<p>She met us in full chador.&#0160; </p>

<p>How could I be sure we were meeting the same woman?&#0160; The truth is that I couldn’t, and that was part of the excitement.&#0160; That is the beauty of travel; doing things one would never do at home.&#0160; Would I follow a masked stranger into an unfamiliar alley in my hometown?&#0160; Of course not!&#0160; I would stick to safe places and routines.&#0160; Here I didn’t know what was safe and what wasn’t so it was all the same to us.</p>

<p>We followed her into a silent maze of streets, walls golden in the morning sun, her chador billowing in the breeze as she rushed deeper into the city.</p>

<p>Marrakech was like a time capsule, its history laid bare for us to see and touch, but I knew so little about it.&#0160; I wanted to learn more.</p>

<p>“Those are the baths,” she said in French, pointing at a crumbling building.&#0160; That was the extent of our tour.&#0160; The rest of the time we rushed behind her in silence, afraid of getting lost.&#0160; </p>

<p>We would see a person here and there - men dressed like wizards in full hoods and pointy shoes, women bringing laundry inside - but they never looked at us.&#0160; Still, I could feel eyes looking at us from behind curtains made from old bed sheets, so I knew we were not alone. </p>

<p>Eventually she stopped at a large building.&#0160; Most of it was painted light blue, then it just stopped and was cement gray.&#0160; It looked like someone had run out of paint and just left it that way.</p>

<p><a href="http://www.everydaytreats.com/photos/uncategorized/2007/11/09/dscn4962.jpg"><img alt="Dscn4962" border="0" class="at-xid-6a00d8341db04e53ef01310fa3a02f970c" height="300" src="http://www.everydaytreats.com/wp-content/uploads/6a00d8341db04e53ef01310fa3a02f970c-pi.jpg" title="Dscn4962" width="400" /></a>


</p>

<p>The girl that had been with her when we got our henna tattoos was outside playing with a large sheep, trying to smooth its matted coat.&#0160; Our guide ignored the girl so we followed her inside.&#0160; The room was large enough to be a comfortable living room, but then I noticed that it was lined with twin mattresses and bedding was piled up against the wall to form makeshift couches.&#0160; There was only one door in the room – the one we had just walked through.&#0160; There were a lot of people in there and they were looking at us expectantly.&#0160; We waved shyly.&#0160; </p>

<p>No reaction. </p>

<p>Our guide went to a slight man dressed in white who was seated in a corner of the room and got on her knees.&#0160; She kissed his hands.</p>

<p>We looked at each other, unsure what to do.&#0160; We started to kneel when the man stood up and motioned for us to stop.</p>

<p>“There is no need.&#0160; It is not your tradition,” he said shaking his head.</p>

<p>English!&#0160; We were relieved and started to apologize for not dressing appropriately, for not having a chador, but we had just arrived and did not know where to find one…</p>

<p>He smiled and dismissively waved his hands.&#0160; Then he nodded at the woman who brought us to his house.&#0160; She got up and in one swift motion, took off her chador. She was a young girl – maybe 19 or so, just like us—not the older woman we had expected.&#0160; The man must have been her father.&#0160; It was then that I noticed that the other women inside the house weren’t wearing chadors either.&#0160; They wanted to make us feel at home, and for the first time, they smiled at us.</p>

<p><a href="http://www.everydaytreats.com/photos/uncategorized/2007/11/09/dscn4960.jpg"><img alt="Dscn4960" border="0" class="at-xid-6a00d8341db04e53ef01310fa3a03f970c" height="300" src="http://www.everydaytreats.com/wp-content/uploads/6a00d8341db04e53ef01310fa3a03f970c-pi.jpg" title="Dscn4960" width="400" /></a>


</p>

<p>Our friend was a very pretty girl.&#0160; She had a wide, friendly smile and sparkly eyes.&#0160; She made sure we all sat down and served us tea while the rest of the family watched us from across the room.&#0160; We did our best to make conversation, but found that only the men and boys spoke English.&#0160; They asked us if we found Moroccans to be friendly and we had to laugh.&#0160; One of our friends was very popular with the taxi drivers and shopkeepers, and we had been jokingly offered up to 20 camels for her.</p>

<p>“She’s going for 20 camels at this point,” I said, pointing at the girl we had dubbed Ms. Morocco. </p>

<p><a href="http://www.everydaytreats.com/photos/uncategorized/2007/11/09/dscn4953.jpg"><img alt="Dscn4953" border="0" class="at-xid-6a00d8341db04e53ef01310fa3a04a970c" height="533" src="http://www.everydaytreats.com/wp-content/uploads/6a00d8341db04e53ef01310fa3a04a970c-pi.jpg" title="Dscn4953" width="400" /></a>


</p>

<p>The ice was broken, and we sat down in small groups.&#0160; They asked us questions about life in Europe and America.&#0160; We asked them about life in Morocco.&#0160; They told us about the lavish weddings, and even pulled out family photo albums.&#0160; For a while, we felt right at home – all differences forgotten in the universal sharing of wedding stories.</p>

<p>At one point, all the men except for the father left the room.&#0160; I wouldn’t have noticed it, save for the desperate bleating of the sheep that the girl had been playing with outside.&#0160; The men dragged it to the front door and started singing as they struggled with it and held it to the ground.</p>

<p>Then one of the mustachioed uncles, a man who a few minutes ago had been laughing and drinking tea with us stood at the door with a large machete.&#0160; He went behind the sheep and slit its throat.&#0160; The animal’s blood spilled onto the tile floor, into our room, onto the feet of the men.&#0160; I was so shocked, I kept taking pictures (warning:&#0160; graphic, don&#39;t click on the thumbnails if you don’t like blood). </p>


<p><a href="http://www.everydaytreats.com/photos/uncategorized/2007/11/09/dscn4963_3.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="Dscn4963_3" border="0" height="56" src="http://www.everydaytreats.com/wp-content/uploads/dscn4963_3.jpg" title="Dscn4963_3" width="75" /></a>


</p>



<p><a href="http://www.everydaytreats.com/photos/uncategorized/2007/11/09/dscn4964_3.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="Dscn4964_3" border="0" height="56" src="http://www.everydaytreats.com/wp-content/uploads/dscn4964_3.jpg" title="Dscn4964_3" width="75" /></a>


</p>

<p>There were a few minutes of terrible silence, where my friends and I didn’t know what to do.&#0160; </p>

<p>This had been the reason we had seen so many sheep and goats on the train - Eid al-Adha – the family was recreating the biblical story of Abraham’s obedience when asked to sacrifice of his first-born son.&#0160; But what next?</p>

<p>The sheep was hung from the doorframe (our only way out for the room) so that all the blood could drain off its neck.&#0160; I couldn’t look at it anymore, and my stomach turned knowing that the logical next step was for us to eat the poor animal.&#0160; The women started lighting up coal stoves (indoors!&#0160; I was sure I would die of carbon monoxide poisoning!) and the men passed down raw cubes of meat to them.&#0160; </p>

<p>The meat cooked for less than five minutes, and then it was put on a plate besides some bread.&#0160; Our hosts graciously waited for us, the guests of honor, to take the first bites.</p>

<p>I closed my eyes and chewed into the vilest piece of meat to ever cross my lips.&#0160; To this day I cannot eat lamb without my stomach turning.</p>

<p>I was wrong about the carbon monoxide poisoning.&#0160; I was sure that instead I would be eaten alive by the worms that were surely infesting the undercooked meat I had just swallowed.&#0160; But what could I do?&#0160; There was a man with a bloody knife blocking our exit.</p>

<p>So I ate it all.</p>

<p>Our guide wanted to give us a gift when we finished lunch.&#0160; She gave us Moroccan makeovers and made up our eyes with her precious khol powder.&#0160; I wanted to give her a gift to thank her, so I dug into my backpack and found a gold lipstick tube.&#0160; I gave it to her, and she hugged me in gratitude.&#0160; </p>

<p>Soon, it was time for us to go back.&#0160; We said goodbye to our new friends, refused the offer of food for later, and headed out onto streets that suddenly didn’t seem so unfamiliar.</p>

<p><a href="http://www.everydaytreats.com/photos/uncategorized/2007/11/09/dscn4961.jpg"><img alt="Dscn4961" border="0" class="at-xid-6a00d8341db04e53ef01310fa3a04e970c" height="300" src="http://www.everydaytreats.com/wp-content/uploads/6a00d8341db04e53ef01310fa3a04e970c-pi.jpg" title="Dscn4961" width="400" /></a>


</p>

<p>Children were outside playing soccer.&#0160; Upon closer inspection, I noticed that instead of balls they were kicking charred sheep’s skulls.&#0160; It was like a scene in hell&#39;s playground, but we were getting used to this strange land.&#0160; </p>

<p>Later that day we headed out for the Sahara.&#0160; We were done with the city and crossed the Atlas mountains, marveling at their unfamiliar vistas, to travel deep into the desert on the back of camels.&#0160; We traveled with Bedouins with only a comet to light up the dark desert sky.</p>

<p><a href="http://www.everydaytreats.com/photos/uncategorized/2007/11/09/dscn4966.jpg"><img alt="Dscn4966" border="0" class="at-xid-6a00d8341db04e53ef01310fa3a05c970c" height="300" src="http://www.everydaytreats.com/wp-content/uploads/6a00d8341db04e53ef01310fa3a05c970c-pi.jpg" title="Dscn4966" width="400" /></a></p>

<p><a href="http://www.everydaytreats.com/photos/uncategorized/2007/11/09/dscn4969.jpg"><img alt="Dscn4969" border="0" class="at-xid-6a00d8341db04e53ef01310fa3a066970c" height="300" src="http://www.everydaytreats.com/wp-content/uploads/6a00d8341db04e53ef01310fa3a066970c-pi.jpg" title="Dscn4969" width="400" /></a> </p>

<p><a href="http://www.everydaytreats.com/photos/uncategorized/2007/11/09/dscn4968.jpg"><img alt="Dscn4968" border="0" class="at-xid-6a00d8341db04e53ef01310fa3a070970c" height="300" src="http://www.everydaytreats.com/wp-content/uploads/6a00d8341db04e53ef01310fa3a070970c-pi.jpg" title="Dscn4968" width="400" /></a> </p>

<p><a href="http://www.everydaytreats.com/photos/uncategorized/2007/11/09/dscn4971_2.jpg"><img alt="Dscn4971_2" border="0" class="at-xid-6a00d8341db04e53ef01310fa3a084970c" height="533" src="http://www.everydaytreats.com/wp-content/uploads/6a00d8341db04e53ef01310fa3a084970c-pi.jpg" title="Dscn4971_2" width="400" /></a> </p>

<p><a href="http://www.everydaytreats.com/photos/uncategorized/2007/11/09/dscn4970.jpg"><img alt="Dscn4970" border="0" class="at-xid-6a00d8341db04e53ef01310fa3a08f970c" height="300" src="http://www.everydaytreats.com/wp-content/uploads/6a00d8341db04e53ef01310fa3a08f970c-pi.jpg" title="Dscn4970" width="400" /></a> </p>

<p><a href="http://diary.blogs.com/the_diary_of_a_reluctant_/2007/10/my-first-job-ou.html">PART I</a> </p>

<p><a href="http://diary.blogs.com/the_diary_of_a_reluctant_/2007/10/part-1-is-here-.html">PART II</a></p>
