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Friday, January 22, 2016

Memory of a dinner in Casa Blanca, Morocco

I just arrived in Casa Blanca, Morocco. It is a beautiful sunny day. I meet two of my colleagues in the lobby area of the hotel. We decide to go for shopping in the bazaar nearby and then to find a decent place for dinner.
While walking on the sidewalks, I hear a man whispering in my ear, walking incredibly close to me. At the time, I had long, blonde hair, so maybe this is what attracted him. As we pass by, men from every corner were shouting from the shops nearby after us. All of us hold hands and hug out of instinct. I tied up my hair and put the hoody on to not attract attention,
We are finally in the bazaar. I can tell you this much; this is not something you see every day. There is a heavy smell in the air that hits me right in the head. I wonder what it is. Some big families are having picnics, on the ground, eating with their hands. A certain delicacy I never saw before, is cooking in a massive cauldron….snails! 
The vibrant colors, the clothes, the handicraft, it is all so beautiful except for the fact that a motor bike almost runs me over. I then realize, it is not just a bazaar, it is a home for these families as well.

As soon as you enter the bazaar, the salesmen start following you and offer good deals just to visit their shop. Is this their daily grind to make a living? They speak a lot of languages too. There is so much going on around me that it is difficult for me to process everything. My eyes and ears hurt already!
The Tunisian girl in our group asks one of the salesmen to recommend us a place to have a decent dinner. The man happily recommends us a restaurant and you could see a smile on the corner of his mouth. We immediately leave the bazaar then.
The streets are dirty, and you can see the buildings falling apart. The deeper you go into the streets, the creepier it gets. All three of us hug and walk together. Nothing could separate us. The men passing by make nasty comments and indecent signs. The twenty minutes walk seems to be hours long. After asking a few people on the way, we finally arrive at the restaurant.
Oh my world! This place is painted in some dark green color. The walls are peeling and the paint is coming off. The smoke is so heavy that you can hardly see around. There is Arabic music playing in the background. There is an old man, seated at a table with a much younger woman keeping him company. A similar pair is at another table. We look around and realize the entire restaurant is like that. We realized what this restaurant actually is but we didn’t want to admit it to ourselves.
The funny part is that we are dressed so nicely, elegant and classy, and the faces we are forced to make when entering. We look out of place.  But since we are three, we decide to enjoy and have a meal there.
The owner of this restaurant realizes we are a bit lost and comes to talk to us. For some reason, he sits next to me, must be the hair again! Tall man, nice build, with dark hair and a nice masculine voice. I can say he must be around 35 years old. We explain to him how we got to this place and that we are really hungry. Politely he translates the menu for us and prepares the best meal in the restaurant. The meal is decent, and the man keeps coming and checking on us.
During dinner we just laugh and make fun of the entire situation.  The owner decides to give me his business card and to invite us all again. With all my respect to him, I cannot stop my laughter. The entire situation is so awkward and out of ordinary yet funny. His business card is as big as a notebook. I have to fold it to put it in my pocket. I thank him once again for the lovely dinner and we left.
When we go out, it is colder and darker. We decide to walk faster holding each other for safety reasons. By this time, the whole situation does not seem as dark as it seemed before. We are laughing out loud on the street, making fun of the entire situation…. the man in the bazaar, the street food, and last but not least the restaurant owner’s business card.

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