This is no easy feat. Trust me. After hearing from friends, and having visited Tunisia with my family many years ago I had prepared myself for the imminent culture shock that Morocco was about to bestow. At the same time I was cocksure in the belief that my bright and breezy yet firm responses would take me far.
In hindsight eight eager beavers descending on the medina within hours of landing was probably asking for it; but as the mosques sang and the sun set over the desert was there really any other option?
The plan was to wander round the stalls, look at everything but not touch, keep an eye on our pockets and enjoy the madness! It started well. After completing almost half a circuit we were tiring somewhat of the excessive ‘come and eat at our stall’ deal but it was what we had expected. Having my limbs torn apart in a giant crowd, less expected.
My friend and I were walking a little ahead of the rest of the pack, arm in arm, putting the world to rights. We had taken to shaking our heads and smiling at those who propositioned us to eat, keeping a steady pace. Until two stall owners came at us from both angles. ‘Come here, come here, I give you good price…No come here, best food you’ve ever tasted, better than Asda’.
We continued to walk but No! They blocked us off, took an arm each and began pulling us apart. Before long my friend and I were circling each other, surrounded by enough of a crowd for me not to know which way was up. I heard our friends voices shouting what the hell was going on, was that Emily and Spora in there? Meanwhile I flit nervously between hysterical laughter and threatening to punch whoever didn’t let go of me in the nether-regions. I found Spora’s hand in the rabble and pulled her with me as I ran for dear life, screaming at the top of my lungs. As we darted to get away we heard voices, ‘Just sit down, just eat here!’ my friends called.
I was NOT going to give my hard saved holiday cash to either of these men, however soon saw that the spread looked pretty good and I really couldn’t be bothered to deal with the hassle all over again. As we sat down a thunderous round of applause could be heard from all who had seen the commotion occur.
Dammit they’d done it! As I sat down and realised everybody had scrambled, the owner came over with a massive grin on his face inviting me for an embrace, trying to communicate in broken English how funny my face had looked. My heart pounding I put my hand to my chest and laughed with him, ‘Don’t do that to people! I thought I was going to die!’…Yeh it was hilarious.
We continued to eat plates and plates (and plates) of fried aubergine, kebabs, chips, bread, hummus, prawns and calamari. Yeah we had prawns and calamari. We literally had balls of steel. We proceeded to take them up on the invitation for the best photo op. ever! Didn’t expect for everybody else to take a photo or for every passing moroccan to expect to have a picture too. Neither did I jump for joy at being allowed to smoke all over the deep fat fryers after eating my weight in refried seafood. The final bill was to everybody’s liking; in my mind it was about £2 for everything...It wasn’t, but it was definitely a total bargain.
You’ve gotta give it to the Moroccans. Yeah they can be intensely annoying but their sick, twisted sense of humour gets a thumbs up from me. Making two young girls think they’re about to die, then ply them with friend food and laugh in their faces like it was the best prank you’ve ever pulled? Good work my friend. Furthermore get them lads on the real hustle. They practically ripped my arms from my body and I still ate at their restaurant. Sneaky little…
SURVIVAL TIP
Don’t take it too seriously. Obviously never stay in a situation where you feel uncomfortable, however Moroccans are generally warm and welcoming by nature. It’s just their culture. They’re playing with you, so play right back! They’ll appreciate it and you’ll reap the rewards.
In hindsight eight eager beavers descending on the medina within hours of landing was probably asking for it; but as the mosques sang and the sun set over the desert was there really any other option?
The plan was to wander round the stalls, look at everything but not touch, keep an eye on our pockets and enjoy the madness! It started well. After completing almost half a circuit we were tiring somewhat of the excessive ‘come and eat at our stall’ deal but it was what we had expected. Having my limbs torn apart in a giant crowd, less expected.
My friend and I were walking a little ahead of the rest of the pack, arm in arm, putting the world to rights. We had taken to shaking our heads and smiling at those who propositioned us to eat, keeping a steady pace. Until two stall owners came at us from both angles. ‘Come here, come here, I give you good price…No come here, best food you’ve ever tasted, better than Asda’.
We continued to walk but No! They blocked us off, took an arm each and began pulling us apart. Before long my friend and I were circling each other, surrounded by enough of a crowd for me not to know which way was up. I heard our friends voices shouting what the hell was going on, was that Emily and Spora in there? Meanwhile I flit nervously between hysterical laughter and threatening to punch whoever didn’t let go of me in the nether-regions. I found Spora’s hand in the rabble and pulled her with me as I ran for dear life, screaming at the top of my lungs. As we darted to get away we heard voices, ‘Just sit down, just eat here!’ my friends called.
I was NOT going to give my hard saved holiday cash to either of these men, however soon saw that the spread looked pretty good and I really couldn’t be bothered to deal with the hassle all over again. As we sat down a thunderous round of applause could be heard from all who had seen the commotion occur.
Dammit they’d done it! As I sat down and realised everybody had scrambled, the owner came over with a massive grin on his face inviting me for an embrace, trying to communicate in broken English how funny my face had looked. My heart pounding I put my hand to my chest and laughed with him, ‘Don’t do that to people! I thought I was going to die!’…Yeh it was hilarious.
We continued to eat plates and plates (and plates) of fried aubergine, kebabs, chips, bread, hummus, prawns and calamari. Yeah we had prawns and calamari. We literally had balls of steel. We proceeded to take them up on the invitation for the best photo op. ever! Didn’t expect for everybody else to take a photo or for every passing moroccan to expect to have a picture too. Neither did I jump for joy at being allowed to smoke all over the deep fat fryers after eating my weight in refried seafood. The final bill was to everybody’s liking; in my mind it was about £2 for everything...It wasn’t, but it was definitely a total bargain.
You’ve gotta give it to the Moroccans. Yeah they can be intensely annoying but their sick, twisted sense of humour gets a thumbs up from me. Making two young girls think they’re about to die, then ply them with friend food and laugh in their faces like it was the best prank you’ve ever pulled? Good work my friend. Furthermore get them lads on the real hustle. They practically ripped my arms from my body and I still ate at their restaurant. Sneaky little…
SURVIVAL TIP
Don’t take it too seriously. Obviously never stay in a situation where you feel uncomfortable, however Moroccans are generally warm and welcoming by nature. It’s just their culture. They’re playing with you, so play right back! They’ll appreciate it and you’ll reap the rewards.
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