
Originally Posted by
whaywardj
I run scared from both burkas and veils. I'm in Fes, Morocco at the old market. Tourist traps alight for tourists such as me. Six or eight, slinky, hot bodied, belly dancers writhing in an open air square. Just arriving from a commune in the desert, I'm in my Berber garb; turban, djellaba machzania; the works. However, I'm wearing my Movado watch on my wrist. Seeing it glint in the sun, ALL the belly dancers wiggle toward me. I reach into my pocket for dirhams, knowing they won't leave me alone until I give them some spare change. Besides, I think, Morac morality nothwithstanding, surely I can stuff a bill or two next to the breast of a street gypsy without getting my hand chopped off. Dancer wiggles up to me. Writhes in place a few times and thrusts her hip at my groin to accept money. I stuff some paper in her scanty costume. Then off comes the veil and out comes a big, bad-toothed smile buried in five o'clock shadow. They were ALL men. I threw a few bills over their heads and disappeared into the crowd as they went scrambling for them over each other in a, suddenly, very manly tackle football manner. So, yes, misombra. A burka would work for me. I wouldn't get within ten yards of her.