If you’ve never been to this part of the world it’s definitely the place to go for the experience. Forget any western world restraints; what lies ahead of you is complete madness. Chaos, crowds and confusion. This is a city where they want you to buy everything; even down to a piece of paper in the ladies’ loos.
Once ensconced in a taxi on the journey from the airport you quickly realise why the guide books don’t recommend you hire a car. There seems to be no rules, especially in the old city. Cars, mopeds, bicycles, horse drawn carriages and donkeys jostle for dominance through the narrow, pot-holed streets. And don’t think you’ll be safe on the pavement or looking the right way along a one-way street. You will need your wits about you or the young man driving his large, elderly relative perched on the back of his moped, carrying her huge packages, will be honking his shrill horn at you. That’s if the bony, weary donkey hasn’t forced you to take cover on the other side of a cart as he musters a final gallop, flinging his burden of oranges out like confetti.
Encouraged to venture into a women’s collective pharmacy where jars of potions to cure any aliment were stacked up along the walls like an old fashioned sweetshop, the white coated woman took one look at me. Selecting a small container and holding it up she extolled its benefits for the bags under my eyes. After inspecting me from every angle, if ever my husband wanted to swap me for a younger model now was the time as the evidence of my flaws were lined up in numerous small pots on the counter. Let’s just say her customer relations technique didn’t encourage me to buy as I feared with so many faults it was difficult to decide where to start.
Next year I have been promised it’s my turn to choose where we go. I might not drink copious amounts of mint tea there nor bask in warm winter sun but, fancy the Christmas markets anyone?
Teresa x