Essaouira, Morocco.
The Alizé is the name of the trade winds off the Atlantic coast.
They make Essaouira one of the best kiteboarding spots in the world.
They also make leaving difficult.
I was stranded for five days. On day four I stopped checking the forecast.
Day three, the Alizé still coming hard out of the west
Kiteboards lined up like busted teeth against the wall
Airport app said maybe tomorrow, maybe the day after
I wrote my name on a coaster, watched the wind take off the dot
Then Mustapha came in around half past nine
Set the guembri down like he'd been carrying it all day
Three fingers on the neck, one eye half-closed
Just kept one foot nailed to the sound
I had a flight. I had a plan.
Something about a week from now in Spain.
The wind said shukran, took the whole itinerary
And gave me back the room
Marhaba, stranger — this is where you are now
The Alizé doesn't ask what you were going to do
Inshallah the sails fill when they're ready
For now the krakeb tells the time
They brought somebody in close to midnight
Sat them near the wall, hands folded, and no word
Mustapha didn't look up, didn't stop
Just let three strings worry the air
I never learned the name, never saw the face
Kept my head down over cold mint tea
But the room got quiet in a way that rooms don't get
Unless something's moving underneath
On day four I stopped counting days
Stopped watching the kiteboards against the wall
The oud found a note between two notes
That I don't have a word for at all
Marhaba, stranger — this is where you are now
The Alizé doesn't ask what you were going to do
Inshallah the sails fill when they're ready
For now the krakeb tells the time
By the fourth night, I quit asking about the forecast.
The bartender quit pretending to check.
Just tapped two fingers on the table — wait, wait —
Like the wind was an old debt and everybody here had signed for it.
No one called it healing
No one asked my sign
Somebody shut the kitchen window
It blew open a second time
Mustapha said something I didn't catch
Maybe prayer, maybe joke, maybe both
Then the room hit the same iron rhythm
And my heart stopped checking the coast
There's a sound the guembri makes
When something starts — you can't say where
You just notice that the room you're in
Is not the room you walked into
Marhaba, stranger — this is where you are now
The Alizé doesn't ask what you were going to do
Inshallah the sails fill when they're ready
For now the krakeb tells the time
Mustapha packed up sometime before midnight
Left one tea glass full of sand
Day five, the Alizé went quiet before sunrise
Kiteboards up by the time he'd finished his tea
I packed my bag and didn't leave until noon
Left a fifty dirham on the table — for the mint