he called me john

so the other day i called a guy i had met last week who offered to give me arabic lessons. he said he'd meet me outside of my apartment at five o'clock and we'd go to his house. he sounded sort of weird on the phone though and even though he's an english teacher he had a hard time understanding what i was saying. but i thought it must just be the phone. so at about 4:30 he calls again and asks if "i can get out of my bed to come meet him?" so i go downstairs and amstanding there, looking for my friend khalid, when this young kid with nice clothes and slicked-back hair walks up from behind, grabs my arm and starts walking with me, and introduces me to his friend halawa as if it were the most natural thing in the world. in fact, i think he may have even called me by name. he even tells me he'sbeen trying to call me. yes, 4 or 5 times in the past few weeks. so i almost tell him i'm meeting someone and can't walk with him but he seems absolutly confident that i'm supposed to be with him. so i start trying to rationalize what's going on. i look at him really hard tomake sure this isn't the same khalid with a different hairstyle. when i'msure it's a totally different person i think, maybe it's khalid's brother who i never met and he forgot to mention. but things get weirder. his friends are calling him khalid. so ihave no idea what's going on. he takes meto his car, a new volks wagon, he must be loaded, and we get in and as 5 more moroccan guys pile in the backseat he pops in a backstreet boys casset and they all start singing along as loudly as they can. he tells me this is where he learned english; from nick and the boys. and they're all acting like they know me and i'm their best little white friend. so by this time i'm laughing to myself as to the absurdity of the situation. and we start driving out of town. for all i know, they could be taking me to algeria to sellme into slavery. but instead we go to this guy's house (which is nicer than mine and a lot nicer than matt's.) and i meet his sister and mother and they introduce me to "an animal" which turns out to be this really ugly guy they all make fun of. and they tell me that the guy i'm sitting next to likes men and not women. so i teach them the invaluable english word "gay". and after we break the ramadan fast with lots of sweets, little baked fish, and one huge, whole fish that they call "the mother", we watched somemoroccan television and went back out to hit the town. so they take me to the Hawiian billiards hall and we play some pool. with mariah cary blasting in the background. of course, they love her too. along with 50 cent and shaggy. yes, all the best of american music. they also love weed on occasion. but not during ramadan. so after i get beat 2 out of 3 at pool, they all have to go back to work and i tell them i need to go home.so my new friend khalid, who never once showed any suprise in finding me waiting for him outside of my apartment, walks me homeand promises to call me next week. wow. i can just imagine, after i shake hands with them in departure and they give me their numbers and smile and laugh and hug me and i walk out, all of them looking at each other as they wave to me and saying "who the hell was that guy?" so that is how i came to spend an evening with perfect strangers. i later find out, in a freak coincidence, that the guy who worked here this summer with jay patterduss, had used the same phone i'm using and had also befriended a guy named khalid who i accidentally called instead of my khalid. his name was john. so younever know what might happen in good ole morocco. who might pretend to know you in order to take you to his home for dinner, cruise around town with you, and buy you three games of pool. oh the machinations of the rich young moroccan mind. but it doesmake one think. if in america, a friend of yours whom you hadn't seen for a couple of months calls and arranges to meet with you and when you show up at the appointed pllace and time and a complete stranger is instead waiting for you, would you take them to your house and feed them and offer them drugs and alcohol when ramadan is over? i think not. i wish america whould be more open; more friendly and trusting. a place where you don't have to think twice about suggesting illegal activity with a stranger.

so on a more serious note, i am off to the desert for a week. mind you, not just any desert, The Desert. the sahara. my supervisor is sersiously forcing me to make out a will because we're not going with a local guide and the man driving us is apparently not one whose knowledgable friends jump at the chance to ride with. so it should be a real adventure. unfortunatly it will only be a week long, or will it... oh, and congratulations to georgetown. i don't know many details yet but it seems she has finally been freed of the evil that was gathering around her. so no promises of posts from the middle of nowhere. survive as best youcan. perhaps you can copy my previous posts to your computer and read them in a new font or different color and it will be like hearing from me anew. and in the meantime, i'll be thinking of you all as i cross the blazing sands and try to find some kind nomads to take me in.