Mosques, spice stalls and a mad Englishman
The next morning we found our German, and took him to the park for a chat. We went back for another peek at the square in the day-time, and it was very peaceful and quiet (despite an overweight 8yr old dressed entirely in pink bouncing a football off the sides of the mosque, causing mindshattering echoes…) We watched a fight ensue between a street-junkie and a shopkeeper, and bought ourselves five flavours of icecream. We found another, smaller mosque, even more stunning in gold tiling and stood in the corner and stared at the ceiling for a while. An odd gate-keeper turned up, possibly slightly deranged but very friendly, and, using a scrubby note in English he kept in his pocket, asked for stamps or postcards from Britain. He was really nice and I would have given him large numbers of them, but I sadly had none. We wandered the bazaars and the spice-stalls, feeling like we had properly reached exotic climes. Later that night we visited ...