Berber hospitality; aka I'll invite you for mint tea and then proceed to try and sell you everything I own

One thing that is pretty prevalent in all Moroccan cities are souks - basically markets which selll everything from fruits, vegetables, meat, souvenirs, clothes, everyday household items and appliances and even underwear. That was one thing I found odd about Chefchouen, the only place to buy anything, including underwear, is from these vendors in the middle of the street. It's pretty strange, being in a Muslim city where just about every woman is wearing a headscarf and long sleeved robes to the ground, to then pass by a vendor selling leopard printed bras. What? So women who can't allow their hair or one inch of their skin to show have no qualms buying bras, underwear and lingerie in public? In Chefchouen, they are almost guaranteed to not only run into tons of people they know, but they likely also know the vendor by first name, since it is such a small town and everyone is so friendly with each other. I know that I, for one, would not like shopping for my underwear and bras like this. I don't even like to buy them in stores that are too crowded. I mean, I know I'm weird, but it's just something I'd rather do in private. Yet these Muslim women shop for their most intimate items of clothing, that once purchased, no one is allowed to see, completely and totally in public.

But anyways, that was totally off topic...So yesterday morning I set off to the souks of Meknes with three goals: 1. to buy bandaids for the blisters I got from hiking, 2. to do some shopping - christmas presents for my family, and 3. to meet and talk to one of these shop owners, since supposedly the Berber (pronounced Bearbear, as I had to be reminded more than once) people are known for their hospitality and friendliness. Plus, Shaun told me to : )

So I set out into the souks dressed in my oversized gender-ambiguous clothes (to not attract any extra attention) and sunglasses (to prevent eye contact). Walking into the souks is kind of like going into battle - do not go unarmed. If you do, you will find yourself being talked out of every last dirham and walking away with more handmade Berber blankets and carpets than you will ever be able to carry on the plane ride home, much less in your backpack for the next month.

My first stop was a vendor who sold a range of random stuff - water, soap, bread, etc. So I thought, maybe he has bandaids too. I tried to ask for bandaids, but not knowing the french word for bandaids, avez-vous les bandages?, he had no idea what I was asking for and calls over his friend, who supposedly knew English. So I say bandaids, and the guy has no idea what I want and asks me to draw it. Well, as most of you know, my art skills are a bit lacking. But I try to draw a bleeding hand. I even write the word sange (which i think is the word for blood in french) next to the drops of blood and then say "pour arreter le sange." This appears to go somewhere and the guy says, oh pharmacie. Oui. So he's like ok I'll take you there. I immediately get into self-defense mode, because whenever someone offers to show you where something is, it usually involves a fee or stopping by their store first. So I'm like no, that's ok, I think I saw one back there, it's fine. But he insists, and I figure, what the hell, it's not like I have anything else to do today. So we go wandering through the souks and eventually get to the pharmacie, but they don't sell bandaids. The guy offers to take me somewhere else, but I decline. Then he asks if I want to see his store. He shows me his card and it's a jewelry store. I figure, hey, handmade Moroccan jewelry, that could make a good present, so off to his store we go. We're moving pretty slowly, because the guy, whose name I've now found out is Nourddine, has a cane. He says he likes talking to tourists because he gets to practice his English. He's fluent in both Moroccan Arabic and French, but says English is hard for him. So we're talking, I ask him about the Berber culture and his opinion on the new French president, which was all over the news here. He said he liked the new French president, which kind of surprised me because everything that I've read seemed to suggest that he didn't hold the Berber people in very high regard. But Nourddine said he liked him because he was young and new and it would be a good change.

So we make it to the store that his brother runs. I browse, talk to him and his brother. They joke that they will give me a good price for a jewelery set, consisting of earrings, necklace and a bracelet. "Student discount" they say. So I find a couple of things I like and we start negotiating a price. But then I realize that I probably don't have enough money, so I tell them I need to go to the ATM and then come back. No, no, they say. We'll negotiate a price, you pay what you have now and then the rest later. Not totally comfortable with this idea, mostly because it is just so foreign to me, I figure, when in Morocco...

So we negotiate a price, I get a pretty good deal, or at least considerably less than what I was originally quoted at, plus I get a silver pendant thrown in for free. A present, they say. Then Nourddine and I go off so I can stop at an ATM and pay him the rest I owe.

First, we stop at my house for tea, he says, then get change. Ok....since I've already bought stuff, I figure this must be the Berber hospitality I've heard so much about. Well, it turns out his house is also attached to a store, where he sells, you guessed it, carpets (i would put multiple explanation points here, but there are none on this keyboard). So we go in, he has his son make tea, and we sit down in his store and chat. He is sort of trying to get me to buy carpets, but I'm like, all I have is a backpack, carpets are too big to carry. So then he tries to sell me a challabah (the long robe things), and I try it on just to humor the guy, but at this point I really don't feel bad about saying no because I've already bought souvenirs from him, which I remind him. So I try to steer him off "the sale" and ask about his family. He's married with one girl and one boy and has lived in Meknes all his life. He asks about my family, whether or not I am married and we actually have a pleasant conversation for a few minutes. Then he sends me off with his 10 year old son to the ATM to get the rest of the change I owe. The level of trust among the people here is pretty incredible. People are constantly saying, oh just pay me later. And the amazing thing is, people actually do.

So I finally settle my bill, and am about to leave, but still he is trying to get me to buy something else to help his family. I keep saying no, no, I already bought something. Finally he relents, and I think we are going to leave on bad terms, which is slightly disappointing, but then he totally switches gears and invites me to have a couscous dinner with his family. At this point I'm a little confused, so I thank him but decline. We shake hands, and as I am walking away he calls after me, "bienvenue à maroc."