So I got up this morning and my mom had packed me a lunch, and I realized that I haven’t packed a lunch for school since high school which is an ever increasingly long time ago. Then I ate my baguette breakfast and felt very nostalgic as I put on my sneaks, grabbed my backpack, and started off on my walk to school. My morning walk is often the highlight of my day. Class never starts on time so I’m never in a hurry, and Moroccans don’t start doing anything really early, so the streets are still pretty quiet, even though it’s between nine and ten in the morning. I listen to my new “walkin’ to school” playlist or “This American Life” on my I-pod and I am in a pretty good mood. The only people out at this hour are either other students, or, I find this hilarious, giant buses of the most typical tourists you’ve ever seen. I walk right by the palace and there is always some adorable looking group with fanny packs and giant cameras out taking in the exotic scenery. I repeat the phrase my host mom tells me to say, “I am not a tourist, I am student” and even though I’m a foreigner I feel good that I can at least say I live here. Obviously, there’s nothing wrong with tourism, and I am a tourist when I go anywhere other than Fes, but I still feel some pride knowing that the sandwich in my backpack means this is my home.
The funny thing about walking here, that all of my classmates have mentioned too, is that it is one giant game of chicken. The sidewalks are not really that crowded, but there are absolutely no rules of the road. It seems like someone is always walking directly at you, and one of you eventually will have to change your path or step out into the street. I don’t think any of us has really figured out the game, because somehow it seems like everyone else knows how to walk without running into people, but somehow, if I put on my best poker face, and walk straight into the oncoming traffic, I end up in constant collision. I’ve experimented with different strategies, told myself that no matter what, I would not be the one to change course, but I usually “chicken out” and move aside, feeling confused like how could I have possibly missed the one way sign. This pedestrian competition is far more intense than crossing the street, here, but luckily, less deadly. Cars will occasionally yield to pedestrians, but it’s better to wait for a sizable gap in traffic before crossing the street.
After I ate my packed lunch I continued my good day by getting my first Moroccan ice cream cone. There is this adorable man who has a little Glaceria and from seeing him prepare his ice cream shop I have come to the conclusion that he is the kindest and most responsible man in Fes. Something about how he cleans the sidewalk in front of his store, and sets up shop diligently even in nor really ice cream weather, not to mention how he owns the source of my favorite Moroccan and American cuisine (ice cream is universal, actually), makes me sure that if I do have a Moroccan love, it will be him. You can keep your camels, but offer me ice cream and we’re hitched. I’m a cheap bride, apparently, because my ice cream cone today was 6 dirham which is approximately 75 cents. This man and I will be developing a relationship, I am sure this is the will of Allah.