Doukkala

As I continued my search for surprise in Marrakech, I found myself on a slightly quiet street - Doukkala. Shaded by the clouds overhead, it made me feel at ease. Towards the end of the reprieve of chaos stood a small shop, manned by an elderly man matching the demeanor of his street outside. As I entered to explore what he had to offer, he gave me a small nod but continued his work. 

Only when I picked my head up did I realize I stumbled into the store of a tailor whose family had clearly been in the spot for quite some time. Photos of prior generations loomed over the door, looking over those who came after. What made this tailor unique was his collection of old fabrics scattered throughout his shop, each one ensconced on the other. I combed through more than once, but to my chagrin found nothing. 

As I bid farewell to the tailor, I took a second look at the curtains that stood behind him and realized that what I sought might not have been hiding. After a few questions, he explained they were an old french import that had stood in the shop for quite some time. He gave me quite the perplexed look, wondering what I would want an old pair of curtains for.

After a bit of negotiation, I left with a lovely, soft textile that reminded me of summer, picnics, and joy. I am looking forward to visiting Doukkala again - that is if I can find it of course.