We're doing some travel writing in my writer's group, and I thought today of my trip to Morocco with my best friend a few years ago. We flew in to Casablanca, then took the train to Marrakesh, where we stayed for four nights before traveling on to Meknes, where we met my daughter and son-in-law, who were living and teach in Ifrane. We had a great time at two different riyads off the great square in the center of the medina, enjoying the souks, the throngs of people, the food. When we got on the train again, men helped us lift our bags and manage the steep stairs. Everywhere we went people were curious. Two women traveling alone? We faced many blunt questions. Most people relaxed when I said we were going to visit my pregnant daughter. Ah, a mother. They could relate to that. But on on trip to Meknes, a teenage boy engaged my friend, not to be friendly, but clearly because he thought that though a youth, he was, after all, male, therefore superior in intelligence, and he asked rude and prying questions with the rest of the car as his audience. My friend, being in charge of student affairs at a respected university, was highly skilled and answering transparently, without rancor and defensiveness.
The youth gave up after he couldn't offend us, and we smiled at each other with amusement and tolerance. We were wise women, but nobody at home acknowledged that fact either, so we traveled incognito. But my friend's right speech: engaging, but without need to take a side or win an argument, has stuck with me. I have no hope the boy learned anything. He did not seem receptive. But just maybe. Just maybe we've stuck in his mind a little bit as he's matured. You never know.
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