By TABOR SMITH
ESSAOUIRA, Morocco– I thought I imagined it at first. Not only was it good English, but profanity! I looked to my left. The 20-something Moroccan man was leaned against a wall with his fish cart beside him. His middle finger was erected from his fist, his eyes locked onto me. I looked forward again and continued my hurried walk, my arm linked to my friend, Katherine, and my brain desperately replaying the last 30 seconds.
The incident had taken place just 20 minutes after our arrival in Essaouira, a fishing city on Morocco’s Atlantic coast.
