Day 14: My Last Adventures

            Yesterday was Friday and my last day at the orphanage. It was business as usual though, and I didn’t want to make a big deal that I was leaving—the children and nurses see volunteers come and go all the time. But nonetheless, I was sad to go. I spent extra time inside with a few of the children singing French songs and dancing. It was a welcome change from running around. Right before we left, the two English speaking women we met the other day offered to show us around the orphanage building that houses the children up for adoption. Oh my babies. They were ridiculously adorable. The atmosphere in this area of the orphanage was much different than the special needs ward. The walls had more pictures and the place just seemed brighter. Maybe I was making it up, but it seemed happier. We didn’t stay for long because the nurses seemed a little annoyed that we were there, they probably recognized the I-want-to-steal-a-baby-look on all our faces. I can only hope that all the babies find good homes, and soon.

Bye-bye Lalla Meryam Orphanage!

            Back at the Home Base, some people left for Fes for the weekend while others (like me) started to pack for home. After lunch and an unofficial naptime, we had tea and then departed for one of our biggest adventures yet. We were on our way to the Hammam! The Hammam is a community “bath” that most Moroccan women visit once a week. With absolutely no idea what to expect, we packed our shampoo and a towel, Malone and I dragging Kate and Meghan kicking and screaming to the cab.

The outside of the Hammam was completely inconspicuous. In fact, we had driven past it almost every day for the past few weeks! When we walked in, saying we stood out was an understatement. Behind the counter in the main room were older Moroccan women, large and topless to say the least. I tried to speak to them in French, asking for the scrubbing mitt and soap I knew we needed, but she was not having it. Luckily, a nice younger woman who spoke English came over, laughing, and helped us pay for the mitt and a woman to scrub each of us. Immediately after we paid, large, naked women—seemingly fighting over who would get each of us as a client—surrounded us. We quickly stripped down and were lead by the wrist into the Hammam.

Oh man. The washrooms were unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. It was made up of two large, tiled rooms with domed ceilings. Scattered about the two rooms were naked women scrubbing themselves and being scrubbed by the Hammam massagers. Khadija told us previously that many women wash themselves at the Hammam, but for first timers, you need to hire one of the women. ;) The room was intensely hot and humid, like a sauna, with heated tile floors. My scrubber led me into the second from and told me to sit on the floor. I watched as she filled buckets of water from across the room. Malone and Kate were nearby in the room, Meghan in the other room, and we couldn’t help but laugh when we looked at each other.

What it looked like, minus all the white people
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She sat down nest to me and began to scrub my arms with the mitt. You could see the dead skin sloughing off. It was gross, but super cool. This woman knew what she was doing—she scrubbed my arms, my torso, my sides, my back, my legs, my neck, until my skin felt like butter. I thought that the scrubbing would hurt, but it honestly felt really good—like a pedicure, but on your entire body. Usually in Morocco, they use the black soap after they exfoliate, but they had run out and used the soap we brought instead. She massaged me again with the soap and washed my hair too. At this point, I never wanted to leave. I can only imagine what we looked like though, being pushed and rolled around naked by large Moroccan women. It was certainly quite the sight. But walking out of the room 40 minutes or so later, I felt like a new person! No wonder the Moroccan women go once a week! Talk about being pampered, we all LOVED it. Bummer that I’m leaving this week, or I definitely would have gone again! No worries though, I got to keep my scrubby glove and intend to use it again.

What it looked like, minus the men, the white people, and all the clothes :)
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When we got back to the house, Khadija had the henna ready for me. Khadija gives henna tattoos to all of the volunteers before they leave the house. Watching her make the designs was captivating. She says she just makes it up as she goes along and gained the skill through hours of practice with her friends in high school. So cool, I wish I was Moroccan. She made designs on each of my palms because it lasts longer than the back of the hands. The dye itself is made from a plant and is mixed with lemon and sugar. She said some people drink it, ew, it looks like mud to me. Henna is only done on the feet of married women in Morocco, so mine are henna-less, haha. I let it sit for about an hour, eating dinner using only my three un-designed fingers, then it began to fall off, revealing an orange design that should last about two weeks.

Zweena!

Henna on a freshly scrubbed body!

For my last night in Rabat, we decided to go—where else?—to the Glacerie Ice. Once again, I had a chocolate crepe, yum, while the others had some ice cream and hot chocolate. The highlight of the night, though, was when our best friend waiter came over to the table. He asked if I spoke French, which he knew I did because I always help the others order—haha. He looked nervous and I was afraid he was going to tell us something bad, but instead, he started asking us about the United States. Not about the country, but about how foreigners like living in America, if there are a lot of Muslims, where they live, etc etc. Kate, with knowledge of all things Muslim, had an answer to all of these questions, to which I would translate to French. He kept the questions coming, asking if everyone in the United States was rich like Brad Pitt (his exact words). Hahahah. We told him that there are more opportunities in the USA for those who speak English (or are bilingual) and have a university degree. This was the deepest conversation I’ve had in French thus far, and was SO proud of myself. Anyway, when we got back to the house, Kate decided that she was going to write him a letter about Muslims and job opportunities in America, as well as some resources in Rabat where he could learn English (two of which are classes taught by CCS volunteers). I helped to translate it into French, and they’re going to give it to him the next time they get dessert, which I’m sure will be soon.  It will be really cool if he decides to take the English classes through CCS, but even if he doesn’t, it feels really good to have answered all his questions and educated him a little more.

Whew. Well that was my last day. This morning, Kate, Malone, and Meghan left for Fes and I finished packing and am currently waiting for lunch. I leave for Paris in an hour and a half. I can’t believe my time here is coming to a close. I had so much more fun and learned so much more than I expected to. I will definitely be back.


Next time you hear from me, I’ll be in Paris!

Au revoir!

-Allie