Our trip to the next town.

Saturday is a half day of school so we are free in the afternoon to spend time with our host family, study etc. Last Saturday, our host sisters Houda and Fadma decided to escort Amber and I to the next town about 4-5km north of our duwar(like a neighborhood). This town is our hub site where we meet occasionally with other training groups; and also our souk town, where every Wednesday, we can stock up on our weekly quota of produce, fuel, and grain. This trip however, was not business related. We came to party!
First, Fadma directed us through a maze of trails skirting corn fields, olive groves, and glowing poppies. The path is marked with sporadic ruins and buildings with massive colorful front doors. Upon arriving in town, we where instructed to sit on a bench while our older host sister Fadma rushed off into the crowded t'hanuts nearby. After a few moments of mild confusion regarding the nature of our trip, Fadma reemerged with a bright orange bottle of Fanta and four golden “sfunj”(donuts without sugar) tied together with a few long pieces of grass. Sitting down, Fadma doled out the fried circles of dough, and smiled excitedly while a refreshing hiss from her hand indicated that our soda was open for communal sipping. It was in this moment that we realized that our trip to souq town was a purely recreational event. In fact, we both had the distinct feeling like we were being taken to the circus with our grandmother. The crowds were exciting the foods smelled different, the people were bustling, and the soda was cold. What a thrill! I’m not being facetious. We were seeing this town through the eyes or our local host country sisters, and they were seeing it through our eyes. Suddenly this town really was full of intrigue and wonder.
After our snack, we got up and headed into the crowd from which Fadma had emerged. We made our way to the “sfung” shop and stood among a large circular crowd watching a dough magician manufacture donut after donut, each with just a few simple flips of his hand a wave of a long stick along the glistening surface of bubbling oil. Fadma waited her turn to acquire a bag for the road and then we were off to find a taxi. We quickly formed a group of 8 to fill a station wagon taxi whose windows had been plastered over with transparent rainbow graphics to help block the sun. A few feet out of town and the speakers started blaring with Moroccan dance music. The eager grin of our younger host-sister revealed that taxis are a new experience for her, which again colored our view of the ride. Packed tightly in the very back, with blaring music and rainbow vision, it felt like a ride at an amusement park. Soon we passed the road sign for our town, the ride came to a stop and the bars came up for a single file exit. What a ride! I like the Moroccan circus.