Souks

She took a little walk to Jemaa el-Fna, a large square filled with interesting sights. There were snake charmers, sellers of plastic things you really don't want to buy, people drawing your face or selling postcards, or really anything. There were guys painted in gold and even some gangsta rap dancers...

She then went ahead and soon arrived to the markets. She'd chosen one on the hotel-provided map, marked Souk Lakhsour. It may or may not be the best choice, she thought, but there is no way to find out but to test.

The place was very unlike what she expected, a sort of large Arab Harrods. It was, instead, a jumble of passages and tiny shops selling colourful wares, from shoes to hijabs to spices to kettleware. It was, in a way, fascinating. She lost her way once or twice, found beautiful jewelleries selling all sorts of bangles and necklaces and pendants and earrings, stores selling teapots and stores selling, to her surprise, sexy underwear. She would never have expected that the women of the place could buy such risque clothing, but she didn't dare look into it. Besides, frankly, she had a Victoria's Secret at home, why bother with foreign underwear? It's not like Tom needed that.

After a while, she relented and listened to one of the many hawkers. This one sold adorable little lamps, reds and oranges and yellows. She listened to his terrible accent... the people here couldn't speak proper English for the life of them! Still, the lamps were amazing, and she spent a long time looking at them. If Tom had been along, he'd be chaffing at the "wasted time"... she was so glad to have gone alone.