Andrew led us back to the train station to see if we could get any information about the bus station. We couldn’t. He called the bus company and handed the phone over to me to see if I could decipher the French on the other end. I could, at first, but when she began responding to my question, homegirl spoke in rapid fire French that it was difficult to hear over the noisy traffic on the street outside of the station. We decided to take the train to Tétouan and then the bus to Chefchaouen. This might not have been the best idea, but we were able to leave Fes earlier… with hopes we could arrive in the small, pretty, blue town in the mountains earlier! By the time we got there it was nearing dusk… but it still made for a lovely, yet not tout-free walk around the medina until it was dark, and I was cold.
I was a bit excited to visit Chefchaouen. I thought it would be relaxing and atmospheric and a brief respite from the tourist heavy areas we were about to hit in Fes and Marrakech. But, not so much. Chefchaouen was atmospheric and perfect for pictures… But (and I realize, you might find this hard to believe) but I don’t need, nor do I want to go into every shop that I walk past. I brushed one man off rather early, cutting him off with a smile and a polite, “No Thanks!”
Some shopkeepers are persistent. Some will follow you and/or walk and talk with you as you walk farther and farther away. Some smile back and let you go. This one asked where I was from. Which- is also not new to me. We have become rather used to this tactic as well. We holler where we are from as we walk away, even as kindly as possible, shouting out “Nice to meet you too! Good luck tonight!” not wanting to stop. The minute you stop… you’re done for.
“American?” The same shopkeeper asked. I nodded.
“Why are you walking so fast? You are here to learn from me, and I am here to learn from you…” He was right. And in a way, he was calling me out.
“We’re just walking around tonight, not shopping.” I replied. He smiled. He did seem genuinely nice. He asked where we were from in America. He said he was friends with those who worked in the American embassy. He pulled two business cards out of his wallet for me to see. We talked for a few minutes outside of his shop before I made a move to catch up with Andrew.
“Come, have some whiskey with me and my wife!” He said, inviting me in for some mint tea. And I got a little frustrated inside. I AM here (in Morocco at the moment) to learn from the people and the culture here. But not when it involves a false invitation- drinking tea in his shop while he lays out everything he is trying to sell. I wanted to grumble at him a bit about it. If he’s going to call me out on not stopping to learn from him I wanted to call him out on not being able to leave his sales pitch out of teaching me.
Instead, I smiled, thanked him, and insisted I needed to find my ‘husband.’
