Stories du Maroc #2

Many people have asked me lately how I got the name Layla. It's a silly story really - On the airplane ride to Rabat from JFK (we flew on Royal Air Maroc, and the smell on the the plane was very powerful), I was wide awake and hyper (despite some Valium), and I started chatting-up the non-Peace Corps people sitting around me. There was a nice retired couple, who had moved to Morocco because their money went further there, and a couple of businessmen going home for the holiday (Eid el Kiber) that was coming up. One man actually had the person next to me switch seats with him so that he and I could talk. He was a typical Moroccan man (I would later find out) - Shmarmy and flirty (in an oily beauhunk kind of way). He definitely thought he was hot shit. He talked about his business a bit, and then asked me my name. I told him that my name was CaraBeth, and he shook his head no. "No really - my name is CaraBeth," I said. "No," he said, "your name is Layla." "What! Why?," I replied. "Because you are so beautiful," he exclaimed! (Is this guy kidding?)

So later on - We arrived at the Hotel Balima, and started meeting all of the Peace Corps country staff. One of the nicest men there was Aberrakman, so I decided to ask him about what the man on the plane called me. "Some man on the plane called me Layla. What does that mean," I asked? He replies, "Oh! That is a beautiful name! It means night, and that your beauty is as beautiful as the night sky! I must tell everyone your name!" (I must mention that I was still confused and very embarrassed at this point). He then proceeded to go around to all of the PC staff and tell them my new name. From that point on, I was called Layla... And to this day there are people out there who don't even know my real name.