M'a ssalama Morocco! Hola España! (Goodbye Morocco. Hello Spain.)

Madrid, Spain

I´m sitting in the apartment of my Couchsurfing host, Pablo. I just finished eating a bowl of cereal, which is a foreign treat, as I´ve had soup and bread or bananas for breakfast for the past two weeks. I arrived last night on a plane from Marrakech. After collecting my bag and exiting the baggage area, it was very strange to not have eight guys try to offer me a taxi, a guide around the city, or some "good hashish." It´s funny how we become accustomed to the environment we're in. Last night at Pablo´s place, I was eating some fried fishsticks -- which tasted and felt more like cheese sticks -- and I realized that I was using a fork. I wanted to throw it down and use my hand, yet here in this civilized country, that seemed like a strange thing to do. Even the thought of wearing my zilaba tonight when it´s cold seems strange... although I have nothing else, so I will anyway.
My last night and day in Morocco were probably the best anyone could have. That night, I met Abdulhaziz at his shop. After closing up, I climbed onto the back of his motorbike, grabbed onto him, and we raced through the bustling, windy streets of the medina. It was unbelievably amazing! It was such a thrill. We met Abdoughani at his shop and hung out for a bit before he closed up. Then we hopped on the motos again and sped off through town to a little yogurt and fruit drink cafe that belonged to Hassan, another of the friends that I had met the night before, when offered tea. We went in and sat down. Over the course of several hours we drank spicy tea, ate egg and cheese sandwiches, talked, laughed, posed for pictures, and sang -- most of which occured in Arabic, but was enjoyable nonetheless. Haj -- Hassan´s old, dark-skinned uncle with a huge, rotting-teeth smile and a little white skullcap -- was the jolliest Moroccan I have ever met. It was such a pleasure to sit next to him and watch him drink his tea with huge, intentional slurps and a bang of the glass on the table, or clap his hands and sing with his usual heart-warming smile. Abdoughani told me that they all get together every night in summer, there at the cafe, and every other night in winter. Additionally, none of them drink, do drugs or smoke cigarrettes. I thoroughly enjoyed my time with them, before scooting back to the Place Djemma al Fna, the main square, to drop me off at my hotel.
Yesterday morning, after having a sun-soaked breakfast including fresh-squeezed orange juice and mint tea, on the rooftop terrace of my hotel overlooking the Place, I headed off to say farewell to my new friends. First I stopped at Abdulhaziz´s shop. I sat and we chatted for a bit. I returned to the hammam place to give Muhammed, the guy who cleaned me, more money, as it was suggested to do so the night before by Abdoughani. Muhammed seemed very happy and I was glad that I did so. Then I said farewell to Abdulhaziz and set off to see Abdoughani, with my giant, present-laden backpack, as well as my smaller day pack, and my new, old leather bag. When I arrived he was pleased to see me, as it was early in the afternoon and he thought I wasn´t coming anymore. I gave him a couple books in English that I've been carting around my whole trip and haven't read. We sat and talked for awhile. Then it occured to me that rather than worrying about stuffing my backpack into my leather bag -- as only one carry-on was allowed on the flight -- I could give the backpack -- which was kind of falling apart and I probably would have disposed of in the US -- to Abdoughani. So I pointed out its flaws and offered it to him. He accepted it. Then he gave me a couple small things to give to my mom and sister, as I had showed him pictures of them earlier. He asked if I was hungry and I admitted I was so he disappeared for awhile and returned with two pieces of bread stuffed with skewer-grilled pieces of turkey that tasted like propane; although I enjoyed it because I was grateful for his generosity and to be eating with a new friend. After bringing me a couple boxes of tea and explaining how to make tea, Moroccan style, I gathered up my things. We said farewell and he told me he´d call on New Year´s Eve. I joyfully walked back to the bus area, smiling at the conspicuous whispers to sell me hash. At the airport, there were free toilets -- there was even a sign saying so. And there was toilet paper! I didn´t have to use my own. It was quite a treat. I felt a real sense of peace, and a bit of thirst, as I boarded the plane to depart from the strange yet wonderful land of Morocco.