Confessions of a Polish expat who went native... sort of
After eleven years in Morocco, I've collected more than just memories and a deep tan. I've also accumulated a delightful collection of habits that would make my punctual, sugar-conscious Polish mother shake her head in despair. These aren't your typical "I learned to appreciate couscous" transformations—these are the quirky, sometimes embarrassing behavioral shifts that sneak up on you when you're not looking.
So here's my honest confession: the "nasty" habits I've picked up in Morocco, and why I wouldn't trade them for all the pierogi in Warsaw.
1. Time is... Elastic (And I'm Okay With It)
In Poland, "I'll be there at 5" meant you'd find me standing in front of your door at 4:55, probably shivering and checking my watch. Punctuality wasn't just polite—it was practically a national sport.
Fast forward to Morocco, where "I'll be there in 10 minutes" translates to somewhere between now and next Thursday. At first, this drove my Type-A Polish soul absolutely bonkers. I'd pace, check my phone, rehearse passive-aggressive texts that I'd never send.
But somewhere between the third glass of mint tea and accepting that the sun sets when it wants to (not when my schedule demands), I discovered something revolutionary: the world doesn't end when you're twenty minutes late. In fact, it barely notices.
Now I embrace what I call "Moroccan time"—a beautiful, stress-reducing concept where plans are more like gentle suggestions and meetings happen when they're meant to happen. My punctual Polish ancestors would absolutely faint, but my blood pressure has never been better.
2. Sugar, Sugar, and More Sugar (My Sweet Addiction)
Let's talk about Moroccan mint tea, shall we? This isn't your delicate Earl Grey situation. No, Moroccan tea is essentially a sugar delivery system disguised as a beverage. I swear they use sugar cubes like building blocks.
I started with such good intentions—polite little sips, wincing slightly at the sweetness, thinking I'd gradually train the locals to go easier on the sugar. Adorable, right?
Eleven years later, I'm the one grabbing the sugar bowl and adding generous scoops like I own shares in a refinery. I've become that person who can't function without at least three glasses of liquid candy per day. My dentist back in Poland is probably planning a new vacation home thanks to my future dental work.
But you know what? Those sugar-fueled afternoon conversations, sitting on plastic chairs outside a local café, watching the world go by—those moments are worth every future cavity.
breakfast in the souk
3. Bargaining Has Become My Cardio
Remember when shopping meant walking into a store, checking the price tag, and either buying or leaving? Those were simpler times, my friends.
In Morocco, every purchase is a performance art piece. Buying a carpet isn't just a transaction—it's an elaborate theatrical production involving dramatic gasps, wounded expressions, appeals to friendship, and at least three glasses of tea.
I used to politely pay whatever price was displayed, if there even was one. Now? I can't buy bananas at the local hanout without staging a full negotiation. I've turned haggling into an extreme sport.
The truly embarrassing part? I caught myself trying to bargain at IKEA during my last visit to Europe. The teenage cashier's confused expression still haunts me. There I was, gesturing dramatically at a BILLY bookshelf, explaining how we could "work something out." Not my finest moment.
4. "Inshallah" - My Default Response to Everything
Inshallah (God willing) started as this beautiful, reverent phrase I'd use cautiously, only when discussing genuinely uncertain future events. It felt meaningful, spiritual even.
Now it's become my automatic response to literally any question about the future, regardless of how trivial or controllable the situation is.
"See you tomorrow?" Inshallah."Want to grab coffee later?" Inshallah.
"Can you pick up milk on your way home?" Inshallah."Will you ever move back to Poland?" Inshallah.
I've turned a sacred expression into my personal verbal tic. It drives my planning-obsessed Polish brain crazy, but it's also wonderfully liberating. Why stress about things when you can just shrug and say inshallah? It's like having a philosophical get-out-of-jail-free card.
5. The Horn: Morocco's Love Language
In Poland, car horns are reserved for emergencies or expressing road rage. Honk unnecessarily, and you're basically announcing yourself as a terrible person.
In Morocco, the horn is poetry in motion—a complex communication system that says everything from "Hey, I'm here!" to "Your cousin sends his regards" to "Nice sheep you've got in that trunk!"
I didn't realize I'd absorbed this habit until my first trip back to Europe, when I cheerfully honked to greet a neighbor and received the kind of dirty look usually reserved for people who don't pick up after their dogs.
Now I understand: the Moroccan horn isn't aggressive—it's conversational. It's musical. It's how a city talks to itself. Sure, it took me eleven years to decode this automotive Morse code, but now I'm fluent in honk.
6. Eating With My Hands (And Never Looking Back)
Cutlery, schmutlery.
The first time I was invited to share a traditional tagine, eating with my hands felt awkward and slightly scandalous. I fumbled with bread, trying to figure out the mechanics while everyone else moved with practiced grace.
Fast forward to today, and I instinctively tear bread with one hand while scooping up food like I've been doing it since birth. There's something deeply satisfying about connecting with your meal so directly—no metal barriers, no pretense, just you, the food, and the shared experience.
Cutlery now feels unnecessarily formal for most meals. Why create distance between yourself and perfectly good food? Plus, there's something magical about eating from a communal dish—it's intimate, it's connecting, it's exactly the kind of thing that turns a meal into a memory.
The Beautiful Truth About "Bad" Habits
Here's what I've learned about these supposedly "nasty" habits: they've made me more adaptable, more present, and honestly, more fun at parties.
I've traded rigid punctuality for flexible spontaneity. I've swapped careful portion control for joyful indulgence (at least when it comes to sugar). I've exchanged polite acceptance of prices for the theatrical art of negotiation. I've learned that sometimes the best response to life's uncertainties is a philosophical shrug and inshallah.
These habits haven't made me less Polish—they've made me more me. They're proof that you can take a girl out of Poland, put her in Morocco, and create something entirely new: a person who's comfortable being gloriously, authentically bewildered by life.
So yes, I show up late, drink too much sweet tea, bargain for everything, pepper my speech with Arabic phrases, honk with abandon, and eat with my hands. My former self might be horrified, but my current self? She's never been happier.
After all, when in Morocco... inshallah, right?
What habits have you picked up from living abroad or traveling? Share your confessions in the comments—I promise not to judge (much)!