On Running in Morocco

This past month my counterpart and I started an exercise club on Saturday mornings. After a rocky start: problems with bureaucracy, constantly finding the Dar Chebab closed at the scheduled time, and certain objections from the male "in charge, we finally got the club off the ground. The first 3 weekends we taught all the dances I've known since middle school including: The Electric Slide, The Macarana, Cotten Eye Joe, The Chicken Dance, Boot Scootin' Boogie, and Achy Breaky Heart. The fourth weekend we found the Dar Chebab closed, again, and this time everyone with keys was out of town so there was no chance of getting into the Dar Chebab anytime soon. Although my spirit was broken my counterpart had a more positive attitude. She suggested we run to one of the douars (a small neighborhood) about 3 kilometers away although we have no where to put our bags down and many of the girls had just finished morning classes. Well we ran (mostly), did deep lunges for a while and speed walked (something my girls had never seen before). Once we made it to the douar we were all thirsty. Since we are in Morocco, what do we do? We go knock on a random door and ask for water. The nice woman who appeared brought us water and chatted with us for a few minutes before we were back on our way to town.