Bus tickets

At that point I decided it was time to go to the bus station to buy tickets. Rachel, Emily, and I had decided that it was best to send one person since the taxi would be cheaper, and my French and haggling skills got me elected. I left about 4. Now, in most countries, you would show up at the bus station, give them money, and come away with tickets. But don't forget....this is Morocco. I showed up, and shook hands with everyone I had met the previous day when we had inquired, and then they asked how I was. . ..Kushi bikhir? Mezzyan? And I assured them that my family, friends, sister, brother, parents, and fourth cousin twice remo ved were all well. I love the hospitality here.......but this time I truly just wanted to buy bus tickets. And when we had established that everyone from there to Ti mbouktu .......only 52 miles away, if you believe the local signs.......was doing well, they......well......invited me to have tea. Right. We had not e ve n broached the subject of tickets yet. So we waited and after about a half an hour the tea arrived and we went through the ritual of pouring it out, pouring it back in, mixing sugar, etc. I have a great picture of the bus station owner stretched out o n the floor of the station p reparing ttea. I was like,,,,,, yea, this happpens alllllll the time at Grey hoound. Right. Anyway, at around 5:40 the guy with tickets finally arrived and looked at me like I lost it when I said I wanted to buy tickets then for the bus tomorrow. I was like, dude, I have been chilling out drinking tea in a dirty bus statioon for almost two hours. Damn right I want to buy tickets.

By the time I got back to the hotel at 6h20 Emily and Rachel were about to send out a searvh party.