Weddings.

Rain, rain go away is about all I can think about these days. We have been super spoiled up until now about with the sunshine and warm weather in the south of Morocco. Unfortunatly (or maybe fortunatley) the rains have begun and the temperature has dropped. I had to wear a coat outside yesterday, crazy I know. I suppose I can complain about how the rain seeps into my house, makes a lot of noise on my dorito bag roof (aka covered in plastic and sounds like a dorito bag) and prevents me from wearing sandals but it is also quite required for the greenery that I am hoping to see this spring. The rain brings plants and we can definetly use some more of those in the desert landscape of rocks and cacti that surround me.

In the midst of the rain, we had a wedding party!

There are a few things about weddings that never cease to amuse me. I have posted on weddings before (the traditions and culture) so I won't bore you with those details again.

Things that never cease to amuse me at weddings:

1. How many people attend (and fit) inside of the "venue" aka house of a family member. There were easily 75 women that ate dinner, another 50 or so men. When it came to "dancing" time, there were easily 300 people on the roof of this tiny house. Since Moroccans have little to no concept of personal space, sitting on top of each other on the ground is no issue. This is a little harder for the American who doesn't like to be touched but I usually just try and sit near the outside, yesterday though I was unsuccessful.

2. The seperation between men and women (including the bride and groom). The bride and groom look like they can't stand to be in the same room as each other and spend exactly zero minutes talking, flirting or acting in love. The seperation also bleeds into the rest of the population. Men eat somewhere different than women and only the young boys are allowed to cross over the unmarked barrier seperating men and women. When it comes time for the dancing, all men and women gather together and form something that looks like a middle school dance. Women all together on one side, joking, laughing and having fun, men on the outer edge looking sad that no girls will talk to them. Yesterday I made the mistake of accidentally sitting and facing the men instead of the wall and I was quickly corrected by the 200+ women sitting around me.

3. The definition of beauty. I am well aware of the definition of beauty and how it differs from culture to culture but Berber beauty, I haven't caught onto yet. Here's the best picture I can paint of a Berber bride. A woman, dressed in a long white bag, belted with a rope at her waist. Her face is covered in white powder, to make her look as "white" as possible, her lips are in the darkest color of red/ maroon lipstick available and her eyes are completely covered in a heavly lined with black pencil. Her head is covered with many layers of decorations including horns, rows of coins and ribbons. Her neck contains about 7-8 huge neclaces with other assorted decorations. Her arms are adorned with bangles from the wrist to the elbow. The whole outfit is put together with a large white scarf covering her whole upper part of her body, including her face. It is quite a sight but frankly, the women love it and the men act as though they have never seen anything so beautiful.

4. The throwing of perfume on everyone. After the eating is done, the treats are given out and the dancing is about to begin, the entire crowd is doused in perfume. Its as though a tidal wave of perfume runs over the crowd. They take large bottle filled with cheap perfume and wave it over the crowd, much like the priest in a Catholic church does with the holy water. Every person, men included, leave covered in a potent perfume smell that lasts weeks after you leave. My hair still smells like it, even though I washed it out last night.

5. How many people can fit around one table. Moroccans eat by sitting around a tiny floor height table where all of the people either sit on the floor or on pillows, cramming as many people around as possible. Yesterday, I ate at a table with 14 other women, around one tiny table, with one tajine. Sometimes I long for the days of individual chairs around a table.

6. The "rock star" status I get. This is one that is both flattering and annoying at the same time. Despite that I have lived in this village for 9 months and know EVERYONE in it, whenever I walk into a room the people look at me like I am ET entering the house or some rock-star celebrity they all know. It is a strange feeling to have every single person in a room of 300 people looking at you at one time. This rockstar status is cool because it means they don't hate me, but is also crazy because Mrooccans stare with little to no concept of the "rudness" involved. Maybe after year 2, they will stop staring but somehow I doubt it.