Explaining My Beliefs

As I mentioned in my last blog entry, a couple of days ago, my friend and fellow PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) Samantha came here to the town where I live to pick up some things which I've been trying to unload. After she had collected what she was inheriting from me, I walked with her to the bus station.

After she had gotten on the bus, a man started speaking with me in Darija, that is, Moroccan Arabic. He asked me if I was taking the bus too. After I told him I wasn't going to be taking the bus, we started talking about traveling in Morocco. He asked me where I've been in Morocco. I said I'd been to Agadir and Sidi Ifni. I didn't get to mention anywhere else. When I said I'd been to Sidi Ifni, he said he's from there, and the topic of conversation shifted to that town.

After that, he asked me if I had fasted during Ramadan. I told him that I wasn't fasting during Ramadan. He asked me if I'm Muslim. I told him that I'm not Muslim, that I'm Christian. He asked me if I'm going to become Muslim. I told him that I'm not going to become Muslim because it's so important to me to try to live as Jesus lived. He replied that Jesus is in Islam. I then explained that Jesus' place in Islam isn't the same as it is in Christianity. I explained that Islam states that Jesus didn't die on the cross, whereas Christianity relates how Jesus did die on the cross. We didn't have more time to take the conversation further than that, because he was getting on the bus, which was about to leave.

However, it's pretty clear to me that here is a major difference between Islam and Christianity. After all, if someone merely says he's willing to die for you, but doesn't actually die for you, that's clearly, significantly different than if that person actually does die for you.

Watching The European Cup Soccer Games As A PCV

In the last week or so, I've used up the last of my vacation time. As I've been traveling around Morocco, I've been enjoying watching the European Cup soccer games.

When I was visiting one of my friends, a fellow PCV who lives near Marrakech, we watched the game between Portugal and Germany. So I got to watch one of the games with another citizen of the US. Not only did I get to ask him in English, a more avid soccer fan than me, questions about the rules of the game, we also got the benefit of commentary on the game in English. My friend gets ESPN, so the commentators were broadcasting in English.

The next day, after I visited the town of Imlil, I headed back into Marrakech. After asking at nearly a half dozen other cafes in the big square, Jmaa El Fna, I found a cafe there in the square which was showing that afternoon's game on a couple of TVs. Since I was experiencing digestive difficulties, which I attributed to the scrambled egg sandwich I had eaten in Imlil, I figured it would help to settle my stomach if I drank some Coke. The waiter took a while to come over and take my beverage order. I told him I wanted a Coke, and, as I've gotten in the habit of doing, asked him how much it would be. He said it would be 15 dirhams, so I asked him how much a coffee would be; a coffee also would've been 15 dirhams. Either a Coke or a coffee usually would cost half that amount. By the time he asked me, the game had started, so I didn't want to go and try to find another cafe where I could watch the game. Especially in the larger cities, I've been finding that the cafes showing the games have been the nicer cafes which charge more for their drinks. I figured I would've had to pay more than average even if I was able to find another cafe showing the game. So I just stayed and watched the game there.

In that game, between Spain and Italy, I felt so much more tense than I'd been when I had been watching the game between Portugal and Germany. On the one hand, I had been figuring it would be an intense game given that Spain and Italy were playing each other. But I think that I may have felt more tension while watching the game because the other three dozen people, both men and women, in the cafe were also very interested in the outcome of the game. The rest of the people in the cafe audibly groaned at plays they didn't like, and cheered when they were seeing plays they liked. When Italy scored the first goal of the game, I thought that there were probably equivalent numbers of fans for both Spain and Italy there in that cafe. Then Spain scored a goal. I don't know if more people cheered, but it certainly was louder. And fans of Spain started chanting! And at some point I heard one person say to someone else, "Look, most of the people here want Spain to win."

Just as I had had a different experience watching the first game with my friend, a fellow PCV, in his home, from watching the second game in a cafe in Marrakech, I had a different experience watching the third game I watched, between France and England. I was watching it in a cafe in Agadir, which is a major city, but only with a half dozen other guys. Hardly anyone was making any sound in response to the game! I was watching it in a fairly upscale cafe, since it was the first one I'd found which was going to be showing the game.

Later in my trip, I watched the game between the Czech Republic and Poland, but in Sidi Ifni, a smaller, more affordable cafe in a town, not in a city. I finally ordered a drink I'd been wanting to try, cold milk with mint syrup mixed in it, which I enjoyed. Interestingly, it seemed that overwhelmingly, the guys in the cafe were cheering for the Czech Republic. So presumably they were happy when the Czech Republic won the game 1-0.

I've been enjoying watching the European Cup games. One of the many fun things to do in my free time here!

I Don't Have A Lot Of Money

I think I've finally gotten used to Moroccans figuring that I have a lot of money. Certainly there are other non-Moroccans, including citizens of the USA, here in Morocco who spend more money than I do on my relatively meager budget as a PCV.

Last week, after I left my friend's apartment in a town near Marrakech, I briefly visited the mountain town of Imlil. From Imlil, ambitious hikers launch their attempts at climbing Mount Toubkal, which, at over 13,000 feet, is the highest peak not only in Morocco but in all of North Africa.

As a sidebar, for those of you who know me fairly well, and know that I love to hike, to answer the question which might have just arisen in your minds, no, I didn't hike to the top of Mount Toubkal. I hadn't been doing training hikes to prepare for a multi-day hike involving such distance and elevation gain. Furthermore, I wouldn't have been able to buy enough food to provide the energy necessary to complete such a strenuous hike.

But I still wanted to get a bit closer to the mountains. I've enjoyed fantastic views of the High Atlas mountains many times whilst on the bus from Ouarzazate to Marrakech, especially in the vicinity of the Tichka Pass. I've been grateful that I can enjoy repeatedly such sweeping panoramic views here in Morocco.

So after leaving my friend's apartment about an hour from Marrakech, I took a taxi down to Imlil. I found a restaurant there in Imlil where I got a scrambled egg sandwich for 10 dirhams. Soon after I ate lunch, I headed back to the grand taxi stand to catch a taxi back to Marrakech. Insofar as I arrived back at the taxi stand during lunchtime, I had to wait for a taxi to Marrakech to fill up. During lunchtime, fewer people are taking taxis since they're at home eating. As I was sitting at the taxi stand, waiting for five other people to show up to fill a taxi with me, the taxi driver told me I could pay for all six spots to Marrakech and ride just with him to Marrakech. Other taxi drivers in other locations here in Morocco have also suggested that option to me when I've been waiting for a taxi to fill up. I imagine that other folks from the USA visiting Morocco have probably bought out the other seats in taxis. I suspect that that's why grand taxi drivers suggest the idea to me as I wait for a taxi to fill up. I suppose I often have the money to do so. However, I don't have a lot of money to spare. So it would strain my resources to pay for all six seats and ride the taxi with just the driver, so I don't do it.

Another instance during my recent travels when a Moroccan has seemed to think that I've got a lot of money to burn: I spent some time last week in the town of Sidi Ifni, on the Atlantic coast. It's a quiet beach town, much of which is set up high on some cliffs. Being on the coast, it was usually cool, which was a welcome respite from the heat in the town in which I live down in the Sahara. A mool-hanoot (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "grocery storekeeper") in Sidi Ifni as much as acknowledged the pleasant difference in climate soon after he started asking me some basic questions about myself. I told him that I've lived here in Morocco since September 2010, but that I live several hours south of Marrakech, in the Sahara. He opined that the climate is much nicer and more hospitable in Sidi Ifni than in Ouarzazate. He then suggested that I consider renting an apartment in Sidi Ifni rather than staying in a hotel in Sidi Ifni. He told me thst I could rent an apartment in Sidi Ifni for 2000 dirhams per month. I calmly told him that I didn't have that much money. Again, there probably have been other foreigners who have spent a lot more in Sidi Ifni than I did. So I understand why he may have thought I could afford to pay that much to rent an apartment.

And another instance on this most recent trip when I thought that a Moroccan may have figured that I had a lot to spend: on my way north from Sidi Ifni, the bus on which I was traveling stopped in the town of Tiznit to drop off and pick up passengers. It either made a second stop in Tiznit, or a stop just north of Tiznit, at a gas station which had a plaza with a couple of restaurants. Normally I don't get out and eat lunch at such places where the bus stops. When I was just in Tiznit, though, we were stopped in the middle of the lunch hour. I also knew I wasn't going to get another chance to eat lunch until I arrived in the city of Agadir. So I got off the bus to check out the lunch options.

I was pleasantly surprised to see that I could buy a quarter kilogram of grilled ground meat for a scant 8 dirhams. Immediately I ordered the quarter kilo of meat. After I'd ordered it, I thought about how I'd need some carbohydrates along with the bread to avoid digestive difficulties. When the waiter brought my grilled meat, I asked him if I could have some bread with the meat. He brought me a small round loaf of bread. I asked him how much for the bread; he made a motion with his hand which I took to mean that it was complimentary with the grilled meat. When lunch places here serve bread with lunch, it's typically for no charge. In any event, the waiter didn't tell me any number in response to my question. I used the bread as a pita, filling it with the grilled meat, onions, tomatoes and parsley I'd been served.

When I'd finished eating, and went to pay, the cashier asked me what I'd had. I told him I'd ordered a quarter kilo of meat. He asked another restaurant worker, who told him I'd had a sandwich. The cashier told me it was 30 dirhams. Not pointing out how the sandwiches ran only up to 20 dirhams, I pointed to where the menu said that a quarter kilo of meat was 8 dirhams. He told me I'd had a sandwich, and then told me I had to pay 24 dirhams. I explained how I ordered a quarter kilo of meat, then asked the waiter how much the bread was, and how he had seemed to say that the bread was included with the meal I'd ordered. I left the 8 dirhams on the counter and walked back to the bus.

I certainly can imagine how the cashier could have had a similar conversation with a Moroccan who could order a quarter kilo of meat, ask for bread, make a sandwich with it, be seen eating a sandwich, and then be told that he'd had a sandwich, and be quoted the price for a sandwich. However, I suspect that I was being treated differently than Moroccans, because the cashier told me I had to pay prices for sandwiches which weren't on the menu.

I can understand being perceived as having more money than many Moroccans. I'm less accepting of being quoted prices more than Moroccans are given. I've come to the conclusion that perceptions are one thing; often it's reasonable to have certain perceptions. What people do with those perceptions is another story, and often reflect the values of the people with those perceptions.