My Diet

My Diet

In case you are interested today I ate the following:

1. For Breakfast:
1. A pot of Lipton’s Tea, with sugar and milk
2. A bowl of cornflakes and milk
3. A banana and an orange

2. For Lunch
1. An egg, meat and olive sandwich and coffee from the café (Dh10).

3. For Dinner
1. A tomato and olive oil salad
2. Couscous, seasoned with salt, olive oil and tomato paste
3. A banana
4. A tropical yogurt smoothie (6Dh)
5. Two Ghirardelli chocolate squares (which came today in a package along with the most exquisite assortment of teas)
6. Another pot of tea (this time ginger)

Puddle Returns

For those of you wondering, Puddle, the friendly and bedraggled cat who happened upon my roof one day has returned. Despite his waterlogged appearance his situation in life is not as desperate as at first appeared. Mud still remains caked to his tail and his fur still shows the telltale signs of neglect, however his other wounds seemed to have healed and his disposition was all together cheerier upon finding me and receiving bowl of cornflakes and milk. I wonder if they sell cat food anywhere closer then Marrakech?

On Poop

Some things about the Peace Corps experience induce volunteers to mature. Some things cause them to revert to being 10-year-old boys. Poop belongs solidly in the latter category. For instance a sentence like, “Poop, pooper, poop. How’s your poop? Still peeing out your ass?” is not particularly rare amongst volunteers. Perhaps it is because the first lecture volunteers’ get when they arrive in country is on diarrhea. Or perhaps it is because the use of toilet paper is not widespread, so volunteers spend a lot more time squishing poop between their fingers as they clean their posteriors then they did back home. Or maybe it is because volunteers, as a reward for making it a full year, get to poop in a cup for a lab to examine. Whatever the reason, the Peace Corps is a poop conscious society. In poop we trust.

On 'The Moment'

Everyday there is a moment. It happens about five steps from your front door. It is the moment when you ask yourself, “Do I really have it in me to get through this day?”

If you are lucky it happens five steps after you have already closed and locked your front door. If this is the case you take a deep breath and let your momentum carry you. You salaam the people you see, go to your meetings, do your shopping, and never show how exhausting it is being immersed in a new language. Of course if you are unlucky the moment happens five steps before you get down the stairs to the front door. If it happens then you look at your feet and say to them, ‘guess this is an English day.’ And you go back upstairs and write a blog post.

On Ikea

For those in Morocco who want modern solutions for everyday living, there is always Ikea. Ikea (pronounced the same but spelled Keita) has stores in all the major Moroccan cities where you will find the best Swedish designs that China can mass produce. Have a loft in upper soho? Fear not, here you will find all the smiley-face chairs and trés chic duvets your heart desires. Of course at Dh3500 ($500) you’ll have to pay two months wages just for a set of sheets. Maybe that’s not the best solution for everyday Moroccan living after all.

On Puddle

I awoke this morning to find a cat on my roof. A more affectionate cat then this one, I have never seen. Of course that characteristic was not particularly appealing because if there was ever a cat with rabies, it was this one. He, and that is a totally arbitrary term since I was not about to risk the rabies series by peering down to find out the cat’s sex, was mangy, very mangy. His tail was caked in mud, his fir was matted and unkempt, and in some places it was entirely absent as though removed in a fight. And he was hungry. Though I wanted the cat gone immediately, not being entirely heartless to his plight, I couldn’t deny him a plate of milk, which was swiftly gone and replaced with mewling for more. Before going to work I left a chair for him to climb to freedom. And of course I named him. Puddle.

Update

Wednesday, January 13^th, 2010:

…still in Morocco.