<p><em>(<a href="http://diary.blogs.com/the_diary_of_a_reluctant_/2007/10/my-first-job-ou.html">Part 1 is here</a>)</em></p>

<p>We ate a light Tandoori lunch and drank Pepsi.&#0160; We were starting to get nervous about having traveled to this country alone.&#0160; The women hissed at us from underneath their <em>chadors</em> and the men simply ignored us. We stood out, a group of young female foreigners, despite wearing the most modest clothing we owned--long-sleeved shirts, baggy pants or long skirts, socks. We tried to be respectful despite the sickening heat, but the fact that we were traveling alone was seen as a threat by some of the locals. </p>

<p>Still, we explored the Bazaar at Djemaa el Fna and were underwhelmed by the snake charmers.&#0160; The famed dentists were nowhere to be found.&#0160; Apparently the Square only came alive at night, but we were feeling vulnerable and there was no way we were going there after dark, fire eaters be dammed.&#0160; Instead, we went into the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Souk">souk</a> and did some shopping.&#0160; </p>

<p>It was much friendlier at the marketplace, where every shopkeeper was eager to invite us in for mint tea – and to by the way take a look at his beautiful handmade shawls/pewter jewelry/rugs.&#0160; My friend listened to a rug salesman tell her the story of how this rug was made by his mother and that one by his wife. I wandered off while sipping my mint tea and peeked underneath a couple of rugs:&#0160; </p>

<p>‘MADE IN INDIA’</p>

<p>‘FABRIQUE EN CHINE’ </p>

<p>Bored and not wanting to spoil her fun, I went to the spice stand and watched the shopkeeper pop in and out of a patchwork of colors like a mole, rushing to mix flavors as the shoppers barked their orders.</p>

<p><a href="http://www.everydaytreats.com/photos/uncategorized/2007/10/20/dscn4958.jpg"><img alt="Dscn4958" border="0" class="at-xid-6a00d8341db04e53ef0120a93ce0d6970b" height="300" src="http://www.everydaytreats.com/wp-content/uploads/6a00d8341db04e53ef0120a93ce0d6970b-pi.jpg" title="Dscn4958" width="400" /></a>&#0160; &#0160;</p>

<p>I didn’t buy anything.&#0160; But still, the Moroccans kept offering tea.&#0160; Maybe it was all the sugar, but Amy and I decided to get some henna tattoos instead of buying worthless knicknacks.&#0160; We found a woman in a black chador working on another tourist.&#0160; She had a little girl with her.&#0160; In broken French we asked the girl if her mother could work on us and the woman in the chador nodded -- maybe smiling, maybe not.&#0160; When it was my turn she quickly mixed the henna paste and set to work on my upper arm, drawing with a plastic syringe.&#0160; I didn’t know what I wanted or how to ask for it, but she got to work anyways and I was soon decorated with an intricate lotus flower. </p>

<p><a href="http://www.everydaytreats.com/photos/uncategorized/2007/10/20/dscn4959.jpg" onclick="window.open(this.href, &#39;_blank&#39;, &#39;width=800,height=600,scrollbars=no,resizable=no,toolbar=no,directories=no,location=no,menubar=no,status=no,left=0,top=0&#39;); return false"><img alt="Dscn4959" border="0" class="at-xid-6a00d8341db04e53ef0120a93ce0d8970b" height="300" src="http://www.everydaytreats.com/wp-content/uploads/6a00d8341db04e53ef0120a93ce0d8970b-pi.jpg" title="Dscn4959" width="400" /></a> </p>

<p>I smiled and thanked her.&#0160; It was beautiful, even if it was not authentic.</p>

<p>She worked on my friend Amy in silence, and didn&#39;t speak until she was done.&#0160; We waved goodbye after we paid the girl, but the woman kept going on and on in French.&#0160; I couldn’t understand what she wanted, so I figured she wanted more money.&#0160; I pulled out a few dollars.</p>

<p>She refused and grew more agitated, black fabric flapping everywhere.</p>

<p>We gestured for her to follow us as we looked for our Belgian friend Sylvie.&#0160; We finally found her looking at some rings.&#0160; The woman in the chador spoke to her, and seemed to calm down when she realized Sylvie spoke French.</p>

<p>“She wants to invite us to meet her family.”</p>

<p>Silence.&#0160; Somebody finally said OK.</p>

<p>“We’re to meet her here at 7:00 am tomorrow.”</p>
