This past weekend, Ksar El Kbir, a town of around 100,000 in the northern mountains of Morocco, presented me with a beautiful summer escape from midterms. On the way to find my Peace Corps hosts, who were throwing a party for a departing volunteer group, I passed young boys eating barbeque and olive sandwiches, horse cart taxis and meadows reminiscent of yellow Wisconsin flower fields in May.
I spent the night scavenging for party food, checking out Ksar’s night scene, watching Suburban Gothic (YES) and eating barbeque chips out of a tagine with four volunteers and their Moroccan friend. The house was incredible: almost a riad, it boasted interior and exterior stained glass windows and an incredible roof. Sure, the nearby preschool murals were a bit strange, but they definitely added to the charm.
Someday, I’d like to experience the same substances that made that lady so happy (USG, that’s a JOKE. I SWEAR).
Yeah, I don’t know why there were that many couches, either.
On our hunter/gatherer excursion, we even found a token Nutella jar.
The next morning, we made pancakes for a volunteer’s birthday. One volunteer exclaimed, “There’s so many faranjees here! … Oh, it’s what they call foreigners in Ethiopia.” Knew that. Really, no explanation needed.
We then peeked around the city, finding wood for the hammam:
And a strangely apathetic cat.
Man, here, even the cows are well fed.
So were we.
As the day went on, the house filled with 10 or so additional guests. In the evening’s blue projector light, a volunteer and a Moroccan from Ksar began playing music… and that’s when the magic truly began.