Fourteen years ago, in Freiburg, I was searching for a Tandem Partner. Most people don’t know what this is, so let me explain! A Tandem Partner is someone you meet with to practice your language skills. You offer fluency in your native tongue, which your Tandem Partner wants to practice. In exchange, said partner helps you with the language you wish to improve. Tandem Partners are very common within language institutes, which Joe and I were both attending so many years ago!
I actually found two Tandem Partners. One, I wrote about frequently (click here and here to experience a bit of our strange experiences). I never wrote about my other Tandem Partner (we’ll call her ‘L’). Mainly, because I really enjoyed her and there wasn’t much to say, other than I meet with a girl and we sit for hours and talk German and English together.
Here we are, a long time ago. This ostrich decided to intrude on one of our “chats” around the zoo!
Fast forward twelve years. We still talk! And I don’t mean we-see-each-other-on-social-media talk. I mean, direct communication, old fashioned style. As soon as I knew we would be on the same continent, we started making plans to see each other again. We were not able to get the families together during our trip to Freiburg, so we decided to ditch them and take a girls’ trip!
We started by texting each other three places we would like to go, hoping there would be an overlap. No luck. So after weeks of discussing and deliberating…we decided on Marrakesh! We knew we would never take our respective families there, but we were both excited (and nervous) about seeing each other again on a new continent!
Marrakesh or bust!!
As the trip approached, neither one of us could believe it was actually going to happen. Her husband had a surprise shoulder surgery the same week, my kids were bringing home every virus circulating through Great Britan. It felt like we would need a lot of luck to make this work. But then her text came through, “I’m at the airport!” This was going to happen!!
So I sent the same text in return and boarded my flight! All was well…until I landed. The airport transfer was nowhere to be found. No one at the Riad (Moroccan B&B) would answer the phone. The all too friendly Morcan drivers outside the airport couldn’t get through to the contact number I had. In my head, I was like, I got this far. Why is all my careful planning going to shit right now?! WTF?!?!
But the driver did eventually appear and I was whisked into the streets of Marrakesh. Until I wasn’t. In the dead of night (okay, it was like 10pm, but it was really dark), he pulled into a sketchy alley and parked in front of chain link fence. The fence was unsuccessfully attempting to keep passerby’s out of a collapsed building/heap of rubble (thanks to the 2023 earthquake, we saw lots of this). English was certainly not happening with this driver, and my anxiety started to rise as I listened to him make an interesting phone call to a woman who sounded suspiciously like a girlfriend. Why are we parked here? Why is he making a booty call right now? Where is the Riad? Is now when I get out my phone and start recording because it might be my last proof of life? WTF is going on?!
Then another man appeared and the driver got out. He took my luggage out of the van, opened the side door, and gestured to the other man, as if to say: You are now his responsibility. Still unnerved, I followed. Also no English communication happening at this point, I just walked and hoped. I had texted L upon landing at the airport, so she would investigate if I failed to arrive at the Riad. Right?
The little man zig-zagged through passageways and alleys, none of which looked like they had been inhabited or maintained in quite some time. There wasn’t another human in sight. I followed like a lost sheep. Or like a clueless female tourist, travelling alone, who was about to become the subject of a bad news article. To be determined.
Then, I saw a sign for our Riad. I felt (a tiny bit) of relief. The sign was neon pink and surrounded by rubble and electrical cords. Next thought: Great, I booked us into a strip club. What in the world have I done?!
Finally inside, the little man walked me to my room, where L was waiting. We both just laughed and gasped and stared at each other. Not because we hadn’t seen each other in ten years, but because we both had the same semi-frightening experience trying to get here! We hugged and frantically compared stories of the van, the deserted alley, the phone call, the little man, the sketchiness, and the relief of arrival. We sent proof of life to our husbands and then sat down to a very late, but very appreciated, tagine dinner. Served by none other than…the little man.
In the light of the next day, it was clear we weren’t sleeping in a strip club, but a very lovely little Riad. Ironically, this became our safe haven for the next three days.
Outside, signs of the earthquake remained everywhere.
If the building was going to collapse, I’m not sure the 2×4’s would stop it…but fingers crossed. And don’t look too close at all the electrical code violations.
But let’s move on to other, more interesting, parts of Marrakesh. For now, we’re just grateful to be here! Together.
Use Your Accent 