Lalla Mira’s Multilingual Blog

A heat wave is invading Morocco!

People are melting!

We are running out of ice cream!

What do we do?

Maybe…

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This is my favorite ad at the moment…

9.00 - A little grumpy, trying to take my breakfast. Who can eat in such a heat? I have filled myself with enough drinks already, I am hungry, but I can’t swallow anything.

9.30 - He calls to confirm our meeting at 10.45.
“How will I recognize you”, I asked.
I hope he doesn’t ask me about what I’ll be wearing, because I haven’t decided yet.
“Will call you once I’m there” he replied.
I have one hour to get ready. It takes 15 minutes to arrive to the café, but I want to be there before him. I want to be the first to see, not to be seen.
I don’t know what to wear. A first impression is very important, but the heat is also as important. I can’t seem to find something that compromises between the two. What do I choose? My comfort or a supposedly-positive first impression? No time for weighting the pros and cons of each, I’ll go with the impression and never mind if I melt in my clothes.
40° C is no joke… I might regret my decision. I will!

10.30 - I enter the café and scan the few guys who are sitting there, just in case he happens to be there before me.
I’ll take a discrete spot. I hate those tables where people or waiters pass by you all the time. It spoils the moment. Whatever moment.
I thought I chose the perfect spot, until I discovered that the café had a second entrance right behind me. I hate observing both directions! My head hates taking the trips too.
I’ll start scanning everyone outside the café, until they are far away past it. He said that he’d bring his laptop, so I am looking for a guy with a laptop bag.
Why didn’t I ask for his picture! I don’t even know his exact age. I can’t tell from his voice.
A super-tanned middle-aged man is coming towards the café… I bet my left arm that it’s not him. His voice doesn’t give the impression of an old man with a young voice. It’s rather a young man with a mature voice…
Nonsense!
This guy is still walking towards me. Let’s see what’s on the menu… Coffee, tea…
Phew! He didn’t come in.
I know his nationality… Alright, I can’t tell people’s nationalities from their looks, but I can still give it a shot.
An old man seems to come from nowhere and enters the café. I didn’t see that one coming. He holds a huge bag. He rather has a touristic look. Oh wait, his wife has just followed him in.
Next!

10.45 - He should have been here by now. Maybe he’s sitting in the other side, waiting for me. Should I call?
I’ll wait for 10 minutes, then call him.
A second waiter asks me what I’d love to drink. Some space, I wanted to say, but I translated that into “I am waiting for someone”.

10.55 - That’s it, I am going to call him.
As I hold my phone to press ‘call’, a 30-something man stands in front of the café, gets his phone and seems to make a call. I can’t see if he has a bag. I froze looking at my phone’s screen. I am looking at the guy, then at my phone… Then at the guy, then at my phone… His name is on my screen, but I hear no ringing. The man leaves as slowly as he came, and I realized that the name is on my cell phone’s screen because I was about to call him. Silly me!

11.00 - The moment I decided to chillax, my phone started ringing… Aaah… I… I… Don’t wanna pick up! But I do it anyways.
It’s him, and he seems to be walking. He asks where I am, and what I am wearing.
“I am dressed in black”, I said.
That’s enough of a first impression already, I guess. Dressed in black in such a heat.
Seconds after the phone call was over, I saw him coming. I stood up for him to see me, and the conversation carried on shortly after the greetings…

La plupart des Islandais n’ont pas de nom de famille. Leurs noms sont plutôt structurés sous la forme suivante: “Prénom fils de prénom-du-père” ou “Prénom fille de prénom-du-père”. Si mon père s’appelait Amin, et mon frère s’appelait Reda, je serais “Mira fille de Amin” et lui “Reda fils de Amin”. En islandais: “Mira Aminsdottir” et “Reda Aminsson”. Donc si je devais déménager au Maroc, personne ne saurait que Reda est mon frère, et j’aurais pas la honte internationale chaque fois qu’il ferait une grosse graffe. Et quand Reda s’intégrerait dans la culture marocaine, et qu’il voudrait jouer le “grand frère” devant ses nouveaux potes marocains, je nierais tout lien parental avec lui, et je l’accuserais même de vouloir me kidnapper. Par exemple!
Wow! Dkhelt f dour.

Et vu qu’ils n’ont pas de noms de famille, l’annuaire téléphonique contient les prénoms seulement. Je ne sais pas si cela veut dire devoir inventer de nouveaux prénoms pour chaque naissance, mais c’est cool!

Il y a de grandes quantités d’eau en Islande, car il pleut souvent et beaucoup. Leur eau est tellement pure et propre, qu’elle passe aux robinets sans traitement. Ça veut dire que quand il pleut, et que tu as soif, tu ouvres ta bouches vers le ciel, 7tta tshb3.

En plus, il n’y fait pas aussi froid qu’on le pense du nom du pays.

Alors, je réserve les billets pour combien de personnes?

Tu sais que tu es déconnecté du monde, quand c’est Gnawa qui passe dans ton quartier en chantant et dansant, et que tu es chez toi à te dire: Yah, c’est déjà l3id lkbir!?

NB: Peut être que j’ai pas vraiment tort… Le Ramadan c’est dans 4 mois. Yak?