An absence of cars & modern contraptions 4) Eating a great amount of couscous another vegetable dish, bread drinking a great deal of mint tea. 5) Pleasant company in my guide & his family – I notice I can be feeling great and when someone begins to down me it can wear on my good feelings 6) New surroundings and events to keep my mind stimulated and keep me busy writing, taking photographs, recording events! (Such as the Berber Wedding last night) even thinking of songs which I haven’t had the inspiration for (as I have now) for quite a few years 7) A feeling that after all my trouble & expense to get here I have “discovered” (for myself) one of the most beautiful spots on earth – (as close to Shangri–La as exists) - that the internal struggles I have had concerning justification for coming here have akin flight and been replaced by feelings of satisfaction. Having time (inclination from inspiration is essential for this), to think constructively and to write and take photographs (and having the proper subjects is essential for this) 9) The fact that I am pursuing what I set out to do
In summary for future reference 1. Lots of exercise 2. Beautiful and inspiring surroundings 3. Peaceful surroundings 4. Eating a great deal of vegetables & grains 5. Drinking a great deal of mint tea with sugar 6. Pleasant company 7. New (stimulating) surrounding 8. Free time (also lack of menial chores of preparing food etc.) and I add 9. Feelings of success (attempts of)
For future reference, I think this list is important. For the future, I would ask myself to accept sincerely my pledge that I really feel like I would like to feel inspired. I am having constructive waves of thought. I am thinking of varied subjects, which I will list.

1. To become or create a new wave of constructive society part of which would be to be the leader of the concept of the “new corporation” of which a central theme would be corporate art or corporate environment. As I view the business entity as being an unstoppable force in the world I think that for the betterment of the world of the future, we need to concentrate our full efforts on creating a living environment as an integral part of part of our social concepts governmental institutions, corporate environments and creating within a mass population, unified world (through communications and free trade) a reversion/progression back to/forward to traditions village social units in which people have a stronger personal identity as part of an “immediate large family” or village group.(There is something “warm” about traditional village life as opposed to a MASS CULTURE which is the inevitable result of rampant progress.
I think it is important to understand that I am not calling for an “ostrich head in the sand” type concept of reversion to the past. Maybe that would be nice, put I think it is impossible to expect the populace to give up pleasures & comforts once enjoyed in our modern civilization. I do not know that it would be desirable even if possible because there are far to many advantages of our modern society & its products. This is a change in concept for me because I think 4 years ago after I visited New Guinea I was firmly convinced that we should all run back to the bush. I now think that if I had that attitude I would be hypocritical since I have not only run such to the bush, which I could have done, but I have taken hold of and sought after addition I modern conveniences. It would also be arrogant of me to think I could “call the shots” for billions of people who have already staled their desire for a modern society and its accoutrements. A lot of people take relish in their jobs and enjoy their contribution to a world that they knew as improving.

What I am calling for is this: a sensible course which is looked at by all parties or their delegates in which to develop our world-to TAKE CHARGE of OUR DESTINY rather than to let the habits of the past (in terms of allotment of resources) both human of financial and decision making processes (in terms of government) dictate where we are going. Straight off I would strongly challenge the (what I believe is a) common misconception of why if our societies are to function and if government are to be successful or maintain power that we have to allot the greater part or a great deal of our national (and hence international resources on war products). My perhaps limited knowledge of financial matters tells me that it is simply a choice of the areas in which government makes a commitment to devote resources. Perhaps governors are under an extreme pressure, both by fear of other countries arms power (and by their constituents fear of same) and by munitions manufacturers which may or may not actually have a stranglehold behind the scenes of anyone wishing to be elected (this is another conception which I believe is held by a large number of people – what are need as Harold Gennen [former president of ITT & super manager”] facts on this subject.
I believe it although for the reasons mentioned about it may be difficult to effect, is just as feasible for world governments to devote their resources as follows: I - Clean Energy
A) Nuclear fusion – an energy creating process which is reported to have the advantages of present day – practiced – nuclear fission without the disadvantage of radioactive nuclear waste. We need clean abundant sources of energy practical on a global economic basis. B) Other clean sources of energy – (There are problems with dams - they destroy the ecology with combustion engines – they are noisy and produce carbon monoxide and haze This goes for cars, trains, generator electricity, etc. jet engines for the same sorts of reasons, I am not saying we should discard anything we presently have. What I am saying is that through the process of allotment of resource planning of our national governing bodies it is feasible to steer expenditures away from war products to search for clean energy, which I see as a cornerstone of a future society which is greatly improved. Nuclear fusion, or some other mass energy source would seem to be preferable to almost everything else (including solar energy & windmill power because they take up space and must be visible although they are certainly a preferable alternative to dams & fusion!) It is my view that for every process each could use electricity we would be better off to convert to it ¬- primarily the powering of automobiles and jet engines along with other combustion engine processes and to find this electrical power source through a clean & economically viable science let’s put our money into researching and prototyping such methods let us not take to heart the calls of scientists which claim it is not possible in an ideal form (clean & economic) or of economists & governors who claim it is not possible or economically feasible.

II) Social Research Establishing what sort of things common to all peoples worldwide creates in them a sense of well-being and happiness. In essence do a “market study.” – GO OUT AND ASK people what they like. Depending on the geography of the place in which they live their likes & dislikes are going to be different - this would be natural and the results of the market study which would be the basic of the research to be undertaken – would naturally include a climatic separation of well-being factors. I think it is simplistic for someone to say People are already showing their like & dislikes through their actions & it’s manifestation on the marketplace, the reason being that people may only be choosing amongst the “lesser of various evils” in the way they live. We may not choose the governor based on the fact we feel he is going to deliver to us the ideal state but perhaps because we fear him less or view him as more competent than his competition. It is unlikely for example in this “market study” that you will find a majority people saying “one of” the things that makes me feel great in life is knowing that the war machine is growing and a large part of my tax dollars are going to it. “In relations to this subject it is more likely that people may express a feeling of increased national security” in that given the choice between being armed or unarmed against a powerful & antagonistic nation they would choose to be armed. The market study should concentrate on what people find great about life. For example some would say they need their beer. Others love the outdoors others enjoy entertainment, or study, or their work or loving their mate. In order to have “responsible government” we must know how the constituency perhaps to spend the days of their lives. Then analyze what forms of governmental resources need to be used to help them get it and in this process to be aware that government need not get involved through taxation and “welfare planning” of their constituents in all things but only those things wherein the resources of one person or one small group of people are not great enough to effect the desired and of various majority opinion groups within a society as an analogy in a traditional western community in the USA landowners needed barns.
In, for example Amish communities “barn raising” was something of a community effort because it was much easier for everyone to pitch in for each other than for each to build his own barn. In addition to being more sensible, it also had the desired side offer of creating a sense of community and a sharing and festive event. Government should be –
1) The collecting of the ideas of the constituents
2) The dispersion of these ideas for the stimulus within the population of these ideas
3) The analysis of these ideas
4) The forming of proposals how things might be done to achieve a desired global end
5) The collection of resources for these ends
6) The dispersion of the proposals and vote taking
7) The function of research & testing of ideas through the public sectors
8) The dispersion of the results
9) The management of a revolving process in which ideas are refined to the point of virtual unanimity before action is taken
10) The handing over to the public economic sector the carrying out of the results or conclusions. On the social I must stress that I am not faulting past governors or past governing bodies of their decisions. They were dealing with a different dish of cards. We have arising from tribal constituencies of multinational global constituencies, we have made a transition from a world in which communications were relatively slow to a world in which communications are relatively fast and promise to be even faster. In the past we simply did not have the luxury of a global government. We did not have the luxury of planning our lives to the extent that we do now. In the past the war machine was a necessity! Now it is only an albatross around our global neck and threatens to be our doom. We must change our habits. Why not harness the intellectual power of the world and the best of each culture around the world – traditions that have meaning and economic bases. There is no one more than I who is sad and nostalgic about the loss of the individuality of cultures through international homogenization of economics. I have struggled for years internally being a nostalgic for past times when each place in each part of the world had vast differences in their economies and ways of life. Now virtually every where one can go on the globe one will find accoutrements of like kind – paper currency (where in the past currencies used to be in all forms – shells, animals, people, gold etc.) Radios, combustion engines, etc. I have struggled long and hard on this issue. But I have come face to face with the fact that there is no turning back the clock. I am now exited by the prospects of what can be done in the world to revive stimulate disperse maintain and/or develop new cultures based on geographic differences. Certain foods thrive in certain places: clothing is to some extent weather dependent; architecture is to some extent a function of geography.

Fortification has become or soon will become an absolute industry of mankind. Government can spend their resources in any way they wish. All that happens is that with change, new cress of the public economic sector are stimulated. If the governments pour money into social research, we will find more people studying sociology, business market research, researching methods anthropology geology demography, meteorology economics, international relations, politics, agriculture, entertainment and the arts, music, ecology, history. To some extent what I perceive is an outfall of dedication of resources to social research is a trend away from just doing (what is habit) and towards thinking studying, thinking and evaluating prior to doing. More time thinking, less time doing. And I argue that this is a luxury that we are in increasingly able to afford. To a large extent this is being affected by computer technology, something that until the last few moments of human history, was an unavailable resource. Computers operate on electrical impulse, they are clean and quick. There can be little doubt that future technology will virtually all rely on computers in an increasing fashion. Computers are an aid to us. They in essence can take from us the burdens of the mundane: collation of information, storage & retrieval of information, calculations operation of machines development of new machines, dissemination of information, communications manufacturing, etc. In all cases, the trends towards being able to spend more time evaluating and making changes in habits than in carrying out repetitious takes.
And in addition, along with increased work output there is less likelihood of mistakes. As an illustration I can point to my own experience in business. We used to take orders by hand, transmit this handwritten information to manufacturing, when the shipment was ready handwritten - shipping document (bill of lading) was prepared. When the dealing was to be done the original file was manually compared to the bill of lading and the amount of the bill was manually calculated. Not only did this consume a great deal of time (for example, repetitively writing out the description), but I afforded a great possibility for mistakes: Mistake in writing the order, reading the order writing the bill of lading, evaluating the pricing (preparation of the invoice).
Now not only does each process take less time not only is the probability of mistakes reduced dramatically but it affords more time to review and check impute information to analyze one evaluate orders on a mass basic and histories. There is more time to plan evaluate & modify systems (habits) and think of things on a “global” (that is “the big picture”) aspect. The end result I feel is better planning better decision-making and more sensible action –
There is an illustration, which can be applied on a global basic. The more time we have think about what we are doing, on the whole we will have better decision-making. I think that computers are a central reason why we now have the luxury for devoting resources towards social research – that is towards evaluation and changing where decision, our methods of living. Because we can. Past government have had to operate, on necessity – they were too busy “putting out the fires” to concentrate on researching in a scientific manner what would improve the quality of life perceived by an educated and aware populace. Governments have had to concern themselves with attack, management (bureaucracy), famine, internal disputes, catastrophes, as time goes on we will find greater tools to cope with these problems. But as time proceeds the basics for these problems are evaporating: the purpose of war is becoming meaningless. If we all have what we need these is no reason for take over of others resources, as world economies unto, we find there is greater strength in unity than in dissention, management is becoming more reasonable due to –
1) Computers
2) Communication devices
3) A greater concentration in universities on management science, famine is increasingly stoppable with vastly, improved agricultural and nutritional sciences and global transportation systems and unified interdependent economies.
Illiteracy and ignorance, despite the cry from education all authorities in Western nations, is as a whole on a global basic, improving, greater understanding of geology and architecture, medicine and emergency planning is making catastrophes more controllable and lastly internal disputers fall under the same category as external disputes - the greater the satisfaction of constituencies (in terms food availability shelter and goods) the less is the need for disputes. There is, inevitably a growing awareness that discord is to the detriment of all parties involved, and harmony & discourse leads to satisfaction for all. We are entering into a world of choice. It is my argument that we recognize this change, the global structure and attempt to achieve the best results for the future by increasing governmental expenditures for social research, the basic of which is: What do the constituents perceive as the factors in their lives which enrich it and what do they perceive as changes which they would desire. The power in this globally is that each may learn new ways of betterment for the other. Discover and creating awareness of the findings. I would also argue that this is not “self–evident.” I relate my personal experience: I have been trying to evaluate what gives me a sense of well-being. It is not that easy. I don’t really understand what makes me tick. And over some things I may not have immediate control of, any control at all, either because of my location, personal, ignorance, habit, etc, or because of restrictions imposed on me governmentally or culturally. I try to evaluate what foods make me feel good, for example. I find that freshly grown vegetable starches in large quantities create in me a sense of well-being. That is fine if I am traveling into a mountain region where that is the only thing available. But in San Francisco it is much easier to find a good hamburger or sandwich than a good couscous. Here we find several notable factors!
(1) Without personal research I cannot evaluate what diet is best for my sense of well-being – I am usually to busy or thoughtless to conduct such research. Oddly enough being raised as children, diets for example are thrust upon us whither they are good for us or not - not because anyone conspired to give us a less than ideal diet, but because of habit or ignorance
(2) Even once aware of what makes me feel good, it may not be economical. Feasible to maintain what is good for me not because I cannot afford the ingredients but because of perceived lack of time to prepare it as it is not available locally this is an example of a cultural restriction. (What a paradox that I feel I do not have the resources to do what is best for me!)
Rather than get lost in the maze of justifications, I would like to get back to the focus of this paper: I behave government, feasibly can redirect Expenditure towards:
(1) Research for clean energy
(2) Social research. And away from munitions expenditures.
November 5, 1988
(A)(S)
Saturday at 7 pm tonight I will have been gone 3 weeks.
I would like to quickly jot down a grab bag of motes before I forget. “A blind man judges the value of a thing by its price.” “May God feed you with Heaven’s food” “It is law that one should give from what one likes.” I must explain the above 3 comments. 8:19 pm – Tanahourine (Mohammed’s house)
. My adventure in the Atlas. Picking up where I left off in Asni, I spent the night in a “hostel” where there were lots of empty rooms and no innkeeper. In the morning I caught a truck 25km up the road toward Imlil. As it started to rain I searched for my pack only to discover that I had left my clothes bag back at Asni. Fortunately a car came along & I got a ride back. The road is unpaved for the most parts & all but washed out in places. There are interesting villages bordering the road, which borders a river. Back at Asni I found my clothes bag looking like a pillow, which explains why I overlooked it. I left about 7 kg of goods in the hotel with the idea in mind that I would walk back to Asni. In the back of a covered truck I rode with 8 or 10 Berber people. I was fascinated by the hands of one of the Berber women, but they would not let me take a photograph. They were covered as far as I could see her cuffs with red & black lines forming linear triangular designs one color leading to the other. Then looked as if they had cotton all over them just as if the part was a little sticky and they had been dipped in a bag of unspun cotton. I asked them what it was and my impression was just that it was something the women did when the mood struck them, but I am sure there is a whole meaning and ritual behaved it.
In Imlil the weather was mixed and looked unpredictable. I was approached by a man who wanted to take me to the top of Toubkal, which I felt was insincere because, when I talked with a well known man named Lasan, he said it would be “impossible” to climb in this weather. Somewhat disappointed, I abandoned the idea to climb the mountain and I decided to bike back to Asni via a pass called Tizi ‘N Tamatert and sleep in a village called Tachelirt. As I set off out of the village I was given an awful feeling by the young men who obviously had no respect for foreigners & I felt [they] saw [me] as a means to get money and nothing more. It was just a feeling I had. But as I began to walk up the road to the pass, the beauty of the place, overtook me and an excitement grew in me. The sun was now illuminating the village and giving them a beautiful appearance. My camera was at once snapping from the varying vantage points as 2 climbed to the pass. There were two beautiful young girls of who am I asked a photograph of, deferring to a man standing nearly at first they refused and then accepted when I offered 5 dirham. I took several pictures of Art Souka, a village across the creek. As I continued on, people would pass me coming down the hill. We would exchange greetings in French “Ça va, Ça va.” ”Bonjour.” As I gained altitude, the villages & valley below presented an even grander view. I was walking up a wide road when I saw an old man step onto the rood from a path. I motioned up the path as if to say “Can I get to the pass using this trail?” The old man, croaked encrusted teeth motioned with an open hand “Wa-cha!” (It’s OK) As I mounted the trail a young man came up behind me. We exchanged greetings & talked in French on the way unlike the touts who approached me in Imlil, I was impressed by feeling of his genuineness and honesty. We arrived at the pass & began walking down the road clinging the right side of the mountain to Tachedirt [?]. I told him I wanted to climb Toubkal & he offered to take me.
He explained that he was going to Tachedirt to get a mule, which was lent to a man who was ahead of as, bringing a load of goods to Tachedirt. He explained that he would get the mule & bring it back to Around, a village near Imlil. We arranged that I would spend the night in Around and in the morning we would leave for the Refuge (of Toubkal). From the pass, Tizi ‘N Tamatert, we could see Mt. Toubkal. It reminded me of Mt. Everest, the rest of it burned with [?], only the top ridge, whose snows were kicked up by winds, backed by blue and gleaming with sun. It was a long way off. Looking down the other side of Tizi ‘N Tamatert, the villages seemed way off down in the gorge, below as Tirehfarine, at the top of the gorge, Tachedirt and even farther on a snow laden pass. It was terrific scenes!
We wound our way along the mountainside until as got directly opposite____. He said I could wait there and take photos and he would get the mule & return. He pointed out a small pink house just on the other side of the river and said he would go to that house to get the mule. After waiting much time, I took out my binoculars and, where with my naked eye I could see absolutely nothing under 10 times magnification, I could see him identified by his red pants & blue jacket marching up path to Tachedirt with a few other people & a mule. I figured that he had been asked to take the load on the mule farther than he anticipated. I marveled that through the use of the binoculars I gained an understanding of why it had taken longer than expected for him to return. I looked across at _______ and watched the people in their routines, unbeknownst to them.
I decided to walk to Tachedirt but before I got far, Brahim (whose name I only discovered when we exchanged addresses 2 days later) came riding up on the mule. I hopped on the mule, my pack on my back, and we set off up towards the pass again. He constantly barraged the poor animal with threats encouragements & whacks with his stick. “Arrrrro!” (Alez, get moving!!) or to stop it he said ”Chhhhh!” He said the mule was “Le bateau de le montagne” (the boat of the mountains) at the top of the pass I insisted on negotiating one fee for everything: staying in his village, having dinner & breakfast, renting boats, crampons, gloves, his guide fee etc. I arrived at a price of 300 dr. ($38) if we only got as far as the refuge and 500 dr. if we got to the top (to give him some incentive.)
On the way down the mountain, I took the footpath; he took the mule path, which were both altogether different than the “road.” We arrived in Around in the dark. I was told that after supper we would attend a wedding! At Brahim’s [?] house I met his Father, Mother and Wife, though not formally introduced as such. The stairs into the home were un-railed steps of adobe. The architecture was interesting, on entering was a room whose floor was covered with dried corn and whose far wall was open to the stairs. The whole of the interior was relatively low to the stairs. The whole of the interior had relatively low ceilings and low doorways. I was led to a room on the left and took off my shoes before entering. I was enchanted by the room immediately. It was rectangular with raised [clay] (or concrete) benches lining the walls to provide sitting (and/or sleeping) space. The floors and the benches were covered with hand woven carpets and cloths.
The walls were white and decorated in aqua in an evenly space away of a design. In several locations were painted large circles with a design in them. One of the designs was a likeness of a “maque,” a pale tan and red rectangular spire just outside their house, which I didn’t discover till next morning. A procession of “courses” followed. First the father, wearing the traditional Moroccan “hooded” costume, fixed the tea. Normal tea is prepared then he stuffed into the pot a large amount of mint leaves. This then simmered. He then took from a tin some large irregular chunks of sugar and tasted the tea until he deemed it was sugary enough (very) before he served it. Of course, when serving it, he lifted the spout high about the glass. (I have never been able to ascertain a purpose for doing so, to cool it? To give the top of the tea froth which is very sweet and refreshing. The tea service was made on a large silver tray, which stood on a stand about one foot off the floor. Onto the tray was poured cracked walnuts, which were intended to stave off hunger until the couscous arrived. The couscous was served in a clay pot with a cone shaped lid. It included pumpkin tomato & potatoes.
Each of the family was given a piece of bread and a spoon and we all after from the common pot. Some what into the eating of the couscous bowl of “legumes” (vegetables).

[After a failed attempt to climb Mount Toubkal, I went from Morocco into Algeria, where I met… ]

~~~

The Money Changer of Oujda
1988
A true story by Jeff Shea

Having just done a stint in the Atlas Mountains, four days walking and turned away from the top of Toubkal due to snow and wind, arriving by night train from Marrakech to Oujda via Casablanca, en route to Algeria. Being accosted at the bus station, by just another “guide” and wishing to be rid of him, and having just bought my bus ticket to Figuig and having four hours to kill, I snuck out the back door of the restaurant and began strolling the streets of Oujda. The sunglasses came out. Having nothing particular in mind to do except to call home and to pick up some needed sundries, I walked through the gates of the old city, evidenced by aged walls of red earth and the arched passageway there seemed a lack of the usual bustle one finds in the mosque tower, the wide alley came alive with shops and passerby.
“Hello” I well groomed man riding a green bicycle slowed down and pedaled at the speed I walked. In a completely inoffensive manner he struck up a conversation. “You don’t have to cross at Figuig. You can go directly from Oujda to Tlemcen”.
“God must have sent you”, I said half-jokingly. “Do you have time to have coffee with me?” figuring him, to be a wealth of information and, as his English was good, I accepted.
He chose his seat at an out door café half in the sun saying, “I like corners.” I apologized for taking off my shoes and socks as it was quite hot. “You said God sent me. I believe in that.”
I explained, “Here I am, walking down the street thinking I have to go all the way to Figuig and you came from nowhere and tell me I can cross directly from here.”
“Your guide book tells you that you must go to Figuig, but now it’s changed.” “I help out many foreigners. I have a jewelry shop.” I took note of his ring and the thin gold chain around his neck. He got to the point. “I will tell you, I wanted to speak with you about changing money.”
“I’m not interested in that, but I do value your information, if that is the only reason you are talking with me, I don’t want you to waste your time.”
“Oh no! I have plenty of time. That’s no problem. It’s as you like.”
“Where did you learn to speak such good English?”
“I have friends at the University. We get together. I have a friend who is a doctor. He makes…” and here, in the place of the word “Surgeon” he made motions with his hand to indicate making an incision in his belly.
“And you speak English when you are together?”
“Yes, he is from there.”
The coffee was served, the color of the foam on top of his made it look like chocolate. I was given a large empty cup with a small container of coffee and one of milk. He knocked his cup and coffee ran over onto the saucer, wetting his sugar cubes. I poured coffee and it dripped onto the table. I put the pot down and it splashes over the side. He gave the waiter his cup and spoke in Arabic.
“What did you say to him?”
“They didn’t put enough milk in it. I like more milk”. The waiter comes with a fresh cup.
“So you are certain I don’t have to go to Figuig?”
“You can go directly from Oujda, I am sure. I just brought two Australian girls to the border a few days a go. They stayed with me for four days. You don’t want to go to Figuig. Its six hours by bus and then you have to walk three Kilometers more to the first town. Where are you going in Algeria?”
“To Tamanrasset, and then to Niger.”
“That will take three weeks to cross the desert.” I am unfolding my map. “Last year I was in Niamey, I spoke with some French men who knew the Sahara well. I made these notes. See, here, they said it was two or three days from Ghardaia to Tamanrasset or sixteen hours by state bus.”
“It will take at least two weeks to cross the desert.”
“To what point?”
“To about here. To the south of Algeria. How much time do you have?”
“I have as long as three weeks, but I want to be home in two.”
“Three weeks is plenty of time. How many days will you spend in Algeria?”
“I figure about ten days.”
“Do you have your visa?”
“Yes, it’s O.K. I know, because last year I was in Niger trying to come north and the time ran out on my visa, so I couldn’t go.”
“You will find Algeria is very expensive! The cheapest Hotel, everything is very expensive. They will give you only about five dinars for a dollar. Can I see your Visa? It shows on there.”
I brushed off his request. “What are you offering?”
“Nine dinars for each dollar. There’s much smuggling to Algeria over the mountains at night and they pay in dinar. We need to change the money. It helps us and it helps you. We both benefit.”
“Still, I’m not interested.” I got my passport out and checked my Visa out of curiosity. “My Visa says fifty dinars. I think it was about twelve dollars. So it’s about four to one officially. But I’m not on a tight budget, even if I have to pay double.”
“It’s up to you. You must do what is best for you. I am only concerned that you have no problems.”
“How do I get to the border?”
“You take a bus. I will show you, it’s only two hundred meters from here. It costs only three dirhams.”
“I will have to get my bag from the station first.”
“You left your bags at the bus station?”
“Yes, I brought my ticket for Figuig for three o’clock.”
“We can get your money back. That’s forty four dirham.” I was impressed that he knew the fare. “I will take you.”
“The waiter brought the check. I will pay.” I offered. We rose from the table.
“Let me first park my bicycle.” We walked through the Alleys.
“Do they accept Credit cards in Algeria?”
“Oh I am glad you asked that. They don’t accept them. Those socialist countries are like that. They don’t want to owe money. What are you traveling without out cash for?”
“No, I have cash, I only use the credit cards for making phone calls.”
We came to a small cull—de-sac to our right. A boy stood in a doorway. The man said something in Arabic. The boy replied. The man grasped him by the arm and jerked him rather brusquely away from the door. I thought it odd but told myself that children are often so treated in some countries — perhaps it was normal here. The man put the bicycle behind the door and closed it. We again began walking.
“We will take the bus.”

On our way he produced from his jacket a packet of cards and letters.
“See, I have helped many people. They write back to me and thank me.” He gave me a couple of postcards to read. I noted they had Algerian stamps and postmarks. One was from a Japanese man.
“Please help other Japanese like me!”

Another card was from an English woman.
“Algeria was very expensive and we were shocked by how untidy it was. Thank you for changing money. Without it, it would have been a catastrophe.”
We boarded the bus and he paid one and a half dirham for me, refusing my money. “Its nothing.” He handed me another piece of correspondence, this time a letter, and remarked, “Maybe this one is important for you.”
I read the letter while the bus took us to the station. It was from a man who wrote in detail the prices of the buses all the way to Tamanrasset. The price for a tour of the Hoggar Mountain was 1300 Dinar per day. I divided this by five mentally: $260 per day! The author thanked “Boutayeb.” All the cards, I noted, had the same address on them. By the time I was finished reading these endorsements, we had arrived at the bus station.
I exchanged my ticket and got my bags. I capitulated.
“Maybe I can change some money, but first I would like to call home. Do you have time?”
“No problem.”
We took a taxi to the Hotel Masira. I made my calls. Boutayeb waited patiently while the Hotel calculated the charges, we sat and talked in the Lobby.
“Are you Catholic?”
“When I was young I went to church.”
“But now you are libre!”
“Yes, are you Muslim?”
“Of course, but I don’t practice it now. I hope someday to get back to it. To become a good Muslim, you must do 5 things. First, believe in God. Second, pray five times a day. Third, fast one month a year. I practice the first and the third. Praying takes a lot of time. Fourth, give a yearly tax to the poor. For example if I have 10,000 dirham, I must give 500, each year I must add up everything I own. And the last is when you think you are going to die, to make a Pilgrimage to Mecca to visit the Tomb of the Prophets.”
“They have the Tomb of Mohammad in Mecca?”
“Of course!”
“Will you go?”
“I hope so.”
A female employee walked by. He followed her with his eyes. With relish he exclaimed, “I love fresh meat!”
“What?”
“I love fresh meat!”
“You are terrible!”
Apparently my comment was construed as flattery. Leaning close to me, as if to exclude others from a valuable piece of information, he said with an air of personal delight and self-satisfaction, “I’m a lady killer, man!”
I began to wonder what sort of man I was dealing with, I studied his eyes, cold, clever, ambitions, and I thought to myself “He loves money; I said “You’re not with the police, are you?”
“Don’t say that!” He seemed offended. “I hate police! I even hate some people in my family who are in the police!”
“Why is that?”
“People should live free.”
I jousted him, “You love money, don’t you?”
“I hate money!”
“Admit it. I can tell.”
“Don’t even say that.” He feigned disgust.
“I hate money. I don’t care for it.”
I put my hand on his shoulder. “I’m only joking with you,” I lied. “Sometimes people from California make strange jokes.” I noticed that his suit was rather ill—fitting.
The Hotel had a delay in accepting my credit card, so Boutayeb suggested, “Let’s go sit by the pool.”
By this time, I had decided to change $100 with him, just to have some extra dinar. I also wished to show gratitude for his having saved me the trouble of going to Figuig. “I think I will change $100.”
“It’s better if you change $250.”
I was surprised at this response. “No, $100 is enough. I will still have required changing money at the frontier and then I still have extra dinar when I leave.”
Then I thought, “But if I want to tour to the Hoggar Mountains, I will perhaps be in need of plenty.”
“Will you make phone calls to home from Algeria?”
“Yes!”
“If you make calls from Algeria they will be twice as much. You should keep $100 for that.”
“We say, ‘set a side’ “
“What?”
“We say ‘you should set a side $100 for that’ “
“Please write this down. It’s very important to me S-E-T-A-S-I-D-E.”
“Its something you could never know that we would say.”
“The only way to learn is by talking to people,” he concurred. “You should set aside $100 just for phone calls.”
“So what is your conclusion?”
“If you make 20 minutes of phone calls…”
“No, I mean about how much I should change it totally?”
“If you spend 10 days…”
I interrupted him, “In 3 words, how much you suggest I change?”
“$300”
“But if I change $300, you should give me 10 dinar per dollar.”
“No, nine dinar per dollar is enough. For cash you can get 10 dinar, but for traveler’s cheques, no one will touch them.”
“I don’t mind if you make money, but I won’t be happy if I find out the difference is 12 to 1. 10 to 1 O.K, but not something likes 12 to 1.”
“Oh no, it’s just not like that.” He reassured me. “You can give me the travelers checks.” He thought.
“I lost $200 with an American, the checks were stolen.” He smiled, he thought again and then said, “Would it be possible for you to change the checks yourself and give me dirhams? If I change them, the bank charges me five dirham each one hundred dollar. The man at the desk will change them for you. I already asked.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“I trust you! I don’t want the bank to take commission.”
I paid for the phone calls I had made. Then feeling a bit hesitant about it, I signed, three one hundred dollars checks to the Hotel cashier. After the cashier handed me the dirham, “Boutayeb” said “O.K, give this man 10 dirham as a tip.”
“Is it okay if the woman sees?”
“No! It’s insulting to give it to a woman.”
“No, I meant is it OK if she sees me giving it to him?”
“Oh, no problem at all.”
Our business concluded at the Hotel, we walked again into the Medina. “Would you like to get something to eat before we change the money?”
“No, I would like to get our business out of the way first. They say “I have a one track mind.” Do you know what that is?”
“Yes!”
“Do you really?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what a track is?”
“Yes, a truck.”
“No, not a truck, a track. It means like a way, a path, a route. One track mind means that I can only concentrate on one thing at a time.”
“Oh, I see.”
He paid a greeting to a woman passing by, shaking her hand; she wore a scarf over her head. We continued, “She has missed five appointments with me in a row.”
“What do you mean? What kind of appointments?”
“To come to my house!” he leered.
“Maybe she’s trying to tell you something.”
“She’s surprised now because I didn’t stop to speak with her. She’s wondering why I’m not interested in her anymore!” he gloated. I thought that perhaps the woman was relieved.
He steered me into a restaurant. He said, “You wait here and I’ll get the money.” First I will order some food.”
I sat down. The washerwoman was mopping the black and white tile floor on the opposite side of the room. Sunlight shone down through ancient skylight, making the room a collage of soft sunbeams and a cool shadow.
Boutayeb returned and behind him the waiter followed with our food. “Count it.” He handed me a wad of paper money. I put it in my pocket and began to eat.
“Relax, I’m not going anywhere. Let me finish my sandwich first.” I had put a skewer—full of shish kebab into a quarter of the thick flat bread and dipped it into a bowl that contained a shallow layer of sauce with tomatoes and onions. “This is one of the most delicious things I’ve ever eaten! Absolutely amazing.” The bread is fantastic, the lamb, the spices and the sauce! Unbelievable!
I finished my sandwich and my Fanta. I counted fourteen 200 dinar notes.
“2800 dinar.”
“There is an extra 100 dinars there. You can keep 20 dirham for the border and give me the rest of what you have. You have 100 dinar, right?”
“Something like that.” I made another sandwich. “Can we have more of the sauce?” The taste was unbelievable. “I wish my Grandmother was here!” I handed him the dirham. He counted it up 11 dirham short.
“I gave you what the Hotel gave me.”
“Yes, its OK. Its my problem.”
Perusing my pack, I said “I don’t know where to hide the dinar.”
“Put it here.” He fingered an obvious hiding place. “They won’t even look at your bags.”
I went through a bit of trouble to make a secure hiding place.
“I can see you are intelligent,” he said, “Come, I’ll take you to the taxi.”
“Don’t you want to give me your address?”
“Oh yes,” he scrubbed down his address. Then he handed me one of his postcards so I could compare it. He noticed me reading the contents of the cards and said, “You can read it.”
“It read: … and we had an extra 1100 dinars left at the border of Tunis…”
“Be sure and send me a letter saying everything is OK,” He said as he stood up.
“I will send you the best postcard! It will give you lots of business,” I exuberated.
We came out of the Medina to a taxi stand. I put my pack in the cab trunk of the cab and got in.
“How do you pronounce your name?”
“Bou—ta—yeb. There was a man from Morocco at the Seoul Olympics who got first prize. Remember his name.”
“I will write you a card!”
“Send it in a letter! Don’t send a card,” he warned, fearing the authorities.
“I know how Europeans think! I will reassure them!”
We shook hands. The taxi pulled away. I looked him in the eye and I thought he has the look of a messenger to help me on my way. I looked back again to see what he was doing and he was calmly walking away.

…..

[MISSING SECTION … TO LATER BE ADDED]

The middle part of the story basically describes this…

No sooner than the cab sped away to the border than a man began yelling at me. “He is going to call the border! You will be put in jail!!” I told the cab driver to stop, and I grabbed my bags and went to find out what this was all about. The man repeated himself but would not explain anything to me. So I determined to go back to Boutayeb’s shop address to find out what this was all about. But the man followed me. After some time, I asked a man in the street to help me, as the man who had yelled at me would not stop following me. It so happened that the man I had asked for assistance from was a plainclothes policeman.
[STORY RESUMES]
…..

The policeman asked the man who had been following me (Mr. X) for his identity.
He flashed his carte d’identite and put it back into his pocket rapidly. In French I explained to the undercover policeman that when I walked to the left this man went left. When I walked to the right, he also walked right. And all the time he was yelling at me. I stated that I only wished to understand why he was acting in this way, all of which was true.
We all walked out onto the main street where a crowd gathered. The more Mr. X was questioned, the more flustered he became; to his own detriment he did not cooperate, probably due to his nervousness and because he had something to hide. He wouldn’t give the policeman his identity card. Soon they began pushing; then the policeman was forced to give him a crack in the face. The policeman asked me if it was necessary to go to the police station. I said, “No.” Then I corrected myself. I said, “Maybe. It depends on whether he will say why he was following me.” Since he apparently would not, we were led down the street. Mr. X again resisted. The policeman brought him to the ground in a scuffle.
We emerged onto the road and we commandeered a vehicle to the station. Once in the station the policeman’s pent up anger let loose on the man. He swatted him repeatedly across the face and berated him verbally in Arabic.
The man was almost crying. He went up to the policeman pleading, and while the policeman held him at bay, he repeatedly forced kisses on the Policeman’s forehead in a disgusting display of obsequiousness. A police report was filed and I read the French as best I could. It was simple and to the point: I was followed by this man without any apparent reason.

I signed the report. I had made it manifest to the police that Mr. X hadn’t harmed me or stolen from me. I felt that it would be unfair if he were punished for something he had not done.
The police offered to give me a ride to the Hotel. I was nervous and paranoid that they were going to take me somewhere. They hold me on custody until they had a chance to talk with this man. I told them that I would prefer to walk.
I asked what would happen to Mr. X. I was told that he would be free. I felt it was best if he were not punished but was relieved to be rid of him. Now I was more curious than ever to talk with Boutayeb.
A voice inside me said, “You will cross the border best at 10 p.m. tonight.”
It was getting dark. I waked towards the Hotel Masira, I stopped a man in French: “How do you get to the Hotel Masira?” Then I thought to ask, “How many dinar for dirham?” he replied that there were 4 dinar per dirham! Boutayeb had given me little more than one dinar per dirham. I had been cheated! Now although my desire to talk with Boutayeb was dramatically increased, I felt my chances of finding him were equally diminished. I figured he would avoid me if he saw me coming.
I dropped my pack off at the Hotel Masira. It was almost dark. I stopped two more men & asked them how much the rate was for dinar. I calculated I should have received 28 dinar for a dollar. Instead I have received only 9!
I determined the best first step was to look up the address that Boutayeb had given me. I came to the street and asked after number 49. It was a street full of jewelry shops, some of them still open. It was now 7 p.m. I struck up a conversation with two young men at shop #1. They told me I probably had a phony address; they said I had been fooled. The placard above No.49 had no mention of Boutayeb’s name, but perhaps he worked there. I explained to the young men that I was searching for him. They said maybe if I went every day for a month, I might find him, but certainly not in one day. They told me to return in the morning, and we could go to the shop & see if they knew him there, but I said I was going to Algeria tonight, that I did not have time.

My first idea having failed, I thought to look for the door into which he had put the bicycle, or go to the restaurant where we had eaten. Maybe they knew him there. I walked past cafés, searching the crowds for his face, without success. I walked through the dark gates of the Medina, the same gates I had passed just prior to meeting Boutayeb in the morning. Inside, the streets were not lit.
I reflected about an experience I had when I was about 15 years of age. My friends & I had gone swimming all of our belongings has been stolen. I remembered how we had preserved against all odds & tracked down the thief & retrieved our goods. As hopeless as my persistence seemed, perhaps I would have luck.
“Jeff!” I couldn’t believe it. I turned around & peered into the darkness of the shadow of the gates of the Medina.
“Jeff!” Out of the darkness into gray light, to my disbelief, appeared Boutayeb. “I’ve been looking for you, I was in café when you walked by!”
My plan formulated in an instant. I would say nothing about him cheating me at first. I would pretend that we were friends until I could take the advantage of him.
“Hello!”
“What are you doing here?” “Why did you not go to Algeria?”
“Oh, I had problems. A very strange thing happened.” We walked along the dark alley.
“It was very strange. Just after you left, a man began yelling that you were going to call the border. He said I would be sent to jail!”
“I don’t understand this, who was the man?”
“I don’t know, but he followed me, so I got the police involved. We all went to the police station.”
“And what happened to this man? Is he in jail?”
I thought on the slim chance that Boutayeb knew this man & what had happened, it would increase my chance of retrieving my money if he thought his comrade was in custody.
“Yes!”
Boutayeb turned to the right.
“Where are we going?” I was going to suggested we go to a café, someplace where there were a lot of people.
“To a café, would you like a coffee? I know a place just near here.”
“That sounds great. Yes. I don’t understand why this man was saying these things. He said he knew you. He said you had been to jail two times,” I said, as if disbelieving it.
Boutayeb professed total innocence. “I can’t understand this!!!”
When we arrived at the café we chose an outdoor table. He sat facing the street. I strategically placed myself facing him, between him & the street. The café was fairly busy. There were two men conversing to my right.
“So I will tell you,” with a tone of congeniality in my voice, “I would feel better if we could just change the money back.”
“Oh no, that’s no necessary. There is no problem.”
“No I really would feel better.” I looked for the waiter to bring us coffee. Boutayeb turned around. “Lets go to another place…I know another café.”
“This place is fine.” He began to get up.
“I want to stay here, I like this place.”
He sat back down. “The problem is that man I gave the money to has gone to Algeria and won’t be back for three days!”
I looked at his jacket; his right breast pocket had a wad in it roughly the size of the dirham I had given to him. I pointed to the pocket, “What is in that pocket?” He feigned to have understood the left pocket.
“Oh, my identity card,” he went to reach for his left pocket, I corrected him.
“No, the other pocket.”
“Just some papers.”
“Can I see them?” He hesitated. He didn’t know what to do. If he was to continue his act of being friendly and open, he had no choice. “Just some papers….” He reached in his pocket, pulled out, for an instant, a wad of dirham, “…and some money.”
The truth was evident and he saw the uselessness of feigning as if he didn’t have the bulk of the money I had given to him.
I maintained my friendly tack. “All I want is to have back my money. I will even pay you 100 dirham for all your trouble.”
“Not all the money is here.”
“That is OK you can give me what you have now and can you find the rest.”
“No Jeff, it is not possible.”
My tone of voice changed. “I’ve been trying to be nice about this. To be honest with you, I found out that there are really 30 dirham to the dollar.”
“How can that be?”
“I asked several people.”
“But they are wrong, maybe they don’t understand. I can show you!”

Not intending on letting the moment skip away, I turned to the men on the right, began in French. “Excuse me, can you tell me how many…” but before I could finish, Boutayeb stopped me saying, “Please, Jeff this is just between us OK!”
I excused myself from the two men and turned my full attention to Boutayeb and suggested, “Why don’t you just give me the money?”
“Jeff, I will, but not here.”
“Give me the money.”
“It’s not good here…I will give you the money later… come, let’s go somewhere else.”
“You know you can trust me to return your dinar. Give me the money….”
“But not here. Let’s walk down the street.”
I looked him squarely in the eye. “Now”, I said quietly. He reached in his pocket and handed me the wad of 100 dirham notes, saying, “Put it away. I will give you the rest later.” I promptly stuffed them into my purple pouch. After a few moments I decided to count this money. I withdrew it from my pouch.
Boutayeb said, “Count it.”
I counted 1630 dirhams. I made some mental calculations. Earlier I had given him $300 worth of Moroccan money. That meant the 2800 dirham in my pack at the hotel was my collateral for the $100 worth of dirhams he was missing. I concluded that 28 dinar per dollar was a fair rate and that the best thing was to keep the dirhams and the dinar and get away from Boutayeb. But in case, as I did not want to be guilty of wrongdoing myself, I determined to win Boutayeb’s cooperation with the idea by corroborating my figures with the people at the café.
I jotted out my calculations on my notepad. “I want to explain to you why I am going to take this money and leave.” I reviewed my figures. He protested. I turned to the men to my right.
“How many dinars to the dirham?”
Boutayeb tried to speak to them in Arabic. I interjected: “Please, I cannot understand Arabic. Please direct your answer to me in French.” I did not want Boutayeb to influence them.
“1000 dinar equals, more or less, about 300 or 350 dirham.”
Boutayeb spoke up, “Jeff, I can show you. I will get a Newsweek.”
I turned to two men who had sat down to my left. I repeated my question. Again Boutayeb interject tried to speak with them and again I prevented it. They replied, “1000 dinar … about 300 dirham.” I turned to the man on the right. “This man,” referring to Boutayeb, “tried to tell me it was 9 dinar to 8 dirham.” They shook their heads. “He wanted me to change money.” Meanwhile, Boutayeb spoke with the men on my left in Arabic.
By the time I rejoined that conversation, they had now changed their story, “1000 dinar, 850 dirham.” I was surprised and confused. “No, no, no. Now you have changed your mind.”
Boutayeb turned to speak to the waiter passing by. The two men looked at me and discretely shook their heads. I looked at Boutayeb, still talking with the waiter, then looked at them as if to ask, “He’s not a good man?” They shook their heads and moved their eyes as if to say, “Don’t trust him.” I understood. Not long before in the Atlas I was in a situation where one Moroccan named Losan was suggesting I could take a man as a guide whom I felt was incompetent. When the man left, Losan said, “Don’t take him!” I had made a mental note that perhaps it was the way in Morocco to let people save face. I deducted that they had changed their story so as not to offend Boutayeb. It was the last assurance I needed to act.
Boutayeb turned around to face us. The two men to my left excused themselves and left.
“Jeff I want to get a Newsweek. I want to show you what the rate is. There has been some confusion.
“I’m going to go to the Hotel.”
“We will go together.”
“No. I am going alone; I am going to take a taxi.”
“But it’s only a short distance. We can walk.”
“I am going to go to the Hotel. I will wait for you there. When I get to the Hotel I am going to tell the people there what has happened.” I looked out to the street to see if a taxi was coming. I handed Boutayeb 100 dirham. He took it.
I had 30 dinars on the table. I pushed this toward him. “What is this for?”
“It’s to pay you back for lunch. When you go to sleep tonight, I want you to be happy. You will be 100 dirham richer tonight than you were this morning. You should feel lucky.”
I saw a taxi coming, I stood up and waved it down, trotted to the door of the cab, conscious that should Boutayeb try to get it, I would tell the cab driver I wanted to go alone, aggressively of need be.
“Hotel Masira.”
“D’accord.”
“Jeff…” As I jumped in the front seat, I turned & looked. Boutayeb, still grasping on to the idea to swindle me, somehow, was running on the opposite sidewalk as the cab drove away.

~~~
Blue Calling You Don’t you hear it calling you Don’t you hear it calling you Don’t you hear it calling you Don’t you hear it calling you Blue calling you. ————————————- A bed of clouds May I throw myself on them And not fall to earth But dream forever In the celestial sea With each new land I set foot upon There is in me a hope Of something wonderful Around the corner, ahead, Some new piece to the puzzle of my Understanding of life, to satisfy my curiosity Some new puzzle to arouse it.
~~~

The things I Love about Phyllis: Her beautiful body Her honesty Her soft voice Her sweet lips Her luscious tongue Her sparkling eyes Her beautiful eyebrows Her tight juicy vagina The way she moves with grace Her beautiful love Her clean mind
Her ability to analyze things That she gave me a manicure Her ability to understand The fact that she is an incredible lover When she touches me The way she has orgasms Her beautiful manners Her beautiful cheerful smile When she says “sweet heart” The way she says “wonderful” The feel of her breasts when I wash them in the shower The look of her hair in the shower The way her fingers scratch me when she cleans my “hair” in the shower Her neat, orderly ways The fact she makes timetables She’s not afraid to love She’s loyal She’s not afraid to feel She’s not afraid to discuss She’s willing to talk Her bright hopes for the future Her expectation of the “best” Her unwillingness to accept less than the best Her ability to apologize The way she puts her tongue in my mouth The way she contracts her vagina The way she describe how her vagina contracts The way she kisses my belly & sides The way she kisses my crotch The way she sucks on my penis The way she says “hm-mm” when she’s telling me something The way she brushes her teeth The way she puts cream on The way she does her nails That she does her toenails The way she looks when she’s dressed up The way she treats my family and friends Her thoughtfulness Her common sense Her faith in me Her internal strength Her integrity That she speaks Spanish That she’s from Peru Her love & admiration for her aunt in Peru Her ability to appreciate life & beauty The fact that she is athletic That she is going to school & studying hard Her long eyelashes The way she shakes her shoulders when she dances The way she compliments me The way she likes to spend her time with me The way she helps me figure things out The way her ass feels in my hands when we’re making love Her generous nature He fact she runs all the way around the lake Her beautiful loving words to me That she likes me Grandmother The quizzical euphoria she sends me in with her words The way she kisses and sucks on my fingers The way she comes up behind me and holds me The way she rides on my back The way she holds my hand The way she kisses me & is affectionate everywhere The way she surprises me by making love with me in places I don’t expect The way she undresses me The way she teaches me about so many things I don’t know about The way she grabs my shoulders from behind to relax them The way she’ll offer me a back rub The special things we do that I can’t write down! The way she dances The way she cares for herself The fact and the way she removes or trims her body hair The fact she’ll drink wine with me That she is so romantic That she makes romantic cassettes and plays them That fact she shows people my photo Her slender feminine fingers & hands The way she is so affectionate The way she likes to sleep close together Her adventurousness Her attention to dress Her desire to keep things clean He way she cuddles with me The way she grabs my ass The way she touches me Her curiosity Her love of children The way she washes her face The way she helps to keep our bedroom our ”cebadel” The way she makes me feel when she says she wants to spend her life with me The way she was so incredibly romantic from the moment I met her The fact she likes to dance The way she dances That she likes my African tapes The way she slow dances That she let me wear her golden bracelet Her exuberance Her constant encouragements