Yesterday

I'm just going to tell you about my day yesterday because there just is no title for it.

I went to the new Starbuck's near the Twin Center uptown Casa for the weekly anglophone coffee group. I found parking on a side street, but you have to pay a parking meter and get a ticket. The parking meter looked very broken. I figured I would lose my money. I looked at every other car on the street, no one had a ticket on their dashboards. So, I figured well, I'm just going to let it go, there will probably be a consequence for this. I might get a ticket?? Or I might get lucky and nothing will happen.

The coffee went well. I persuaded my Lebanese friend to come to the group that morning. Afterwards, I persuaded her to come back and have lunch with N and me at home and then come to the Souk afterwards. The Souk is the local outdoor market. The one in Dar Bouazza is every Wed. It is a deep cultural experience. N wanted to buy veggies and chicken and said everything is cheaper there. I figured it would be better to go with N so I don't get ripped off and I may be the only non-Moroccan there as well, so since ALL the women will be wearing Jilabas and Hajibs, I will stand out. Not real keen on that.

Anyhow, my friend was happy to come home with me. We got to my car and whoops, it was still there, but it was booted. I wasn't sure what to do, but found they left me a little ticket on my window with a phone number and a price to get the boot removed. So, I called the guy. He actually spoke English. He asked me the name of the street and like most places in Morocco, there was no street name posted, so I asked around the people on the street and got the name. In about 10 minutes the guy came out to release the boot on my car.

I chatted with him a bit and tried to explain myself, my naivité and my innocence in this sad affair and tried to get him to not charge me without being too direct. The other cars paid a monthly charge and therefore had a sticker on their windshield. Unfortunately, he took my money anyway. It was only 30 dhm (3€), still a lot more than it would have cost if I just paid the parking meter in the first place.

As we were chatting with this man, we were spied by a very aggressive man selling Louis Vitton purse immitations. He came straight up to us as I was unlocking the car and trying to load it and would not take no for an answer. My Lebanese friend could pass for Moroccan, so she gets it much worse than I. It is very wierd. People try to get money out of her much more than out of me, like 3X more. So I told him "non" and "la" which is no in arabic and then straight up ignored him and tried to get everything in the trunk ASAP to get out of there before he robbed us. My friend had her baby and left her sitting on the back seat. She got in the front seat and was talking to this guy. She was looking at his wears and telling him it is too expensive. He wouldn't leave her alone. I wasn't sure if she was intersted and negotiating with him. I fervently tried to attach her baby as quickly as possible and considered leaving her unattached and just drive away from this crazy guy.

I was getting really, really irritated with him. Once I got the baby attached, I asked my friend "do you want to buy his purse?" She gave me some crazy answer like she has lots of purses. I said yes, but, "do you want to buy his?" She said "no." I think I then told him no again in French and Arabic and got in the car and shut the door. Once her door was closed, I locked the doors and kept the windows up and drove in any direction fast, just to get away from this human irritant. I was highly annoyed and almost went "Chicago" at him, but didn't trust my friend would have my back. I don't think she has that "Chicago" quality to tell a man "No" and mean it. She isn't that direct. So, difficult to explain this. If one chick of the two literally can't say the word no, then you're automatically in a weak position, if that makes any sense.

To go "Chicago" on someone
verb
1. enter his personal body space, take off the sunglasses, look him in his eyes and say "the answer is no. It is not going to change. We are not going to buy anything from you now or ever. Find other women who are interested, you are wasting you time with us."

This is a line I have actually used more or less when I was younger in Chicago to groups of aggressive young men who would try to pick us up. It never leaves much room for discussion and I've always had success with it. Distraction worked even better, "I'm sorry, we're not interested, but I saw a group of good looking women walking down road X, you might be able to catch up with them." Point finger into any random direction and off they pounce with a smile.

* * *

So, now I was annoyed and driving through the typical crazy Casa traffic home. Having no idea how to get to Route d'Azzemour, I decided to be really nice and blocked all traffic to ask a street cop for directions. He told me to pull a U-turn at the traffic light and head straight. So, that's what I did. In every country I've lived in, a U-turn in an intersection is illegal, except in Morocco. Food for thought.

When we approached the area called Hay Hassani, there were people on the street selling kleenex. Yes, a box of kleenex. Sometimes they are men or grade school aged boys. Unfortunately my window was down a little too far. This guy came up to my side this time and was totally relentless. Again I said "non" and "la." And he said some blah, blah, blah in French along the lines of come on, just 10 dhm. I'm sitting here debating whether or not to just roll up the window in his face and am watching the traffic light willing it to turn green, stuck with no where to go. Finally the traffic light turns green and he asks, "Why won't you buy it?" I answered in sadly grammatically incorrect french "parce que vous m'embêtes." (translation - because you irritate me) Obviously I was struggling with calling him either tu or vous and ended up somewhere in the middle.

I drove away leaving him predictably without a sale and with a stupid smile on his face.

The Souk = Deep Cultural Experience

Now we have me, N, and my Lebanese friend who is dressed chic, western cloths and looks Moroccan. She has long black hair and is wearing it down. She and I are the ONLY 2 women not dressed in Jilabas and Hijabs at this souk. We have the baby in a stroller. Dust, dirt, hay garbage is flying everywhere. I was wearing sunglasses, but kept getting shards blown into my eyes. Every Tom, Dick and Henrietta went up to my friend and tried to get money out of her. They come here to buy food and they go begging to her?? They say things like "may God be with you and bless you in your life, can I have 10 dhm?" Craziness. My friend just smiles and doesn't respond. They speak to her in Arabic, so I can't understand, very frustrating. She translated to me after the fact.

No one came begging directly to me. Some kids came up to me to sell me a plastic bag that I can get for free, or water from the guy who was carrying a cracked clay vase filled with water and 2 metal cups that absolutely everyone drinks out of. I don't care how desperate I am for water, I'm never putting my mouth where everyone else also has. So my response is typical clipped Jennel "la." (because in truth that's just about all I can say in arabic for the moment) Then I turn my back on them right away to drive the point home.

N wanted to buy 2 chickens. Ok, I wish I had a camera. I wish I could give to you the smell. The chicken vendors are all together. The chickens all start out live. Hundreds of them. The souk has been going all day. The mud ground is soaked through with blood and water. There are chicken remnants all over the place. Piles upon piles of chicken feathers are littering the ground, all sticky and wet and dirty.

There is a chopping table set up in the middle running with blood. It has blood coated chicken feathers stuck to the sides of it. There are chicken feet littered all over the ground and some organs. I didn't whitness the entire process this time though it is roughly the same as the other in town. This time there is no machine to help them. They boil the chicken in hot water, then manually remove all of it's feathers. I gave N my money in advance and left my purse in the car. We only had 300 dhm (30€) for our groceries here. They were selling turkeys. N asked how much and they said 300 dhm. Turkey was about 2X more expensive per kilo than chicken. We ended up paying I think like 64 (6.40 €) dhm for 2 chickens. Very good price. I did wonder what they had been fed.

In the end, we spent a total of 25€ and got kilos, upon kilos of veggies. It would have cost me at least double at the Wasabi market near my kid's school in Oasis. The souk is always great for cheap things, it's just so dirty that I have a hard time dealing with it. I asked N if she could buy me a scarf to cover my head sometimes like at the souk. I think in small towns, you just should cover your head.

A few things I've learned. Women are not allowed to show their hair, or wear make up in public because it's a sign of sensuality. I think the sensuality thing is more of an issue when it's long which all Moroccan women have. My hair is pretty short so I haven't had any problems. I make an honest effort not to show any cleavage no matter how minor. I've had shirts that I wore to work in France without thinking anything of it and here, it feels too racy. Crazy. Someone told me you're not allowed to kiss in public. Now there goes half the fun. What would I do with my time if I'm not permitted to objectify my husband in public?