The first of the stories

So. About 4 days ago Morocco became a past event and I began my slow return to the western United States. Currently I am in Scottsdale, AZ at the house my lovely lovely friends Fernando and Kyle. But let us back up from here.

Lets go way back, before the 17 hours of plane travel, the few hours of metro, bus and car travel that brought me to where I am now. Before I went through 6, yes 6, security check points in Dublin, before I threw out, yes threw out, outfits, books, toiletries to appease RyanAir, before beer in Ireland...there was Morocco. And, as Fernando pointed out, still is Morocco ("people live there!").

Which story first? The dramatic break down of my poor health luck? The knight in shining suit from Fes? My Boston family in Fes? My Moroccan brother? My could-be-if-only-I-say-yes Moroccan husbandS? The cheese massage? The dreamy hammam? The night on the dunes of the sahara? Moustaffa the CD making camel guide who gives crappy hand massages? The mountain tagine to die for? The beautiful winds of the port-side Essaouria? Countless nos-noses and the a la menthe? Near death bus rides on the snowy, icy mountains? Oranges, the sweetest orangy-est oranges I have ever had? Karima, and all her infinite wisdom and friendship?

Well. Let's just start at the beginning. Let us start in the shadow and then we will move to the light. Sickness it is.

My first week and a half of traveling (CA, AZ, NC) found me to be 'happy, healthy and wealthy' (to quote a certain grandma of mine). As soon as my parents, Axis and I made our way to GA, things started to go down hill for me. I caught, what I thought, was a bit of a cold, which I was trying to down play so I didn't think I could get anyone else ill. Well. Back in NC all health broke down, and my parents and I, with different yet intense, illness fell to our respective sick beds. I pretended I had a cold, but spent each night unable to control my body temperature, and a chunk of each day blowing my nose and feeling nauseous.

Well. To NY. A nauseating plane ride (swooping over the lake to wait out heavy, snow-dense, winds) back left me thinking that this 'cold' was not going to go away. The cold turned into the flu, and fevers, headaches, dizziness, weakness, nausea, loss of appetite (the only symptom I enjoyed), and a general inability to feel in control of how I felt racked my for the whole week. Along with the flu--guilt and anger that my only time with my friends, and all I could focus on was me. Me. Sick. Ouch. Ugh. Gasp. Grrrr...Me.

A car ride to NJ, a long plane ride to Dublin and the finding of the hostel couch. Sick, and unable to cover it up, I flopped on the couch of my hostel to await my room. After a 5 hour nap, I tried to get ooot and abooot in Dublin... but could not walk without stopping every few minutes to steady myself. A cup of tea, a yogurt, and back to bed.

Paris. Oh Paris. Oh Jo. Sweet sweet Josselin, the stellar boyfriend and hopefully soon fiance of my sister. I stayed with him in his family's 15 arrondisement apartment. Fevers, and sleepless nights led to days in bed and yes, every one's favorite, tag along disease: tonsillitis. With difficulty swallowing, but meds in hand (thank you Jo and thank you french health care) I bumped my way to Marrakech. Few days ill, and then light on the horizon of health! YES!

Four days of good health (minus some pretty gnarly blisters... biggest I have every seen). Then again the sun set and, as Jo had warned, I had an allergic reaction to the meds for tonsillitis. Hives anyone? Mildly twisted my ankle in Fes. Hives and a limp, anyone? The meds caused other bodily imbalances, but all related affects from the meds cleared in about three days.

Clear. Clear. Clear. Healthy until NYC where the 24hr stomach bug took my time and much of the city's toilet paper. A string of sneezes and a runny-nose sidekick on the plane, and bam, here I am... healthy (yes, yes, yes I am) in AZ.

That's the first story, and that is where I stop for this post.

Limping Leper

Really I think all I can say at this point, is to stay tuned. I am not in love with this keyboard, so I think much of my writing will have to come later. I have written so much, none of it on paper or computer screen, but filling the pages of my cerebellum. From my new Moroccan brothers, to the unfathomable tanneries of Fes, to the free nights in a five star hotel, I love the stories

I limped into my huge hotel room last night in Fes, after two hours of fast moroccan french chatting and a crazy taxi ride; looked in the mirror and was glad to see that my whole body hive situation was calming down to an ))almost able to show my arms)) stage. I am a limping leper, I thought to myself. The alliteration made me think of the blog and my neglect of this glorious space in my life. And so I have come to admit further neglect, perhaps next week the stories will surface and we can all live vicariously through what will then be my past adventures in Morocco.

Meaning

Hours of tossing and turning, sweating and agonizing-as what i am sure is an asphalt demolition crew that works small shifts, coinciding with each time i swallow- has led me to this moment. The moment where I am babbling to the gods of health in a bathroom, in Paris. Wondering, asking, chatting, making offers. Prayer. I consider myself religious in my own personal, internal way. Today, i voiced my values, to one specific party. The spirits of human health, and now, I am awaiting their response. I wonder if they have a facebook page.

I woke, at 4am, after drug-induced sleep took me at 1am. I woke because of the aforementioned demo crew, and a firey wave of body heat I would have longed for in the cold desert nights. I awoke thinking this: I am going to lose my sight in Morocco. Paris, had been an idea of speaking french, eating french, drinking french and taking photos. Unable to swallow effectively (are my taxes paying that crew?) much has changed. Morocco I want to chat with my friend, and use my eyes, to take many photos and soak in the sights of another land. So, I figure my sight will soon go. Note, I being dramatic, and am very aware of that fact.

One thing does not change, even as i get better (amen, praise allah i am getting better!) that i am so thankful. Wherever I go, I am met with kindness, compassion, love and understanding. Perhaps that is the meaning in it all. This exchange. This beautiful awareness of the compassion of mankind. Gaza, bloodied and being torn apart is in my thoughts. And I am channeling this human compassion, away from my whiny sick butt, to those that need it more. We all need to be reminded of the good in humankind, despite the obvious anger. Perhaps it is a lack of sleep that brings my thoughts round and round again to those too-familiar middle east bombing scenes, perhaps I just dont know what I can do, but Ive found that there is much good, and I will do my best to act within and using that good, strengthed by all those who have helped me, in sickness and in health.

Yes, I guess, until death do us part.

I need more drugs. And yogurt.

Flu Who?

Never ever will I say only 'feel better' when someone has the flu. Call me a big baby, but, my goodness, two weeks of the flu and I would rather get my wisdom teeth out every single day that I have felt sick. Now I know what works, and doesn't. And, thinking you'll get better in a few days, doesn't. Cayenne pepper, ginger, tea, orange juice, soup--- it's great, and it works. And it's really reassuring... day one, two, even three. Then, you reach for the boxed drugs. And boy, thank you modern medicine. From sweats and shakes and pounding headaches, nausea, sleeplessness, dizziness, dry throat and perhaps some hallucination, oh, and some tears.... now, as a bonified participant, I can say.... grab the box of drugs at the same time you grab the ginger. Don't be fooled, one only masks the symptoms... you still need to stay put and heal, but, oh how nice it is when you slip that mask on. :-)

It may seem very obvious to some. Duh, it's the flu. It sucks. WELL, I understood that it sucked. But, like my firm belief, you know it better when you can interact, when you can teach, when you can play--- well, I played with the flu. And I get it. And I am thankful. I'm thankful that it was (and is, ugh) still only the flu. I'm thankful for my limbs, for my digits, for my eyes... for everything that was sore and overheated or frigid. I'm thankful that I had what I needed, that people around me cared and let me sleep in, and stay on the couch. I'm thankful that the tap water was drinkable, orange juice plentiful and my surroundings more than safe, more than accommodating. Perspective helps when you are sick, I've decided. So boo hoo.... flu who. I've got you right where I want you.... on the outs. (But if you could hurry up and leave, I'm be much appreciative)

I'm practicing loading pictures.

The Blog-Shake

No, not a delicious ice cream based, word-enhanced 'beverage.' (Are shakes considered beverages? Nah, desserts, maybe?)

Anyways, the blog shake has to do with, a rather bitter sweet deal. Well, agreement, not really a deal.

"You had better not be writing about me in your blog." My mom said, in the middle of an argument. Or, was it a discussion. Eh, it was a mix...

"I won't." I said. "I don't." thinking of course 'you are quintessential blog material. 24-7.'

Well, the blog is like a week old, so "I don't," really meant "I haven't yet."

Now, this blog is not a big deal. We've mentioned it maybe twice since the day I proclaimed I was a blogger. I am such a blog virgin that I have yet to make the blog-threats "careful, or I'll eviscerate you via blog." "I'm going to blog about this moment later!"

Nope. None of that.

Well. That's it. No mom in here. I shook on it. I'll of course talk about her under another name, but, ladies and gentlemen, it's big blog bulletin news:
No mother in here. Which is crazy. Because she is crazy. And crazy makes for gooooooood writin'.

Oh well. Respect comes first. I guess.

PS: Really hilarious mom stories are allowed (ie: Puerto Rico customs). I've decided. And will be written with permission granted from the mother-unit.

Bat and Moth

A popular EE game for crepuscular creatures and for playing with the adaptation of echolocation is bat and moth. It probably has several different names. Essentially, via echolocation (clap-clap) the bat (student) finds the moth (student) in a dark, sometimes blindfolded, situation.

Well, when walking Axis last night, I watched a little bat soar above a lamppost.

Straight lines and then suddenly, like the moth, the bat dropped from the sky about two feet. Snack?
Again and again, the bat soared, passing 20 feet on either side of the light, scooping up unsuspecting bugs as they made their pilgrimage to the light.

"Clap clap" I said, every time the bat ducked to swoop at it's prey.

The sun set, and we made our way back to the house.