Cover Up; It's Only 40 Degrees Outside

Someone once told me that Morocco is a hot spot for western women seeking romantic affairs, the place they run off to so some guy in an Armani t-shirt can whisper sweet nothings in her ear in Arabic. It's also the place where non-romantic affair seeking western women get hassled and propositioned on the street. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Tangier.

But that's not to say that all Tangierians anxiously await a new flock of wild geese each day. The women are a different story. The Islamic religion is one that preaches of modesty and self cleanliness. Therefore, Muslim women do not expose themselves in public as an act of respect. These women mean business; they go to the beach in 40 degree weather fully clothed; no hair unveiled, no skin shown. Well I wish someone would have told me this before I go marching in there with bare arms and ankles, flashy tattoos, and pierced ears. It was like going to a fancy dinner and flashing your smile all over the room to then notice, long after the evening has concluded, that there's something slimy and green wedged between your two front teeth. All you can do is cringe at the thought of how long it's been there. I was that slimy green thing to these women.

So, to escape from this onslaught of both ogling and glowering stares, I laid down on the sand with my face stretched towards the sun. It's warmth still reached down like an extended hand and I let out a breath of frustration. With the tension easing I listened to the waves roll over each other as they made their way to the shore. The sand beneath me had now cooled against my back, but I still smiled with contentment. But then, with my eyes still closed, I thought, yeah, this could be anywhere in the world.