Patio Café

            Cigarette smoke as thick as London fog hangs over the heads of patrons of Patio Café.  Miniature tea kettles rattle when poured and spoons clink-clink inside coffee mugs.  A steady hum of commentary flows from the two flat screen televisions bolted to the walls on either side of the front door.  The only other noises come from the men; the occasional ‘zwina’ or ‘willi willi willi’ are all that pass for conversation in this place.

            The café is dimly lit and prone to power outages.  These, however, never affect the mood of the crowd.  When they do occur the men sit silently and wait; they pour their tea and they stir their coffee in the darkness; they shuffle in their chairs and uncross their left leg in order to cross their right.  They are used to waiting, but they need not wait long; the game resumes and the silence is broken.  A quick glance at the score line indicates that they have missed a goal, but 5 replays and 3 angles are sufficient substitute.

            Kora is by far the most popular sport in Morocco.  On any given day one can find children playing it in the streets, in the alleys, and in the fields.  Any café worth its beans will have its televisions tuned to one of the many channels broadcasting local matches.  Throughout the day Moroccan men funnel into cafés in order to watch their favorite teams compete.  They say their salams and find a seat facing the TV, which is most assuredly playing a Moroccan league game.

The cafés are always most crowded at night; that’s when La Liga is broadcast.  Indeed, if there is one thing Moroccans prefer to Moroccan kora, it is Spanish futbol.  La Liga is followed with a passion rivaled only by that of bread and tea.  And the lines are clearly drawn: simply mentioning the words ‘Barcelona’ or ‘Real Madrid’ can turn strangers into instant friends or enemies.  Both teams are well represented at every game, regardless of who is playing, and a café during El Clasico, the bi-seasonal meeting of the two teams, can quickly turn to riot.

             Even at seemingly innocuous games, like the one playing at Patio Café between Barcelona’s B team and some soon-to-be-relegated, 4-15-7 team, there is potential for confrontation.  The relative silence of the crowded café is broken only by Barca fans cheering loudly at the goals and Real fans laughing loudly at the mistakes.  Then it happens.  Glances are exchanged, harsh words are spoken, and immediately the whole room is on its feet.  Friends hold each other back, fling curses, and dodge projectiles.   And amidst all the loud words, chest bumping, and water throwing, another goal is scored north of Gibraltar, but no one has noticed.