Two PM. Last Sunday. Rabat, Morocco.
After rocking the local kasbah, we head down to the neighbourhood breakwater for a lovely promenade and sit. A popular pass time for the elderly, families, and the local single crowd as well. After a brief stroll we sit down on the rocks. Two young girls sidle up to the next rock over, also seemingly for a sit. As the moped traffic picked up, we realized this was no ordinary promenade. This is the equivalent of a friday night at the local pub.
A steady stream of boys and men parade by, never missing an opportunity to flirt with the girls. Flirting meaning what can only be assumed to be teasing and cat calling. Then things started to happen. First a young gentleman, we use that term loosely, wearing a saggy speedo, complete with cigarette behind his ear strolls up to the girls to show them his pubic hair, only to be honked out of the way by a suave looking sir, riding what must only be his trusty steed, a very shiny moped. Wearing a pink dress shirt and matching pink tie, as well as euro styled gelled hair, chin strap beard and shades, he starts with a hand shake and a few words to the girls. Next thing we know they are on his moped and away they go. Another successful afternoon in Rabat.
The thing about picking up Moroccan women is you gotta have a moped. A chin strap beard doesn;t hurt either.
As for more serious things, we are having an amazing time. Climbing mountains, exploring thousand year old medinas, eating tasty cakes and delicious sandwiches. And our trip onward is alive! We have our Mauritanian visas!
Best witches
D and E
After rocking the local kasbah, we head down to the neighbourhood breakwater for a lovely promenade and sit. A popular pass time for the elderly, families, and the local single crowd as well. After a brief stroll we sit down on the rocks. Two young girls sidle up to the next rock over, also seemingly for a sit. As the moped traffic picked up, we realized this was no ordinary promenade. This is the equivalent of a friday night at the local pub.
A steady stream of boys and men parade by, never missing an opportunity to flirt with the girls. Flirting meaning what can only be assumed to be teasing and cat calling. Then things started to happen. First a young gentleman, we use that term loosely, wearing a saggy speedo, complete with cigarette behind his ear strolls up to the girls to show them his pubic hair, only to be honked out of the way by a suave looking sir, riding what must only be his trusty steed, a very shiny moped. Wearing a pink dress shirt and matching pink tie, as well as euro styled gelled hair, chin strap beard and shades, he starts with a hand shake and a few words to the girls. Next thing we know they are on his moped and away they go. Another successful afternoon in Rabat.
The thing about picking up Moroccan women is you gotta have a moped. A chin strap beard doesn;t hurt either.
As for more serious things, we are having an amazing time. Climbing mountains, exploring thousand year old medinas, eating tasty cakes and delicious sandwiches. And our trip onward is alive! We have our Mauritanian visas!
Best witches
D and E
ah, chin-straps are definitely within your reach boys. i've got $20 to the first one who shaves one in and keeps it for a week.
ReplyDeleteand they say you can't put a price on dignity. you can. it's twenty bucks. Canadian.
p.s. i'd love to see the hullabaloo caused had you two had a go at those Moroccan ladies. but maybe you did and just aren't talking about it... you sly dogs you.
ReplyDeletepeace Rafikis
let's be honest here boys, you were the ones in saggy speedos am I right?
ReplyDelete