There are rules in Morocco. Or at least ways of life. And I’m just learning them. Some of them.

One day, I excitedly walked out of Dar Basyma and around the corner a few feet to see if my friends were arriving yet. I was excited because these were my first friends to visit whilst I was also there.

Apparently I did a bad thing. I noticed a  neighborhood girl watching me not with smiling eyes, but with a judgy look. I knew I had done something wrong but didn’t yet know what.

When we left the house later that day, the girl (whom I now know is Fatima) grabbed my Moroccan male companion and whispered something in his ear. To me he said, “You wore your house shoes outside earlier. She’s telling me you’re supposed to wear your house shoes inside only and wear your outside shoes outside only.”

That’s when I knew I was being watched. Scrutinized and judged. I turned and gave her the stink eye, and then I laughed. She laughed back and that was that!