Morocco is like no other place I've visited so far. It's a strange combination of the new with the old. Dan and I (and Theo) are drawn to the old, of course.
While still in Fes, we take the opportunity to visit the Medina, the old part of the city, and see what makes it still famous to this day--the Souk Market, which is the oldest part of the Medina.
This is a place where you can buy virtually anything--jewelry, meats, statues, rugs, spices, preserved meat in fat (before refrigeration) so that it can last for over a year, fruits, dates, olives, brass pots, various dyes.
Even the shrunken head of a camel . . .
You pass cats looking for a handout. Pigeons, huddled against the sides, hope they don't get trampled on as tourists and regulars alike search for a bargain. That's when we realize that Theo needs protection. People are looking around at the vendors; they're not looking down at their feet.
Dan whisks Theo up before he has a chance to protest.
The path through the souk is narrow and you're surrounded on both sides by the vendors who've set up their wares to sell. Most speak some degree of English--enough to convince you to buy what they're selling. Overhead, along the path, is a make-shift ceiling that filters out the sun so the souk is cooler--which is well appreciated in the summer.
Theo launches an argument. "Look," he points his paw to the ground to a small cat that's hunched over on the side. "He's doing fine."
That particular street cat seems perfectly fine. Not trampled upon. Not kicked to the side.
Still. "What's the real reason, Theo?"
I suspect because Theo is a typical cat, he wants to wander free and, perhaps, even pretend he's a local street cat who needs to be taken care of. I'm sure I've figured out his angle--food!
"Snacks? Is this all about street food?"
Theo shakes his head.
Nevertheless, we pull off to the side and give the kid a few snacks.
He doesn't mind being carried after that.
