It took fifteen minutes more to get the paperwork completed and my package wrapped. I refused to
carry my prize though, and Mohamed continued pressing me to carry my package. They would close shop now and drop
me at my hotel.
"Ship me the rug, please Mohamed. I've weeks of travel remaining and I'm already over-burdened.
Shipping has worked fine, previously."
"Then give me another hundred dollars, Wiliiam."
We settled for sixty. And I let them drop me and Adil at our hotel. I'd brought Adil
north from Safi, Morocco, to assist me with some business in Tanger. He rode in the back seat and was engaged
in conversation with two guys. It seemed to me that he was answering their questions, though the Arabic was
spoken rapidly and I could not follow much of what was being said.
I was drained, tired. Adil doesn't drink or smoke and I excused myself, explaining I'd
be stopping in the bar for a beer. I suggested meeting in several hours for dinner. I'd
discovered a good fish restaurant several trips previously, close by the hotel, and I wanted to share my find.
The beer was sufficiently cold and strong, though lacked body and character. It was Flag,
brewed in Morocco, where Islam, the State religion, holds drinking alcohol is not legal for Moroccans, though visitors'
tastes are accommodated. The local Flag beer is every bit as good as most bulk brewed beers, even the
export versions of Bud and Coors, etc., (to be fair it must be mentioned that European and British bulk-brewed beers
do not stand up any better against Moroccan brewed Flag).
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