At the Cafe Restaurant Les Arcades, Taroudant

When we were in Taroudant, Anne and I took a petit taxi to the Place Assarag - we wanted to avoid being accosted by nervy young men, wanting to help us in return for a doceur - we would be asked if we wished to visit the tannery, or see an argan oil co-operative - perhaps we might prefer a caleche, to bowl us to La Gazelle D'Or - 

We stood outside the Cocktail Paradise - this was a roadside eatery, next to the hospital - boys with withered legs would wheel themselves past - they made use of go karts fashioned from bits of old bike and prams - inside the Cocktail Paradise, rai music tore your heart with its passion and grief - you would be served dates and crepes -

We hailed a petit taxi, a scarred Renault, slipping onto the back seats - our driver spoke Berber, but  knew a few words of French - we swerved and dodged our way through the shoals of push bikes, quivering mopeds and other petit taxis - we went past bakeries offering exquisite pastries, pavement stalls heaped high with worn shoes, the gates of a religious college crowded with serious boys and beautiful girls -

Then the petit taxi stopped abruptly, opposite a mosque - a woman draped with blue robes climbed inside - she spoke only Berber - she sat in front, and turned to smile at us - we set off again, nosing through pedestrians -

We were dropped off in the Place Assarag - elegant cream coloured buildings faced a dusty square - trees with dark leaves provided shade - tired horses stood within the shafts of caleches - boys lounged upon their bikes, unemployed young men smoked cigarettes - the windscreens of parked cars dazzled your eyes - all around you was the city, seething and restive -

We took refuge in the Cafe Restaurant Les Arcades, sitting under a sun shade - I'd been told magicians appeared in the square during the evening -

We sipped our cafe au lait from tumblers - we snarfed a delicate salad - we watched a slim Frenchwoman walk across the place, accompanied by a grave young man in a long dark robe - they sat next to us - he lit her cigarette for her - the chairs and tables cast severe shadows upon the warm paving stones - apart from Anne, the Frenchwoman and the waitress, the place was the haunt of men -