As Jean and I were walking for the first time down one of Marrakech's narrow alleys, this herb shop caught my eye. Being in a new and strange place, we intended simply to give it a glance and continue on, but a disreputable-looking man with five days' growth of whiskers and missing maybe half his teeth approached us from behind and encouraged us to go inside.

I resisted; he insisted. "Go on. Smell. Is very good." He was so warm, friendly and encouraging that, despite misgivings, we moved closer to the store.

Baskets of dried herbs nestled against motorbikes waiting for repairs at the greasy, dark workshop next door.

To the right of the door, carefully-shaped conical piles of powdered substances exhibited the steepest angle of repose I've ever observed in a dry material. You could never make a sandpile that steep unless the sand was wet.

Once inside, we were greeted by Mouhad Tliki, a member of the family that owns the store. He demonstrated his wares for us, encouraging us to smell and feel various herbs, spices and natural medicines. Mouhad was intelligent and well-spoken. He had traveled all over the world and speaks six languages—not at all what I expected from a Moroccan shopkeeper, which just goes to show that I still reek with prejudices.

Jean bought a mixture of four spices for seasoning fish, seafood and "salades:" cardamom, nutmeg, ginger and coriander. She also bought a packet of sanouge (naigella seed) to use "against the cold, maigraine, astma." The method of using sanouge was interesting. Mouhad placed a teaspoon of it in a square of muslin and twisted the edges of the cloth to form a little ball. This he rubbed against the palm of his hand until it became warm, then covering my nostrils with the ball, asked me to inhale. I immediately felt my sinuses opening. Magic!

We could have spent hours in Mouhad's store, and probably would have bought many things, but we restrained ourselves. The store, Herboriste Essalam, does a worldwide mail order business. It has no website, but you can email Mouhad at essalamrobio@yahoo.fr.

Now, about the man who steered us into Mouhad's store. He was not a shill, nor was he offering his services to us as a guide. In Morocco, business is done on the basis of friendships. If you need anything, you ask around until you find one of your friends who can direct you to one of his friends who can provide the service or item you need. It's relatively unimportant if the friend of a friend provides items of good quality or performs the service well. The thing that matters is that you have enabled your friend to help his friend.

The guy across the alley from Herboriste Essalam was doing his friend Mouhad a favor, and in turn, in time, Mouhad will do one for him.

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Postscript:
A day after composing this post, I shot an image of the Armenia Herbalist from a moving caliche, in the dark, using only available light.

This guy has taken powder piling to new heights. But compared with Mouhad's display, his just doesn't have the esthetics. Mouhad's may not be the biggest, but certainly—the nicest.