Icecream, Cat Stevens, and Kisses for Grandma

Sometimes, it's really fun to pretend that you're 7 years old. That's what I did yesterday.

In the morning, we did a tour of some 1000-year-old ruins (the Saadi palace and Saadi tombs, in case you're interested-- Anyone? Anyone?). But, hello, listening to a lecture outside is 100x better than listening to a lecture inside because there is more to look at than just your professor's sunburnt face and his illegible scribbles on the whiteboard. For instance, at the Saadi palace there were about a zillion storks, with their nests built up on the surrounding walls. So, while the Prof lectured, I half listened, and with the other half of my brain I watched the storks, and looked at the palace ruins, and tried to imagine it in its full glory with myself living there as princess.
Or something.

I don't think so.

The rest of the afternoon was eventful; Jess v. 2 and I got lost in the somewhat shadier parts of the old Medina. There were no tourists there. We got some unfriendly looks, but the worst thing that actually happened was a guy tried to charge me 10 durham for a Coke. C'mon, buddy.

Then things got really crazy. We went back to school for a Gnawa music performance. Gnawa is a type of dance/music/song that originated in Ghana and was brought up to Northern Africa by slaves. It was more or less the coolest thing ever. These guys in long, traditional robes sat and played these cool instruments, and then one by one they did this very groovy dance that was somewhere between barefoot tapdancing and Justin Timberlake circa 2004, and it was even more entertaining because most of them looked like a Moroccan version of Snoop Dogg. Also, this old guy was playing a very old-looking sitar. Turns out he recorded a song with Led Zeppelin in the '70s-- no biggie. I got his CD after. Incidentally, this was not the last time that classic rock would come up that night. Stay tuned.

After the concert, we went out to dinner at Haagen Dasz. The 21-year-old part of my brain, the one who knows what adult-onset diabetes is, and who is also aware of the possibility of having to wear a bikini eventually, was suggesting, "Don't eat ice-cream for dinner." But my inner 7-year-old thought it was a swell idea.

Little did I know....


When we got back to the house at 11 p.m., it was time for Layane's family birthday party (as I mentioned, her 16th birthday was a few days ago). Her extended family- aunts, uncles, cousins, & more- occupy the other floors in the apartment building, so we all congregated on the 2nd floor for cake. Note to my fellow mammals: If you're going to have a pile of ice cream for dinner, you'd best not have frosted coffee cake for dessert. I almost pooped my pants.

But more importantly, how do these people stay up so late??? The family birthday party, which went until 12:30 or so, included little 4-year-old cousins, who were running around like someone had slipped an adderall in their Juicy Juice.

Aside from the narrowly eluded pants beshitting, two very entertaining situations arose at the party.

1. Kisses for Grandma

So we were all hanging out in the living room: mom, dad, Layane, me and Jess v. 2, aunts, cousins, and their extremely elderly & frail (but sweet) Grandma. Ouidjienne, Layane's totally outrageous 8-year-old sister, was upstairs putting on her fluffy white party dress and makeup (??).  When Ouidjienne came down, she was so busy twirling about and kissing her aunts hello-- they do cheek kisses just like in Europe-- that she forgot to kiss her poor Grandma hello. Grandma was just sitting there on the couch all lonesome. So I beckoned to Ouidjienne, and I whispered to her (in Arabic, because she doesn't speak any English at all), "Your Grandma," and then I did a little pecking motion. Sorry I don't know how to say, "You forgot to kiss your grandma, quick, go kiss her hello." I thought it was pretty clear.

What Ouidjienne does is, she goes over to Grandma, who is sitting (at most) 10 feet away from me, kisses her, and goes, "This is from Elena."

Grandma looks confused (why is this American girl using her granddaughter as a kiss sherpa?), and says something in Arabic.

Then Ouidjienne scuttles back over, and says to me, "Grandma says thank you."

.... Good job.

2. Cat Stevens


Towards the end of the night, the whole family is sitting around in the living room, finishing their cake (them) / trying not to fall asleep (me and Jess v. 2) / trying not to spew torrentially all over their couch (just me). Everyone was talking in fast Arabic dialect, so I couldn't understand shit, but I started hearing, "Cat Stevens" over and over. ex:

aunt: wala lala zhubki kbuba Cat Stevens shmushmush.

cousin: zibi Cat Stevens khuna khuba jubs.

mom: wa, yik shtran lizkhaard Cat Stevens, mumshin yumju Cat Stevens?

I got excited, because as it turns out, I quite like Cat Stevens. I thought maybe the family was secretly a clan of classic-rock afficionados. We would have so much to talk about. So when there was a lull in the conversation, I asked Layane all excitedly, "What are you guys saying about Cat Stevens??"

"His children are converting to Islam," she tells me.

Oh.