medina streets and scrubbly mitt

The subject today is the medina streets. So the streets of the medina are for the most part very narrow, not having been built before the advent of the automobile. This fact does not discourage cars from actually driving through the medina.

For example, on my way to Arabic class in the mornings, I must walk through a street where vendors sell produce. Every morning, men find a way to squish multiple trucks into the space of an American alley: it’s very impressive. Also impressive is the way I don’t get clocked with crates of potatoes and onions as I walk by.

Since they are so narrow, cars can’t pass except on the widest of streets, like Mohammad V and Sidi FataH. If a car encounters a blockage, such as another car, the driver simply stops and commences honking until the other vehicle moves. Delivery trucks are problem in this case, as they squat in one place for a long time.

Motorbikes are a whole other story. Imagine walking down a narrow alley and hearing the growl of the engine. You don’t know from which direction it’s coming, but you know it’s getting closer and closer. Suddenly a screeching motorcycle or motorbike rounds the nearest corner and you must throw yourself up against the wall, only to have the offending motorbike almost snag your sleeve. Scary stuff.

In other news, this evening I bought (with Soukaina doing the actual speaking and me just providing the capital) one of the lovely scrubbly mitts that you use in the hammam to rub your skin off. I also got a ball of the henna soap that goes with it. The rest of the family laughed a little when Soukaina told them about my purchases; I guess previous students weren’t as enamored of the hammam as I am.

This coming weekend we have an excursion to Meknes, Fez, and Volubilis. I’m pretty excited, because it means we get to be tourists, as opposed to awkward residents. I mean, I stick out when I’m walking through the souk (market) on account of my blondness and general aura of Westernity (yes my own word). I do live here, but I am obviously out of place and strange; there aren’t many tourists toodling about on the back streets of the medina. I’ve gotten used to seeing Moroccans everywhere around me. I even stare at the European tourists now when I see them on my street (which also happens to be part of the souk). In conclusion, this weekend I can take pictures openly and feel OK about sticking out, instead of wishing I somehow looked less un-Moroccan.

Valentine’s Day is this coming Sunday, when we’ll be in Fez. Soukaina and I were talking about it, and I said I would be glad to get away from all the hearts and pink and red ridiculous commercialism (but I didn’t know the French word for “commercial”). We both think the mass quantities of chocolate are a good idea, on account of Soukaina being genuinely in love with chocolate and me being a brand new Moroccan and finally admitting to my love affair with sweets and BREAD. (If you were wondering, the Arabic word for bread is “hubs” but the “h” sound is a kind of hacking in the back of your throat and the “u” is very short.)

My brother’s club music is currently battling for supremacy with the radio in the kitchen and the TV in the living room. It’s a good thing I don’t have a lot of homework to do. I just have to squash a third language into my head while speaking a different one and thinking in still another. You know, no problem. But much of it is Jay Sean, so I guess I can’t complain that much.