Cafe Argentina stares back at me everyday from my salon window, it seems so out of place here... not the establishment but the name. It is a busy cafe with a seedy pool hall attached that i have not ventured into... one of the host sons hung out there and in general I don't think it is a place for a 53 year American with limited arabic but slightly above average pool skills... no good can come from me entering into this place... even though I have the urge to go in. Maybe i will run into Yussef and he can try to play me.Pool halls are big business in Sefrou, I know of at least a half dozen and can bet there are many more... it seems so out of place in this society. I can say that a pool hall is the same everywhere, except here the tables are so close that back in the states it would be a reason for blood to be shed as players bumped and interferred with the hustle.
This afternoon there was a good size demostration march by my window and up toward the center of town... it was peaceful and well organizedas there were posters and signs and bullhorns. A few Chez Guevara t-shirts and a flag... almost 50 years later his image still represents change in governments...
it is Sunday night and hot in Sefrou... wish I had a drink but will settle of water.
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