Morocco and then Menton, France | A day in the High Atlas Cont'd

We returned to Tinichir to the wine store and on to Todras Gorges for lunch (Moroccan salad of cooked vegetables, which we poured into our goat tagine). After lunch we planned to head back to the Auberge but our stop at the women's carpet cooperative took longer than we expected. Two hallway runners and a wall hanging later (about 7000 dh or $700 USD) we had used up our afternoon nap time.

Once back at the Auberge we agreed that we would immediately climb up into the mountains in search of a nomadic family that Fattah knows to often be there this time of year. He and Said went ahead, sacs in their hands carrying tea and sugar for the family, to greet them and secure their permission for our visit. As we approached their humble home,  I felt shy.  As we quietly approached the woman, her head in a pale pink knotted scarf, or zit, the children ducked behind her modest skirt. In front we saw the weaving loom on which she was making new tarps for their home, a burro, a yearling goat, and her home. Her warm smile and friendly eyes told us it was okay, as she invited us in. Azu  shook our hands, holding each one a few seconds longer, adding to our reassurance that we are welcome here. I sat on the floor cross-legged and watched as she broke sticks from the dead branches of a wild rosemary shrub to build up the fire under the water kettle. She poured hot water from a kettle into a tub where she washed all of her glasses while she boiled more water for tea. Said, who speaks Berber, was able to translate from my broken French-English gibberish so she could answer my questions. Azi cannot count, but she was able to tell us she has three children, by counting them out on her fingers.  Three young girls were with her at the camp. They watched us with a mix of curiosity and caution. Her older children live with family in a nearby village and go to school there. She hopes they will be able to leave the nomadic life behind and do something better.

Dyane took this photo of Aza under her tent

The girls were shy, but Margaret caught Norah looking at the camera

 We made our way down the mountain with the sure-footedness of goats. By then it was 630 and in the hour or so before sunset I snoozed while others sipped wine, showered, answered emails. Dyane, who is a wonderful artist sat painting on the stone patio outside our rooms.

 Once again dinner was an amazing four course meal. Then it was time for the evening jam, as Fattah and Said, the owner of the Auberge, and a young woman on staff picked up assorted instruments, and Jim, one of our group, added his amazing tenor to the ensemble.The wine is ours. None of the musicians drinks alcohol.

Carol (the other one) took this photo of the musicians.

Of the many surprises along the way, this evening is one I will hold close to my heart. We will all cherish this generous gift of music, offered up so spontaneously, and filled with such spirited friendship and warmth.