Exonumia

Berber Blankets and other tokens of hospitality

Finally, we have found the real Morocco! We left the beach and headed towards Inezgane, a town that resembles a huge bus station and is a major transportation hub for Moroccans heading north and south or from the coast to the mountains. We wanted to be with the later.

Our first encounter with wonderful Moroccans came as I was struggling at the bus ticket counter. Everyone here speaks Arabic and French (and most people speak a local language called Berber as well), and even though I admire this proclivity for language, I don’t speak any of them! However, because I am white, everyone assumes that I should know French. So, as I was apologizing to the 70 year old, wizened ticket agent for being so ignorant of a language that I was obviously supposed to know fluently, I heard giggling over my shoulder and a whisper, “British”. I turned to face three, young women smiling broadly at my expense. They were attractive girls, with dark skin and a mix of African and Arab features. They all wore the traditional head covering and clothing of Islam. I smiled and said “No, I am American. Do you think you could help me?”
They were delighted to be of assistance and practice their English. They asked me what I needed and then quickly communicated my requests to the ticket seller. As it happened, they are all studying to be English teachers and talking to me and Andy was a great way for them to practice. They offered to lead us to the local market so that we could have supplies for our long bus journey and not pay ridiculous bus station prices. We accepted their offer and spent the next hour discussing...

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