I am not shopping. For a multitude of reasons. I need nothing. I have no house to put anything. I don’t know where exactly I live. I am already carrying to much. Figuratively and literally. Like want to find a UPS store to send things home carrying too much. I understand and can appreciate the ability to leave things behind; I have just never figured out how to do it myself. I tend to bring my favorite things, because I like to wear my favorite things…which makes it difficult to edit down a suitcase. It’s hard to know what you’re going to be the happiest with when you’re packing and you don’t really remember what 110 degrees feels like. So that beautiful linen shirt becomes a heavy weighted thing you refuse to put on. But it’s beautiful and you’re not leaving it behind. And I know I tend to wear the same thing over and over once I arrive….I just never know what that thing is going to be ahead of time.
It doesn’t help when you’re probably depressed by your current Riad and the surrounding neighborhood and are wearing the same thing for 6 days straight. Wash it out in the shower every night and it’s so hot and dry it’s good to go again in the morning. This Riad is beautiful in all the right ways. Orange trees, cooling pool, couches with decorative pillows, rugs, candles everywhere, string lights, painted wooden doors, piles of books, bougainvillea climbing the walls, multiple courtyards. And a buffet. Kiss of death. Never a good sign for me….means it’s too big and it will be harder to make friends. Too many staff all focused on doing their jobs. But I break in a little with my Darija with the breakfast ladies….Said, “Sbh nour” to one and she smiled and said it back and then stopped and turned around. “What did you just say? You speak Arabic? Where are you from?” And we have a little chat and a laugh and we’re both delighted. She smiles at me every time she passes me. But in general, everyone is friendly but it’s the friendly where the smiles don’t reach the eyes. Probably because it’s in this neighborhood….and being friends with the breakfast ladies only gets you until 9:30 am and then it’s out to the scamming men.
Anyway, I decide I need some ladies, and I need some retail therapy. I saw a couple of dress shops on my wander the other day. It’s a very different experience shopping in Morocco because you do it with the shopkeeper. What are you looking for? Do you like this? Try this. They help you put everything on. Tell you it looks bad. Try this instead. You want to try it on again? Yes, I’m used to doing this alone and I can put something on three different times without someone laughing at me. I make her happy by choosing the one she said four garments ago was the best. We are in agreement. She humors my try it on three times to be sure method. We chat and laugh at my darija, she teaches me words. And I leave a little lighter. I’ve been seen. Next shop more of the same, but she is a bit chattier…where are you from? Are you a tour guide? Your Arabic is good. Teaching me words for things. Have a beautiful day. And I’m a little lighter still. I don’t care what I’ve bought. I wanted the interaction. Another shop the credit card machine wasn’t charged so, “please do you have a little time, here have a seat. Are you in a hurry? Can we wait for it to charge?” And so, we sit and talk. Where we are from, what she likes about Marrakech. I should find a man and move here. I’m sorry it’s taking so long she says. I’m not. What else am I doing? This is lovely. We laugh a lot.
So now I have a few souvenirs for people and three new garments that I didn’t really need. But I needed people. I needed women. I needed to talk and to laugh and to be seen. To be in spaces where I didn’t feel like I was being taken for a ride or that I needed to be on my guard. And I will love these dresses because I will remember the ladies saving me today.I am not shopping. For a multitude of reasons. I need nothing. I have no house to put anything. I don’t know where exactly I live. I am already carrying to much. Figuratively and literally. Like want to find a UPS store to send things home carrying too much. I understand and can appreciate the ability to leave things behind; I have just never figured out how to do it myself. I tend to bring my favorite things, because I like to wear my favorite things…which makes it difficult to edit down a suitcase. It’s hard to know what you’re going to be the happiest with when you’re packing and you don’t really remember what 110 degrees feels like. So that beautiful linen shirt becomes a heavy weighted thing you refuse to put on. But it’s beautiful and you’re not leaving it behind. And I know I tend to wear the same thing over and over once I arrive….I just never know what that thing is going to be ahead of time.
It doesn’t help when you’re probably depressed by your current Riad and the surrounding neighborhood and are wearing the same thing for 6 days straight. Wash it out in the shower every night and it’s so hot and dry it’s good to go again in the morning. This Riad is beautiful in all the right ways. Orange trees, cooling pool, couches with decorative pillows, rugs, candles everywhere, string lights, painted wooden doors, piles of books, bougainvillea climbing the walls, multiple courtyards. And a buffet. Kiss of death. Never a good sign for me….means it’s too big and it will be harder to make friends. Too many staff all focused on doing their jobs. But I break in a little with my Darija with the breakfast ladies….Said, “Sbh nour” to one and she smiled and said it back and then stopped and turned around. “What did you just say? You speak Arabic? Where are you from?” And we have a little chat and a laugh and we’re both delighted. She smiles at me every time she passes me. But in general, everyone is friendly but it’s the friendly where the smiles don’t reach the eyes. Probably because it’s in this neighborhood….and being friends with the breakfast ladies only gets you until 9:30 am and then it’s out to the scamming men.
Anyway, I decide I need some ladies, and I need some retail therapy. I saw a couple of dress shops on my wander the other day. It’s a very different experience shopping in Morocco because you do it with the shopkeeper. What are you looking for? Do you like this? Try this. They help you put everything on. Tell you it looks bad. Try this instead. You want to try it on again? Yes, I’m used to doing this alone and I can put something on three different times without someone laughing at me. I make her happy by choosing the one she said four garments ago was the best. We are in agreement. She humors my try it on three times to be sure method. We chat and laugh at my darija, she teaches me words. And I leave a little lighter. I’ve been seen. Next shop more of the same, but she is a bit chattier…where are you from? Are you a tour guide? Your Arabic is good. Teaching me words for things. Have a beautiful day. And I’m a little lighter still. I don’t care what I’ve bought. I wanted the interaction. Another shop the credit card machine wasn’t charged so, “please do you have a little time, here have a seat. Are you in a hurry? Can we wait for it to charge?” And so, we sit and talk. Where we are from, what she likes about Marrakech. I should find a man and move here. I’m sorry it’s taking so long she says. I’m not. What else am I doing? This is lovely. We laugh a lot.
So now I have a few souvenirs for people and three new garments that I didn’t really need. But I needed people. I needed women. I needed to talk and to laugh and to be seen. To be in spaces where I didn’t feel like I was being taken for a ride or that I needed to be on my guard. And I will love these dresses because I will remember the ladies saving me today.
