Casablanca: Frankly my Dear....

I'm in first-person mode as I walk among the vibrant stalls of the souk. The sounds of bustling crowds, camels and cart wheels weave an aural tapestry that tricks the ears for a moment, but I see no camels or even shopkeepers in this mysterious SIM, Casablanca.

I am standing in the middle of Virtual Morocco. I can almost smell the piles of spices in the stall next to me as I consider: should I get a henna tattoo? Why not? I splurge the L$75 and get some nice sleeves.

I wander the market for a while, taking photos while a few seagulls circle and cry overhead. Away from the center of the market, the crowd noise is lessened, and I swear I can hear the ocean...






A paved walkway leads to a fabulous waterside patio where I sit a bit to enjoy a hot cup of mint tea. More gulls wheel around the small bay, and the peacefulness is wonderful.






I manage to pull myself away from the relaxation and continue with my exploration of the city. I find my way into a fragrant maze of residential alleys, where the ancient walls are half painted blue. This could be 1,000 years ago if not for the occasional satellite dish.








Down what I thought was going to be a dead-end, I came to the entrance of a swanky club through which I found my way into the hookah cafe....






cough, cough


...and then the beautiful gardens where I scandalously dipped my feet in the fountain to cool them off.




The Mosque nearby is so enormous, these photos do not do this place justice. The textures here are pretty rich, and even after 10 minutes of waiting, there are still grey slabs where I know there should be mosaic-encrusted walls and pillars. Sadly, I need a better computer to be able to get the most out of SL now.




Beautiful arches! Worth the wait!








I find my way back to the souk. This portion is seemingly made of drapes, trellis and tents, the stalls filled with baskets, rugs and lamps. It feels close and stuffy. I can't even tell what direction I'm facing, and there's that little bit of me that is clastrophobic starting to complain.





And there in the storefront of a rug merchant sleeps a cat, like all cats can, without a care in the world. As if all were safe and sound in this place of sand and noise.






I walk out into open market and find myself staring at the mystery meat that lies sizzling on the grill of the market food vendor.

Meow?

The reality of the place sinks in a bit more. I wonder if maybe that cat shouldn't sleep so deeply here.