One of my relatives came back from Marrakesh recently, taking a weekend off from his business trip to see the gorgeous city. I was frankly envious – I miss Marrakesh, its beauty and its markets. Especially the food markets, which are full of spices, herbs, exotic ingredients… my small consolation was the relative brought back two bottles of argan oil, as well as a variety of spices for me to peruse when I have the time to cook.
That isn’t the point of this post, however. My relative returning from Marrakesh reminds me of an incident I had in my hotel room, a few years ago when I visited the city.
The day was relatively mild, but otherwise, I’d done my wandering around (i.e. getting lost) for the day and decided to stay in my room. The room was stuffy. Extremely stuffy. With that in mind, I threw open the windows in my hotel room, and for a brief while, enjoyed the breeze and the sound of the streets wafting through.
Something shook me out of my reverie. A tweet. No, not the Twitter tweet, an actual bird tweet. I glanced up, startled, but didn’t register the source of the sound, so back I went to reading. There was another chirp – louder than the last one. This continued for I suspect a minute or two, until my patience ran thin and I moved to close the window. The tweeting stopped, and I read in peace for a few moments, wondering if it was bird mating season or something similar.
That was when I looked out of the window, and this time, I saw a bird, staring at me from outside my window. It didn’t look like it was seeing me. Instead, its beady little eye was focused on something behind me. I turned – and nearly jumped in shock. There was another bird, hanging on precariously from the chandelier, absolutely frozen and refusing to move. Unable to move? I couldn’t tell.
My first instinct was to re-open the window, and when I did, the bird outside flew in, twittering loudly at the trapped bird inside the room. It flew to the chandelier, and perched next to the trapped bird. It gave it a hard nudge (the trapped bird nearly fell out from its perch), and then the two of them flew out of my room, led by the bird from the outside and it tweeting loudly at the trapped bird all the way.
I could still hear the tweeting (screeching would have been more apt) all the way from my room as they went away.
To this day, I like to think that the trapped bird was being berated by its rescuer for getting itself stuck there. Imagine, “You silly bird! I told you before that those rooms are rooms of death, you never get out! Those shiny dangling crystals aren’t worth getting stuck in a room for!”
… I also like to imagine the rescuer bird knows, because once upon a time, it too got trapped in a hotel room, until a kind and merciful hotel guest – or fellow bird – showed it the way out through the window…