Last week we were shopping in the market square in Rabat, and happened upon a fish seller (not, as far as I could tell, that kind of fishmonger). We weren’t in the market for fish that day, but we asked when he was there. “Tuesday to Friday”, he replied.
I returned last Tuesday, and he was nowhere to be seen. I tried again today, and there was no sign of him again. What gives?
I asked one of the vegetable sellers nearby. She told me that “he doesn’t come if it’s windy”.
“Ah,” I said, knowingly, “thanks.” I’m still not sure why the wind determines his operating hours, but I must assume that the fishing is lousy when the wind is blowing.
There are thousands of peices of cultural data like this that you get to wrestle with and learn when you live in a new place. I find it to be one of the great joys of living abroad. Just think how triumphant I’ll feel when I actually get my hands on some fish.
Mind you, then I’ll have to fillet it. I’ve been collecting a few bookmarks on that subject.