Notes on My Moroccan Life, Part 3.

A typical breakfast for me includes dripping sweat in my pajamas, sitting at the kitchen table sipping hot tea and eating hot bread.

I live in an apartment building and surrounded by apartment buildings but I still wake up to roosters crowing nonstop at 4am.

Yesterday, a mentally ill man danced by me and 3 other Americans while we were sitting on the rocks by the river, yelling in Darija, “why are there 4 foreigners sitting here?” Then he danced away and started punching the air. At this same location, a kid (16ish years old?) came up to Jeremy and asked in Darija if he owned all of us (it was Jeremy + 3 girls, including me). Then some Moroccan man sitting on a bench nearby starting yelling at the kid in very fast Darija (the only thing I understood was “shuma” which means “shame on you”).

I saw a ginger girl who did not look Moroccan in the least, and we are about the same age, and I was so shocked when I saw her that I just froze and we both stared at each other and smiled. Then she told me (telepathically, of course) that she was happy to see another ginger because it had been a while.

I asked my host mom if she wanted to come to church with me and she said that she can’t because it is Haram… the more you know. But, I am allowed inside some mosques even though I am not Muslim.

If you hang your clothes up on rusty clotheslines, all your clothes will get rust stains.

I bought a bar of really nice soap here for the equivalent of 50 cents in the US and I am excited to put it inside my qis and use it at the hammam!

Yesterday, I brought Mira and Chloe to my gym (they got a free day) and we wanted to take an oriental dance class but the online schedule was wrong so we just did our own thing instead. There was a Total Body Conditioning class going on, though, and the teacher was super nice and fun. Then she and another woman said that they will help me with my Darija while they practice their English, and that I should go to the body conditioning classes. I will. They were very nice and also female so they did not have any sketchy motives.

Also, it turns out that “oriental dance” means bellydancing… catch me bellydancing next week!

A funny presumption: a bunch of us Americans went to a cafe to study, and our waiter assumed we were German for no reason so he started talking to us in German. But, of course, Jeremy, Mira, and Chloe all speak German so they just responded as if it was totally normal.

Because I’m speaking so much French and Darija here, I’ve started to get very mixed up, and sometimes end up with all 3 languages in the same sentence. I also forgot the word “hopefully” in English, so for a solid week, I only said “insh3allah,” which means “God-willing.”

Moroccans don’t consider themselves African. They call black people African and call themselves Moroccan.

Muslim girls can’t pray when they are on their periods because they are considered unclean. They also can’t fast, so they have to make up their fasting later.

The word for grandfather is “hajj” and grandmother is “hajja” which is cool because these words just mean “man/woman who has done the pilgrimage to Mecca.” Grandparents are called this because they are so old that they must have completed the pilgrimage.

Many pairs of twins in Morocco are named “Safa” and “Warwa,” which mean “the trip to Mecca” and “the trip back from Mecca.”

I have eaten SO. MUCH. SHEEP. During my first month here because Eid had just ended when I arrived, and apparently my host family got hella sheep for Eid.

My posts should start to get even more interesting starting tomorrow because I am officially starting at a local high school!