Okay, one thing I can start with are the two rules I live by these days.
The backstory: my first night in Morocco involved a hugely overpriced taxi ride, an extremely persistant tout, and a good, yet also terribly overpriced meal. Welcome to Tangier.
The next day, I tried to put my game face on, and show that medina who was boss. Obviously, it still won. I got lost countless times, wound up eating at that same overpriced restaurant (this time with about 6 other travellers in tow), and let myself get dragged into my first carpet-shop, to have tea, and try to politely weasel my way back out. Oh, and did I mention warding off just about every breathing male in the city?
Enter, my golden rules.
Rule #1: don’t make eye contact.
Rule #2: if you happen to make eye contact, don’t you dare do it again!
Failing rules 1 and 2, you have two options: first, you can just say no, and second, you can play along. It’s only recently, though, that I’ve begun to consider the latter as an option. I’m not sure if it’s from being in the South (I find people a lot more genuinely friendly here than most other parts of Morocco) or if it’s because I’ve finally just grown some thicker skin, adapted to my surroundings, and fallen into place with the way things work.
My Arabic and French have also slowly picked up to where I can at least win the respect of most shopkeepers, etc., and with the guys on the street, I can keep it in good spirits by making a bit of a joke of it. Sure, they’re sometimes really rude, but I don’t have to let it bother me! Easier to say in the day than at night though, that’s still for sure.