Meet the Parents (in Morocco)
By Sarah Moukhliss

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Abdel and I decided to watch the new Bridget Jones Diary movie today. The only thing more exciting than going to the movies is getting there early to watch the previews. I’m a big fan of “Meet the Parents”; therefore I was excited to see that they were coming out with a sequel, “Meet the Fockers”! For those of you haven’t watched the first movie about meeting potential in-laws for the first time… now it is time for the potential in-laws to meet your own family! AARRGH! I have to admit that I can relate. I met Abdel’s parents for the very first time last summer. Although we had been married for a year, I still had butterflies in my stomach. My in-laws were not living a city way from me, nor a state away from me… they were living a continent away from me in Morocco, Africa! I am unable to speak Arabic, French, or Berber, and they were unable to speak English. Trying to communicate was an adventure in itself! Needless to say, despite a few hiccups I had a marvelous time in Morocco. I even renewed my vows with a second wedding at my mother and father in law’s house, Zaharra and El-Houcine, respectively in Marrakech. Abdel and I glowed months after we got back. We showed our marvelous photos of family, Marrakech, Casablanca, Rabat, and Fez to everyone including my own parents, Wayne and Kerry. Seeing their enthusiasm, Abdel and I extended an invitation for our next visit & as you are about to see they took us up on the offer.

I could not ask for better parents. They accepted Abdel immediately, without question or reservations. However, on the flipside, I haven’t spent more than 48 hours with my parents since high school. Thus, as time approached I was a nervous wreck. A million questions went through my head. Will my parents like Abdel’s family? Will Abdel’s family like my parents? Will I like my parents after this vacation? Will Abdel like me after this trip? I knew that this trip will be different from last. Last year, I traveled like a native—in trains, petite taxis, etc. This year my parents offered to rent a car. Last year we stayed with the family. This year my parents left the option open to us, but they opted to stay in a hotel. I loved our previous trip to Morocco. I didn’t want to change anything, darn it! However, looking back I am very thankful that my parents chose to come and opt to do things differently because we had entirely different experiences this time.

Our plane landed in Casablanca on Wednesday. We spent a day and a half in Casablanca recovering from jet lag. On Friday, we hired a taxi driver to take us to Marrakech—a 6 hour drive from Casablanca. We stopped only once for dinner and treated our driver. The closer we inched towards Marrakech, the hotter it became. However, September was a nice time to visit because it only peaked to ninety degrees.

After we arrived to Marrakech, we looked for a hotel for my parents. Abdel and I decided to stay with his family. My first fears were relieved when the driver dropped us at my in-law’s apartment complex in Marrakech. I could hear the family cheering and singing. They threw flower petals in the air and stood at the door with the new babies in their arms. Khadija, Abdel’s cousin, and Rashida, Abdel’s older sister offered us dates and milk—a symbol of hospitality and celebration. Mother Zahra and Father El-Houcine embraced Abdel and I and my parents.

Abdel’s family loved my parents. My sisters in law loved my mother. They didn’t want her to leave. My mother and father loved Abdel’s big family. Although we were unable to speak to most of the members in a common tongue, we communicated easily with lots of hand gestures and of course with the help of Abdel’s translating.

Our three days with them were great. Food was always plentiful. Our first day consisted of sitting with the family and relaxing. We passed out small American souvenirs to everyone. The economy size of Doritos and potato chips that my mom brought were a big hit. The babies, (little) Mohammed and (a little bigger) Mohammed, and Kholoud liked their outfits Abdel and I gave them. After the presents, we ate dinner. My mother in law, Zahra, prepared a fabulous dinner of roasted chickens, Moroccan Salad, beef with prunes, fresh fruit, and mint tea.

Marrakech is a fascinating city. It is my most favorite of the seven cities I have visited. Despite it being incredibly hot in summer and fall, the people are warm and hospitable. Marrakech is also the home of El Jemaa-El-Fanaa, which is the largest market place in Morocco. At the market, one can buy spices, dried fruit, fresh orange juice, jewelry, pottery, lamps, and Morocco’s famous leather goods. In the evening, the marketplace transforms into a smoky haze of small food stands. El Jemaa-El-Fanna becomes so crowded that one can barely move. Moroccans and tourists venture out to eat, get their hands and feet painted by local henna artists, listen to Berber music, and to be entertained by fortune tellers and snake charmers.

We spent each morning with Abdel’s mother and father and later caught up with my parents to go shopping in El Jemaa-El-Fanna. Having experienced the marketplace in the past, I knew to keep my mouth shut. If I wanted something, I asked Abdel to request to make a purchase. Moroccans barter. There are three different prices in Morocco: “the dumb tourist price”, “the bartering tourist price”, and the “Moroccan price.” I am lucky to have features that confuse Moroccans. Many of them think I am Moroccan. However, my parents are distinctively not Moroccan. Thus, this became interesting at the marketplace. Although they were happy with their prices on lamps and pottery, it should have been a little less. It took a while for my mother to get the hang of shopping. I tend to mind my own business and talk if I am serious. My mother prefers to try to talk to everyone, which was o.k. but meant that you were stuck in one stand forever! Some sellers tend to run to another stand if they don’t have what you are looking for, which takes up too much time when there are thousands of little stands that wind and turn. It is a very easy place to get lost—even for a native!

On our last day in Marrakech, my parents offered to take Abdel’s parents out for a special lunch. Abdel offered to get Dad El-Houcine, spaghetti. After contemplation, we decided to go to McDonald’s. Everyone laughs about this. My father rolled his eyes and said, “I can’t believe we are going to McDonald’s when we are in Africa.” However, it is a very big deal if someone goes to a McDonald’s in Morocco. I thought mom Zahra would especially like it since it would offer her some good conversation to tell her friends and neighbors. McDonald’s is definitely a once in a lifetime experience. It would be like someone going to the Refectory or Mitchell’s Steak House in Columbus, Ohio. Abdel’s father especially loved the hamburgers. He ate his so fast that Abdel bought him another one! Later he confided that he was unable to eat the following day because he was still so full!

It was very difficult to say goodbye to family in Marrakech. I am particularly fond of Abdel’s mom, father, nephew Aziz, and sister-in-law Amina. However we were also excited to drive the coast of Morocco. After a lot of hugging and tears, we left to seek out a rental car. We decided on a Fiat stick shift. Our goal was to take a week and a half to leisurely drive up the coast of Morocco to return to Casablanca to catch our flight. The car trip was amazing and at times scary! People tend to drive rather recklessly on a two-lane highway. Abdel was a bit rusty driving a stick shift. My mother offered suggestions throughout the two week trips although she’s never driven one. Abdel was a good sport. Much of Morocco’s land is un-disturbed and in its natural state. As we drove the coast line we saw beautiful, untouched beaches where giant waves would crash upon the rugged rocks.

Our first stop was Agadir. Agadir is a beautiful beach city that reminded us a lot like San Francisco. We stayed at a fantastic hotel where we met an American man, who worked for Merck. He had been in Agadir for three months and was excited to here someone else in the hotel speaking English! He sat down and told us how they were hoping to find oil off the coast. We also visited Agadir’s numerous ports where Abdel and my parents feasted on Sardines. I preferred feeding the Sardines to the local cats and saving my appetite for Moroccan pizza. In the evening, we walked along the beach and contemplated over riding a camel along the coast. Although I now wish I rode one, at the time I found it too touristy and tacky.

After two days in Agadir we drove to Essaouira—a four hour drive from Agadir. Along the drive, we spotted numerous goats foraging in the trees. I’ve never seen such a site! They were literally clinging to branches—and there were twenty to thirty in each tree. We also saw herds of sheep, donkeys, and camels. We passed many people riding donkeys. Many walked, while others preferred to hitchhike. Along the highways were people who stretched their hands into the air displaying cans of Argan oil and Argan crème. Argan comes from a nut from the Argan tree. This tree exists only in the region that surrounds Agadir. Although the Argan crème of Argan nut, almonds, and honey is delicious—the Argan nut itself is horribly bitter.

Essaouira is an amazing city which like all Moroccan cities encompasses an old fortified city and a new city. Essaouria is a city of art, music, and inspiration. It is a breathtaking city by the port. The buildings are all whitewashed with blue doors and windows. While walking through the ports, we saw a sailboat with an Australian flag. Abdel struck up a conversation with the woman on the boat. We learned that she and her husband along with their two small children were traveling the world. They have been sailing for three years and plan to hurry back which will take another two! The most fabulous thing about traveling is the people who you meet along the way. I bought a painting from a local artist and a small postcard from a young boy who was confined to a wheelchair and could only paint with his mouth.

We were reluctant to leave Essaouria. It was truly a fantastic city. However we decided to head off to Safi, a city known for its pottery and Sardines. Safi is not a beautiful city, nor is it a touristy area. However, it does house some of the world’s most beautiful pottery. My parents and I splurged. We purchased tagines, plates, bowls, and salt and pepper shakers that ranged from sea foam green, mustard, to Moroccan blue. El Jadida was next. We decided to visit some of Abdel’s old school friends. El Jadida is also an industrial city. My eyes burned from the chemicals and air pollution. At this point, I was becoming weary of all of the curious stares. These two cities do not receive many tourists, thus my mother, father, and I were looked at as if we had three heads! While visiting at El Jadida, we stayed at an old, beautiful, but slightly rundown hotel. Although the stay was enjoyable, the next morning was a bit uncomfortable. I was accused of stealing a bath towel after we had our luggage packed and loaded. In the street, we unloaded our luggage and allowed the receptionist to methodically go over everything. Quite embarrassing! And no, they never found the towel. After El-Jadida, we spent several more days in Casablanca where we shopped for clothes and jewelry. We enjoyed one last evening along the beach, knowing our trip was nearing the end.

The next day it was time to go home. The flight went by fast. We looked at postcards pictures, and swapped stories. My father never let me forget about the towel “that I had stashed in my suitcase.” Although, it was at times trying and occasionally challenging, all in all Abdel and I had a great time with the parents… and perhaps we may even go again with them… to celebrate a family reunion and explore western Morocco.