catsablanca

mama cat with blue eyes, originally uploaded by suddenly.

in our daily strolls around casablanca, we encountered lots n lots of street cats. they were really skinny and more often than not, filthy. we’d see them go dumpster diving, competing with gynormous cockroaches for rotting scraps and lamb entrails. it broke my heart. we both have a soft spot for cats so we decided to feed them as we toured the city. we gave them whiskas poulet mix which they devoured but boy, did they ever go crazy for the leftover chicken we once doled out.

as we made our rounds, we started recognizing the same cats over and over again. the mama cat with the blue eyes in the photo above had three kittens. around the corner was a friendly tabby who followed us for blocks to get more food. she was affectionate which made me think she was probably someone’s abandoned pet. two blocks over was a new batch of 3 itty bitty kitties that were just born. each one was smaller than my palm. basically, every block had its resident feline…or three.

i’m sure we were a strange sight for the locals; a couple of tourists feeding stray cats. sometimes a bystander would smile and say, “merci.” two moroccan kids saw what we were doing and asked us for some cat food so they could feed other cats in the neighborhood. it was like the ghetto version of paying it forward.

click here to see more cats in casablanca.

casablanca mystery

casablanca mystery, originally uploaded by suddenly.

i heard the “re~er” guy coming down the street again. this time i caught him on video. i’m still trying to understand his function. he has a cart but it’s empty. nobody brings him anything. there are guys like this in other neighborhoods too.

all throughout the day, i hear their “re~er”s, or is it “m’re~er?”

random sounds in casablanca

every morning we hear a moroccan man yell out something as he rolls a dolly down the street. it sounds something like “re~er~” with a lot of guttural inflection, somewhere in between a frog’s ribbit and a duck’s quack. he’s not selling anything. at first i thought he was collecting garbage but nobody brings him any. this happens several times throughout the day and in other parts of the city. i just can’t figure it out.

another mystery in casablanca unsolved.

where is the couscous in casablanca?

olives, originally uploaded by suddenly.

it’s hard to find lunch in this town. we kept walking and walking under the scorching sun for a traditional moroccan meal and all we could see was pizza. or pizza-and-chwarma. or pizza-chwarma-and-pannini. and a whole slew of cafes where people were drinking tea but not eating. the first day, we settled on a cute french cafe that had a few moroccan dishes. i saw “couscous (vendredi)” written on the chalkboard menu. that’s what i was going to have, not really knowing what kind of couscous vendredi is.

then in a little exchange with the waiter, i realized that they only serve couscous on friday (vendredi) but it was wednesday. so i had the tagine of fish instead which was a kind of braised, stewy dish. it was lovely but i’d had my heart set on couscous.

the following saturday, we visited the old medina and stumbled upon a restaurant built in an old fortress, called la sqala.  it seemed kind of forbidding which, i suppose, is the intent of a fortification. but behind the massive fortress door was a garden oasis; an outdoor dining area shaded by big billowy parasols. a quick look at the menu revealed traditional moroccan dishes along with international dishes. they had couscous — oh, but only on fridays. i began to wonder if couscous (vendredi) was the norm in morocco.

we ended up sharing the kemia mauresque, an array of delicious dips and chutneys, served with discs of moroccan bread that are reminiscent of pain au levain. that alone filled us up but i’d already ordered tagine of lamb because they were out of tagine of vegetables. the food was so good here we went again last night and were treated to a moroccan performance.  tall, skinny north african dudes banging on drums and tambourines, singing, hooting and hollering all the while shaking their hips to the delight of the tables of women. little french girls left their families at their tables and started dancing with them. hey, they like a fiesta in casablanca, too!

so all around town i saw “couscous tous les vendredis” (couscous every friday). why only friday? quelle bizarre.

well, it turns out that a family friend of the S.O. lives in casablanca and she invited us to her house for couscous. on friday, of course. except when we arrived, she didn’t serve couscous. she made pastilla, a baked potato and ground beef dish that’s similar to a shepherd’s pie. it was delish but alas, not couscous.

i’ll have to wait for another friday to have couscous in morocco.

here’s lookin’ at you, casa

coca-cola, originally uploaded by suddenly.

we’re in casablanca, morocco — a city that sounds romantic because of the eponymous movie but our first impressions were far from the portrayal in the film. the downtown area of “casa,” as locals call it, is noisy, polluted and full of traffic. still, i am digging the newness of being in a different country and different continent. after two months in spain, morocco is proving to be a refreshing change. (although the sudden switch to french is messing with my brain. i keep answering “si” when i mean to answer “oui.” everybody speaks french here.)

this is my first time in a muslim society and i tried to read up on how to dress and behave in public so i wouldn’t offend anybody. i’ve put away the short skirts and my jesus spins tee shirt.

it seems like most of the older married women wear the hijab (head covering) and modest clothing but the young single women wear whatever they want. they’ve got the whole ajumma-agassi distinction here too. i get the feeling that pretty much anything goes in casablanca. it’s a modern, cosmopolitan city that feels more southern european than arab-north african. except for the lack of wine and pork in restaurants, that is.

i have more to report but i’m fighting off sleep now. laters.