Le al-mukhadarat wa le al-sandweech

I could have cried today. My last Cous-cous Friday. I just had to take a picture to preserve the memory of my host family telling me Kul! Khud! Zeed! (Eat! Take! More!) as they heap pornographic amounts of cous-cous and vegetables onto my plate. My host-aunt (is that a thing?) grabbing a fistful of cous-cous and tossing it gently until it curves into a perfect sphere before popping it casually into her mouth.

A couple of my host family's sons or cousins or something (I honestly can't keep track) invited me and a friend from the program to "play ball" with them. I assumed this meant soccer, but it was a little strange that they were asking at 9 o'clock at night. But we said yes and walked down the street with them and into a creepy alley until we arrived suddenly at a pool hall. The boys invited us into the pool hall, which was a supremely weird place. Techno music blared from the speakers and club lights flashed, but inside there were only some arcade games, a couple foosball tables, and a bunch of pool tables inside. We played foosball for a little while, dropping coins into the machine every couple of minutes, and then we moved on to the pool table, which cost 5 dirham for a round.

I didn't really understand the rules that the boys insisted on playing by, which seemed loosely organized at best ("Wait, this time I get two turns because [indecipherable Moroccan]"). As we were playing I noticed a sign by the table that read "No drugs. No sandwiches. Interdat is forbidden." I pointed it out to my friend and he sighed, "Then what's the point of living?" True dat.

I had a short conversation with him about living at my host family's house (he lives in a different apartment but they own and inhabit the whole building). We're both guys, and so we discussed how women cover inside and outside the home. Most of the women in my host family wear the hijab outside of the house, but inside the house they don't cover. An exception to this rule was when I asked to take a picture of them at lunch today, and my host-aunt declined because she wasn't covering.

My friend lives with a more conservative branch of the family, and the wife (Saleema*) always covers in front of men, even in the home. It's pretty awkward sometimes because I'll walk into a room and all the women will be sitting and talking, and Saleema will see me and run scurrying into another room to put on a scarf. I sometimes feel like I should wear a bell around the house.

Tomorrow I'll be traveling to a region known mainly for its picturesque landscapes and its agriculture (i.e. marijuana). A friend was visiting my house today and my host-aunt asked her why she was going. "Al-keef", said my friend ("the marijuana"). My host-aunt laughed and gave her a high-five.

Don't do drugs, kids. Or sandwiches.