A bucket, a cup and a room very hot and humid.
I open a tap, boiling water down it fills up.
Then, with my bucket in hand and in his underwear, watch it between the thick air and I see some people in the room, all white-tiled steam and subdued lighting.
One in particular makes me a sign to sit down beside him and speaking Esperanto an unknown or potentially understandable to anyone, I asks where it came from.
In my reply, she smiles and states, always in a mix of words and gestures that Italians, for him those are the nicest of all. 5 even has relatives who live in Italy, even if you do not tell me where.
Hamman in a poor neighborhood, next to the Medina of Marrakesh. At this very moment my 3 companions are on the other side of the wall in the area reserved for women.
here instead of me, we will be at least a dozen divided into two rooms.
More, I'm a bit 'undecided on what to do. So my new friend, with mustache and Ferrari designer underwear, hands me a soap, gestures as he explains in the water must pass boiling his sides and legs, then tells me to lie down.
This is a moment to have a clear head, or rather free to rethink the past 24 hours.
The journey from Fez was nimble on the highway, stopping in air service at the Casablanca has made us understand how the city is probably the most western customs, then another 3 hour drive el ' input in Marrakesh and the landscape begins to change really, the hills are more sinuous and majestic and the green begins to be accompanied by warmer colors.
The arrival at the gates of the Medina is the Day of Judgement, Stefy arrow while driving in the desert between cars, motorbikes, buses, pedestrians, coaches, carriages, pedestrians, bicycles in a babel of the few means of transport only the cities of North Africa can express.
The search for a place that seemed dramatic results in short by the discovery of a simple and comfortable riad, a true Moroccan house adapted to accommodate travelers like us. The
Shmal El Fna square is a 5 minute walk away, so we decided to just get comfortable with that group of humanity, consumer products and colors, screaming colors and witchcraft in the plot. There are many tourists, coming a bit 'of all nations European and not only that, but everything is explained by the beauty and uniqueness of this place that really should be seen at least once in their lifetime.
While sellers of oranges cry out to us from afar and snake charmers and sorcerers come to meet, the hands of my three traveling companions are kidnapped by a smiling lady who, with careless and merry making, started to draw them hands. It 's really a professional, in a jiffy he finished his work and the hands of Aurore, Stefano and Simona are adorned with sweet doodles. The negotiations for the payment of services rendered is the most beautiful part of the show, but as always in Morocco is an unequal struggle and ends with a clear winner.
Then we end up having dinner at a very chic, is really good for a night and taking advantage of the opportunity to use the wifi connection. If we had seen, Mark Zukkemberg would have been proud of us.
However, it is a pleasure to be tourists here in Marrakesh.
Without warning, my friend Hamman begins to rub his back with his knuckles, pushing outward. A wonderful feeling.
I look up and see that a little 'they all help to relax the muscles, massage and facilitate the rest.
And then, after a few minutes while we put on, continuing a conversation of gestures made words and intuition more than anything else, but very nice. That cultural diversity, but human closeness.
E 'already time to leave.
There's nothing to do, Citron was right: for us it has really ruined Christianity.
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