There are so many little things that I had forgotten about Morocco that I both love and am challenged by.
Of course, smells are some of the strongest recollections lodged in my memory. Although it doesn't sound very pleasant, I missed the heavy, woody smell of burning trash; it becamse associated for me with traveling in West Africa over 10 years ago and it flashes me back to both Ghana and Mali as well. Then there is the open meat markets, and walking past stands filled with spices where especially the scent of cumin overwhelms the rest. Though not all of the smells are sweet or pleasant, there is something unique and exotic about them that make me smile.
I missed the regular, symphonic Allah Akbar calls from the mosques throughout the day, certain phrases from the language as well as common gestures that go with them, and the large repertoire of blessings and well-wishes that are involved with greetings. Little things jump out at me, like complete strangers seeing someone hard at work and when passing by, saying, “May God give you strength, brother." Imagine in the US, if we walked by a gardener or street cleaner or parking meter attendant and wished him or her God's help and blessings.... Or when we bought groceries, the cashier responding, “To your health!”
The staring is the one thing I haven't missed as, from what I've gathered, it's not considered rude so many men feel free to gawk without flinching. I quickly develop my keen peripheral vision and with the help of sunglasses, can see who is watching me without them knowing I know. When the stares are accompanied by kissing noises or cat calls, I fantasize about whipping around and scolding them in Arabic. I only had to do that once in Marrakech when I was being followed. I suddenly whipped around and yelled in Arabic and it caught the guy so off guard that he jumped back, and ran off with his tail between his legs, bumping into people as he couldn't get away fast enough. I've asked the family's daughters for their thoughts on what to do or say as they, too, get some of the same attention. Chaimae told me to say something like, “Go find yourself a donkey.” heh heh
I had also forgotten what a skill it is to walk in a medina. There is not a consistent flow of traffic but instead, it requires a consistent adjustment of pace, gait size, and navigation techniques to get around bicycles, donkeys, little old men hobbling with canes, women standing in the middle of the path “window shopping,” and puddles that one would no dare step in. It's a good reminder of patience as being in a hurry or wanting efficiency is pointless. If I start to get impatient, it reminds me how Western culture has seeped into my way of approaching simple things like walking.
Each place has its charm and challenges, and I think I'm close to finishing up my time in Tetouan. I'll probably be heading out in the next few days and based on my energy, stop through Tanger and maybe Fes before reaching Essaouira for the Gnawa Festival which begins next Thursday.
