Fulbright-mtvU Fellows

Fez’s Fatal Tigers vs. Casa (and the check-out line of shame)

A noon game isn’t easy on the liver, or so I’ve been told. A coterie (Yes, I’m studying for the GREs) of my pick-up soccer associates invited me along to procure “energizing” refreshments at Marjane – the Costco of Morocco. While it’s not unusual to see separate sections for beer and wine, it was quite a spectacle to watch people purchase spirits incognito. Shoppers lined-up discretely at the special, out-of-sight register and then proceeded to slip out the side-exit with their intoxicants. “That’s the ha-shoooooooma checkout,” Ibrahimovic pointed out to me, stressing the word “shameful” in Moroccan colloquial Arabic. (Yes, we also refer to each other by our pick-up nicknames, usually selected based on which pro player we resemble most. Mustapha has Ibrahimovic’s hair, and I’m known as Maradona, because I’m 5’6” and arguably good-looking). After much debate, we opted to buy a new ball for hard-surface play, salt n’ vinegar chips, and one too many kilos of pistachios. No shame for us.
 
With tickets sold out, and half the city calling in sick, sidewalk cafés were packed with throngs of Fez fans in black and yellow, while Casablanca diehards sported their white and red. On taking our seats about 20 rows back at midfield, we noticed half the stadium was cordoned off. So much for sold out.
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Tags: Casablanca, Fez

Promenading in Tangier (Sam is Exiled from Hotel Batha)

With only one or two days left in Ramadan (depending on how bold the new moon is feeling), we decided to celebrate Eid in Tangier. Partway through our train ride I learned that the word cabina does not mean a 6-person compartment, but rather a 1-person toilet. After asking a young lady if there was room for me in her bathroom, I was kindly shoved into the lavatory at the end of the car by her livid husband. What I encountered might have once been a bathroom facility between the years 1975 and 1976, but its current state should only be assessed by the Center for Disease Control’s bio-terrorism unit.

FLASHBACK TO FEZ: Meanwhile, in a 5-star hotel bathroom 350 kilometers away, a Fulbrighter named Sam is being asked to leave the premises, permanently. Sam has avoided his host family’s Turkish toilet for over a week now. Instead, he strolls unceremoniously into Hotel Batha each morning as if he were meeting an old friend for coffee. A casual bystander would note that Sam even glances around the lobby with a slightly raised unibrow, in hopes of spotting said acquaintance. On this particular day Sam has no time for theatrics. His dinner has been plotting its escape all night.
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Tags: Fez, Ramadan, Tangier