CHAPTER EIGHT: Mr Couscous

Shopping ingredients for the tagine

As I mentioned before we were in Ourzazate making new friends. A shopkeeper offered his hospitality therefore we decided to stay one more night in this town.

I do not think Mr Couscous really expected us to show up the very next morning. But we did. Hence he had to buy the breakfast since he has not cooked. He brought back some French croissants, fresh orange juice and melwi avec fromage (sort of a pancake). I enjoyed it very much. Then his friend slash employee offered to cook a tagine for the lunch. We decided it would be a great idea to eat tagine for the Nth time.

Moroccans would never want money from you when they are offering you their hospitality. They get offended if you try to pay for the food. They do business with you, they want to sell you their goods for the highest price possible, but once they sit at the table with you they will make a tea and will not expect anything in return. They just want to talk to you and be your friends. I think this is what I would call being fair. We can be friends but as friends there is a time for the friendship and there is also a time for the business.

After the breakfast me and Danka went with Mr Couscous to see the nearby ruins. We had a very nice time with our new guide and even decided to purchase few things from his shop. At this point there was some trust in between us so we knew he is not going to scam us, and would say a fair price. Nevertheless I would have never expected him to give us a better price than he would do for his brother. I think he liked Danka a bit too much. That is the Slovak charm I would guess ;)

After the short trip we went to the market to get the ingredients for the tagine.

In a local market

The guy who cooked tagine with us, a very tall, and very dark Berber, was originally from the desert. His eyes looked tired and his skin definitely remembered tough times. Because of his wrinkles I would guess that he is much older. He was wearing a typical, brown long habit with jeans. His head was covered with a scarf, made into a turban.
I practiced my awful French with him and helped to prepare the lunch. We talked a lot about his work and travels. I did not like when he asked me whether I am married or not. Danka said the truth. I hesitated for a moment, and then also replied that I am single. From that point on I had this feeling he might like me. On the other hand I thought to myself not to be so snooty- why do I only expect every man to want me? Wrong. They all do.

After the tasty lunch we have been invited also for a dinner. At this point I thought we are spending too much time with them. Men are just men. If you spend a day with them, it's OK. You are just being friendly. If you stay two days with them they want more and everything you do is understood as a signal. I wanted to use my story with the ring; I am married and my husband is coming here soon. Danka was on the other hand open about being single. I did not want to touch this topic and now I know for sure never to do it again. We can be friends with random people on the streets and accept their invites but we always need to keep our distance. Does not this apply to European men too? Indeed it does.

The shop and Mr Couscous. And Danka

Me and Danka went to the hotel for few hours and then returned for the dinner. The Berber and the second man, a shorter but very fat man with terrible English, were already drinking. Or high, whatever. I still believe that Mr Couscous was safe and did not want to destroy the beginning of our friendship. We even invited him to visit us in London, and I sincerely believe that he would love to come. Since he is well traveled and has got 3 years visa, it would be quite easy for him.  
However the two other men started to be a bit pushy. I regretted mentioning that I want to smoke shisha in Morocco. The Berber was all over the idea and really wanted to do it after the dinner. Me and Danka already knew that we need to leave as soon as possible. Thanks to another tourist who stopped by the shop and obviously already knew the guys, the focus was not just on us. We all talked and ate spaghetti bolognese from a big tagine pot what was really funny. The tall man was sitting next to me and as the evening progressed he said few times something quite inappropriate. I looked at Danka and we both started making excuses to leave earlier. Luckily, the two guys disappeared in the back of the shop so we quickly bid farewell to dear Mr Couscous.

I was both happy and disappointed. Disappointed by the fact that men are the same everywhere and happy that we did not have any serious problems in Morocco. Just good memories.
People say that it is easier to be a woman because you can achieve more with your charm. Maybe. I think it is actually tougher. Everyone wants to fuck you and you never know if the man really want to be your friend or is just playing with you. Once the sexual tension is gone, lot of these guys in fact become my close friends.

THE END