Give us this day our daily bread....
The bread bakers.
Another slide to digital conversion from my worldly walk about long long ago.
This is in Morocco, late 1970's.
Despite appearances, all these gents were actually very friendly. Honest.
My travel buddy at the time was another American girl. We'd gone to this town and in wandering around found this small, dirt road side street where the affordable "restaurants" were.....meaning cheap, and patronized by locals.
The proprietors of the restaurants are standing in the doors. Inside, it was just one small room, you sat on the floor on thick straw mats, ate off low tables, and there was always plenty of hot sweet mint tea.
We'd go to the open air market, buy veggies, potatoes, whatever we felt like, bring it back to one of these rooms and they'd cook an unbelievable tagine (stew) with it, in clay pots, in fire fueled ovens.
We'd drop off our purchases and come back in an hour, buy our bread here, and go in to eat.
We were the only females, but we were welcome and treated respectfully. We knew a few words in Arabic (very few), some of the men inside knew a few in English, but they spoke French and I was still a bit familiar with broken high school French.
What we couldn't say in words, we'd mime.
And we'd eat.
Some of the best meals I've had, and some of the most pleasant dining experiences.
Have a nice weekend.
Give us this day our daily bread....
The bread bakers.
Another slide to digital conversion from my worldly walk about long long ago.
This is in Morocco, late 1970's.
Despite appearances, all these gents were actually very friendly. Honest.
My travel buddy at the time was another American girl. We'd gone to this town and in wandering around found this small, dirt road side street where the affordable "restaurants" were.....meaning cheap, and patronized by locals.
The proprietors of the restaurants are standing in the doors. Inside, it was just one small room, you sat on the floor on thick straw mats, ate off low tables, and there was always plenty of hot sweet mint tea.
We'd go to the open air market, buy veggies, potatoes, whatever we felt like, bring it back to one of these rooms and they'd cook an unbelievable tagine (stew) with it, in clay pots, in fire fueled ovens.
We'd drop off our purchases and come back in an hour, buy our bread here, and go in to eat.
We were the only females, but we were welcome and treated respectfully. We knew a few words in Arabic (very few), some of the men inside knew a few in English, but they spoke French and I was still a bit familiar with broken high school French.
What we couldn't say in words, we'd mime.
And we'd eat.
Some of the best meals I've had, and some of the most pleasant dining experiences.
Have a nice weekend.