At The Inn...

Outside the inn, we climb off our camels with varying degrees of skill – Le Enchanteur dismounts with dignity and strides toward the Inn door as is she had ridden in a golden carriage all the way from Pilgrim’s Well.

My legs feel permanently welded into a wishbone shape – now I understand why they call the camel `the ship of the desert’ – not only does it feel like you are swaying along over a sea of sand in the crow’s nest of a tall ship, you have considerable trouble regaining your land legs once you get off again.

But Layla has been very sweet and well behaved through the whole trip and I am happy to give her a loving pat before she is led away for a well deserved rest.

The Inn is a white two storey building with date palms peeking over the roof. We all follow Le Enchanteur through the white door with its vivid blue motifs, into a deliciously cool dining room. The Inn is simple, but not rustic - ceiling fans sweep overhead, and the far wall is lined with arched doorways leading out into a shaded courtyard.

A few curious faces watch our party as we are led to our tables – I see many races here, and hear many languages spoken, from lilting musical French to silvery chiming Chinese.
Our table is spread with clean white Egyptian cotton and we make ourselves thankfully comfortable in the rattan chairs. I look around me at the fascinating faces and notice I am not the only one of our party of pilgrims that has surreptitiously taken out my sketchpad.

Breakfast was a delicious spread of fresh fruits, goat cheese and flat bread. My legs are coming back to life and I look forward to exploring the Inn after I have been shown to my room. This proves to be small but airy place just off the balcony on the second floor, overlooking the courtyard. It holds a simple wooden bed covered with a white chenille bedspread and mosquito net, with a washstand and cupboard. I rinse out my travel clothes and hang them over the end of the bed – they will dry quickly in this heat. Then, in fresh white tunic and pants, I make my way down to the courtyard.

It is a perfect square, surrounded on all sides by the Inn. An arched gateway leads out to the camel stables where I can see Layla being groomed. In the centre of the courtyard is a marble fountain filled with sparkling water. I sit on a bench and get out my sketchpad, enjoying the scenes around me.

I see many of the people from the dining room and fall to wondering about them as I try to think up a story for Le Enchanteur. Nearby I see a tall, striking looking man in a white suit, speaking in a soft Edinburgh burr. His companions are hanging on every word – I can tell he is a great story teller, so I edge closer. His tale captures me and I make a few notes – there is so much happening here, so much to look at and here. Nearby a group of children are playing jacks by the fountain, while their mothers gossip over tiny cups of strong, bitter coffee.

I have to work on my story for Le Enchanteur so I go to the writing room for a while. It is cool in here, with the ceiling fans slowing whirring overhead. I sit at one of the writing desks and write for a while, pausing every now and then to greet a fellow pilgrim.

After Lunch le Enchanteur holds court in the drawing room. Like the rest of the Inn this is very simply furnished with rattan chairs and ceiling fans, and she looks divine in a crisp white blouse and travelling skirt. She has already gathered a coterie of admiring men, among them my Scottish storyteller, who introduces himself as Dr Phineas MacFadden. I ask him if I can use his wonderful train story and he graciously consents, because it is for Madame Le Enchanteur, with whom he is plainly smitten.

Tonight, we all dress for dinner – I didn’t bring anything formal, but I did buy a selection of gauzy scarves and bangles from the market at Pilgrim’s Well, which gave my simple outfit some flair. We are to gather in the drawing room later with Le Enchanteur and entertain her with stories. I wonder how Dr MacFadden will react to the sight of Madame in her Scheherezade outfit. It may be hard for him to retain his customary composure.

Dinner is a pleasant surprise – I had been filled with notions of having to confront strange comestibles like sheep’s eyes and goat’s bladders, but I actually enjoyed a simple but flavourful dish of lamb stew and lentils and not an eyeball in sight (if you’ll pardon the pun.) The wine served is dark red, rich and mysterious with the faintest hint of rose petals.

Tomorrow I will go out and explore the town, and take my sketch pad with me. Who knows what I will find out there.