Essaouira

I'm sitting on the roof terrace of our maison d'hotes overlooking the beach, where the wings of kitesurfers and seagulls make graceful motions in the sky.  Behind me are the white walls and bright blue window frames of the houses in the medina, and in front of me the beachfront Chalet de la Plage, where I had fresh grilled shrimp for lunch yesterday.

Essaouira is much smaller than Marrakech. It's also quieter and, from an outsider's perspective, appears less strict in its customs.  I see some apparently Moroccan girls in short-sleeved shirts walking arm in arm (one dark-haired girl wearing a tee shirt proclaiming how proud she is to be blonde) and tourist couples holding hands without incurring the scowls of the residents.  Essaouira appears to be more used to decadent Westerners and more willing to tolerate them.

That's not to say we've left traditional Morocco behind.  This street singer is making the rounds of the cafés.

And these women are still veiled in the street, while carpets are still being sold to tourists.

There are cats everywhere, as there have been everywhere we've been.

  

We've been thrilled to be able to leave behind the inevitable tagines and couscous of the interior for the fresh fish of the coast.  Much as I love Moroccan food, it's become a bit boring to see the same offerings on every menu.  Last night we had excellent pasta at a strange little place called Elizir, a series of small rooms filled with an incredible mix of 1950's furniture, lamps and objets d'art.

Today we tried to buy our lunch from the line of fish stall grills near the beach, but even there one has to negotiate the price and we were too cranky from hunger to take part in the haggling.  Instead we walked up the beach to a more ordinary place where the clientele was a mix of French residents, tourists and surfers.

Tomorrow we leave for Paris, but I have so many more photos of our stay here I'll try to post some more on the next few days.  It's been quite a trip.

Darker Days

Since 1996 all clocks in Europe are changed on the same date; the last Sunday in March begins Summer Time (Daylight Saving Time), which ends on the last Sunday in October.

We forgot to turn the clocks back last night but remembered first thing this morning.  Even with the extra hour we didn't manage to get to the market until nearly noon.  Since we're moving to our new apartment next Sunday this was our last market day at Marché Richard Lenoir, and because we have plans for several dinners out this week, we bought very little in spite of the temptation we always feel.  Few Paris  neighborhoods have a market like this one and I'm not sure how we'll manage once we move across the river.  We may have to come back to shop from time to time in order to enjoy the variety and relatively low prices compared to grocery and specialty stores.

I hope we can find this delicious little chevre, Taupinette, which has become a favorite; it's not too young, but it hasn't had time to develop much of a bite yet. 

And we have had very limited opportunity to try many of the types of fish available at the several fish stalls.  This dorade royale is found on a lot of restaurant menus, and the coquilles St-Jacques here are always sold with their coral.  The French can't understand why anyone wouldn't want it.  Of course in the US it's typically discarded.

Among the winter fruit we're finding clementines, pears, apples, and pomegranates, here called grenades.  The ones below, wrapped in their packing straw, are paler than the red ones we're used to.

Not at the market, but out in front of a nearby restaurant called Bar à Huitres (Oyster Bar) we came across this spectacular display of crustacean plenty.

It looks like it could be one of the Flemish still life paintings I saw earlier this week.  Except that you can take this home for dinner.  Which is an hour earlier as of today.