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.

How Low Can You Go?

As I'd mentioned in my last blog entry, yesterday I took the bus north from Ouarzazate up toward Marrakech. I didn't go to Marrakech yesterday, but instead visited a friend who's a fellow PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) who lives close to Marrakech. Once I'd arrived in my friend's town, we went food shopping. Later, at my friend's house, my friend made a delicious scramble, which included, among other things, various peppers, onions and tomatoes, for dinner. We also enjoyed some fresh apricots and plums.

I was happy to stay overnight at my friend's apartment. This morning, we both went to Marrakech, but parted ways once we got to the city. My friend had some business to do, and I was heading off to visit another friend who's also a PCV.

Before I left the city, I stopped to grab lunch at a hanoot (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "grocery store"), which, in this particular case, was much smaller than a corner store. Like many hanoots here in Morocco, it was the size of a food stand. I saw that the store owner had various small round loaves of bread, and I saw that he had some eggs, so I asked him if I could have an egg sandwich. It turned out that he had some hard-boiled eggs, so he made me an egg sandwich. After I ate the egg sandwich, I decided to have dessert there, since some of the offerings in the glass deli case looked promising. I got a dessert which seemed to have the soft texture of cake, with some light chocolate frosting on the inside, all covered in a kind of soft milk chocolate shell. I enjoyed it with a small carton of cold milk. The sandwich and the dessert were tasty.

However, I found something else more notable than how delicious the food was. Previously I'd paid as low as two and a half dirhams for a small egg sandwich. I'd already thought that that price was very low, and couldn't see how I'd ever pay less than 2.5 dirhams for an egg sandwich. Today I paid 2.10 dirhams for the egg sandwich, which means it cost the equivalent of 26 cents. I paid 6 dirhams for the dessert and the milk, which is equivalent to about 75 cents. So I paid the equivalent of about one dollar for my lunch today.

People often think that they need a certain amount of money to live their lives. Indeed, people often think that they need a lot of money to live their lives. You don't need a lot of money. And once you've realized that you don't have to devote your life to accumulating money, you're faced with the question "Now that you don't have to do anything, what are you going to do with the rest of your life?"

I Am Not A Tourist

Yesterday I bought an average-sized hard-boiled egg sandwich while here in the city an hour north of my town. It cost two and a half dirhams. I was surprised that it cost so little money. At another cafe, which is in the town where I live, I was always paying five dirhams for a hard-boiled egg sandwich. Then one day about eight months ago, I went to that cafe, and there was a man behind the counter who usually hadn't been behind the counter when I had eaten there on previous occasions. After I had finished eating the sandwich, I went to pay him five dirhams. He indicated that I had to pay ten dirhams. I told him that I had always paid five dirhams. He shook his head. Without one of the other guys who had always been behind the counter on my previous visits to corroborate my claim, I felt like I had to pay ten dirhams. So I paid him ten dirhams. I haven't gone back to eat that cafe, except in the rare instances when another PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) has been in town and has wanted to eat there.

One friend who's a PCV simply walks away after she has paid the correct amount and is asked to hand over more money. I've started doing that too.

I try to disabuse Moroccans of the misperception that I am a tourist by speaking to them in Darija, that is, Moroccan Arabic. Tourists in Morocco generally don't know any Darija, and if they do know any Darija, it seems that they rarely know enough Darija to carry on a conversation.

I also try to avoid Moroccans having such misapprehensions by showing that I know how things work here, that I know the customs. Though it doesn't come to me naturally, I try to be in the habit of walking up to the counter of a business when there's someone already being served, rather than politely allowing that person some distance while trying to form a line, which tends to be a pointless endeavor: Moroccans generally don't stand in line when waiting to be served at a business. When I've provided space like that, a Moroccan just comes in after me and walks around me up to the counter. When I've tried to give Moroccans space like that in such situations, they haven't known why I was doing so. They don't feel offended if I don't provide such space. So by not giving Moroccans the space they don't expect or require, I'm showing that I understand the cultural norms, and seeming less like a tourist than I would by not being assertive.

It seems like I hear about other PCVs getting overcharged more than I get overcharged. Maybe I've just become more confident in dealing with Moroccans and less willing to pay the inflated prices that Moroccans sometimes try to charge me and other foreigners. In Marrakech, for example, petit taxi drivers are notorious for overcharging foreigners for cab rides. On one of my last two visits to Marrakech, a taxi driver tried to charge me more than 15 dirhams for a ride to the train station. I told him that I always pay 15 dirhams. When he still didn't accept that I would pay no more than that, I simply walked away. I can't help but suspect that some taxi drivers in Marrakech have had so much contact with unaware foreigners, and so few interactions with foreigners who know the score, that they don't expect a foreigner to be as unyielding with them as I am.

Even though I've gotten more skilled at negotiating with them, I still love it and appreciate it when Moroccans charge me the price that they would charge a Moroccan, as happened yesterday when I bought my egg sandwich here in the city. Partly because I try to treat others respectfully and honorably, I appreciate being treated honestly and fairly too. But I also appreciate being treated well aside from how I want to be treated well because I try to treat others well. I appreciate being treated well because if I am treated well, it is a reflection of how I hope everyone will be treated.

However, I've been reminded that not everyone treats other people well for the same reasons. Not everyone is operating under the same value system. Many people try to claim that there is more similarity and synergy between different philosophies and faiths than I think actually is the case.

Several months ago, I walked into the shop of this fellow here in this city and started speaking with him in Darija. I told him that I live here in Morocco and that I teach English here. He warmly received me. He told me that I only had to pay two dirhams for the postcard I wanted to buy. He said, "Berber price--not foreigner price." Later, I thought that the issue wasn't how much I had to pay. Rather, I thought, "There shouldn't be a Berber price and a foreigner price. There should be one price that we all have to pay." We're all people, and thus all due respect. We should all be treated the same: we should all be treated honestly and fairly.