LOST 'N' FOUND

I don't know how they did it, but they did. So it was time to get out of there!

After missing my contact in Casablanca, the wrong people got on my trail in Marrakech. Hundreds of folks at Jemma El Fna; a few Touaregs were grossly outnumbered by the more colorful Tourists. Some guy with a snake in his hand starts coming after me. It was after f'tour time (the evening breakfast during Ramadan, taken at sundown) and I figured I could escape him in the narrow winding alleys of the babouche souk. "Hey mister! Mister!" Acting like he was just another obnoxious street hustler, huh. My gettaway was a tad too efficient: in losing him I also lost myself and didn't find my way back till morning.

I didn't dare go back to my hotel by the cut-throat passage, where they were sure to be waiting for me with their sabers. Sure to turn me into a kebab, with or without fries on the side. So I haggled my local clothes, djelaba and babouches, for something more discreet: jeans, D+G belt, Nikes and an 'I love Morocco' t-shirt bearing a pretty flower with a long pistil poppin' out of it instead of the 'o's. Oh, and Gucci shades. All of those were authentic, and at an authentically low price when we were through bargaining. It's a good thing I always have my wallet and passport on me 'cause I got my ass on the first cab outta there.

Somebody wants 2D and 3D destroyed. That's right. It's the only plausible explanation I can come up with to explain why I am still alive in this adventure. They're using me to find the manuscripts! So now they know I'm onto them. But, I've probably had my buttocks seated in front of this computer longer than I should, for my own good.

Bye!

J.S.