Things I Never Knew

I didn’t know what a lot of things really were when I was living in Ohio, or anywhere else for that matter.


Dear Morocco,
Thank you for showing me the REAL DEAL on:

Diarreah, or “pissing out the ass” as it was lovingly referred to by my Australian companions the first few weeks as we gripped our toilet paper and fought for the toilet.

Sweating, or reverse showering in one’s own persperation. I can’t begin to count the amount of clothes that have waves of salt that have formed as the copious amounts of sweat have dried. I do not like this, in fact, I don’t particularly enjoy sweating at all when it’s not in the context of an intentional work-out.

Leg strength, squatting while constipated can be quite a testastament to muscle capacity.

Olive oil, the real stuff. It’s wonderfully pure and almost sweet.

Honey, also the real stuff with chunks of honeycomb dispersed throughout.

Unhealthy food, especially in Ramadan where people gorge at night on high carbs (breads, sweets, milk) and grease (although these greasy things are very delicious).

Couscous, prepared for one day, choc-full of veggies, meat, and delicious sauce and eaten from a communal dish on the table with one’s hands. *I must say, I enjoy all communal eating. We do a lot of it here in Morocco. You don’t have to eat too much, you get plenty of bread to take advantage of the wonderful sauces, and you feel as though you’re part of something bigger. It’s a little weird when glasses are communal, and a lot of times I’m frustrated only because I wish I had COLD water, with ICE. But, all in all, I love it.

Hospitality, or basically taking a stranger in as if they were your own.

Homeless animals, specifically cats. Al-humdelalla, my roommates have adopted a kitten named Marley who looks as though he’s just been electrocuted. I love him, bizef (a lot).

Paint chips, which are continually falling off my lovely, yet moist bedroom walls.

Cheap furniture, which my room is full of.

Variety of fruit, because the only things really available in the states in my experience have been apples, bananas, and oranges (occasionally)- otherwise, you’re looking at canned.

Good roommates and beautiful old houses, who knew living in Morocco could be so wonderful and hassle free, after a few snags.

“I have nothing to wear!,” which translates, in Morocco, to absolutely everything I own has been saturated with sweat twice over and is now starched with dried sweat and stinks hardcore. (Hopefully we’ll secure a laundry/cleaning laday today in our meeting with the landlord).

Gratitude for a hot, pressurized shower, which we have in our house! Cheers! I’ve experienced multiple other possibilities including: filling a bucket with water (hot of cold, sometimes boiled on the stove first) and scooping it over my head with a Tupperware (which is actually quite nice), cold dribbles from a shower head, only a handle of a showerhead but no ability to put it on the wall. I mean, we really lucked out with this place, and the gas heater is very efficient, sometimes too much so- it’s still freaking hot here.


I’m sure more of these will come. For now, please know that I am THRILLED with what the universe has provided me. I am now the happy resident of a beautiful, old house in the ancient medina. We’re just outside Bab Boujloud and just steps away from LaPos-da (post office) at Bat-ha; a few turns through narrow streets and past tiny, quaint doors you’ll find our house.

Inside, you’ll find Raz (my first wonderful roommate originally from Atlanta, with wonderfully crazy hair, cute glasses, and a shit-ton of smarts- in Arabic and otherwise), Liz (my second wonderful roommate originally from Maine, with an admirable sense of style, great glasses just like mine, and again a shit-ton of smarts), and Marley (our wonderful, handsome, crazy kitten whose black and white fur makes him appear as though he’s just been electrocuted *pictures to come).

The house is four floors and a rooftop that overlooks the city and has a perfect view to the ancient ruins nearby. The first floor is a kitchen, Marley’s room (or the Turkish, squatting, hole in the ground room), a huge living room with couches, dining tables, and a western style plastic table, and two other salons lined with Moroccan style couches and decorated with rugs and beautiful chandeliers. Up one set of mosaic-lined, cement spiral stairs, you’ll find my room. Although its small, its quite cozy. The double bed is a little big for its britches, but oh well. I rearranged it to create a study area behind the bed near the full closet. And the landlord was nice enough to decorate it a bit with a Moroccan lamp. The only other room I share a floor with is our storage room, which is perfect for storing our empty luggage. Basically the place couldn’t be any more perfect. Up another flight are Raz and Liz’s rooms which overlook the primary living room, and a western style bathroom with proper shower. Up another floor is a tiny laundry room and a small staircase which leads to the roof (but only after you pass through a somewhat freaky, triple-padlocked door.) I love it up there, and hope to christen it with a yoga practice soon.