A Beautiful Sunday

I teach at 3 PM on Sundays, usually the quietest day of the week here.

Today, after taking care of some things around the house, I went to my favorite newsstand and picked up "The Economist" and "Tel Quel", a liberal, French-language Moroccan weekly.

Then I made my way over to one of the fancier cafes in town, the Salamanca (I guess "Spanish" = "fancy" here). I sat down on the front row of tables and chairs, facing the large plaza and park next to Ciy Hall.

As the waiter approached, I decided to preempt his French, "Salaamu 'Alaykum". A smile lit up his face and his attitude changed from seriousness to playfulness. In Arabic I ordered a cafe latte and then asked if they had Marakshias, my favorite local pastry. He smiled again, "Why, of course we do."

A little later he brought out the coffee and pastry, along with the tap water that accompanies every hot drink here in Morocco. He asked where I was from and we chatted a bit in Arabic.

Smiling, I opened "The Economist", and sipping my coffee, I began to read in the Moroccan sunlight.