I was having a quiet evening at home when the doorbell rang. It was quite late and I wasn’t sure who would be visiting me at this time. So I went downstairs, opened the door, and there wasn’t anyone there. Then I looked down and there was a liter of Pepsi, a box with cake inside, and a freshly cooked Moroccan Tagine. As I was basking in my confusion, five Moroccan guys from my youth center burst from around the corner and yelled “Happy Birthday!”
They had wanted to surprise me. And I WAS surprised because my birthday wasn’t for another three days. I thanked them, and filled them in on this information—I guess there was a translation error that I my BIRTHDAY was the 26th and I was TURNING 23. Not the other way around.
But it’s the thought that counts! So I got to have myself a little pre-gaming birthday party out in the middle of my street—which essentially involved eating. Gotta love Moroccan stomach-centered hospitality!
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