The Car that Never Came

When I travel to another country or live in another country, I do not come to hang out with Americans and sit at McDonalds or Pizza hut. I come to experience the culture as much as possible.  This would include being part of their religious holiday to fully explore their culture.  Reviewing my invitations, I had one of Mr. Casa’s friends invite me and then back out of it a couple days before (typical).   And I had my “friend” from INWI who invited me kindly to come over and spend the day with him and his family. 

Comments he made:

You are going to love my family, they are so amazing.

He showed me pictures on his phone. 

He showed me his home and where he lives and said how much his family will like me. 

This is the day of Eid.  I sit on my balcony watching the sheep playing and looking down waiting for his girl to pull in the alleyway.  9:10am, 9:20am, 9:30am-okay maybe he is just running on Moroccan time.

9:45am, 10:00am, 11:00am-2 hours no call and no show

Priscilla leaves the balcony and feels like a sad little girl who was never picked up from school and her parents just forgot about.  

One week previously, The comment from Mr. Casa, “ I am your family” and then breaking up with me.  Perhaps I need to live in a country where it’s people are the most educated about psychology.  When you have a girl alone in a Muslim country with no family connections and then you say “I’m your family.” Do you understand what kind of impact that has on someone? A girl holds onto hope that it might be true, that she might be a part of something real and feel a sense of belonging, but instead you shut her out of your life and do not even treat her as a friend after saying, “I am your family.”

Sometimes I just think, “How can people be so warm yet so cold?” Is it really like Joann says that most people are functioning as opportunists even if they do not know it? It appears that The Moroccans are actually winning when it comes to fooling me.  When you ice a cake five or six times, it tastes really extra sweet, which leads me to believe that it is full of sugar.  There are Moroccans that ice up the cake five times, wave it in your face, and then eat in right in front of you.  It is just completely nasty and rude.

I never speak to Mr. Youseff or Mr. Casa-one broke my heart and then another one trailed behind him.  Mr. Youseff will see me and his attitude and behavior has shifted.  He used to be all smiles and now he has a cold look on his face. What is wrong with these people? I admit I have my own problems, but wake up and identify yours!