"Je crois qu'en Maroc, rien n'est fixe!"
A friend of mine made this comment at dinner with her host family the other night. It elicited a bundle of laughter from her host parents and siblings. For those unfamiliar with French, it means "I believe that in Morocco, nothing is fixed!"
My friend was referring specifically to her host aunt's wedding which is due to take place in two weeks. However it is not yet decided whether the wedding will be on Friday or Saturday. Can you imagine? In the States an event like a wedding would be planned six months, maybe even a year ahead of time. Here? Not the case. And this applies not just to weddings, but to train schedules, dinner time, trips, you name it. Morocco is a very "go with the flow" kind of place.
This indeed takes some adjustment for people like us who are very used to regimented schedules. However, falling into the fluidity of life here is actually quite easy once you get used to it. It's not frustratingly inefficient like in Trinidad and Tobago but more appreciatively leisured? Not sure if there's an actual distinction there or that's just word vomit on my part, but what I'm trying to say is that the fluidity here seems purposeful, not like it's an unintended effect of incompetence.
Now I'm going to introduce what I hope will be a recurring segment about my host siblings. So without further ado, this week on Keeping up with Khouloud and Khalid...
Khalid returned home from spending the week at his aunts house, and I was able to finally meet him. First impression: I am in love. He is the most adorable 11 year-old boy the world has seen. He immediately wanted to play card games with me, and Mama Fatiha told me that he has a tendency to talk tough when he's winning but cry when he loses. Thus, I purposefully lost more games of Uno and Old Maid than I've even played total before in my life. Also while playing Uno he refused to let me choose colors in French, and made me guess the Arabic word and laughed cheekily when I guessed wrong. He also took a liking to Chicago style popcorn and is generally the most boss little boy I've met. Khouloud, I think, is in that age where she's trying to assert her independence and therefore maintains a very "too cool for school" facade. However upon Khalid's return, she did crack and played a very spirited game of Old Maid with us.
Stay tuned for more antics from K+K!
On Saturday we went to a more liberal beach in Skhirat, which is a bit south of Rabat. My friend's host sister Najwa (who is incredible, she taught herself fluent English by watching television!) took us there via train. Skhirat is where Mama Fatiha was born and has a really beautiful beach (the best in Morocco according to Najwa!). It's also a safe beach to be in bikinis as opposed to the beach in Rabat. Highlights include these fabulous fried and sugared donuts, and incredibly hot surf instructor with a tiny cat named Cannabis (this is not a joke, I repeat this is not a joke).
Most incredible experience this week though was definitely visiting the hammam (public bath). Traditionally the hammam is a bathhouse as well as a community gathering place for women. I went with three friends and their host sisters Najwa and Salima. Initially the hammam was a bit overwhelming, as you pretty much strip down to nothing but bottom underwear - hence we were surrounded by a lot of naked women. But once you get used to it, the whole process of leisurely washing dead skin off, lounging in a sauna because the floor is heated, chilling with friends, it's almost a religious experience. I also think the hammam is a great place to teach a potential young daughter that people come in all shapes, sizes, and colors. I understand why Najwa said women spend literally hours in the hammam, because I plan on going back every week and emerging feeling like a newborn baby.
This weekend we're planning to go to Tangier, as there's apparently a jazz festival taking place. Also we just really want to visit Tangier. The hostel we're staying at is called The Melting Pot. Safe to say we're seriously excited.
A friend of mine made this comment at dinner with her host family the other night. It elicited a bundle of laughter from her host parents and siblings. For those unfamiliar with French, it means "I believe that in Morocco, nothing is fixed!"
My friend was referring specifically to her host aunt's wedding which is due to take place in two weeks. However it is not yet decided whether the wedding will be on Friday or Saturday. Can you imagine? In the States an event like a wedding would be planned six months, maybe even a year ahead of time. Here? Not the case. And this applies not just to weddings, but to train schedules, dinner time, trips, you name it. Morocco is a very "go with the flow" kind of place.
This indeed takes some adjustment for people like us who are very used to regimented schedules. However, falling into the fluidity of life here is actually quite easy once you get used to it. It's not frustratingly inefficient like in Trinidad and Tobago but more appreciatively leisured? Not sure if there's an actual distinction there or that's just word vomit on my part, but what I'm trying to say is that the fluidity here seems purposeful, not like it's an unintended effect of incompetence.
Now I'm going to introduce what I hope will be a recurring segment about my host siblings. So without further ado, this week on Keeping up with Khouloud and Khalid...
Khalid returned home from spending the week at his aunts house, and I was able to finally meet him. First impression: I am in love. He is the most adorable 11 year-old boy the world has seen. He immediately wanted to play card games with me, and Mama Fatiha told me that he has a tendency to talk tough when he's winning but cry when he loses. Thus, I purposefully lost more games of Uno and Old Maid than I've even played total before in my life. Also while playing Uno he refused to let me choose colors in French, and made me guess the Arabic word and laughed cheekily when I guessed wrong. He also took a liking to Chicago style popcorn and is generally the most boss little boy I've met. Khouloud, I think, is in that age where she's trying to assert her independence and therefore maintains a very "too cool for school" facade. However upon Khalid's return, she did crack and played a very spirited game of Old Maid with us.
Stay tuned for more antics from K+K!
On Saturday we went to a more liberal beach in Skhirat, which is a bit south of Rabat. My friend's host sister Najwa (who is incredible, she taught herself fluent English by watching television!) took us there via train. Skhirat is where Mama Fatiha was born and has a really beautiful beach (the best in Morocco according to Najwa!). It's also a safe beach to be in bikinis as opposed to the beach in Rabat. Highlights include these fabulous fried and sugared donuts, and incredibly hot surf instructor with a tiny cat named Cannabis (this is not a joke, I repeat this is not a joke).
Most incredible experience this week though was definitely visiting the hammam (public bath). Traditionally the hammam is a bathhouse as well as a community gathering place for women. I went with three friends and their host sisters Najwa and Salima. Initially the hammam was a bit overwhelming, as you pretty much strip down to nothing but bottom underwear - hence we were surrounded by a lot of naked women. But once you get used to it, the whole process of leisurely washing dead skin off, lounging in a sauna because the floor is heated, chilling with friends, it's almost a religious experience. I also think the hammam is a great place to teach a potential young daughter that people come in all shapes, sizes, and colors. I understand why Najwa said women spend literally hours in the hammam, because I plan on going back every week and emerging feeling like a newborn baby.
This weekend we're planning to go to Tangier, as there's apparently a jazz festival taking place. Also we just really want to visit Tangier. The hostel we're staying at is called The Melting Pot. Safe to say we're seriously excited.
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| KHALID ET MOI. |
1 Comment:
I love Khalid! He looks so mischievous. I remembered that growing up in India, we used to use a bath soap called "Hamam"!
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