Fes and the Thanksgiving Feast

November 22nd.
Well, my Blackberry magically started working, so I exchanged a few emails with Jarad Spackman. He just finished up a weeklong camel trek through the Sahara Desert and is clearly flying high... He raves about Marrakesh. I start to get psyched.

The bus ride is long.....

The bus creeps along the bumpy dirt road en route to our next destination: Fes, Morocco. The nearly full moon rides the saddle of scattered clouds... The Arabic buzz fills the cabin and a baby begins to cry... And keeps crying for what seems like hours (well, it is hours).

We arrive at 8:00 pm and secure a cab (a cheap one this time) and head to the hotel. "Total splendid" is the place, supposedly the best of the budget options. A nice choice after all.
We "turn and burn" as in change quickly and head out for some dinner. Today is thanksgiving!

We find a recommended restaurant and it is nearly empty. We head in anyway. Soon Ryan and I are the only people and we start with giving thanks before our Thanksgiving meal. We raise a glass to family and friends at home and philosophize about life, love, being single and the adventure of travel. We continue on and talk about religion, our dreams and goals and eventually decide it’s time to head out.

Across the street is a bar....

Huge Arabic bouncers... Crazy mosaic tile... A one-man Arabic band complete with synthesizers... Belly dancing woman... Hookahs all around.... We join a group of guys and soon are talking Arabic. We quickly find out that Mohamed HATES Arabics and that he is a Berber. He makes that very clear. Okay then... Allrighty.... We smoke a hookah together (I really didn’t think it would be smart to refuse that offer). The guys are friendly. And as the bar closes one man makes it very clear that he wants to show the Americans a good time...

We arrive at the nightclub and Rantaj tells the bouncer he is with Americans and wants a special entrance. It works and soon we are in the club, in the best seats in the house. The music is pumping and we are having a great time talking and dancing with the boys. Apparently, it is very normal for guys to dance together... So I figure, hey, when in morocco...

Ryan is feeling a bit uncomfortable with these cultural norms and is holding out for a dance with one of the many girls that seem to be interested in us. As the night progresses things get a bit more rowdy and Rantaj is shouting things like "I am the king" over and over.

And he seemed to be... Soon enough we are surrounded by beautiful Arabic women and Ryan and I are practicing our Arabic, which is extremely limited and ends up with just asking the girls to dance or having someone translate... So what do you do for work? I asked one of them... Well, nothing really, I just go from party to party... I tell her not to feel bad about being out of work in USA, we call that being self-employed... I don't think she really got that joke...

We eventually fled the scene, thoughts turning toward the Rock of Gibraltar.