On my quest to be productive this week, I ventured into the city, Marrakech, for a little grocery shopping. Donniell, another volunteer who lives about an hour outside of the city, met me in town. Yet, gettting to and from Kech is a undertaking in its self. Buses and taxis are the main forms of transportation and a ride is pretty easy to procure. I like the bus, or not really like as much as find it more convenient and easier to tolerate. Getting a bus in my town is pretty simple. They run at semi regular intervals and the nearest stop is just minutes from my house. Its about a 45 minute ride into town and usually I just put on my headphones, turn up the volume and take in the dry, brown moroccan landscape. My ride into town today was pretty normal, but just a little on the warm side. I finally arrived in Kech and met up with Donniell. We then had to wait for another bus. This one would take us to the other side of the city to the Marjane. Marjane is like a cross between a Meijer, Super K-Mart, and Target.

Donniell had been waiting about 20 minutes when I arrived and said she still hadn't seen our bus yet. Other busses passes through the bus stop area, but not ours. About another 20 minutes later, bus #20 finally arrived. The ride lasted about 20 minutes and it was hot, but manageable. As soon as we got to the Marjane we made a B-line for the McD's inside and started our shopping trip off with tall cokes and burgers.
After enjoying the amazingly delicious fatty processed food, we got a cart and head to our first stop. We decided to hit up what PCs like to refer to as the Hashuma (shameful) section of the store, the alcohol section!! You have to remember that right now is the Holy Month of Ramadan. One of the rules is that Muslims can not partake in the consumption of alcohol. The Hashuma section is gated off and guarded like a sacred temple. As you approach its entryway a gentlemen steps forward to stop you. In order to gain passage into the hallowed section you must present him with official identification. You have to prove that you are different, not like the locals, not muslim. Looking at Donniell and I, both pale white, blond haired, and speaking fluent english, I can completely understand why identification is needed! After presenting my carte sejour, my local identification card that states I'm an American Volunteer living here, we were allowed passage. After our quick dash into the section, I was handed my carte sejour back and we were ready to start our real shopping for food and daily necessities. We shopped for about an hour or so, accumulating a cart full of items. Both of us knew we were spending way more then we had planned on but it had been about a month or more since our last trip to the Marjane and there were many things we both needed.
We finally made it to the check out lane and had to wait some more. It was like Meijers the day before christmas. Every line was long and people take forever! Then it was our turns. We tried to guess at what we had spent but were both proven wrong when the final total was tallied. Oh well, I needed it all! The one issue with buying a lot is that once you pay and walk away from the checkout line you then have to figure out how you are going to get it home. It would be nice to have a car for that reason. I miss that. Being able to push your cart out to your car, pop open the trunk and neatly stack your purchases in the back to be easily driven home. But, I live in morocco, easy is not a word here. We pushed our cart to a corner and broke out our back packs and extra bags. We were able to stuff everything in to our bags with both of us carrying a extra bag. Now all that was left was the hour or so left of bus travel.
Outside the Marjane we waited and waited and waited and waited and "is this our bus?", no and waited for #12 to arrive. Waiting is not bad except when you are sitting almost directly in the sun and it its about 110 degrees, if not more. You can feel the sweat dripping down your back and behind your knees, fun! When our bus finally arrived we rushed to it, but were beat out by the other people running faster then us. We found seats in the back and settled in for the 20 minute hot ride back to our bus stop. Normally its a smooth uneventful ride. But, today was had a element of excitement! As we were riding along, a group of young boys decided it would be funny to pelt the passing bus with semi-filled water bottles. The boys threw about five water bottles at the bus and then bolted as the bus screeched (literally!) to a halt. One of the water bottles threw through a window in the center of the bus splashing water around, but no one really moved. People looked at the bottle laying on the floor and that was it. Donniell and I just laughed and watched out the back window as the boys all ran in different directions. The driver looked mad, but there wasn't really anything he could do. So after a few moments we continued on our way.
Once back at our bus stop Donniell spotted her bus right away and said goodbye and got on. I made my way to the shade against the wall lining the bus stop and waited for mine to arrive. It came about 10 minutes later. I just stood there listening to my ipod and trying not to fall over from the heat. When my bus pulled up, like usual, there was a mad dash to the door. I have become used to this and did the same. Carrying two bags slowed me down a little more, but I got there.
Yet, that is the easy part. Getting on buses in Morocco closely resembles a rugby match. You know the part in the game when the players huddle up and push back and forth not really going anywhere, well that is what it is like trying to get on a bus. You might think that because I am a girl, a foreigner, and carrying things that I might be let threw and maybe escorted to the bus door, hahaha, NO WAY!! Grandma, might elbow you in the stomach, Grandpa will shoulder his way in front of you, and the women carrying the baby will stick her leg infront of yours to make sure you can't go anywhere. And while doing all this, watch out for pick pocketers!! I never keep money in any outside pockets and one hand always on my ipod. I don't care as much about the phone!
I got into the scramble and pushed threw the door, I'm slowly perfecting my skills!! I got on but already the bus was half full. I found a seat and sat down. It was a aisle seat. I don't really like those as much. An aisle seat leaves you vulnerable to the passing elbow in the shoulder, swinging bag in the face, and my least favorite, being the support system to the stander. The bus today was packed full and if the temperature outside was around 110 degrees then inside it was 120 degrees. When heat rises so does body temperature causing sweat, causing body odor. My bus was no exception. Daily showers in Morocco are not a normality, that means the aroma on my bus was far from pleasant. I was one of about three women on the bus. Not that men always smell worse then women, but in this case they do! So, as the bus waits to finish loading I am trying to perfect my mouth breathing and trying not to smell the air! Then as more people get on, my least favorite part of being a aisle seat sitter becomes reality. A guy decides he is going to lean his back up against my seat, but in doing so he has to lean up against me a little. I HATE THIS. I like my personal space. I DO NOT like it when strangers invade that personal space. So now i am trying to only breath through my mouth and keep my body positioned so that this guy is not touching me! aagghh TOUGH!
After sitting on the bus for about 15 minutes, as sweat soaks into my tank top, tshirt, and jeans and slowly trickles down my back and my chest, the bus starts to move. I get a little happy about the fact that all the windows are open and they are producing a strong breeze inside the bus. This is helping to cool me down and reduce the odor. Then in true unreasonable moroccan fashion the passengers shut most of the windows till there is about a nickle size opening left. WHAT!! 1) Its 120 degrees on the bus 2) It smells 3) Most passengers are wearing long sleeve shirts and pants 4) ITS HOT!!! So why would you close the windows and cut off any type of cooling system, WHY? I enjoy living in Morocco, but there are so many things I don't understand. Most you can explain by way of religious beliefs, but closing windows and turning the bus into a swelter tomb is not one of them.
About half way home the guys sitting next to me got off and I quickly overtook his window seat. My first move was to open the window as far as it would go. I didn't care if others wanted it closed. I WAS DYING!!! With the opening of the window came a quick cool breeze and I shut my eyes and enjoyed it. I enjoyed it so much that for a second I forgot to breath through my mouth and took in the not so sweet smell of the bus passengers! That quickly snapped me back to reality and for the rest of the ride I continued to focus on my mouth breathing.
At last, the bus pulled up to my stop and I stepped off. I was sweating so much that if felt like I had jumped in a pool and was left with that "did I pee my pants?" feeling. I slowly crossed the street and began my climb up the hill to my house. Once I reached my house I then climbed the 50 stairs and collapsed at the top. When I caught my breath I went straight to the refrigerator, pulled out a chilled water bottle and jugged. AAHHHH!! I had SURVIVED!!
I decided that a six hour shopping excursion was a productive as I was going to be today. I put on my bathing suit, stood under the shower head for a few minute, and then crashed on to the ponje in front of my fan for a nap!!