Saharan Hot Nights


Pricey drinks and priceless outfits

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Expats, so hot and flustered they might be dubbed ‘sweatpats’, and Moroccan girls dancing like it’s going out of fashion – or, more likely, never was.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The best thing about going out in Marrakech nightclubs is that it’s never expensive to buy drinks for girls.

 

“Two orange juices and a gin tonic for me please.” 

 

The same can’t be said for alcoholic ones though. At the Afric’n Chic hotel club, mixed drinks went for 10 euros a pop. I stole a straw to drink it through.

 

She was a model – not lingerie, but kaftans, which are slightly less of a turn on, though leave a lot more to the imagination.

 

Not that a lot of imagination was needed when she dragged me and her sister to the dance floor. Moving clumsily between a parading troupe of six men in pastel pyjamas playing hand cymbals, I managed a weak gyration down to the floor, at which point my hiking boots made it abundantly clear to me that I was staying there.

She would later ask me to come and meet her for a ‘tajine’. I guess that’s the Moroccan word for ‘coffee’. I didn’t so much decline as say “I’ll call you tomorrow,” which is man-code for ‘no’.

Megan and I were working, doing a story on a the life of young women in Morocco – which just happened to necessitate going to the club.

 

I was actually a little intimidated. After two weeks of seeing barely the face of a local woman, it was quite confronting seeing that they actually have hips, toned stomachs and plunging necklines, and extremely trashy sense in nightclub clothing.

 

Some clothes were so shocking that the leopard must seriously be questioning whether it died in vain. And that was just the men.

Expats, so hot and flustered they might be dubbed ‘sweatpats’, and Moroccan girls dancing like it’s going out of fashion – or, more likely, never was.

 

When their boyfriend/fiancés arrive they retire to the couch. Some are drinking from a 750 ml test tube of beer with a tap at the bottom from which they fill small glasses and chug.

 

One o’clock came around and Megan and I decided enough fun had been bought in one night. We’d both finished  two drinks. Indeed, in Morocco, nights tend to end early, and not so much because the liver is full, but because the wallet is empty.