Stranger on the Train

Ready for another story from my trip to Spain and Morocco? Most of my time in Morocco, sadly, was spent on the train. I rode from Tangier to Rabat on Saturday, from Rabat to Assilah on Sunday, and from Asilah to Tangier on Monday. If I did it again, I would definitely try to spend less time on the train and more time in Morocco.

The problems with the trains in Morocco, as in the rest of the Middle East, is you never know when they are going to come. You can be positive that they aren't going to be early, but they might arrive up to 5 hours late if it is a long-distance train, and that's totally normal and just something you have to plan for.

Looking out the train window

On the ride from Rabat to Assilah, I was feeling great. I had just gone to church and had a beautiful experience in the teeny congregation in Rabat with just a few expat families. I had ridden the train before, and this time I could actually see out the windows. What could go wrong?

After about an hour a man got on at one of the stops and, stopping by the empty seat next to me, said something to me in French. "I don't speak French," I said in Arabic. "Oh," he said in Arabic. "Is anyone sitting in this seat?" "No," I answered, which was good because he had already sat down.

"You don't speak French but you speak Arabic?" It was the same question I got all over Morocco. Why in the world would this foreigner speak Arabic but not French? "What do you do? Are you working here?" He was wearing a suit and seemed educated, so I assumed that this was harmless getting-to-know-your-seatmate small talk. I answered in short, simple sentences--I didn't want to be stuck talking to this guy for several hours--and started pulling my ipod toward me.

He didn't get the hint. He was friendly enough, but I have a hard enough time understanding Moroccan Arabic--and he kept flipping into French, which made him impossible to understand.

After several minutes, in which I learned that he was going to medical school in Casablanca or something like that and had studied in France, he asked me where I was getting off. "Assilah," I said. "Oh, I'm getting off at the stop right before that! I have a car there. If you want, we can get off together and I can give you a tour of the area before taking you to Assilah!"

No. No, no, no. I don't care if you are wearing a business suit and have business cards. I don't get off the train with strange men to get in their car alone with them. Not in Morocco, not in Egypt, not in Jordan, not in the West Bank. No.

I politely refused. Perhaps it was too polite. I turned to look out the window, feeling superbly uncomfortable. How to get this man to leave? 5 minutes later he nudged me with his knee. "What are you thinking about?" he asked. What?! Are we dating now? What I'm thinking about is none of your business! Unfortunately, I wasn't brave enough to say that (I really didn't want to cause a scene and I felt safe enough on the public train), so I said instead, "I'm looking at the green fields. We don't have a  lot of green where I live." And I pointedly turned and looked out the window again.

 

5 minutes later he was at it again. The food cart came around, and he asked if I wanted anything. "No." I certainly didn't want this strange man to start buying me food and drinks and think he was going to get a half-day date with me. "Coffee and a water," he said to the food cart guy, and handed me the water bottle. "Thanks," I said, wanting to put the water back on the food cart. "It's nothing," he said, which is true, because water costs like 20 cents. But still. I didn't want to be accepting favors from this man.

10 minutes later, after trying to start a few conversations with me, he asked, "Do you mind if I go out and smoke?" No, of course I don't mind, since I won't have to talk to you, but since when did you need your seatmate's permission to go out and smoke? (I guess you can smoke in the closed area between cars on trains in Morocco. At least you can't smoke in the cabins!)

While he was gone I thought about what I should do. Should I get up, grab my luggage, and move to another cart? But what if he saw me leaving? What if I couldn't get another seat? I wasn't worried, since we were on a public train and I speak Arabic, but I didn't want to deal with him any longer. Finally I decided to stay, realizing that he should know straight up that foreign girls don't get off the train with random strangers.

When he came back, he started talking to me again. "We're getting close to my stop. It'll be about another 30 minutes. (Oh no, I thought, do I have to sit by you for that long?) So, you're getting off the train with me, right? I'm excited to be giving you a tour."

"No." I said it firmly and unapologetically. "I'm sorry, but I can't." "Why not?" he asked. "Is it because you don't know who I am? Look," he said as he pulled out his id and medical school card. "This is me. Now you know who I am. I'm a safe person."

What the heck? How does showing me your id suddenly make me think that it would be a good idea to get off the train and ride in your car with you through a strange town? "No, it's not appropriate. I'm engaged," I said, trying the oldest trick in the book.

"I'm engaged too!" he said. Liar. "She lives in France." Liar. I don't believe you for one minute. "Ah, so you understand. I can't go out with strange men because I'm engaged." "No, no, it's ok! We're just going as friends!" "No, we aren't friends. I just met you on the train."

It went on like this for several more minutes. Finally, he said, "Are you rejecting me because you're afraid for safety reasons?" If I'm straight up with him, maybe he will leave me alone. "Yes. I don't know you. I don't care if you are trustworthy or not. I don't go out with strange men anywhere."

At this point he started getting mad. "I'm offended! This is my honor you're talking about! I can't believe you don't trust my honor. You are passing up a great opportunity. I can't believe you would say no to me." What, are we having a breakup fight now? "Well, I don't care about your honor. I care more about my safety. And the answer is no."

We argued back and forth for about 10 more minutes. I grew more and more astonished as the time went on. Does this man really think I'm going to change my mind? He finally threw in a last-ditch attempt at convincing me: "True, you shouldn't get off the train with any strange man. But you should trust your feelings. And I'm a trustworthy guy." And any man that gets mad and starts arguing when I won't get off the train and ride with him in his car definitely doesn't give me warm-fuzzy feelings. I said no a final time and turned to look out the window. I could feel him seething beside me. After a few minutes, I heard him get up angrily and walk away. Safe. He's gone for good. I quickly put my earphones in and left them there the rest of the ride. I didn't want anyone else to try and talk to me.

And what did I notice after the strange man left? I was sitting next to this sign on the window.

I know now that it says "emergency exit" in French (thanks google translate!) but to my limited French, it told me that the alarm bells in my head were correct. "Issue of Security," it seemed to say, as in "going out with a strange man in Morocco is a definite security issue."