Le Weekend

I wrote extensively about my first week in Morocco, since every day there seemed to be a new surprise. The weekend brought more notable things. My family kept making me eat more than is humanly possible. “Kuli kuli!” They would say and place little cakes, bread, pizza without cheese, and assorted meats on my plate. In Morocco, people actually gain weight during Ramadan because they eat so much. Many families have ftour and then hours later at midnight they eat a substantial dinner. It’s like Thanksgiving every day.

Also my family likes to give me things. Occasionally they’ll ask me if I think something’s pretty and usually I say "yes" to be cordial. Well, that "yes" means something else to them. Saying "yes" is how I received a pair of earrings, a ring, and a bracelet. That was a loaded "yes." They also dress me up in their clothes, spray me with their perfume and offer to wash my back when I take baths. I’ve gotten my eyebrows and hair done by both of my sisters. Sometimes when they talk, their voices become very high-pitched and they start saying things like “Wili wili!” which I figured out is something they do when a bad thing happens, like if they drop a cup.

On Saturday afternoon, I met Jihane at a salon. She wanted these long curly extensions. I think she’s secretly a rock star. The hairstylist kept switching between languages to a point where we couldn’t understand him. He was incredibly facetious and kept us on our toes. I played along with his jokes and made a new friend.

That night, everyone at Amideast met for ftour at T.G.I. Friday’s and we were all expecting to get steak and mashed potatoes. Turns out we ate exactly the same foods we have everyday for ftour, but we got our first homework assignments and met our teachers. There were some French hipsters at the restaurant that kept talking to some of us, hair over their eyes, cigarettes in hand at 12 years old. When I came home that night, everyone rushed to the door and told me they missed me.

On Sunday, Jihane and I went to their other house near the ocean just to pick up a bag of sesame seeds and trays for cooking. I couldn’t help but take pictures of the place because a description wouldn’t do it much justice, even though it’s simple, their other house is so distinctive. Some woman walking with her family yelled at me for taking pictures of their street. We were advised not to take pictures of people because it’s offensive, but I try skirt around it. I also asked Jihane if it’s normal for people to have more than one house and she said yeah. I figured she was speaking for the more affluent people of Rabat.

On our errand run, the car ride was insane. There were people who wanted to race with us, people trying to pick us up, and a huge fight in the street which blocked traffic. It’s pretty normal for crowds to gather on the streets of Morocco because people love a spectacle. And it just so happens that fights break out all of the time.