Its Always Sunny in Morocco part 1

This picture was my favorite moment of Morocco among many. Skipping the time-line of many unfortunate events of the first day starting by almost missing my flight b/c of my Senora's awful sandwhich making skills, I would like to start with the next morning, precisely at 2AM. Of course by this time I know not to venture out by myself since the news of the deceased American student in Madrid, but when your room only has one queen size bed and your bunkmate tells you he has a snoring problem... and on top of that the excitement of being in Africa overwhelming you, sleeping would be a step down from futile. Our hostel was a stone throw away from the main square anyway and I hadn't gotten any pictures since arrival (Fna del Jemaa plaza i think it was called).

About half of the once packed fresh squeezed orange juice stands were open, squeezing the last of the days oranges into pitchers probably to be resold in the morning. Ginger tea stands were selling the last of kegs supply. I found out on the last day in Marrakech by a nice woman that this uncomfortably spicy drink is popular because it's an aphrodisiac (on the same topic, apothecaries in the Souks sold Viagra tea as well) The picture above is of one of the ginger tea stands. Walking a little bit more ways, there was the largest mosque, minaret in Marrakesh (Guessing). Around the mosque on both sides were orange orchards. The whole time I was getting feelings that I really wasnt supposed to be here, especially this late. But who cares, and I ended up taking a holy orange from the holy Muslim Orange grove. I still remember the taste, the normal sized orange was so tart that i had to spit it out. The acidic juices got into my ravaged cuticles on my fingers and stung like crazy ...products of the preceding weeks mid terms. Left the grove to walk around the mosque and this is when it gets interesting. I was followed by a man who just came up to me to shake my hand. Begrudgingly I did, but the man just wanted to talk.

Saw kids playing soccer next to what seemed like a graveyard of equally sized rocks right to the left of the towering minaret. Almost immediately one kid asked me to join. Even though I didn't understand his arabic, his massive cheery smile was all the translation I needed. (can you guess which one he was in the picture above?)

 The game was Amazing. The kids loved me. Every time some one scored on my team between the two makeshift goals of stolen graveyard rocks my team came up to me and gave me high fives or pad on the back as if I was the play's tactician (I hardly touched the ball). On top of this I would let out Americanized interjections whenever a team scored (booyah, oh yah, woo, yes, things like this). Each one they would repeat after me and would emphatically repeat it when they scored next. You can imagine that the game was very unofficial as the kids camaraderie would take over and turn into fights and unwarranted fouls. One kid tried to pop the already flat ball and end the game.

All in all it was passionate game of Mosque-yard futbol.  I told myself I would leave when i finally scored cause it was getting late. Of course it was a flagrant handball goal,  to which i exclaimed "IM IRISH". I think one kid got what I meant. Got my Picture above and returned to Valerio, the sleeping beauty minus the beauty, quantity squared.

Tomo is bus tp Essaouira, The only place in the world with four vowels sequenced right next to each other. (Guessing).