I needed to get some books in English, and, it was exceptional, Fred didn't work that morning.
So we were en route to Ifrane, in the mountains, where apparently you could find a lot of books.
Numerous e-mails had been exchanged with a responsible of the library. Passports were left at the entrance of the university. Here, there were only Americans and rich Moroccans. It was nothing like Ouled Mgatel.
We were kind of lost. Where were we? In Switzerland...
... or somewhere in North America?
Oh, a mosque with green tiles. So it was still Morocco.
Big houses were buried in the trees.
In the library, there were young Americans studying, Moroccan girls laughing in three languages, and beautiful computers.
The carpet was very nice and soft, and there were colored Moroccan rugs on the walls.
We even saw Gandhi.