The same could not be said of the bazaar that filled the square ahead. Stalls had erupted anywhere there was space, leaving the pathways between very reminiscent of an ant’s nest. They were overflowing with cheap golden trinkets and colourful shawls. As Eva walked through the bazaar, she lost track of the number of times Arabic-accented ‘Pretty Lady’ was thrown at her by merchants desperate to entice her in. Incense burned everywhere, the sweet waft of sandalwood adding to the aroma of the clothes all around her, evidence that some had remained unsold for a very long time. This mixed with the pungent aroma of spiced food being cooked in several large clay pots interspersed between the stalls. The result left Eva’s stomach growling, reminding her she had not eaten since breakfast.
As Eva w
