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5/22/09 Chic City

As I mentioned, I was invited up to one of Morocco's chic-est cities to participate in a workshop. I arrived here Tuesday evening, worked all day Wednesday and Thursday, and am attending to personal business today, Friday.

I've heard Volunteers speak reverently about this place for the past 15 months...and now I see what all the fuss is about.

I do love my tiny mountain village. I really do. But I can't deny how ... rested ... I feel after spending the past few days in this Europeanized city.

The tables have silverware. And napkins. And glasses and plates and sometimes even candles.

The toilets are *all* the Westernized, sit-down kind.

Let me illustrate with a conversation I shared with some other workshop attendees, Tuesday evening (just an hour or so after stepping off the train):

Me: I just have to say...the bathroom here is *amazing*. [Ticking them off on my fingers] I mean, there was a *Western* *toilet*. WITH toilet paper. And the sinks worked. Hot water! And there was *soap*. SOAP!
Friend 1: [snickers]
Friend 2: Really? Soap?
Me: OK, I realize that I sound like the country mouse meeting the city mouse. But I *am* a country mouse now. I mean, did you see how big those streets are?? And how many cars are on them *all*the*time*??
Friend 1: No, I understand, I do.
Me: So I'm just saying, if you're looking for a fabulous bathroom experience, just walk through those doors.
Friend 2: I think...I have to check this out. Excuse me.

I have lived in my mountain village for a full year now, and I've fully adjusted. I'm no longer tolerating or accepting the ... differences ... in my life, I just live them. It's routine.

Everything from squat toilets to traveling with my own toilet paper to sharing dishes and eating with my hands and taking my shoes off at the edge of every carpet (there's a story there, too)...this is my life. I don't think about it. It's as routine as breathing - yes, I'm conscious of it if I want to be, but how often do you think about your respiration?

The verb, wllf, means to be used to or to be accustomed to. In the Tam-glish blend we PCVs speak, I'd say I've wllfed to my bled life.

So yes, I admit it, I pulled out my camera to take a picture of my sunny-side-up-egg-and-toast-and-orange-juice breakfast yesterday. Because this is now extraordinary. (As soon as I'm home, I'll post the picture for you.)

Update: Ta-Da!

I'll be in this zween city for another night, and then head back to my mountain. Back home to my country mouse life. :) But in the meantime, I'm going to celebrate my city mouse vacation!

1 comment:

  1. This is a great post. Thanks. Are you surprised that you've wllfed so completely?


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