When it Rains it Pours!

Not real rain though - Morocco is still seriously lacking in real rain this season.  But in busy-ness!  I hate to interrupt a travel story mid trip, especially one where we have just emerged from a freezing haunted Moroccan castle, but there have been some goings on around these parts.

We had an "S" visit to Morocco this past week.  For those of you who haven't been indoctrinated into the State Department Acronym and Initials Secret Code yet, "S" means Secretary of State.  As in THE secretary of State.  Of America.  The consulate wasn't directly involved in the visit, but Max and I were able to meet Madame Secretary and shake her hand.

I don't meet a lot of famous people but in general I don't get very hyped about it.  People are people, right?  But just before driving over from church to where the meet and great was held I had been chopping up Basil for a salad.  In the car I realized my hands still very much smelled of Basil and oh my gosh I'm going to shake the Secretary of State's hand with my basil-smelling hand and then she'll board air-force-secretary-one or whatever it is and put her hand up to her face and say "Basil, how curious."  But when I realized that was probably the worst possible outcome I got over it.

It's really refreshing to have these kinds of "Big Picture" meetings from time to time.  I'll spare you the sentimental paragraph I just wrote and erased about serving your country and being engaged in meaningful work, and just say that this is a neat job and North Africa is a neat place to be right now.

On other fronts...

I am still wearing a pony tail in light of mullet-gate 2012, but my hair is growing pretty fast.

Our dog is still very adorable and better not grow out of his on-board carrier before we attempt a trans-Atlantic flight this May...

I figured out how to make Taquitos from local stuffs and can't believe it took me so stinkin' long

I have been moved from teaching the 11 year olds at church to teaching the 8 & 9 year olds and so far so good.  We had a lesson today about a man who stood on a tower to teach his people and we played Jenga - it was a big hit.

We took a wee trip to the seaside with our dog and I'll be posting more about that later.  It was the first trip where we planned nothing and did nothing and I loved it.  That Max, he's such a calming influence on me :)

Max is having a graphic novel he has written illustrated and the project is at the half way point.  Very exciting.  He's applied for a grant that would pay for production, printing, and advertising - we'll know more in June, but keep your collective fingers crossed!

We are busy planning our home leave and can't wait to see many of you.  We are hoping to fit in at least one camping weekend and other fun activities whilst home-leaving.  ...including buying a heavy duty new camera lens?  Yes, even that.
           

Never Peed by Candlelight?

“You did?”

“I did indeed. I said Now Max, this is going to be an adventure trip – not a relaxing trip. Are you ok with that?"

 “Huh. Well I’m sure I don’t remember that …” Max yells with a grin as the freezing wind whips across his face on top of the fortified city of Ait Ben Haddou.

 To be fair, we might have had that conversation while he was reading his favorite news blogger, who I sometimes refer to as Max’s boyfriend because of the way he so intensely zones out when he reads his blog…but who can say?

We have been wanting to see the south of Morocco since we arrived but it was either too hot or too far for a short weekend or too…whatever. But after two months, 8 weeks, 56 days of staying put I was going to burst. Our little car isn’t much, but I was determined to drive it over the Atlas Mountains at least once during our time in Morocco. So we got out our maps and plotted a feasible route from Casa to Marrakesh, up and over the Tizi n’Tichka pass, a stopover at Ait Ben Haddou, on through to Ouarzazate and the Skoura Oasis before mounting the Tizi n’Tichka again with a detour to Telouet then through Marrakesh and back home. We drove a lot and, to my shame, were mostly fueled by a pack of fun size Reese’s peanut butter cups my mother sent us for Christmas.

The first thing to know is that even though Morocco is in Africa and it has a desert, a famous one, it gets cold here. Even though the sun was shining and the sky was robin’s egg blue for miles – we were frozen to the bone most of the time. Thank goodness for layers and car heaters because my original planning would have left us much grumpier and much colder than we were. I found this place inside the UNESCO world heritage site of Ait Ben Haddou, a fortified city of Kasbahs (Ksar), that had been renovated and rented rooms. “We could stay in an actual Kasbah and climb to the top after all the day trippers have left! How cool.” That’s pretty much all I need to get excited about something. I didn’t discover until a few weeks after making the reservations that this particular Kasbah didn’t have any electricity. After being assured the rooms were heated, I shrugged it off. I did warn Max this would be an adventure trip… 

The peak of Tizi n'Tichka

 The drive over the mountains was stunning. I felt like I made Max stop every ten minutes, but with each new bend I was more and more amazed. We stopped at the peak of the pass to take photos of the snow covered mountain tops and the farms below, but scurried quickly back into our chariot when a mountain Berber got a little too friendly with my waist upon learning I spoke three whole words of Arabic. The landscape quickly changed from rocks and snow and Argan trees to deep red clay stretches of earth and cheeto colored plateaus hovering above small villages. We stopped for some real food before the turn off to Ait Ben Haddou and then trundled along the pise (clay dried road) to what was supposed to be our final destination.

The contrasting colors were really something.

The Kasbah at Ait Ben Haddou is very impressive. We had to walk across a “bridge” made of large stones and sandbags just to get there. The Ksar became a UNESCO world heritage site in 1987 and our host, Mohammed, told us that renovations have been taking place over the years in order to entice people to come back to what was once their home. These efforts; however, have not really been successful and only 10 families currently live in Ait Ben Haddou. As Max and I scaled the empty Kasbah we began to wonder if the former residents were as spooked by the now empty fortress as we were and perhaps that's why they weren’t returning. But more on that in a bit.

Ait Ben Haddou - recognize the top of the hill from Gladiator?  Many films were shot here. 

View from the top

Mohammed greeted us on the far side of the stream and helped us over with our bags. When we entered the Kasbah it was pitch black save a small candle on a table in the entrance hall. As we moved from room to room in the Kasbah, led by a candle carrying Mohammed, we heard him whisper “Bismillah” in each new space. Bismillah means “In the Name of God” in Arabic and it is often used to invoke the blessings and protections of Allah, or God. As we crept up the dark stone staircase the thought occurred to me that he might be muttering this to ward off Jinn.  Jinn (Genies in western parlance) are ”supernatural creatures in Arab folklore and Islamic mythology that occupy a parallel world to that of mankind. Together, jinn, humans and angels make up the three sentient creations of Allah.” (Thank you Wikipedia) Jinn can be bad or good and while I’d never heard of them in other Muslim countries, Jinn seem to play a larger part in the Moroccan belief structure. From my research (admittedly informal) it seems that Jinn are particularly active in old spaces – they inhabit and more often “haunt” old homes, riads….and Kasbahs. Later we asked Mohammed about the Kasbah and why people weren’t coming back and he speculated that perhaps there were inhospitable spirits about…

We slept just under the
storks nest 

Despite a very high potential for hauntedness we stored our gear for the night and headed down to the dining hall for dinner. Mohammed was the only one in the Kasbah besides us that night and he had spent all day preparing a delicious three course Berber meal for us. We ate by candlelight and except for the wailing of Mali’s Tinariwen in the background, I’ve never experienced such silence. Most riad/guesthouse hosts are chatty mcchatty Cathy’s but Mohammed moved silently around the Kasbah with such purpose and such self possession. The night grew even more silent and I couldn’t help but think about those 10 families, including Mohammed, who live in darkness and silence every day. It was actually a really great evening to be still. To invoke a cliché, in our modern world we are hardly ever still. It’s become something I have to learn and relearn from time to time. We loved it.

….except that it was about 5 degrees and FREEZING. Despite a butane heater in the corner we spent the coldest night of our recent past curled up under the blankets. One night was awesome, two nights would have put me over the edge. So we moved on…

Road Trip!

Have I unpacked yet?  Of course not.  Am I still thawing out from our frozen adventure?  Yes, yes, I am.  I'll be back with more details of Kasbahs, Gimbris, and Jinn as soon as I kick this High Atlas Mountain cold.  

Easy Does It

Things are getting back to normal around here after The Holidays and the DC training and the new puppy.  Last week Max and I resumed our sometime tradition of spreading a blanket across the rocky sand of Ain Diab and watching the sun set on Sunday evenings. A lot of expats are frustrated by Casablanca because it’s too dirty/crowded/hard to drive in/rough/whatever but we have really taken a shine to it. You have this great pulsing city with all manner of people (from even more diverse income brackets) and there are decaying French Art Deco buildings alongside shantytowns alongside ultra modern high rises and French bakeries with 98% butter croissants sidled up to black markets selling burned photoshop disks for the price of a chalupa. Then you drive 20 minutes to the coast and you get this:

Sunday night is when all the families come out and when, much to my surprise; young couples come to nuzzle - away from the eyes of their parents and neighbors. Last week was our first beach adventure with Buckley and we were both shocked and delighted when our tiny pupster chased down a man on the beach who walked a little too close to our blanket. To have an 10 inch guard dog – everyone should be so lucky.

But things can change in an instant around here… the day before our lovely evening we almost drown in swampy sewer water. We drove across town to check out the new Morocco Mall, which is enormous beyond belief and includes such delights as The Gap, H&M, Burger King, and TWO frozen yogurt stands. But on the way(ish) we swung out near Dar Boaza to pick up some non-pesticidal veggies. The roads out by the Dar Boaza coast are not as well constructed as those in the discotequed corniche area and we found this out when it started to pour. I mean rain like you just stepped out of a bathtub. I couldn’t believe it. It’s a good thing really, because Morocco hasn’t gotten a lot of rain this year, but as we chug-a-chug-chugged through the rapidly rising water pooling in the middle of the street we started to get that ah-oh feeling. The water was reddish brown from the dirt on the sides of the road…but also from something else our noses told us.

At one point I jokingly said to Max “what happens if the water gets really high? How deep of water can cars drive through…?”

Just a few minutes later we drove through a particularly deep stretch and looking out the passenger window I could see the water level reaching the door crack and sloshing above. We were very quiet for a few seconds, waiting for the torrent of murky water to breach the door and spill onto the floor mats but we soon arrived at higher ground and were spared. The moral of the story is don’t drive your tiny grey car on crappy roads when it’s raining a big dog. Even if you have to have fresh goat cheese and organic red peppers.

Single Girl in the City

 I know that single people live in big cities all over the world and don’t congratulate themselves after spending a week alone in country, but I’m not one of those people. Max had his first training last week back in DC and I’m glad to report that no houses were burned down, much Project Runway was watched, and a many things were caught up on.   

The things that were good

 As previously mentioned, I watched a lot of Project Runway. After catching up on the latest season I flung open the doors to my closet and said “This has to stop.” What has to stop? Keeping things I don’t love for ANY reason and having so much dang stuff. I purge fairly regularly but still hold on to things that I could look cool or that I used to like or that I might need to wear when we go to the dessert/Saudi Arabia/ community garden/opera/mountains…you get the idea. I read a few articles online about minimalist closets and I’m very pleased to say that after a few “fashion show at lunch” evenings my closet almost fits that profile. There is something really awesome about choosing from one of your 8 tops and knowing that each one is fabulous. …then I did some shopping. But not too much!

Going it alone. I am an alone kind of gal – I like social things and humanity in general, but for every chunk of time I spend being with other people I need an equal chunk of time not being with people. One to one is kind of a ridiculous ratio, but you do what works people. I always get tricked into hanging out with Max when he’s around because…duh, I like him and he’s fun, but it was nice to come home to an empty house and ask myself what the heck I was going to do for the next 5 hours.  I drew a lot, painted, cooked things that were delicious but not healthy and then ate them, and finished about 4 books.  I’m pretty serious when I say that I will take a job on the cleaning crew just to be able to stick around in the future event that we are evacuated from post and only “necessary” staff are allowed to stay, but the truth is we will probably be separated at several junctures for undetermined amounts of time. It was good to have a mini test run.

The things that were lame

I had big plans of making organic feasts every night but I mostly survived on strawberries, brownies, and grilled chicken breasts. I know, am I a college freshman?

My dogtastrophy. The plan was for me to keep the puppy a few days after Max left and then have him go stay with the puppy whisperer and his enormous German shepherd for the rest of the week. The puppy needed to start making friends and I was really unsure of my ability to play with and discipline and feed and clean and walk and pee a tiny yet to be potty trained dog by my lonesome. Remember, I don’t come from dog people.

I was feeling pretty confidant the first night after Max left, making creamy chickpea soup from a new recipe and pulling out my watercolors, but the dog was fussy from a long day at home and things went downhill the minute after he ate his chow. He was bitey and yippy and my creamy chickpea soup turned into a chunky bowl of tahini flavored yuck. A short training session was met with wiggles and naughtiness (adorable naughtiness) and grooming his shaggy locks went much the same way. While I was laying on my back, trying to regroup from being bested by a 4 kilo dog, Buckley ate a little corner of his eye wipes. I don’t know if it was the late hour or the bowl of chunky yuck sitting a little funny, but I became convinced that it was poison and he was going to die. I called the after hours vet number in a panic but he couldn’t quite understand my English and I couldn’t quite understand his French so he had me call his wife at the supermarket and explain to her in a mix of English and French that my tiny dog just ate a part of an eye wipe and is it going to block his intestines and/or poison him and will he die? Max’s first day away and I had killed our dog! The end of the story is that the dog was fine and I resisted the urge to drive to the doggy hospital for a miniature body scan. I did, however, call the dog whisperer to have him take the dog the next day.  Even though I spent the rest of the week saying “I’ve abandoned my boy!” in Daniel Day Lewis’ accent from There Will Be Blood and hearing phantom doggy yelps, he came home happy at the end of the week and I had a quiet week to recharge.

Arf! Arf!

It must have been a pretty funny sight, the two of us scurrying down Casablanca's dark moped lined alleys whispering "Business time. It business time" in much higher than normal tones.

But that image makes more sense if you know that we have a brand new puppy!

His name is Buckley, Buckley Barnam, and even though I have fought it for several years, this little guy melted my heart and thus, he came home with us a few weeks before Christmas.

At the puppy palace on that fateful day: 


Me: I don’t know if I really want to play with them. Remember how I don’t really like dogs? And we aren’t ready to buy one yet. And these aren’t even the types of dogs we talked about. 


Max:  Well let’s just see. What about that one? 


Me:  That Yorkie? Well….he is kind of cute. Ok …hhmmm, he’s so calm and adorable…. 


Other woman entering the store: Let’s see, where’s that cute Yorkie we saw here last night? 


Me: Oh, she means my adorable, chill, snuggly, wuggly ball of crazy hair. I’m sorry, he’s not available anymore. 

And that was it.

Max and I had a really ridiculous moment as we faced each other between the TWO bedazzled puppy bed isles with the soon to be named Buckley in my arms. “Is this our dog!? Did we just get a dog!?” Our eyes welling up a little. We swooped through the store, puppy tucked under arm, picking up things one might need for a puppy. Bed? yes, he’ll need that. Toenail clippers? Puppy toenails grow…right? Toys? Just a few. This is going to be so much fun and he’ll be so good!

But then we got home, and freaked out a little bit.

Oh my gosh, it pees in the house. How do we potty train him? We both have full time jobs! How can we walk him outside when our neighborhood is full of broken concrete and glue sniffers? What do puppies eat for treats? Ah! How can we get him to stop jumping on the couch!? He seems nervous, is he nervous? How can we make him not nervous…? Oh no, he started to bark!

Enter the Moroccan Dog Whisperer.  Mustapha comes to our house once or twice a week to teach us how to train Buckely.  After only a couple of minutes at our first session he had him laying down and sitting and all sorts of things on command.  And everyone has been very calm since that night. We have been practicing our little doggy rules and our little doggy is catching on very quickly.  We've even passed the "getting up in the night to piddle" stage - I know, aren't we ridiculous?