Rabat definitely has more character than Casablanca, but it still lacked that “ooooh exotic!” Moroccan feel I came here chasing after. I practiced my French with the sweet frontdesk man at our hotel. He didn’t judge (my mistakes). And that made me happy. Then we walked through the medina and a little through the quiet kasbah just as dusk was approaching.
When we walked up towards the entrance of the kasbah, a young man approached us to warn us that the kasbah would be closing soon. We assured him we were just walking through and it was ok that it was closing soon. We weren’t planning on staying long. He let us through and we started making our way through the blue and white maze. And then he magically reappeared. Andrew and I briefly made eye-contact, knowing exactly where this was going… He would guide us through, make pleasant conversation, and then expect a tip at the end of his “job” well done. It may be our first time in Morocco, son, but it’s not our first time around the block.
He pointed out door knockers of Islamic influence. He pointed out doorways of Portugese influence. He led us to what felt like his family’s balcony overseeing the Atlantic. He told us of his language studies: English, French, more recently Spanish. He waited every time I stopped to take a picture (in hopes it would shake his patience and he would scurry along) and didn’t pick up on our many hints that “We’re ok! We can find our way back out!” or my favorite “Are you missing your soccer game that you left to walk with us?”
Finally, not wanting him to accompany us to the sunset over the Atlantic overlook (Can a girl get a kiss on the cheek in private please?) I turned to him and said “We can find it on our own, Thank you. We’d like to go alone.”
He said, “It’s ok, I will show you.”
Andrew said, “No, we can find it. Thank you.”
He said, “Ok, a tip, whatever you want for my time.”
Andrew laughed.
I said, “No, we didn’t ask you for your time. You volunteered it. Thank you. We are not giving you anything. Good night.”
He tried to argue, clearly annoyed that his ten minutes was completely wasted. We turned and started walking away. We sighed. I mean, we saw it coming, we knew he was going to have a hissy fit about us not tipping him for his uninvited ten minute tour of the kasbah. And maybe, if he (like the many others) were upfront about it, like “Hey, it’s a little difficult to find your way, and I know of a secret view that I can take you to for 10 Dirhams.” I’d be down. I would probably even give him 20 (maybe) if he was cool and really did take me to a sweet secret spot. But this whole I’ll present myself as a nice guy with the expectation of making something after does not sit well with me.
And while I’m being honest, I spent the past five years of my life getting paid for my mad English skills. I’m particularly skilled at small talk with “foreigners.” Next time, I’m just going to ask him “Ok, a tip for me? For speaking English together? Whatever you want for my time…” and see what he says.
