Quick wrap-up of Morocco
so I can get on with Egypt (where I'm at, at the moment!).
Geez, now I'm so used to the azerty keyboards that being back on a qwerty is screwing with me. Normally I just turn a switch on or off and my figers adjust, here's hoping.
Okay, so, Monday I decided to head to Temara Plage which is about 15 km south of Rabat city. A bus and a taxi ride away, this Irish lady and I end up at the beach. After much hustling and hussling about (those two always seem to come together here), we finally get a spot on the beach. I silently cuss the lady out a few times because she is so picky and neurotic...frankly, I don't want to sit on a deserted beach and go swimming in an empty area--not only am I traveling to get a feel for the people and the area, but I also don't want to drown out of sight. Luckily, the place, though dangerous as I previously warned her (I could spot the dangerous rip-tide signs even before the tide started rising...), had its full share of lifeguards (or "masters of the ocean" as they're called here). These odd "lifeguards" didn't do much bust blast their whistles nonstop while looking at different people and waving their arms around. In fact, I once got swept up in quite a wave after watching one guy motioning, and he barely blinked an eye. Comforting.
Anyway, on trying to settle ourselves down, this one guy Nabil tried selling us a parasol with his friend. When we kindly turned him down, he continued following us and just chatting. I politely responded, and the guy seemed harmful enough. He talked a bit about his family, etc...and I didn't really get any danger signs from him. He seemed to want to just chat, swim and play racketball later. He knew I had no money on me, that I was leaving for Egypt the next day (which he continuously had to be reminded of, I think he thought it was a lame excuse), and that I had already consigned my soul to poverty in the States as a journalist (though he had to be reminded of that as well--"you'll be rich when you start working...in America, right? Lots of money..."). Okay, so there were warning signs when he started talking about "I love you" in Arabic, saying he would never forget me, that I was renting out a piece of his heart forever...(made me wonder about the usage).
So, while Anne, the Irish lady amusedly enjoyed the unfolding saga I had set for myself...I had nary a moment to relax. All I wanted to do was read my book (I'm reading "Atonement" and find it to be marvelous). Anyway, I did get a free donut and bathroom visit out of it...
Then, of course, Ibrahim decided to give me a call. He knew I was going to be in Temara Plage, and I'd told him if he wanted to visit he could, but I couldn't go to Kenitra. After almost two hours of him calling my cell from a payphone, the two guys talking to each other on my cell--Nabil trying to "give directions"--or tell the guy off--and then Ibrahim finally telling me where I could find him, we walked off to go get him. The other guy made it clear he was "doing this for me...only me"...
Well, we found Ibrahim finally, and he was a little upset and confused, but still his kindly self. The two guys got to talking and arguing again about Nabil's crappy directions...and then they made up and Nabil apologized profusedly. Ibrahim though was slightly disturbed...apparently he'd left two books on the beach with someone to watch while he dashed around trying to find and call me. The two books? The Oxford English Dictionary and "The Alchemist" that I had given him. Well, Ibrahim got back his OED, but someone had pilfered the book I gave him. I was outraged, Nabil was upset as well as amused at my outrage, Ibrahim was very sad...
When we got back to Anne on the beach I had had enough of the drama and went for a swim. Nabil joined me shortly afterward, but I ignored him and he eventually left. When I finally came out only Anne and Ibrahim where there. Nabil was gone. Whew.
Ibrahim gave me a small bag as a gift--the very bag I had eyed before leaving Chefchaouen. I was very touched. Not only that, but he'd come directly from Chefchaouen to meet me before I left.
After a more relaxing day at the beach we all took the bus back and Ibrahim said goodbye and caught another bus to go to his family in Kenitra. What a nice guy.
Geez, now I'm so used to the azerty keyboards that being back on a qwerty is screwing with me. Normally I just turn a switch on or off and my figers adjust, here's hoping.
Okay, so, Monday I decided to head to Temara Plage which is about 15 km south of Rabat city. A bus and a taxi ride away, this Irish lady and I end up at the beach. After much hustling and hussling about (those two always seem to come together here), we finally get a spot on the beach. I silently cuss the lady out a few times because she is so picky and neurotic...frankly, I don't want to sit on a deserted beach and go swimming in an empty area--not only am I traveling to get a feel for the people and the area, but I also don't want to drown out of sight. Luckily, the place, though dangerous as I previously warned her (I could spot the dangerous rip-tide signs even before the tide started rising...), had its full share of lifeguards (or "masters of the ocean" as they're called here). These odd "lifeguards" didn't do much bust blast their whistles nonstop while looking at different people and waving their arms around. In fact, I once got swept up in quite a wave after watching one guy motioning, and he barely blinked an eye. Comforting.
Anyway, on trying to settle ourselves down, this one guy Nabil tried selling us a parasol with his friend. When we kindly turned him down, he continued following us and just chatting. I politely responded, and the guy seemed harmful enough. He talked a bit about his family, etc...and I didn't really get any danger signs from him. He seemed to want to just chat, swim and play racketball later. He knew I had no money on me, that I was leaving for Egypt the next day (which he continuously had to be reminded of, I think he thought it was a lame excuse), and that I had already consigned my soul to poverty in the States as a journalist (though he had to be reminded of that as well--"you'll be rich when you start working...in America, right? Lots of money..."). Okay, so there were warning signs when he started talking about "I love you" in Arabic, saying he would never forget me, that I was renting out a piece of his heart forever...(made me wonder about the usage).
So, while Anne, the Irish lady amusedly enjoyed the unfolding saga I had set for myself...I had nary a moment to relax. All I wanted to do was read my book (I'm reading "Atonement" and find it to be marvelous). Anyway, I did get a free donut and bathroom visit out of it...
Then, of course, Ibrahim decided to give me a call. He knew I was going to be in Temara Plage, and I'd told him if he wanted to visit he could, but I couldn't go to Kenitra. After almost two hours of him calling my cell from a payphone, the two guys talking to each other on my cell--Nabil trying to "give directions"--or tell the guy off--and then Ibrahim finally telling me where I could find him, we walked off to go get him. The other guy made it clear he was "doing this for me...only me"...
Well, we found Ibrahim finally, and he was a little upset and confused, but still his kindly self. The two guys got to talking and arguing again about Nabil's crappy directions...and then they made up and Nabil apologized profusedly. Ibrahim though was slightly disturbed...apparently he'd left two books on the beach with someone to watch while he dashed around trying to find and call me. The two books? The Oxford English Dictionary and "The Alchemist" that I had given him. Well, Ibrahim got back his OED, but someone had pilfered the book I gave him. I was outraged, Nabil was upset as well as amused at my outrage, Ibrahim was very sad...
When we got back to Anne on the beach I had had enough of the drama and went for a swim. Nabil joined me shortly afterward, but I ignored him and he eventually left. When I finally came out only Anne and Ibrahim where there. Nabil was gone. Whew.
Ibrahim gave me a small bag as a gift--the very bag I had eyed before leaving Chefchaouen. I was very touched. Not only that, but he'd come directly from Chefchaouen to meet me before I left.
After a more relaxing day at the beach we all took the bus back and Ibrahim said goodbye and caught another bus to go to his family in Kenitra. What a nice guy.
posted by IJW at 12:14 AM
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