Halloween is amazing. It's fun and ridiculous and sometimes, just sometimes, a perfect day. Morocco doesn't REALLY celebrate Halloween. Oh sure, Fez and Marrakech throw some parties, expats get dressed up, and people maybe dance.
But there aren't decorations, trick-or-treaters, or candy. And yet, study abroad students always come up with someway around it. In between dressing up as flappers, Katniss from the Hunger Games, Joni Mitchell, and Twiggy, there was laughter, some drinks and music.
Le Comptoir is a fancy French style bar: beautiful, elegant, but always with expats and foreigners, and fairly pricey. Then they threw a little Halloween shindig. Ghosts, cobwebs, and plenty of decorations. The two singers (Diana and Susanna, both Spanish, both beautiful, and both amazing) were decked out in costume. When they saw us, they cheered. Most people had foregone an unusual outfit and looked like they did everyday.
Insert random dancing, a blur of movement, and arriving at Le Cotton Club. Live music, ghoulish staff and plenty of Halloween decorations. There were also other costumes: a scary doctor, Skeletor, Guy Fawkes (who could actually dance). Throw in a dance-off, an amazing cover of Seven Nation Army, and a nightcap of tea and cake at a tiny cafe.
Then sleep as the sun rises.
But there aren't decorations, trick-or-treaters, or candy. And yet, study abroad students always come up with someway around it. In between dressing up as flappers, Katniss from the Hunger Games, Joni Mitchell, and Twiggy, there was laughter, some drinks and music.
Le Comptoir is a fancy French style bar: beautiful, elegant, but always with expats and foreigners, and fairly pricey. Then they threw a little Halloween shindig. Ghosts, cobwebs, and plenty of decorations. The two singers (Diana and Susanna, both Spanish, both beautiful, and both amazing) were decked out in costume. When they saw us, they cheered. Most people had foregone an unusual outfit and looked like they did everyday.
Insert random dancing, a blur of movement, and arriving at Le Cotton Club. Live music, ghoulish staff and plenty of Halloween decorations. There were also other costumes: a scary doctor, Skeletor, Guy Fawkes (who could actually dance). Throw in a dance-off, an amazing cover of Seven Nation Army, and a nightcap of tea and cake at a tiny cafe.
Then sleep as the sun rises.
~*~*~
This is also, sadly, the end of an era for me. I'm approaching ISJ, finding an apartment, and trying to find a journalistic story. This means: no more lunches at CCCL, saying goodbye to Mama Fatima, and fighting the urge to simply travel to Tangier, Agadir, Meknes. At the same time, it means: independence, determination, and just a bit of desperation.
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