Saturday morning, I'm walking up to the Twin at about 7:55 (those of you who know me, know that I'm a very punctual person), and RZ (his initials) calls. Mind you, I'm not late. He just wanted to assure me that he and his driver were there waiting for me. They were actually out of the car walking around to make sure they hadn't missed me, even though I told him on the phone that I would be there in 3 minutes. :) Too funny.
It was a nice, 9-hole course in Casablanca. Royal Anfa something-or-other. The King has a villa that overlooks the course. And there's a horse track around it as well where he runs his Arabian horses I guess. RZ filled me in on all of this. We did see some of the horses going for light training runs while we were playing. They also had a John Deere tractor out there grooming the track. (Which almost felt like I was back at Tara Hills Country Club watching the tractors drive by out on the stretch of blacktop that runs by the first three holes. Almost. But not really.) RZ had also arranged for us to hit driving range balls first, as I had told him I would probably need to warm up since I hadn't golfed in a year. My caddy (seriously...how cool is that? I had a caddy. Who handed me clubs. And chased down errant shots. And teed up my ball. And high-fived me and gave me thumbs up on nice shots. And didn't laugh at me on my bad shots. Granted, he was Moroccan and spoke no English, so it's not like he was going to chastise my golf game a whole lot during these 18 holes. He did very well communicating non verbally, especially on the crazy-lucky shot I had on one hole where he went over to the other caddy to express excitedly about the shot I had somehow pulled off that landed me within 5 feet of the hole. It was hilarious.) handed me clubs and set balls down for me to hit off the artificial grass mat. I actually felt bad not bending over and getting my own balls out of the little bucket. Yet, I let him do it for me anyway.
|Apparently the grandstand where people sit to watch the horses.|
|Looking down the first fareway|
Eventually, RZ and I made our way to the first tee with our caddies. We were also going to be playing with an older Moroccan gentleman. He turned out to be very nice, but a horrible golfer. I heard this gentleman talking to RZ and then heard 'professor' in the conversation and realized he was telling the man that I was his teacher (they were speaking in French). I then got to thinking about how odd it probably looked to have me out there golfing with an 11-year old kid on this course that is predominantly male. And mostly Moroccan males. Not that I cared...but I bet a lot of the guys out there playing were a bit curious about our 'pairing'.
We played. Not always well, but sometimes. We jawed back and forth a bit. I got RZ to smile and laugh and not take everything so seriously, which is something we've been working on all year in class as well. By the end of our 18 holes he was able to laugh about his bad shots just like I did, and he was giving me a hard time while keeping track of who won each hole. I think he also must have told me at least five times how much fun he was having or asking me if I was having fun. And then suggesting that we do it again next year when we are back in school. He is such a great kid. I loved spending the morning out on the course with him. We ended our golf day with his driver taking us to Pizza Hut. I insisted on at least paying for half of our pizza, even though his mom had said she wanted to pay for us to go to lunch as well. I figured it was the least I could do. :) And, hopefully we WILL do this again next year. My first golf outing in Morocco was most definitely a success, even if my scorecard did not show it!
|Walking across the horsetrack to leave.|