The vegetable shop where he first worked, belonged to his brother, I found out later. They got involved in a common quarrel. One morning he wasn't there. And he didn't come back in the next couple of weeks. I looked every time for him, I wandered what has happened to him. I asked once, twice and another employee told me he went away to take a rest... Not a very satisfied answer. I missed him, the fun of getting my groceries at this typical shop in Rabat wasn't fun any more. The hole ambiance changed, there were no more little fruit gifts for the girls, no pineapple for Belle, no small talks, limited by language and so real. One morning in spring I came with my list of groceries for the weekend and I jumped into this fat man. He took the hole space of the shop and I didn't like his face and his eyes. I never saw this man before so I asked him:''Who are you?'', ''I am the boss''. Wow. I felt uncomfortable in his presence and suddenly I understood, that with this man in the shop, there wasn't left any space for my favourite guy. There must be a connection between these two men and the appearance of this guy meant than the disappearance of the other guy? Shortly after I was told, these two were brothers and the boss, the fat man, wasn't pleased at all by his brother's friendly and open spirit and he was forged to leave.
From friends and people I know here, I've understand that he was busy with a kind of start up: a new small vegetable and fruit stand somewhere close to the neighbourhoods of Ambassadors and Souissi. Not far from our villa. No longer in a a shopping centre but in the streets making the borderline between the open fields and the urbane district. Only after summer I started my research, and I was convinced to find him back. The negative way the fat man manages his shop pushes me to take action. When I had my Mum here in Rabat last September we took of for my personal adventure to find my nice entrepreneur. It took us some time. We got in and out the car, entered the different fruit stands along one long road, which makes the corner with a huge supermarket and a neighbourhood for the average more well to do Morocco families and expatriates. These shops do have a similarity in the way they expose their merchandise, their fruits and vegetables. On a edge of two road I find my man back. He was touched, seeing me. We shake hands. My Mum was in a funny way surprised. His shop is small and very well sorted. The ground is the earth. So basic, so nature. Belle admired this. The fresh fruits are exposed in nice wooden baskets. Last year he offered me one of these fine fabricated baskets. I bought a composition of fruit to offer, as a welcome gift to my friend from Holland. Here in Morocco fruit is a welcome gift to guests coming to your home. It is all about hospitality. For me it is a tradition to give fruit when someone is ill. Our girls offered this basket to our dear friend as a warm welcome to our house and as a support in her fight against breast cancer.
I drive twice, tree or four times a week to my vegetable man, it is always fun. He offers little fruit gifts to the girls. Today he put grapes into a plastic bag, filled the bag with clear water and gave me the washed grapes.These small signs make me feel that he cares about his products and his customers. I resource and I enjoy this. Look at those beautiful colors! All the wonderful recipes we make with these succulent flavors.
From friends and people I know here, I've understand that he was busy with a kind of start up: a new small vegetable and fruit stand somewhere close to the neighbourhoods of Ambassadors and Souissi. Not far from our villa. No longer in a a shopping centre but in the streets making the borderline between the open fields and the urbane district. Only after summer I started my research, and I was convinced to find him back. The negative way the fat man manages his shop pushes me to take action. When I had my Mum here in Rabat last September we took of for my personal adventure to find my nice entrepreneur. It took us some time. We got in and out the car, entered the different fruit stands along one long road, which makes the corner with a huge supermarket and a neighbourhood for the average more well to do Morocco families and expatriates. These shops do have a similarity in the way they expose their merchandise, their fruits and vegetables. On a edge of two road I find my man back. He was touched, seeing me. We shake hands. My Mum was in a funny way surprised. His shop is small and very well sorted. The ground is the earth. So basic, so nature. Belle admired this. The fresh fruits are exposed in nice wooden baskets. Last year he offered me one of these fine fabricated baskets. I bought a composition of fruit to offer, as a welcome gift to my friend from Holland. Here in Morocco fruit is a welcome gift to guests coming to your home. It is all about hospitality. For me it is a tradition to give fruit when someone is ill. Our girls offered this basket to our dear friend as a warm welcome to our house and as a support in her fight against breast cancer.
I drive twice, tree or four times a week to my vegetable man, it is always fun. He offers little fruit gifts to the girls. Today he put grapes into a plastic bag, filled the bag with clear water and gave me the washed grapes.These small signs make me feel that he cares about his products and his customers. I resource and I enjoy this. Look at those beautiful colors! All the wonderful recipes we make with these succulent flavors.
