I made change today. After 3 days of watching the waiters and manager of the internet café we have been frequenting, I finally found who to go up to for change for my dreaded 200 DH bill. Stores hate it here when you use them to break change, and buying a 8 DH café certainly fits the mold for such an event. To top it all off, the manager lady is quite curt. That’s why I went to the new guy. Eager to understand and too shy to reject, the new guy was the middle man for our little exchange.
Two things stand out from lectures today. First of all, the Moroccan culture is extremely polite; they’ll never tell you exactly when they have a problem. To quote, Farah, “They won’t say it’s white. Instead they’ll say, ‘It’s not exactly black…’” It reminds me of girl talk. Apparently you have to use context clues to get the full picture, and miscommunication is very common. That doesn’t bode well with my basic Arabic lessons. I wonder if they continue the charade when they have to see a doctor. Instead of “My leg is broken,” maybe it’s “Well, I can’t exactly walk straight…”
Following in suit, the game is played with food too. As a guest, you never show that you’re hungry. The only way you get food is when the host (usually the wife) forces it upon you. It all reminds me of lost males in need of directions. The game continues, and each time you refuse the host will be more insistent in their offer, eventually putting the food on your plate for you. At that point it seems proper to eat. Apparently this happens when you’re full too, at which point you say “Shukran,” then, “SaFet [C’est fait],” etc. Unfortunately, it has to be in that order, and if you go straight to “SaFet” it’s actually insulting. So knowing French can backfire, zut alors!
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