Sunday I caught a grand taxi with Krista and Erika and a number of other Sefrou volunteers to Fez to wander around. The main goal of the day was to meet at some place called café Clock, which surprisingly only took about two hours to find. We were aided by some asshole in a tracksuit who kept on trying to lead us around to stores he knew so we would spend some flus (money). Little did he know we have no money. My big purchase of the day was a postcard I liked. After telling him to screw off for about a half hour he finally was like, okay I’ll leave but I spend half an hour helping you. I told him we never wanted his help and he told me go fuck myself (bi Arabee: in Arabic). It was easier to drop him than I expected actually.
At café Clock we met maybe 30 volunteers. Some people had Camel burgers on the roof. I had pancakes. They were incredible. Along with iced coffee (watered down, coolish coffee). The next great Fez-only activity, the first being the pancakes, was a hookah bar. I thought these places were going to be all over Morocco but they’re actually really difficult to find. What’s more, in a lot of towns, hookah bars are strictly forbidden. The rest of the day was pretty much spent wandering around the old city. There’s a great old school – I’ll try to get some pictures from there.
Couple unrelated things:
One of the girls in my group paid for college through bowling scholarships. She’s done a perfect game and her father is the defending senior national champ and an aerospace engineer on the side. Awesome.
Before you do anything you say bismillah, or in the name of God. This includes activities like drinking soda.
My favorite “not in Morocco” activities include listening to techno or country music on the roof and watching always sunny in Philadelphia on my computer.
On any given day we learn an odd collection of vocabulary. Today’s included lburdiil (whore house), fuut alrumpwan (past the intersection), Haraqa (political movement), and quuq (artichoke).