Thursday, February 9, 2012

MOROCCO: November, 2002 (Part 6)

I did spend hard cash on a private travel guide. The hotel concierge set me up with a dark-haired Omar Sharif-type for a day of sightseeing. We got into a taxi and he rattled off instructions to the driver. We arrived...somewhere...and Omar wound me around corners and up and down alleyways to see a palace, a museum, and a university, where students lived in cave-like rooms with small fireplaces for warmth.

We wandered through a shimmering mosque where colorful mosaic-tiled floors, walls and ceilings reflected light from water rippling in square pools. Tiny, shiny pieces of stone and ceramics in gold, cobalt and pomegranate red were embedded in the tile work.

My guide took me through many shops, all the while encouraging me to buy. I figured out this was part of the deal. He conducted the tour, the shopkeepers benefited from sales and he received a cut. I did my part. I bought a small bottle of saffron in a pharmacy after listening to a long discourse on healthy living. In a carpet shop I sat on pillows while the shopkeeper served cups of mint tea and his salesman threw brightly colored rugs at my feet.

Well, certainly William and I could use a new runner for the house. I appreciated the fine craftsmanship in the wool carpets, hand-dyed by Berber women living in the surrounding mountains. I asked about runners and the salesman obliged by showing me at least twenty varieties. Soon Omar and I were floating even higher on stack upon stack of carpets and I started to feel responsible for the mess and the effort it would take to roll all of them back up and, sheesh, here I was drinking all this free mint tea.

A lovely red and blue woolen runner with touches of yellow and white caught my eye. The salesman glimpsed my reaction and sensed I was a fish on a hook. Omar did not side with me as I settled in for what turned into hardcore dickering. He knew where his couscous was buttered and his profit depended entirely on a percentage of my payment.

The salesman offered the carpet, with sound reasoning, for $650. I left the store with a woolen Berber runner under my arm for $180. As far as I was concerned, everyone won. Omar acted impressed at my tough bargaining. I did back off from my initial offering of $150. It was important for the salesman to save face and for me not to insult him.

I was feeling very cocky about my negotiating abilities...until I walked into William's office to show the runner off. In one agile move I rolled the beauty out in front of William and Tom. They eyed my prize, then Tom made a joke about letting a woman loose in the souks. William wondered why we needed the damn thing anyway. I grunted and went back up to the room with my prize.

I was slightly peeved no one understood that I had held my own for over an hour of tough trading. I laid the runner across the floor of our room, sprawled on it and took a smart nap. I did very well, I told myself, no matter the lack of sensational reactions. I did very well...yes...I did....

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