Moroccan-McMuffin
Everything here is so incredible. My worries (well, panic really) about vacationing here was wasted (as is 99.99999999% of most worry). Morocco is a place of tolerance.
Most Moroccans are used to tourists and we even see a lot of tourists dressed in tank tops and short-shorts, and they manage to get by. While it's my choice to try to be as respectful as possible and show little skin, it isn't everyone's choice and they don't seem to be dying in the streets over it.
The Moroccans embrace their past, which originates from Berbers then Jewish than Arabic. During WWII, Morocco would not "hand over" their Jews at Germany's request. While the Jewish population is currently small, every place we go or every time the subject of Judaism is discussed, it's extremely open and respectful. (This is only my tourist's experience, which obviously may not be 100% accurate).
There is a repetitive design displayed in many buildings and mosques that I am fascinated with, originating back to who knows what century. It incorporates Christianity, Judaism, and Arabic, all leading to one God, all leading to all men. This seems to be something I look for everywhere we go and I'm not sure why I can't get it out of my head.
Tomorrow is a free day and tonight is supper on the town, and returning to the famous square we went to today, which apparently is much, much more interesting in the evening.
However...the surreality of this place, my emotions, my happiness mixed with grief and confusion...I know this isn't for me tonight. Yes, I'm missing out on an evening out in Marrakesh, and possibly some once in a lifetime sights and sounds and experiences at the market square, but I'm choosing to spend tonight with myself.
I can't imagine myself sitting at a restaurant (as wonderful as my travel companions may be), I can't imagine eating a real meal, I can't imagine trying to take everything in. I'm resisting the urge to call this evening wasteful, because I'm spending it with myself.
I am a little overwhelmed by the surreality of everything - Morocco and my life. I'm kind of okay with that.
So, I ordered some bread and eggs with a Coke and 2 nectarines, I made myself a fried-egg sandwich, and I asked to eat by the pool. Ok, well, that's a little surreal in itself, Oh, Geeves, cook me up a light suppah and serve me at the grotto....., but it's the place I most wanted to be.
Every time I go into a pool here, it feels so wonderful (mainly because I'm hot and stinky and dirty), but I have spent a few occasions crying in the pool. Sometimes I feel like I must be a character in a movie. Like that movie with Jim Carrey where he's in a movie but doesn't know it.
The day we arrived to this Riad, my emotional state was iffy. It was so hot, so Silvia and I immediately got our suits on and went to the pool. I have no idea how it came out, but I just started crying. There was a man sitting on one of the chairs near us, but I was kind of huddled in the corner and we paid no attention to him. Silvia talked with me, let me cry, let me hug her legs because we were sitting in an awkward position, and hugged me back while I cried and cried, all the while part consoling me, part letting me just cry and cry. (She says she wishes she could do more, but honestly, I can't imagine her (and Allen) doing any more than they already have.)
So I'm having my daily breakdown, and then Allen comes to the pool, gives us a little space and sits down next to the man that we have been ignoring, who has been sitting there the entire time, listening to music playing which just happens to be every Brian Adams/Sting song ever written, and he gets up and introduces himself to Allen as the Riad owner.
Ohhhhhhhhhhhh my. The freaking owner of this place. Who has commissioned a painting of himself,
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and has some pictures of some very famous people that have stayed at the Riad.
.jpg)
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I don't know what the saying is, but it's something like, Even in tragedy there is comedy. (For now at least), I can still appreciate the ridiculousness of the situation and the humor of it all. Like seriously, could I have my breakdowns in a less public area? Like MY ROOM?
I guess I'm really trying to stick with my "feel what I feel, do what I do" motto.
So tonight, I'll be hanging around the pool, eating my Moroccan egg McMuffin, drinking my Coke, and hanging out with myself. And enjoying it.
Most Moroccans are used to tourists and we even see a lot of tourists dressed in tank tops and short-shorts, and they manage to get by. While it's my choice to try to be as respectful as possible and show little skin, it isn't everyone's choice and they don't seem to be dying in the streets over it.
The Moroccans embrace their past, which originates from Berbers then Jewish than Arabic. During WWII, Morocco would not "hand over" their Jews at Germany's request. While the Jewish population is currently small, every place we go or every time the subject of Judaism is discussed, it's extremely open and respectful. (This is only my tourist's experience, which obviously may not be 100% accurate).
There is a repetitive design displayed in many buildings and mosques that I am fascinated with, originating back to who knows what century. It incorporates Christianity, Judaism, and Arabic, all leading to one God, all leading to all men. This seems to be something I look for everywhere we go and I'm not sure why I can't get it out of my head.
Tomorrow is a free day and tonight is supper on the town, and returning to the famous square we went to today, which apparently is much, much more interesting in the evening.
However...the surreality of this place, my emotions, my happiness mixed with grief and confusion...I know this isn't for me tonight. Yes, I'm missing out on an evening out in Marrakesh, and possibly some once in a lifetime sights and sounds and experiences at the market square, but I'm choosing to spend tonight with myself.
I can't imagine myself sitting at a restaurant (as wonderful as my travel companions may be), I can't imagine eating a real meal, I can't imagine trying to take everything in. I'm resisting the urge to call this evening wasteful, because I'm spending it with myself.
I am a little overwhelmed by the surreality of everything - Morocco and my life. I'm kind of okay with that.
So, I ordered some bread and eggs with a Coke and 2 nectarines, I made myself a fried-egg sandwich, and I asked to eat by the pool. Ok, well, that's a little surreal in itself, Oh, Geeves, cook me up a light suppah and serve me at the grotto....., but it's the place I most wanted to be.
Every time I go into a pool here, it feels so wonderful (mainly because I'm hot and stinky and dirty), but I have spent a few occasions crying in the pool. Sometimes I feel like I must be a character in a movie. Like that movie with Jim Carrey where he's in a movie but doesn't know it.
The day we arrived to this Riad, my emotional state was iffy. It was so hot, so Silvia and I immediately got our suits on and went to the pool. I have no idea how it came out, but I just started crying. There was a man sitting on one of the chairs near us, but I was kind of huddled in the corner and we paid no attention to him. Silvia talked with me, let me cry, let me hug her legs because we were sitting in an awkward position, and hugged me back while I cried and cried, all the while part consoling me, part letting me just cry and cry. (She says she wishes she could do more, but honestly, I can't imagine her (and Allen) doing any more than they already have.)
So I'm having my daily breakdown, and then Allen comes to the pool, gives us a little space and sits down next to the man that we have been ignoring, who has been sitting there the entire time, listening to music playing which just happens to be every Brian Adams/Sting song ever written, and he gets up and introduces himself to Allen as the Riad owner.
Ohhhhhhhhhhhh my. The freaking owner of this place. Who has commissioned a painting of himself,
.jpg)
and has some pictures of some very famous people that have stayed at the Riad.
.jpg)
.jpg)
I don't know what the saying is, but it's something like, Even in tragedy there is comedy. (For now at least), I can still appreciate the ridiculousness of the situation and the humor of it all. Like seriously, could I have my breakdowns in a less public area? Like MY ROOM?
I guess I'm really trying to stick with my "feel what I feel, do what I do" motto.
So tonight, I'll be hanging around the pool, eating my Moroccan egg McMuffin, drinking my Coke, and hanging out with myself. And enjoying it.
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