Killing time while my photos upload

This is going to be a rambling post, but I would like to get the following disclaimer out there:  All the browsers here are set to French as the default language, and the keyboards are Arabic, so I would like full immunity for any and all spelling errors.  Let the rambling begin.


I have an important announcement to make:  Today I navigated a Moroccan medina without getting lost once!  Granted, this is my fifth medina and one of the least hectic I've been to thus far, but still, progress is being made.  I started today's explorations in the Place El Hadim, which translates, awesomely, as the Square of Destruction.  I don't know how it earned the name, deservedly or no, but I like to say it in my head with the voiceover of a horror movie trailer.  You can do it too.  Say it:  The Square of Destruction.

Medinas do have a sameness about them - in fact, they are rather like squished together malls.  You have your department stores, or fondauks, which are set back from the main pathways and are a little more sedate, and often better lit.  You have your little shops along the corridors, selling trendy clothing, shoes, scarves, and trinkets.  And you know those people who set up stalls in the middle of malls and are always accosting you?  Maybe it's sunglasses or Crocs, or scented candles, but Moroccan medinas have those hawkers too - and the merchandise isn't that different.  And don't forget about the food court.  No Panda Express, but I do know what to expect when I hit one:  merguez sandwiches (yummy, had one for lunch) and loads and loads of sweets.

There are so many sugary sweets that I haven't yet tried them all.  And there's a booming business in nougat but I have thus far not been able to participate, as the nougat is always exposed to the air and covered in flies.  Now I am a brave eater and there is little I won't try once, but I guess I don't like nougat enough to overlook the creatures swarming it.

Speaking of creatures, Morocco has got a lot of cats.  Not many stray dogs that I can see, and certainly pet dogs are common (off leash, natch), but loads of stray cats, and these cats seem to have it pretty good.  I have seen lots of people reach down and pet them or make little meowing noises to them, but most surprising of all, these gatos get fed from cafe tables.  I had noticed immediately how cats would get right up under my table or chair whenever I was eating outside.  And then one day I saw a man thrown bits of his chicken to a cat under his table at a cafe.  So I wasn't surprised when cats would put their paws on the arms of my chair or even try to get on the table.  I can't say I love shooing them away for the entire meal, but I am glad they aren't starving.  Trust me, they're not.  Today a husband and wife shared their roast chicken with 6 cats, right in the middle of the covered cafe.  And even I, staunch opponent of tableside begging from all mammals, have shared sometimes.  When in Rome...

Meknes is significantly more mellow (mellower?) for tourists than the other large cities I have visited so far.  I haven't had a single offer for a guide, and that can't be because I look like I know where I'm going all the time.  Lots of greetings, always from males, but no real hassle.  Although one dude snuck up on me and 'bon soired' me last night and scared the crap out of me.  He was not rewarded for that, even after he laid on the 'tres belle' business.  I said in English, loudly and sternly, 'YOU SCARED ME.'  And then he sidled off.  Don't sneak up on the ladies, gents.  It's not a good opener.  But I sat in the Square of Destruction this morning on the edge of a fountain (Latitude:33.89293, Longitude:-5.56533) for 20 minutes, and nobody approached me.  That simply would not happen in Fes.

A little disappointingly, most of my interactions with Moroccans are with men.  It does feel rather like Moroccan women occupy a separate sphere in public.  It's not they are timid or deferential or not out and about, but they are almost never alone.  They are generally paired, which I see more often than husband and wife, and often, accompanied by children.  The cafes that mainly serve tea and coffee have only male patrons, excepting tourists.  They never smoke, and if not wearing headscarves, their hair is almost always pulled back, often in a tight low bun.  I don't wear my hair down here either - it's an easy way to tone down my otherness.  A caftan would take more effort, money, and room in my backpack (but it would be comfortable and warm).  They don't approach me, and when I approach them, for directions generally, they don't ask lots of questions about me the way the men do.  All this changes in the hammam though, and then I get tons of questions, most of which I can't understand.  But the hammam does seem like the place where the Moroccan woman lets her hair down, literally and figuratively.

I have heard your pleas and cries for more pictures, so I am now in my third hour here at the cyber doing my damndest to get them to you.  Certain tasks are a lot easier from home.  You can thank me when they're up.