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Pretty last minute I decided to go to Morocco for the Nour project. I expected Morocco to be similar to the Middle East, since it has the same religion, language and sort of the same culture. Expectations about a certain country or culture are almost always wrong. But nevertheless I packed my bag full of T-shirts and shorts and revised my Arabic vocabulary. My first finding was that Morocco is cold in winter. Cold and wet. It was raining in Casablanca on the day I arrived.
When I told people about my packing mistakes, every single one of them would start showing me pictures of snow in the mountain villages they took just a few days ago. For this reason, they never bothered to install any sort of central heating in their houses, or put any proper isolation materials in their walls, or close the windows at night.
I slept under three blankets and I had no use for my T-shirts and shorts up until now. In my experience this is usually worn by old men with beards. This is not the case in Morocco. Moroccans are quite smart, I thought. My second misconception was the language.
I speak some basic Arabic, I can ask for directions, buy fruits and even read and write in Arabic. I struggle but I was eager to learn. Because my eyes are blue and my skin is white, people assume I speak French. Which I do, une petit peu. But proudly I answer in Arabic and people are pleasantly surprised. So what happens is that they quickly start telling me full stories about their lives in Moroccan Arabic. What to me, and later I learned every student of Arabic language, sounds like a mixture between French and Arabic without pronouncing the vowels.
