Just a Smile

It's just a subtle smirk that can make all the difference. And while in America we stress the importance of smiling to strangers and friends to make them feel noticed and importance, it does not contain the same connotation to strangers in Spain.  While smiling seems so natural and harmless as an American, it was one major cultural difference that I had to adapt to was smiling. 

Apparently in Spain, or at least in the region of Valencia, it is custom to only greet those they know when walking down the street or are in a public environment. My teacher from AIP  told me they never smile at a stranger they walk past.  The thought had never even crossed her mind to do so, in fact, the concept was so strange for her.  She recommended that I not smile otherwise people would think I was a bit too strange. 

Easier said then done, it was such a habit I never realized before at how often I smile at strangers. But when I did start paying attention my smiling tendencies, I noticed that it did trigger many strange glances in return. Earlier before this enlightenment, I thought these strange glances back was because they could tell I was a foreigner, which clearly it was, from my height, skin tone, and (now to my knowledge) mannerisms.

But this brought about another major cultural difference I noticed from the Spaniards that is not acceptable in the United States:

staring.

As I further analyzed American's smiling tendencies, I realized most often times we tighten our checks, curve the ends of our mouth up, and maybe so a bit of teeth, to make an expression that is perceived as friendly so that our glances is not perceived as staring.  

However, Spaniards do not need to smile because they are not ashamed to stare. They do it all the time and clearly so. On the subway to work, waiting in line, walking past, all sorts of public instances, as uncomfortable to me as it was.  Even when I glanced over to make it clear I saw them, their staring persisted; where as if it were an American they would have diverted their eye attention right away. Often times I felt so judged. Was there something on my face? Did I forget to zip up my pants? All these possibilities of reason an American would stare at me popped into my head.   

Even though I was uncomfortable at first, I adapted; in the end, I found myself openly staring at others as well and keeping a straight face to strangers I walked past even though our glances met. 

Their stares were just as harmful as my mis[non-verbal]communication of smiling.

The streets of Marrakesh

The architecture in the old quarters of town, known as Medina, made for a unique majestic feel. With the tall walls and narrow paths, bursting from the noise traveling within, yet, distanced from surrounding streets from the sound it kept out; it was an entirely different walk down any street I had traveled down before. The high clay walls seemed like there was no escape; especially at night when the cooler air misted off the walls of the buildings that were still warm from the day's sun and lingered under the few street lamps.  At least throughout the unbearably hot hours of the sun, the tall walls conveniently allowed for at least one side of the street to be in the shade.  Mystic, yet, the roads were a maize tempting you to lose your way -- they were narrow, windy, and diverging, with no clear pattern.

The striking structure of the streets added to the ambiance of the city, however I was most captivated by the scene that unraveled within.

On many streets there were numerous little shops, to be expected as they cater to tourist, with displays reaching beyond the doors of the shop.  There were shops for leather items, lanterns, rugs, trinkets, american-styled processed food snack shop, you name it. There were food stands with local cookies and dates pacing the streets.  Also people of all duties filling the street: there were many vendors, pedestrians (local and foreign), people sitting just letting time pass, doorman trying to make a living as they stood outside shops trying to bring in customers.  And on top of that, there were the motorist zooming by and buggies pulled by donkeys squeezing through.
Anything and everything was clustered in the small quarter of the streets.

Then there was the grand square of Jemaa el-Fna, the heart that all veins of the city eventually lead to - and the liveliest just after sunset. There were the soujks that were nicely shaded by hung sheets, filled with more vendors overflowing with local goods - less commercialized and more native than in the touristy grand square.

Nevertheless, while there was much ornate and enticing objects to look at as you walked through the streets in any part of town, the most important thing was the always be aware of oncoming traffic and stay to the RIGHT, as far right as possible. It was imperative to maintain your life, otherwise you would surely be struck by a motorist zooming by - in fact one of my friends was bumped by one as she took one too many steps toward the center of the road to take a picture of a building. Thankfully this motorist was traveling at a slow enough speed that no harm was done otherwise it could have been disastrous.  Even though in the United States we strive to pass on the right, there is was a vital shared cultural understanding amongst the constituents to ensure the bustling traffic runs smoothly. It was also something that the host of our Riad made sure to tell us before we explored the city - otherwise it would have been something we would have had to learn the hard way.

There were many disheartening sights that left a bitter taste in my mouth. First, there were hardly any women in the street. There were near to none maneuvering the streets during the day. Noticeably, there were more women out at night but they were usually with a man or overseeing children playing in the streets. It's evident this is a standard in their more confined lifestyle. The only way that you could count on seeing women would down some quarters, close to the grand square, where they would be begging with children in their lap. When I saw this I couldn't help but think of the movie Slumpdog Millionaire when they discussed tactics that locals used to play on the tourist emotions and get them to give money. But at the same time, I could not help wonder if it was mostly women and children begging because they had been rejected from society for adultery or another form or unsatisfactory pregnancy. Another quite interesting scene was the groups of rambunctious kids at night. There would be a group of many different ages lead by one girl/boy that was slightly taller than the rest and spoke in a louder voice.  And many a times they were up to no good. It seems four boys roaming the street will always find something they shouldn't to keep them occupied; this is the case in most countries and towns, yet here it didn't seem they had many other options.  On the night we were leaving there were a group of boys taking turns to jump on the hood of a car. Another aspect of street dynamics was what happen next. When the owner of the Riad saw this, he ran up grabbed the boy's neck and said something firm in Arabic making the rest of the boys run off. It is definetly more of "it takes a whole village" to raise the youth kind of mentality. It makes sense in the more tight kit community of the old town.

What made me sick to my stomach was the garbage over the sewers.  No wonder the water was undrinkable and unsanitary.  Sanitation was of no one first priority here.
With my western repulsion being expressed, I do understand that it is not on many of the forefront of their mind as they are more concerned with food for their plate. However it still hurt to see coming from a country putting such an effort into improving the environment and knowing that this is the cause of many of their sanitation and help issues, yet, they continue to live this way.

On a more positive note, one pleasant surprise about the city dynamics was how friendly the interaction amongst people were.  Upon arrival we noticed just how many people knew each other as they passed on the street. It seemed they were always stopping to gone greeting or help each other out (again, this is only between the men of the community as we didn't see many women on the streets). We figured this is the extended family lifestyle of the tight living quarters on the old part of town. This also must be because everyone stays in there part of town, since we kept seeing the same faces in the same vicinity of town. Nevertheless we felt very welcomed after the man that guided us to our hotel greeted us everyday, the doorman of a restaurant ate ate always checked how we were doing, the staff from the Riad would wave to us as they passed by on their motorbike, and the boys from the food stand greeted us with a friendly handshake and a reassuring welcome back friend.  Their friendliness toward us may have been from how they were trained to act with tourist to earn a hefty tip, but nevertheless, every familiar face that remember us would always say hi to us, ask us how we were doing, or make sure we didn't need assistance.  Surprisingly or not, after two days the people we met (and remembered us friendly, overly excited, and curious 5 traveling American teenagers) accumulated. I felt very welcomed, which was quite the opposite form when I first stepped off the plane (as I explained in my previous blog about arriving to Morocco).

Reflecting on my experience in Marrakesh, this city is now on my list, along side Venice, as truly one of a kind. The streets of Marrakesh were very different from any street in America. I may not prefer to live in streets of these kind, but I will always remember the experience they gave me and I look forward to my return.

The mystic streets of Marrakesh after sun-down.

Just as we stepped out of the door of our Riad,
a donkey-buggy carrying wood came around the tight corner.

The rare women selling her own items in the Jemaa el-Fna.

An bird's-eye view of Jemaa el-Fna at night.
The lights of the different stands glow
as many men line up with their rug for nightly prayer

A more-opened street that shows the many different shops along side
and the advertisement of rugs. Also in the bottom right corner
there is a man on a motor bike and pedestrians.

Just outside of a restaurant, a square is converted to be a market filled
with high stacks of goods for sale.

This is a bird's eye view of this small square

The main minaret in town that was our visual
guiding point throughout the city that would
lead us back to the center of town.

A few member of my group being welcomed by the friendly food vendors
of stale #22 in the main square of Jemaa el-Fna.

The unsanitary method of selling meat
 at a barter market on the outskirts of town. It is freshly shopped on sight but then sits on the heat of the 104 degree day.

RUGS RUGS RUGS
more rugs for sale, hung out for consumers to see 

A vendor selling dates in this stand in the soujks of Marrakesh.

 A food market during the early hours of the morning,
in a part of old Marrekesk that is untouched by tourists.

An iconic snake charmer
in the square of Jemaa el-Fna