Wash day here at the camp in Tata. Two loads, first bedding, then the rest of our clothes.
It was very windy, so I set up the line between the palm trees, as I have done several times now, while Jo sorts the washing.
With the wind comes the dust, huge clouds of the stuff, not the best for a line of clean washing.
The dust from the ground blows up with the gusts and gets absolutely everywhere. You can sit with your phone in your hand, and in seconds, the screen is covered in fine dust.
Washing sorted, followed by a simple lunch of some weird Moroccan cheese, biscuits, and tomatoes, and we then headed off into town.
Tata City was very quiet, with most shops closed. We found one selling a huge assortment of kitchenware, as I needed a new mug (the handle broke off my old one). I picked one up that took my fancy, went to the man to ask the price, and he invited me for lunch, and shared his tagine with him and his son. I said, in my version of extremely poor French, that we had eaten. He then asked if my wife would like to eat. I politely declined, again in my mix of poor French/Arabic. I paid for the mug and left them to their lunch.
This is the beauty we experience in Morocco. Strangers inviting strangers to share their food, without an agenda. Just kindness and the way that it is.
We did fancy an ice cream, though, but we couldn’t find any. So we bought some bread and trundled back.
