listen to africa

Because I agree with the theory that one of the best ways to get to know a country is to shop for food in it, I thought I’d write up this completely unextraordinary food shopping excursion. It was in Safi, but it might have been almost anywhere in Morocco.

The first shop we came across was a shuttered hole in the wall, its shopkeeper leaning on a counter and half blocking our view into the dark and dusty storeroom behind her. This typical Moroccan arrangement is excellent for banter and, if you know what you want, a quick way to shop. But you have to know what you want, and how to ask for it.

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Yesterday, somewhere along the Canal de Garonne in Aquitaine, we pedalled our one thousandth kilometre. It amazes me that all those little turns of the pedal really do add up, and suddenly you find you’ve nearly crossed a country. We booked ourselves into a hotel to celebrate, and Huw cooked a meal by firing up our stove in the bathtub.

We’re in vineyard country: the hillsides are covered with rows of stumpy vines and white-flowering plum orchards. We’ve seen bats and heard owls and woodpeckers. While we’ve had occasional glimmers of southern European warmth – dry-grassed and humming with insects – it’s mostly been cold and misty. Our efforts to enjoy the cold while it lasts collapsed when it dipped to minus five one night; we lay in our one season sleeping bags, watching ice form on the tent and willing Africa closer.

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