How a McChicken Made Me Realize I'm In Morocco

The longer I’m here, the more I keep waiting for the ‘Ah-ha!’ moment. You know the moments. Those moments when you suddenly realize what you’ve always wanted is happening, or when you realize you’re doing something awesome, or with incredible people. Sometimes those moments hit, but honestly, sometimes you only think they’re coming, but they never hit. Today, my ‘ah-ha, I’m in Morocco’ moment came at the most unexpected moment; While I sat in McDonalds, of all places.

It’s an incredible surreal feeling to sit in a McDonalds in a foreign country. I have been told by many people that it is their habit to make sure they go to McDonalds every time they travel somewhere new, since it’s always just a little bit different depending on what country you’re in, and I have to say, this is now my new habit as well. So how did I decide that McDonalds was the best choice of all of the restaurants in Fes to have dinner at, you ask? Simple: We were incredibly lost, we had been walking for a couple hours by that point, we were hungry, and thought it was funny that we found McDonalds. Done and done.

To start, the McDonalds here is an upscale restaurant for Moroccans to go to. Converting the amount of Dirhams I paid for my McChicken, fries and drink, it was almost exactly the same amount as I’d pay in Dollars in America. Controlling for inflation and simple exchange rates though, that’s nowhere near the same price. I bought a half kilo of mandarin oranges and two candy bars today for a grand total of 8 Dirhams, my hotel room in Fes for one night was 82 Dirhams, and my McChicken, fries, and drink cost me 52 Dirhams. You see now the difference. I will also add that it was by far the fanciest McDonalds I’ve seen in my life.

As I sat there with two fellow Peace Corps Trainee’s, we discussed the differences between a Moroccan McDonalds and an American McDonalds, as well as simply the differences between an American meal and a Moroccan Meal. For one, it blew our minds that the Moroccan McDonalds was two floors, with a balcony seating and patio seating, while an American McDonalds obviously is not that. We realized as we looked around that going to McDonalds is a big deal here. It costs a lot of money, it’s a different kind of cuisine, and it’s something special. It was undoubtedly a special treat for us as well to get a little ‘taste’ of home. Our stomachs were suddenly quite confused as to why we suddenly weren’t inhaling an absurd amount of sugar and a stupid amount of bread with our meal. Dear stomach: I miss salt.

I mentioned earlier that people like to make sure they hit McDonalds everywhere they go so they get a ‘cultural experience.’ I understood it today as I saw a McFondue on the menu. No, I’m not making this up. I swear. The longer I am here in Morocco, the more I understand the true influence that France’s colonization has on Morocco, although I have not yet had enough language experience to truly understand the past of my new home. My friend Richard and I have a running joke that we are going to get tattoos on us in Arabic that says ‘We’re not French.’ The official language of Morocco is Darija, yet most official documents are still printed in French anyways. It’s an interesting thing to experience, since official documents are in French, school classes are taught in French, and any white person is spoken to in French (even if we insist of Darija). For the older generation of Moroccans, who do not understand French (and shouldn’t have to technically, since French is not an official language), receiving important documents in a language they do not understand is a painful reminder of their country’s past.

Let’s get back to the point though. What’s the most American thing out there? McDonalds. At the end of a difficult week of sorely missing home, McDonalds seems like the perfect solution of culture shock and homesickness. Of all things that have happened to me up till this point, it really did surprise me that it was McDonalds that would supply me with the ‘ah-ha’ moment I had been waiting for. It was the very surreal feeling to be the only American’s sitting in a McDonalds in North Africa, eating exactly the same food I’ve ordered back home many times, but feeling like I was spending a night on the town while I did so. Seeing Moroccan culture and an American icon mashed into a single entity is exactly what it took to have it all hit me.

My friends and I walked away from that meal laughing incredibly hard at the complete absurdity of our situation. We had spent all day traveling, we had taken a taxi to one location, and didn’t have enough language to explain where our hotel was to the return voyage taxi driver, ended up walking for 2 hours whilst very lost, stumbled upon a McDonalds, and ate our meals while an entire restaurant of Moroccans stared at us. Believe me when I continue to say everyday is an adventure here.