What we talk about when we talk about love

No, this blog entry isn't about Raymond Carver's subdued short story. It's about the idea of "loving" a country. When we told people we were moving to Morocco, some said, "So-and-so went there last year and just fell in love with the country." Others said things like, "Oh, you'll love it there."

I have no idea what people mean when they say they "love" a country. I've never loved a country. I don't love the U.S. There are things I like about my home country, and probably things I'll come to appreciate more now that I'm not there, and there are also many things I greatly dislike about it. But I know people who "love" the U.S., and quite a few people who "love" Morocco. We have met an American couple working at the University who were in Morocco with the Peace Corps a couple of years ago and "fell in love" with Morocco. They've wanted nothing else since then but to figure out how to get back here. We know another American couple who want to own a second home in Morocco, and a third couple who knew the first day they got here that they loved it. What do they mean when they say they love Morocco? I'm really not sure.

As of right now, my feelings about Morocco on an average day, at their most positive, are probably best described as ambivalent. Especially after Ramadan, I kept waiting for feelings to develop. I kept waiting to fall in love (or not to). Anyone who has been reading my blog knows that I have carefully highlighted the positive elements of my experience here; nevertheless, I remain ambivalent. I'm not saying I think I should feel anything other than what I feel.

I'm just saying.

Absinthe update

If I had done even a minimal amount of research before making some guesses in my previous blog post about shiba, an herb sometimes added to Moroccan mint tea, I would have discovered that yes, it is absinthe, also known as artemesia or wormwood. But the word "absinthe" is used to refer both to the alcohol (which is illegal in many countries) and the herb, shiba/artemesia/wormwood that is an ingredient in the alcohol. Shiba has some medicinal effects, which is why Amina advised me only to add a small amount to my pot of tea, but it doesn't appear to be dangerous in any way when added to tea like that--and it makes the tea taste extra yummy.

Speaking of medicinals, I came down with a cold yesterday. I think I have been sick more often than not since we got here (part of culture shock, right?). I'm missing out on a hike today, but T assures me he will take pictures, and I just might be able to convince him to be a guest blogger so you can all join in the hiking fun.

The souk

Several posts ago, I said I would post some pictures of the Ifrane souk. But I think I had better back up and also explain what a souk is. Souks are markets, and every Moroccan town has a souk location. Big cities have several souks; smaller towns, like Ifrane and nearby Azrou, have one souk location and have designated souk days.

The Ifrane souk is on Saturdays and Sundays. The souk takes place in a large area a bit outside of town. If you've ever been to an outdoor craft fair or some such thing in the U.S., you might be able to imagine the souk's basic layout. There are dozens and dozens of vendors selling everything from fruits and vegetables to soaps to clothes to electronics. It is outdoors, but some of the area has a permanent covering over it, and much of the rest is covered with canopies to provide shade and, in the winter, some protection from snow and rain. The food vendors are in the middle, with those selling non-food wares on the periphery. (Much of the non-food items are used, and a lot of them look like things that most Americans would send to the landfill. In fact, I suspect many of the items for sale came from dumps. I was also told that some of the clothes sold at the souk are leftovers shipped here from countries like the U.S.)

Souk etiquette is pretty simple. Most produce vendors will hand you a plastic bag (mikka) and you fill it with whatever fruit or vegetable you want. Produce is sold by the kilogram (kilo), although you can usually get a nuss-kilo (half a kilo). Spices are sold by the dirham. You tell the vendor how many dirhams worth of a spice you want, and he (always a "he") expertly wraps it in paper and then puts it in a mikka for you.

Most shoppers have their favorite vendors who they return to again and again. Two of the three times I have been to the Ifrane souk, I was lucky enough to go with American women who speak Arabic, so they have helped me immensely with navigating through the huge piles of tomatoes, potatoes, eggplant, artichokes, apples....Today I also had the help of LW's maid, Amina (yes, "maid" is the word that's used, regardless of how much it makes you cringe), who was grabbing items and bagging them for me. (Amina is also, as far as I know, the only woman in Ifrane who makes tortillas, which can be purchased for two dirhams a piece. She makes them one at a time, by hand!) LW and Amina also bought me a little of an herb they called shiba, which my research tells me means "absinthe," so I hope what they really bought me is something the book Eat Smart in Morocco calls sheh. Little bits of the herb are added to Moroccan mint tea, and I put some in my tea this afternoon with no apparent effects. Hmm.

Moving on...

The sense of abundance at a souk is incredible. The Whole Foods marketing team should take note. And food here is cheap (by my rich Western standards). Today, for around $15 U.S., T and I bought kilos and kilos of tomatoes, grapes, green beans, sweet potatoes, lemons, melon, and fresh mint. Today I also got several free dates from LW's favorite date vendor. And I came home with a nuss-kilo of his best dates, even though I'm not sure what I'll do with that many of them.

The next time you're buying groceries at Wal-Mart, think of me walking around in the fresh air, munching on free dates, picking out fresh fruits and vegetables and paying pocket change for them. Not so bad, is it?