Saturday
July 14, 2012
Lauren and I went to a “store” to buy cactus silk cloth for
our bed covers.
Down the steep cobblestone ally ways of Chefchaouen, blue
and white stucco in the late afternoon sun. Down a side street, then turning
left at an obscure sign (in Arabic,
which we can theoretically now read),
stepping over a man with a hat pushed over his eyes sunning across the doorstop,
and into a the cool of the adjoining rooms. Carpets and cloth were piled high
along all the walls and in between, cashmere, silk and an antique hookah.
Up a narrow staircase, and another, an we made it to the
roof. Apparently the roof was were the leather goods were kept, sheltered by wooden
roof and some elderly window panes.
(We spent 30 minutes haggling and, bags in hand, emerged)
The sun was beginning to reach the ridge of the mountains,
and from far below we heard someone call up in broken English
“HEY! Hey can you open the roof?”
So the old salesman and I went over and rolled back the
canvas covering the skylight.
Peering down I could see the man from three stories below
standing amongst the rugs, face turned upwards—
“HEY before you come down you have to tell me! How much does
a polar bear weigh?”
“Uh,
what? I don’t know…”
“You must tell me!”
(This
is weird…whats happening right now?)
“I don’t know… maybe 500lbs?”
“WHAT???”
(Right they do it in kilos… I have no idea
how to convert pounds to kilos… is it a 1: 2 ratio?)
“I don’t know, like 500 kilos?
(I mean it obviously
depends on the bear… does he think there are polar bears in Washington? cause
there’s not…)
“How much do they weigh?!”
“How much do they weigh?!”
And I hear a faint cry from far down below:
“ENOUGH TO BREAK THE ICE!”
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