I am sitting on my couch, eating shrimp scampi I made myself that is so good it's actually making me emotional. So, why not write about friendship in such a state. Scampi calls for friendship, is the new toast.
I don't think I was that good at girl friendship until the Fulbright (I did a Fulbright in Morocco after college). I think I just didn't get it - the importance of girl friends, the difference between girl friends and guy friends. I was also the typical self-involved asshole we all are at that age. I was a chrysalis. All wrapped up.
If you know me now, as a human, you know one thing: how important and beloved my girlfriends are to me. How I privilege them and respect them and laugh with them and challenge them and aggressively love them. All my girlfriends, but especially my two best girlfriends from the Fulbright.
This is what happened: Morocco.
Having a girl-friendship be born and come of age in Morocco is like having a black lab puppy be born and come of age in Montana - high potential for joy and greatness. Moroccan lady culture is immensely loving and supportive and deeply full of humor. Those ladies LAUGH - and good jokes are celebrated with high fives and hand-holding. There is a sacred thing that happens in Arab culture when there's just women in a room, and I have found that to be especially true in Morocco; perhaps it's the fact that everyone grows up scrubbing each other at the hammam in a way that, shall we way, prohibits privacy, perhaps it's a Berber influence thing, I dunno. But in a room full of women, there's a joy and silliness and banter that I wasn't familiar with before living it. Seeing that type of potential, and being around that type of pro-woman friendship, made me realize that women are not just for when the dudes aren't around or you're discussing clothing or feelings - women can be the meat and potatoes! The kale AND chard! The banana cream pie! Insert into that equation the two unique but equally strong, smart and hilarious women I became close with, and the inherent intensity of the expat experience, and you have three friends that came out baked for life. I feel for them a million things, but mostly just blessing and thanks. High five, ladies, and high five, ladies of Morocco, for showing us the way.
Morocco engendered many other stellar friendships, and the lovely coming-around-again rekindling of a few precious ones from the larvae stage. It made me a better person. It made me a generous friend. It made me one hell of a tagine cook. And I don't need to go back to remember any of it.
They say you can't change. I dunno, I guess not. But you sure can stretch and grow. I mean, come on - just today I renewed my car registration entirely in a foreign tongue I barely know three words in, sassed at/got detained by some soldiers and negotiated a business deal in the Horn of Africa. 18 months ago I hadn't done any of that!
Scampi calls for friendship.
I don't think I was that good at girl friendship until the Fulbright (I did a Fulbright in Morocco after college). I think I just didn't get it - the importance of girl friends, the difference between girl friends and guy friends. I was also the typical self-involved asshole we all are at that age. I was a chrysalis. All wrapped up.
If you know me now, as a human, you know one thing: how important and beloved my girlfriends are to me. How I privilege them and respect them and laugh with them and challenge them and aggressively love them. All my girlfriends, but especially my two best girlfriends from the Fulbright.
This is what happened: Morocco.
Having a girl-friendship be born and come of age in Morocco is like having a black lab puppy be born and come of age in Montana - high potential for joy and greatness. Moroccan lady culture is immensely loving and supportive and deeply full of humor. Those ladies LAUGH - and good jokes are celebrated with high fives and hand-holding. There is a sacred thing that happens in Arab culture when there's just women in a room, and I have found that to be especially true in Morocco; perhaps it's the fact that everyone grows up scrubbing each other at the hammam in a way that, shall we way, prohibits privacy, perhaps it's a Berber influence thing, I dunno. But in a room full of women, there's a joy and silliness and banter that I wasn't familiar with before living it. Seeing that type of potential, and being around that type of pro-woman friendship, made me realize that women are not just for when the dudes aren't around or you're discussing clothing or feelings - women can be the meat and potatoes! The kale AND chard! The banana cream pie! Insert into that equation the two unique but equally strong, smart and hilarious women I became close with, and the inherent intensity of the expat experience, and you have three friends that came out baked for life. I feel for them a million things, but mostly just blessing and thanks. High five, ladies, and high five, ladies of Morocco, for showing us the way.
Morocco engendered many other stellar friendships, and the lovely coming-around-again rekindling of a few precious ones from the larvae stage. It made me a better person. It made me a generous friend. It made me one hell of a tagine cook. And I don't need to go back to remember any of it.
They say you can't change. I dunno, I guess not. But you sure can stretch and grow. I mean, come on - just today I renewed my car registration entirely in a foreign tongue I barely know three words in, sassed at/got detained by some soldiers and negotiated a business deal in the Horn of Africa. 18 months ago I hadn't done any of that!
Scampi calls for friendship.
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