Chapter One
After almost ten years of not seeing one another, my friend in San Diego decided it was time to meet up. He planned to visit Spain in March but was keen to go somewhere hotter for a few days. Stuck in a tiny Welsh village throughout the winter, I was more than eager for some sun and to catch up with my old friend Sean.
Sean was American, and we met in South Africa in 1998. Having lost touch for a few years, I thanked the internet for connecting us in 2008, and we managed to see each other every year until the desire to finish my memoir took a front seat. Any other visits to fantastic San Francisco and Los Angeles got derailed by the nasty pandemic. Sean was married to two kids, and I was still happily single, gay, and free to roam, so if you have dirty thoughts about our friendship, hold that whip right there! Okay, we had a little history, and thankfully, it never came between our friendship or my visits.
Sean made the hotel bookings, and I was happy to go along with whatever he had in store for us. He chose Marrakech in Morocco, a place I had never visited before, and I knew the capital city was Rabat, and the country was in Africa, but nothing else. I hoped it would be a surprising and pleasant experience, so I packed a bag for the week away. Sean warned to expect sunny days at the pool, mountain or quad bike rides, and a desert dinner. He had a lot planned, and though I was not the most experienced rider, I got caught up in the upcoming desert trip.
It was a three-hour flight from Manchester, and while he flew from London, our landing times were close, so he waited for me to arrive. Seeing him again after many years was great, and since we were strangers in a foreign land, I looked forward to our time together. He seemed no different, a bit bulkier and muscular from working out, keeping fit, and eating healthier.
We left the airport close to sunset, and it took the cab a few minutes to fight through the line of taxis outside the airport. That was the least of our worries because I was unprepared for the mass of bikes, bicycles, and cars fighting for space along the darkening streets. Traffic lights seemed inconvenient to drivers and pedestrians as we jerked and jolted towards our hotel for three hundred dirhams, close to twenty-three or twenty-nine pounds and dollars, respectively.
The posh four-star hotel was an all-inclusive adult-only place surrounded by palm trees about three kilometres from Marrakech’s medina or the old part of the city. Despite the short flight, I desperately need a refreshing shower and luckily, we were in time for a snack before the dining area closed for the night.
I guess two men checking in was par for the course but with my painted fingernails, I felt they must think we were one of those odd city couples. Sean looked super straight, while not a poster boy for campness, my nails gave the game away in the largely Arab country. Maybe, I simply felt self-conscious for no reason at all, but a silent yet polite gentleman wheeled our bags as we walked to the rooms.
Entering mine first, he left the bag and stood to attention, and I realised he expected a tip, but in my hurry to leave the airport, I forgot to withdraw any money and sent him to Sean who had local currency.
Left alone, I opened the balcony door, overlooking the pools, blue but empty since swimming was not allowed after seven in the evening. Before I made it to the shower, a door opened and Sean poked his head into my room, but I was shocked at the connecting door. Was this a decent adult-only hotel or was it one of those where anything was possible? He asked if he should stay on his side and lock the door, but I had no issue with it being used for whatever reason, not expecting any saucy fireworks for the duration of our stay. Well, on my side of the cool brick walls of the expansive hotel.
If he wanted to sleepwalk through doors and walls, how would I react? It was a long shot and in all the years of visiting him, we kept our short-lived dalliance in the past. Sometimes I wished our first meeting could be reset so I could let human emotions take their course. Naked under the cool shower, my mind raced through various scenarios, past and present, real and imagined as I promised to enjoy this short time with my friend.
Sean was already in the dining area, and I picked something light to eat, marvelling at the vast collection of salads, meals, and desserts. The place was packed with guests, and from the accents, it seemed mostly English, some European and American. Other than English, there were equal amounts of French and Arabic speakers.
A mixed set of old, young, smart, or casually dressed diners filled the huge eating hall. Attentive waiters dashed around, collecting used cutlery and crockery, mistakenly whisking away a half-eaten meal while the guest stepped away for a water or juice refill. Taking in the sight, smells, and sounds, I stepped out of my comfort zone as far as travelling went to meet Sean in a strange country.
Sipping on orange juice while we ate, we got up to speed over the lost years as he laid out our itinerary for the next five days. My last bicycle ride was in 2012 but felt assured I could ride a bike along the dusty mountain paths. After eating, we strolled around the pools before going to our rooms and unpacking. At eleven, the music ended but the bar remained open until twelve, but rowdy parties were out of the question. Everything was chilled and sedate, the guests happy to relax as their voices, different accents, and languages carried in the cool evening air.
Connected to the hotel internet service, I heard or felt my mobile phone vibrate multiple times, assuming friends wanted to know if I landed in one piece. Off course, they were much more interested in what I planned to do with my married friend in this foreign country. Assuring them of no hanky-panky, I let the phone buzz while I emptied my case. Too hot to get under any covers, I hopped into bed and started checking and answering the many messages.
Sleeping in a strange bed or new environment was my biggest curse, and I thought Sean would walk into my room through the connecting door. Tossing and turning well into the morning, it was the sound of chirping birds that woke me, but the heavy curtains kept the room dark despite the bright sun. Having left a freezing Welsh village behind, I welcomed the humidity and heat prickling my bare chest and legs.
My first morning in Marrakech, and it felt surreal. I listened for movement from the adjoining room but heard none and stepped under the shower and prepared to face a day of sunshine and lounge around the place. On the bedside table, my phone buzzed away, and I jumped at a sharp knock on the door, the muffled voice on the other side telling me to meet him at breakfast.
Despite the sunshine, there was a cool breeze, so I wore light sweatpants, a short-sleeved orange top, and rainbow coloured flip-flops. Grabbing my phone, I left the room and saw a message on the gay app. That was quick, but I thought it might be from someone from England but stopped in my tracks and read the enquiring note in the yellow-framed chat box.
DID YOU CHECK IN WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND LAST NIGHT?
