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In Which I Bring You Up To Date

November 27, 2007 by Mike

Tarifa

Real life crept back into my life this month.

I reached Tarifa on Friday 2nd. Had a brilliant few days with Hernan and Annie, Lucas and Malena: Gibraltar on the Sunday to watch the Canaries manage not to lose to P*swich. Life here is good. The weather is, too.. when the Levante wind lets up. People are friendly.

I'd decided to hunker down here for a while. See out the winter. Set up some Spanish lessons. Rent a small place. Hernan kindly offered me some work on their newspaper. Relax.

Morocco is ten miles across the Straits of Gibraltar. I left the bike behind and set off to Africa for the first time in my life. An Arab country for the first time in my life. An Islamic country for the first time in my life. An elegantly wasted hotel in Tangiers.. real couscous.. (fantastic couscous).. the souk.. the medina.. I rocked the casbah.. didn't buy a magic carpet.. or a leather jacket.. or slippers (yet).. steep, winding alleys.. whitewashed buildings.. kids playing with bottle tops.. "Meester! Meester! You buy jacket? Speak English? Habla espanol? Francais? Deutsch? Rooskii?".. mint tea.. Turkish baths (turns out they're also Moroccan baths!).. all in my black suit and All-Stars, just to keep 'em guessing.. boulevards and new high-rises.. tattooed Berber women on the pavement.. smell of spices.. European Champions League football on the telly -- of course.. the train to Fez.. donkeys out in the countryside.. a boy walking by the track, miles from the nearest house.. mountain.. scrub.. coast.. valley.. tantalising.. slow.. sunlight.. a txt message from Norwich, a most modern intervention in my reverie.. Ma has been taken to hospital.. calls.. txts.. me, Norwich, Norway.. the train isn't going any faster.. calls.. txts.. the valleys flatten out into the high plain where Fez sits in mediaeval repose.. the biggest mistake of my life? Telling a Moroccan taxi-driver "I'm in a hurry" to get to Fez airport.. how we didn't die a hundred times?.. nobody can tell me about flights out of Fez.. looks like I'll have to fly first to Casablanca. Casablanca!.. but there it is.. a flight to Gatwick this evening.. bloody hell!.. but I can't buy the bloody ticket here.. back to Fez.. slower this time.. what's the price? Sorry, again please?.. and written down?.. convert from dirhams to.. £1000?.. well I have no choice.. but you can't take a credit card? .. cash only?.. but I can't get that much out in a day.. tell me again how much?.. I calculate it now at nearly £11,000.. eleven THOUSAND pounds.. check again.. it's £105.. here's the cash.. run for a taxi.. no, only a "big" taxi can do the airport run.. old Mercedes, not old Punto.. where's the nearest "big" taxi?.. crowded streets, crowded pavements.. nobody knows.. I'm pacing the streets now.. stop to buy a banana, of all things.. so many faces, smiling faces.. directed to a "big" taxi rank a couple of blocks away and..

And my mobile rings again.

Ma died half an hour ago. My sister is crying. Pa is next to her. The sound he's making.. it will stay with me for a lifetime. He's lost the love of his life. It wasn't supposed to be like this. They were married for 52 years. I can hear all his pain and loss across the miles, down that mobile phone line.

Takk for alt, mum. Du var så mye mer spesialt en du visst.

Comments

By Rachel | December 10, 2007 10:52 AM

Bless you
Rachel

By phil | December 13, 2007 11:26 AM

that "About" text that says "Mike With is 40" has just got even more out of date.

Happy birthday anyway.

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