Woke up around 11. Ate again. Hicham and Fatima F. drove us out to the house they're building on the outskirts of town. It's on the first floor while Hicham's brother Salah owns the house on the second floor. They're both really nice two bedroom, one bath houses with A/C and beautiful tile work. Hicham's planning on a nice outdoor grill and a wood-fired pizza oven too! I think this house is for Hicham and Fatima F. when they move back to Morocco in a few years when Rania is out of school. Salah's house is for when he and his family visit from Belgium. The complex has an excellent pool, and most of the kids were making good use of it. T&Z were pissed because they didn't bring their swimming costumes.
We got dropped off in El Jadida and walked to the Portugese City (El Jadida, previously known as Mazagan (Portuguese: Mazagão), was seized in 1502 by the Portuguese, and they controlled this city until 1769, when they abandoned Mazagão. Its inhabitants were evacuated to Brazil, where they founded new settlement Nova Mazagão) It was good to get outside and walk along the ocean on the boardwalk. The walled city was impressive. Most impressive were the boys jumping off the walls and into the waters of the port. It had to be at least 50 feet, maybe more. T & Z were fascinated by this activity that would certainly be prohibited at home, but here no one cared.
We walked back to the Choukailis' and ate some leftover pastilla and lamb, then promptly slept it off. After we woke up, Fatima C. returned and opened presents. The gifts were very similar to those at an American wedding. They got a lot of stuff for formal entertaining, including at least four tea sets. Apparently, they don't do bridal registry here either as they don't have many chain stores. I was informed that the duplicates would be "re-gifted" for future events. I wonder if there's an Arabic word for that.
We said goodbye to most of our Moroccan friends, and returned to Shakir and Jalila's house. We packed up our bags, which didn't take long, then went outside to hang out by the pool. We sat under the, I don't know, tiki hut(?) by the pool, and enjoyed some beer, Moroccan wine, and scotch and friendly conversation with Shakir, Hicham, Salah, and Geraldine. This went on until the wee hours. Tristan and Ghita came out to swim, while I comprehended maybe half the French-language conversation, and lamented the lack of a backyard grill and a decent cheeseburger. A cheeseburger really would have made that scene.
We camped out in the salon, as Abla's room was being used by some older woman, maybe Shakir's mother, I'm not sure. Sleep came easily.
The wedding day, or more properly, the wedding reception day. Allegedly, the actual marriage paperwork signing (there is no religious ceremony, I believe) was done a few weeks ago, so I guess Fatima and Samir are already married. Today is a day for us to just be flexible and stay out of the way. The wedding chaos is very similar to Christmas with the Saia family. I love it because I'm not really responsible for much beside myself.
The women of the family drove to Casablanca, about 90 minutes away for six hours of hair and makeup. Tristan and Gabriel, a Belgian/Moroccan boy about his age were escorted to a local barber by Abla and Ghita. We didn't accompany him, so we're really curious what Tristan would be able to communicate to the barber about his desires. He got a good, normal haircut, but we heard later that he was trying to get the barber to give him a buzz cut, but Ghita wouldn't let the barber do it. Those two are a pretty good pair.
Jennifer and I walked to Acima, the local supermarket of the same chain we visited in Marrakesh. We were hoping to find Aromat, a spice blend used in Switzerland to season melted cheese dishes. The vast majority of spices in Morocco are sold loose by weight, so no luck on the aromat. We did manage to find some Fayrouz Poire soda,
some rotisserie chicken and thyme potato chips,
and some interesting fruit and chocolate cookies. It was all excellent, especially the chips. Interestingly, the locals thought we were crazy for walking "so far," all of 10-15 minutes to the store.
Most of the afternoon was pretty casual. I ended up getting bathed and dressed around 5:00, and that was way early. We went to the Choukailis' and hung out some more. Jennifer and Zoe were borrowing traditional Moroccan attire. I went with the guys to a cafe for a coffee, then we came back and drank Chivas (and gin and wine) in the basement apartment. We had the impression the wedding started around 9:00 pm, but had come to realize the existence of MPT, Morrocan People Time, which is just like the extreme punctuality of White People Time, but just the opposite.
Sometime around 10:45, I think, Gerard and I caught a ride with a cousin to the wedding hall.
The band was already playing, Jennifer and the kids had gotten there too somehow, and the newlyweds arrived shortly.
At Moroccan weddings the bride is attended by several hired attendants (who are also not slaves) in this case, three. The bride entered the hall while all the women repeated this one chant (that we'd heard several times over the past few days) that ended with this most horrible "ulululululululululul" noise. Fatima, wearing gown #1, btw, was placed in this cupula or little gazebo thing that was carried on the shoulders of four traditionally-dressed Morrocan men (who turned out to also be some of the waiters) and paraded around the hall, accompanied by the band and a lot of clapping.
(picture removed)
Now I'll probably get a bit fuzzy on the details of the next parts, but do my best to recall everything. We were guided toward the tables which were surrounded by chairs and the salon wall of couches. The "king and queen" were seated on a kind of sofa in a raised side room off the main room. We at the tables had some bottled water and pistachios to snack on. Around 12:15 am they brought out the first main course; pastilla (pas-TEE-ya) بسطيلة which is a buttery phyllo dough pastry filled with chicken, honey, and a sweetened nut paste, probably from almonds. It sounds weird, but it was amazing. The pastilla on each table resembled a disc, maybe 14" in diameter and about 3" high, and decorated on top. We tore into it with our steely knives and bare hands, putting some onto our plates or directly into our mouths. It was fantastic. The beverage of choice to accompany this traditional dish was CocaCola. It seemed very out of place, but hey, whatever.
That was taken away and the top tablecloth removed. Around 1:00 am, the second main dish came out: lamb. Each table scored half a lamb that was probably the weight of a good-sized holiday turkey. They were served on large platters surrounded by various cooked veggies. The lamb was eaten true pig pickin' style; you just tore off meat with your hand. There were small spice dishes with (maybe) cumin on one side and sea salt on the other. You'd grab a hunk of meat, dip it in a little of both seasonings and eat it. It was also fantastic, and not even the tiniest bit gamey or funky like lamb sometimes is.
Probably around 1:45 am the dessert came out: giant bowls of fruit. Pretty normal stuff, but the quality was very good and it really hit the spot. I'm sure some hot mint tea was served at least once by now.
Also by now the bride had changed into at least her second gown,
maybe third,
and the groom, who had been wearing a nice western suit (western like "American", not like "cowboy"), was now wearing traditional Moroccan groom attire. The couple had a table set up for them in the middle of the main floor where they had done their eating. That had been removed, and now they were both hoisted on individual cupola/gazebo things and paraded around for a song. For the next few hours it was mostly dancing and gear changes for the couple. The band played all Moroccan music, and these guys were tight. The music was very syncopated and the (Moroccan) audience was clapping in time with the syncopation. It was a very impressive feat, and something there would be no possible way Americans (besides me) could do properly.
Cookies and more tea came and went. Around 4:30 am they brought out the wedding cake, and Fatima was now in a traditional European/American wedding gown, and Samir in a different western suit.
As for the cake, it was spectacular. It had probably six separate levels, each composed of maybe 10 alternating layers of pastry and filling, and all wrapped in fondant. It tasted like a napoleon, or mille-feuille. Never had a cake like that.
After the cake? Soup! Harira, the traditional hot vegetable soup served with those strange-looking but delicious cookies. It's good soup, but at the end of the meal, and usually right before bedtime, I often don't have room, as was the case this time.
Around 5:00 am the party wrapped up, the couple departed in a clean, decorated Honda CRV, and the four of us, and four others, piled into a mid-sized car and drove the short distance to Shakir and Jalila's house. Fortunately, this was the end of the partying for the night. . . at our house anyway. We got to bed at 5:45 am.
Woke up around nine, showered, and had a typical breakfast. I'm still confounded by the lack of toilet paper. I mean, what do they do? We brought our own, thankfully. Small, individual rolls of Charmin in a handy, watertight container. They could charge $10 for one of these, and it would totally be worth it.
We went to Hicham's parents' house to meet up with some others that had arrived last night, including Hicham's sister Badia and her husband Gerome, and their three kids ( __, Gabriel, and Alain) who live in Belgium, Hicham's brother Salah and his wife (____) and three daughters, who also live in Belgium, and Geraldine, a friend of Salah, and her two kids, who also live in Belgium. Must be some kind of weird Moroccan/Belgian connection.
We loaded up into several vehicles. Fortunately, the standard personal space and common sense safety rules don't apply, and that allows us to put eight people in a car the size of a Toyota Camry. We went to a beach town a few meters S/W of El Jadida. We set out all our gear, and to everyone's credit, I think everybody got in the water, which is saying a lot because it was cold. It was like New Jersey in May. It was a nice change from some of the hot and stuffy times in the previous few days. It was very refreshing. The cold water explains the nice weather in Casablanca and El Jadida. Of the 16 of us (three cars), the four men went to a cafe and had a local beer. . . or five. (Women don't hang out in cafes in Morocco, unless they're prostitutes, which we did see there). "Especial" for most of us. As the only American at the table, the task of defending everything my country has ever done fell solely on me. Everyone at the table had been to the US, so they weren't as filled with a lot of the stereotypical prejudices of the USA that people that have never been there are. I guess we took a while because eventually some of the kids and women found us. We collected the others and drove back to the Choukaili's, where Fridays are Couscous Night. They set up a huge bowl in the kitchen for the kids, at least a dozen, and Tristan and Zoe fit right in, tearing into the couscous with their bare right hands. No language barrier at meal time.
Meanwhile, in the smaller, auxiliary salon, the servants (still not slaves) set up the adult couscous. They brought out a bowl that was at least two feet in diameter filled with couscous (which is actually pasta about the size and shape of large grains of sand) and vegetables of all sorts. Added into that is some kind of aged butter sauce (smen, I believe) and some other sauce that spiced it up a bit. The traditional drink with couscous is buttermilk, which sounds a little gross, but actually paired very nicely. You don't eat bread with couscous. There was way more food than we could all eat, but we did our darnedest.
Once again I have to mention that one of the most awesome facets of Moroccan culture is what you do after you eat a big meal. Conveniently, the living room is the dining room, so you're already sitting on wall-to-wall couches when you've finished your meal. The remnants are removed, you lay down, put your feet up, (you've already removed your shoes when you entered the salon, by the way) and even nap if you want. It's actually encouraged. What could be more wonderful! You eat a huge delicious meal on the couch, and then sleep it off. I so want to do Thanksgiving at my house this way.
After the meal, several people including Jennifer and Zoe, went to the hammam حمّام, bath house. I declined, b/c I wasn't dressed for it, plus despite the glowing reviews by my Moroccan friends, the idea of getting bathed by some dude just didn't sound very appealing to me. At least in the hammam, you don't go commando, unlike Korean baths. (I didn't partake of that either, btw.)
After the guys got back from the hammam, and I finished working off lunch (woke up) we went to a cafe a couple blocks away. Almost the whole conversation was in French, and since I only understand about half of any French conversation, at most, I just drank my coffee (espresso in the US) and watched people. No complaints.
Meanwhile, back at the house, the women were getting henna tatoos.
The rest of the day/evening was a lot of just hanging out, interjected with the occasional hot mint tea and pastries.
Asmaa woke TR and I up around 8:30, and JR had just recently arrived. We haven't heard from Zoe, by the way, so the assumption is that she's having a good time with Rania and her cousins, the pool, and the sea.
Tristan, Jennifer, Fatima F. and I had the same food for breakfast that we had mid-evening yesterday. It was just as good. We went downstairs and got a Casablanca petit taxi, which are red in Casablanca, to the Souk District, for lack of knowing what it's called. Fatima F., who rode in a different petit taxi (since they only hold three passengers, remember?) stopped on the way to pick up her late father's "other" wife, i.e. the wife that is not her late mother. Sister wives, Big Love-style.
The souks were a little different, with hardly a tourist to be found. I'm not even sure of the last time we saw other Americans.
Here we were doing some of our souvenir shopping. Tristan found a really cool hand-made wooden soccer ball, Jennifer got a proper tea pot, family sized, and a brass door knocker for our faux Moroccan door at home. Our local "guides" did all our haggling for us, and we got good deals on everything. We found a juice cart for Tristan, who was being very patient during the shopping.
We took another petit taxi back to the condo, and hung out some more. We ate lunch of the usual stuff, and also some chicken tagine.
Around 3:00 we left for the train station, catching a petit taxi near the apartment for the 20 dirham ride to Gare Casa Voyageur. We had a little time to kill before our 4:30 train to El Jadida. We rode in 2nd class this time since first class last time didn't seem to buy us any additional comfort. This train took about 90 minutes, including a 15 minute unscheduled stop that would've been OK if the windows opened farther.
We arrived at El Jadida around 6, and greeting us at the station were Hicham (our friend from Chapel Hill, and Rania's dad), and Ghita (12, the daughter of Jalila and Shakir, all of whom have previously been to our house in NC). It was a short drive to Shakir and Jalila (and Ghita and Abla's (15) ) house to drop off our stuff. Zoe was there with Rania and the two servants (whom Shakir very clearly pointed out were not slaves), and Zoe seemed completely un-phased by our arrival. She just wanted to continue to play with her friends. Tristan just wanted to swim in the pool in the backyard. Hicham, JR, TR and I got back in the car and made the short drive to Hicham's parents' house, a block from the beach. Hicham's parents ______ and _____ have been to our house a couple of times. Their house was very nice, and busy with wedding preparations, visitors, and servants, who probably also were not slaves, cleaning everything.
We sat and hung out with Fatima C., the bride to be, then walked up to the beach and the "boardwalk," which was actually made of tile. It was a pretty typical beach with shops, restaurants, palm trees, soccer players and camel rides.
There were a couple of just magnificent abandoned hotels that dated back to probably the 1920's - 1930's and were built in an awesome art deco style, but had been abandoned for 10 years or so. The one had a huge lot surrounded by a high masonry wall from the boardwalk to the street, and Mother Nature had reclaimed the grounds, turning the place into a bird sanctuary. It was very cool.
We drove from there to a pizza place to pick up dinner for the people back at Shakir and Jalila's. We (and the pizza) were dropped off, and shortly afterward Ghita, Rania, and Zoe went to Ghita's aunt's house to spend the night. Tristan was feeling a little bit left out, as he's the only boy around, and hasn't gotten to do as much stuff as Zoe. He did finally get to swim though.
Shakir arrived pretty late, and the servants, who are not slaves, brought him dinner: brochette with cheese and sauce, while we hang out in the living room watching Discovery Channel in German, and drinking Heineken beer. Tristan crashed on a couch in a room adjacent to the living room, and JR and I got Abla's bed. I think Abla and the servants, who are not slaves, slept in the living room. It'll probably get weirder once more people arrive Friday. I'm not sure what the plan is yet, if there is one.
