Snippets of Life in Canada with Kids

November

 Yesterday at the bus/metro station, the kids got all hyper while waiting for the bus. I told them to run down the hallway back and forth to burn their energy. At the end of the hallway is the exit. I said, "don't go out the door!" All went well...at first. They ran up and down happily a couple of times, then they all stopped at the exit. You could actually see them thinking, considering the one way exit turnstile. I left their backpacks on the seat

and ran down the hallway yelling, "I told you not to go out the door!" As I'm calling to them, I helplessly watch them exit through the turnstile one by one. Once outside, they realized they couldn't get back in. I have a card but doubt it would work if I swiped it 4 times, so I called for help. We ended up going back in through the handicap entrance with my card. I was relieved. Our bags were still there and we had to run to catch the bus. But all was well. Not sure the kids actually learned a lesson???

Finally got our OHIP card today. Now we'll be on the national insurance plan starting January. Took a couple of tries and a couple of weeks. Everything is a process. Since I'm not the one working, I have the legal status of a child. Pretty frustrating. (That is, until I go back to work.)

Planning our first X-mas holiday with my family and my children in Chicago, EVER. I've been wanting to come home for awhile. I want to introduce the kids to things like waffles, lox and bagels, shrimp with cocktail sauce, x-mas decorations, and spiral ham. Man oh man, have I missed that taste.

Xavier and I finally bought alcohol over the weekend for the first time since we've arrived in Canada 1 month ago. The boys have given me so much stress that I said, we need some wine, I need to self medicate. Honestly, I've been missing the taste of wine for awhile now. First Ramadan in July and August, then going to the states, where my parents don't really drink, then the move. Getting wine here, is a grandiose effort like it was in Morocco, just more expensive. And being a cheap person...well you can imagine.

Spent the bulk of the day busing the kids to the dentist. Spent 2 hrs there for a meet and greet with all 3 of my kids. Kids were agitated and hungry by the end. Left the office a little before 2 pm. Walked the kids down the street to Wendy's for lunch. Kid's behaviour was more or less horrific. Then, Austin had this brilliant idea to climb into one of the highchairs for babies. Nicolas, as always followed suit, thought only Nicolas was small enough to be able to climb back out again. I broke a sweat pulling on Autin's body to get

him out only ending in him crying from physical injury and still remaining lodged in the seat. The only alternative was to dump him on the dirty floor and slide him out upside down. He screamed when I did this, both shoes came off in the process, but after a lot of jimmying and pulling, he was finally free. My head was pounding by the time we got home. Started cruising jobs that require travel. At the moment, the thought of extensive time away from kids is appealing...

Sometimes I get an idea stuck in my head, even if it is far from rational or correct. Today's thought was dental appointment for all 3 kids. Took everyone out of school in the middle of the day, got on the bus, hoofed it to the dental office only for the secretary to tell me I got the day wrong. The appointment's for Thursday. Silly goosey. We stayed out, had lunch anyway. Kids were pretty psyched. Now, we get to do it all again Thursday. Felt like a nimrod. Can't even blame it on hormones.

Spent the weekend attempting to sew a Christmas stocking for Nicolas. We went around town and found a bunch of stores selling material, so Nico got to choose the color of his stocking. Anaïs decided she doesn't like hers (red) and tried to put in an order for a new one. I explained, I had the same stocking my whole life that my mom sewed for me when I was a child...The kids spent the rest of the day sewing Christmas stockings for the cat with the left over material. Now, they're waiting to make gingerbread houses. you know

3 kids = 3 houses. I think they have designs to make an entire winter village. That's another weekend long project. The prob is to not let them eat the house after it's built. I always find teeth marks in the stale gum drops torn off the sides of the house.

 

I received my Canadian Driver's License. Now, we can buy a car and get insurance. We're almost completely settled. The only thing left is my national insurance card. Waiting on proof of address from the bank 1st before I can get the card. Our second shipment (our furniture) should arrive by the end of the week. The rest are just details.

Sunday November 4 - Daylight Savings Starts Today in Ontario

Nico came in our room this morning pre-dawn to wake me up so I could open a lollipop for him from Halloween. I said don't come in knowing the cat hurled all over our bedroom last night and could see a pile laying by the bedroom door from the light in the hall. Nico didn't listen and instead stepped right into her puke. I had to get up, clean Nico, dress him since

his pj's were footsies and thus covered in cat hurl, then cleaned the floor. Forgot the hour changed here last night and started hustling everyone to get ready to go to church, so the kids could experience Sunday school. X got really PO'd since he woke up and I had the hour wrong. Oh well. We all got chewed out.

Our first of 3 shipments arrived from abroad 2 days ago. No place to put things since the house is so small, so our boxes are currently just sitting in the garage. The furniture should arrive in 2 weeks, then maybe sometime in 2013 our sea shipment should arrive from Morocco. Best I can say, no boxes were missing, however, I didn't open them yet to view their contents. We got our king size bed ripped off upon its arrival in Morocco along with our TV. Not sure how these items can go missing? Now, I'm just more aware and vigilant. Getting settled.

 

 

 

Public Catholic School

In Canada, kids have the option of going to public catholic school, free!

So, we live about 500 meters from the local public catholic school that my kids are now going. They have to wear a uniform, which is unfortunate, but oh well.

Good school, we're very happy. Kids seem more or less happy. Once they make some friends.

Kids come home with all sorts of questions. Heaven and hell are the current topics. Being uneducated in terms of religion, I am not a good source of information. The kids always ask me first for confirmation.

Actual conversation I had with my 7 yr old son

kid: Will I go to heaven?
mom : yes
kid: If I lie, will I go to hell?
mom: no
kid: well, my teacher says I will go to hell if I lie.
mom: do you think it's a good idea to lie?
kid: no
mom: neither does your teacher. Do you understand why your teacher doesn't want you to lie?
kid: yes
mom: if kids lie, then it would creat chaos, right? Therefore, you should always tell the truth. Do you think you will go to hell?
kid: no
mom: so what's the problem?
kid: will I or will I not go to hell if I lie?
mom: do you believe in hell?
kid: no
mom: neither do I
kid: but my teacher says I will go to hell if I lie.
mom: there are many philosophies regarding religion. The church talks about hell as a way of keeping a code of behavior for people to follow. So, you're going to hear about hell. Religion has black and white opposites like heaven/hell, good/bad, etc. Just because the church says something is, doesn't mean it's true.  It's just one philosophy of thought. You should listen to it, but also think for yourself.
kid: What do you think?
mom: personally, I believe in heaven though there is no proof. I need to believe. I don't believe in hell and I think all people, no matter how bad they are, go to heaven.
kid: Will I go to heaven?
mom: of course
kid: but, will I?
mom: What do you think?
kid: yes
mom: good, I agree

On the move again to Toronto, Canada

October 6th, 2012 we got on the plane and moved to Canada.

As usual, it was pretty stressful. I did the packing on my own. Xavier had to drive the Mustang back to France. He took about 5 days to drive it back to Lyon. The time he drove through Spain, they had these terrible floods and mudslides. Xavier said there was a piece of the highway missing, as in the bridge simply wasn't there anymore. It took him forever to drive through Spain with all of the road diversions.

As I packed, I was afraid our stuff would get stolen again. This time, I tried to cleverly write the contents of the boxes in German. I figured the movers and the customs agents would be less likely to read German than French or English. Then, I tipped the movers pretty well. Miraculously, so far, all of our boxes arrived in Canada (at least the air freight portion.)

We got out ok. For the first time, neither Xavier nor I got flagged by the authorities regarding the car. All that has been so stressful!

Canada has so far been the friendliest country I've ever lived in. It's like the US, but with some more social, higher taxes, higher cost of living than anywhere I've ever lived, and freedom of economy. It feels like Canada is, what the US was in the 1950's. I believe the US has gone into social free fall since the Reagan years and is slowly trying to correct itself. It has also been in a bad economic state since we left in 2004.

Everyone smiles and says hi to you here. People introduced themselves to us right away. It's lovely, though kind of shocking. I'm not sure how to behave. Weird, huh? That is, I'm not sure what the rules of politeness are here.  People seem kind of British. They wait patiently and don't yell at you or anything or tell you what to do. I never see any angry words or fist fighting in the street. I don't think, "am I going to get robbed today," when I'm outside or when I go to the bank. I don't worry about getting attacked when I go running in the green space near our house.

So, apparently, Canada  is known for its friendliness. 

Some things are easy, some things are not.
EASY: most utilities, SS#, DL
HARD: actually, relatively speaking, nothing has actually been hard. Sometimes there is a process and that can take a little time, but compared to Europe and Morocco, everything is simple here.

Things that annoy me: My husband is the one with the work permit. Since I'm not yet working, I'm attached to him and therefore have no more rights than a child.
Example:
1. Can't put any utilities in my name. I tried to cancel the cable, mind you, I'm the one who set it up, but they wouldn't let me. They said my husband has to call and cancel it.
2. Our Credit Card: called to get it unlocked and to get a new pin number sent to me - couldn't do anything because my husband is the primary person, we are NOT equal on the credit card. Therefore, my credit card remained locked.
3. Banks: totally messed up like Europe. My husband's name is on the account. Too difficult to change accounts. Checking accounts seem to be a problem. When renting, you have to post date 12 months of rental checks. Only Xavier's name is on the checking account. No for some reason they cannot add me to the account. We would have to close the account, then re-open a new one. Too complicated, so now Xavier has to sign checks for me when I need one.  Really irritating.

Scams: Beware of moving companies.
We bought furniture from a woman doing an estate sale. Basically, we bought the entire contents of her house. I had no desire to move all that furniture myself, plus we have no car. I found a moving company on kijiji. They quoted me for $180.00 for 1 truck, 2 men and 4 hrs of work.

I didn't want anything professional, just throw the stuff in a truck and get it out of there. My husband has no car and the bus wasn't running in the middle of the day, so when he finally got to the woman's house the men asked him to sign something and pay a down payment of $300.00. Xavier complied. After the truck was loaded, the guys told him to sign another piece of paper and to pay them $1,200.00 up front in cash or they wouldn't deliver the goods. When I found this out, I called the manager and told him we agreed on a price and this is totally unacceptable. He told me my husband signed a contract. I said I was not going to pay a cent until I looked this contract over myself and then we would discuss this further, un beknownst to me my husband feeling trapped already paid them the money they had asked. I had no written proof of the verbal agreement. I was totally enraged by this. For that price, we would have rented a U-haul and done it ourselves.

I called the police and they kindly came over to the house to take my statement. They told me I have to get every detail written out and that there is absolutely nothing they can do. I said this is fraud. They agreed, but again, there is nothing they could do. The police were really apologetic since we're new to Canada and already we got scammed. If it were any other country, I would have been 10X as angry. At least in English, I'm aware of everything that happened.

Scams happen here as much as they do in the states. It's unfortunate, but that's the way it is. Other than that, getting settled seems to be quite effortless outside of trying to get a phone. Rogers, the main phone company likes the 2 yr contract plan, which is completely insane, especially since Rogers is a monopoly.

Data Download: now here is something totally outdated in canada. Unlimited WIFI - forget it. Doesn't exist. The phone company is living in the past. They actually charge you based on your datadownload. Who on Earth knows of their download?? Once you go over, they nickel and dime you and nail your wallet. Like those horrible cell phone charges when you go over your limit. Yes, that too ought to be passé, but it's not. Even the developing world has unlimited internet access. The phone company here still has a lot to learn. Until change happens (ie break up the phone companies, in other words, Rogers cannot have the power behind the other phone companies if you actually want to break it up), we're all chained to it.

Buying a car: Hmmm. Doesn't look like it's going to happen. Credit in the USA? Sorry folks, no credit checks in the US, even though it's a 1.5 hr drive to the border. Our options are as follows: Buy a very expensive 2-yr lease, buy a used car cash, try and get a loan on a car in the states and bring it over (way more complicated, but doable, I think.) So, the family and I are still busing and hoofing it and renting a car on the weekend to do our shopping. Gotta say, it's working out quite well. 

By the way, brrrr, it's cold!!! -4 celcius today. We're not even in winter yet. Yikes!!!

The Dreaded "P" Question

I suppose it could be worse.
It could be the "when are you due?" question.

Honestly, I get the "P" question too often. But, I suppose, after 3 kids, the body is supposed to show evidence of child bearing, right? So, the most recent conversation went down like this...

I'm at the water park with my kids and a girlfriend and one very nice lady I've met for the first time. I'm wearing my bikini, not much place to hide there. I'll refer to her as Woman A.

Woman A turns to me and says, "I hope you don't take this the wrong way..."

Internal Dialogue:
Oh great, she's going to ask me the "P" question.

Woman A: Are you pregnant?

Internal Dialogue: Yep, there it is.

Me: No...I know, I just look pregnant.

Woman A (obviously embarrassed by her faux pas, tries to recover): No, well, you're just so thin and you have a little belly, you know? But lucky you, you don't have any stretch marks!

Internal Dialogue: Well, at least she's trying...

Me: I know, I got lucky. That's probably why I have a little belly, since I didn't get any stretch marks, I had to get something.

Woman A: Well, at least you don't have belly fat.

Me: Well, actually I do have some, but that's okay. My body is what it is, so...

Sadly, I have experienced the "P" question many times. Once was at Xavier's grandma's 100th birthday party. I wore a body hugging dress. To my horror, my father-in-law came up to me with one of his female relatives in tow, with a big slightly drunken smile on his face and loudly exclaimed in front of the entire party:
"MY COUSIN AND I WERE TALKING ABOUT YOU AND HOW YOU LOOK IN THAT DRESS. YOU HAVE QUITE A BELLY...SO, IS THERE A BABY IN THERE?
It was obvious, my father-in-law proudly and astutely believed he had unearthed a secret.

Me: "Well, Daniel, no. I just look pregnant."

Daniel (Obviously did not believe me, thought I was being coy): "You are expecting, aren't you?"

Me: "Daniel, if I was a few months pregnant, I wouldn't be able to be here, I'd be at home vomiting into a toilet."

Daniel: "Oh"

I felt the need to explain
Me: "After Nico was born, I got an IUD and immediately afterward, my stomach popped out. It has never gone back down, I need to get this thing removed."

Daniel: "Oh, okay, sorry."

Me: "No problem, I know I look pregnant, I don't blame you for asking, I would also ask, myself."

Problem is: Have since removed the IUD and still getting the "P" question. However, there is a remarkable difference, now instead of looking 3 mos pregnant, I look about 1.5 mos. I don't think the "P" question will ever stop.

Went to the gynecologist and she told me I was crazy and that it was all in my head. I lined up sideways and said, "look at my stomach, that's not normal." She said it is a medical mystery. She said I'm "lucky considering" and that it could be worse. She listed off a slew of things I've never even heard of (after effects of child birth) such as hanging lower belly fat or something like that?! I thought, I'll never complain again. She said she can't imagine my IUD affecting my body in the way I'm insisting it has. She said, "maybe it's gas."
"So, I've been bloated from gas for 4 yrs? Don't you think if it were gas I'd just fart?"
She checked, not gas. So, after IUD removal, stomach went down noticeably within 48 hrs.  I'm still happy to have my body back, even if it's still with a belly, at least I know it's rightfully mine.

Surfing, Bike Riding, Swimming, Ice Skating 08/2012

Surfing and Bike Riding:

Anaïs has started surfing. In her words, "It's totally awesome!" It's great to see her in a little wet suit up on the surf board. She road waves the first day she tried it. I must say I am totally impressed. She is very, very athletic. Austin also had a go at surfing, but he fell a few times and doesn't really enjoy it. He literally just started to learn how to swim this summer. He also finally learned how to ride a bike (before it got run over by a car or something and is a little bent up now.) I guess Austin finally decided it was time to ride a bike, so he went out on his own, got on that bike and road it. Both Anaïs and Austin learned how to ride bikes by themselves. I always thought the parent is suppposed to help them, but they just make the decision one day, get on that bike, and go. Next thing you know, they come in the house and say, "I can ride a bike." And sure enough, they can!

It is just like when we took our vacation to Corsica last summer. Xavier and I were sweating it out on the beach, when we heard Austin suddenly yelling from the Mediterranean all excited, "I can swim! I can swim!" We looked down, and surely Austin was swimming!  We whooped and cheered him on.

Nicolas has swum for the first time this weekend. He just started putting his head underwater and actually starting swimming underwater. I'm totally amazed. They kind of come onto it on their own. He still remains in the shallow end, but it's starting.

 Adventure Land:

Took the kids to Adventure Land at the Mall after much badgering to eat at the Mall. I finally took the kids on a little outing to McDonalds. The restaurant overlooks Adventureland, so I was obligated to allow the kids to explore this place I've attempted to hide. They were totally excited! 

Made the mistake of wearing too short of a skirt to Adventureland that day. While I was attempting to understand how it works and how to buy the magic plastic card, Austin and Nicolas were fighting over grabbing onto my body like little bands of velcro. Then, Nicolas had the bright idea of trying to access my body from behind by lifting my skirt up way over his head.

I got very angry because I think I mooned everyone behind me and swatted him on the head before I yanked him out. He started to cry from this and I chewed him out a bit, couldn't help myself. Then, when I finished buying the card and was attempting to walk away, both boys went for a grab on either side of my legs, wrapped their arms around them and almost tackled me to the ground. I got upset again, stopped and had to physically peel each boy, one by one, off my body. 

We played games and went on rides. Kids loved it! Easy to blow a lot of money here. You receive a "credit card" with whatever amount you put on. Once the credit card runs dry, I explain to the kids the bank is closed, no more rides. The kids never seem to believe me and think that there is endless fun to be had and that this little plastic card has an infinite amount of cash on it. Sorry kids, that's not how it works. So, I had to drag the boys out of there.

Ice Skating:

Promised to take the badgering monkeys ice skating today at Morocco Mall, probably the only ice rink in Maroc. They are very excited. Nico is a little nervous, never been ice skating before. I made a point to say, "no we are NOT going to adventure land." The ice rink is inside Adventureland, so temptation is high, especially for Austin. They've been badgering me to ice skate since I promised them Tuesday. I know 2 days is so long to wait when you're 9, 7 and 4.

Mom's Mishap At The Ice Rink:

It was Nicolas's first time ice skating ever. He was terrified at first, then loved it. Holding both his hands almost broke my back since he's so short. I had to literally squat and skate the whole time. Broke out into a good sweat. Then decided to break free and skate a little on my own. Mind you, I was the ONLY adult skating. I decided to pick up a little speed. Went around a corner, the ice was REALLY cut up, but decided to do front cross-overs anyway, because I'm, you know, an arrogant, over confident show off.  Hit an edge, oops, lost balance for a split second, then.....TOE PICK. 

Next thing I know, I'm air born, an expletive more than likely flew out of my mouth as I landed palms down on the ice thinking "oh God, I'm going to slice up my hands."  I could almost see the ice turning red from the blood that was going to run from my palms.  So, I managed to rotate my body, hitting every part of it on the ice until I could make it onto my back, upon which I finished sliding across the ice.  Mind you, I'm wearing a tank top and jeans, but figured I'd rather slice up my shoulder and back than my palms. 

I managed to cut my elbow and bang up my hip. Was more embarrassed than injured. Have NEVER bit it that bad on the ice in my life. My palms were red and sore, but fine. However, I noticed ketchup on my jeans...I mean, oops, that's not ketchup. Only noticed my elbow much, much later. A pretty gash, but nothing to write home about. Still, had an awesome time ice skating with the kids.

Assault 8/2012

Ok, there is something seriously f-ed up here. I think EVERY female I know, or almost every female has been assaulted at least once. Most get their purses snatched. Some, who carry their purses across their bodies end up getting dragged down the street by the guy riding a moped who snags her purse from behind.

They go by on mopeds or bicycles and snatch purses or necklaces. Some get straight up robbed. Ramadan seems to be a season of higher crime, especially towards the end. I'm always nervous, but am more so now than before. One woman got attacked on the beach while running alone by two men, one carrying a 6 inch blade at her. Totally mental. In the end, she got neither robbed nor raped, she screamed so much, they walked away. One got attacked outside her home while she was unloading the car filled with groceries. Najat got attacked while she left a house from work, a guy put a knife to her throat and he walked away with her cell phone and her week's wages. Another woman got attacked yesterday while loading her car with groceries. Two men attacked her. She fought both of them off. She put pictures of her ordeal on facebook and is all bloody, but the girl fought. I give her kudos. I doubt they had a knife, but it must have been on the main road. Am totally confused as to why no one helped her??

All of my survival instincts kick in here in Maroc that I had in Chicago. Basically it feels like you're living in the middle of a Chicago slum, so how would you act if you're living in Cabrini Green?

I always look to see who is around me. I keep my purse off the street side shoulder. If I'm walking with a friend side by side, I keep my purse on the shoulder between us. I just went out and bought a 15$ plastic knockoff purse. Problem isn't the purse, it's the papers and cards inside the purse. I'm always worried about getting things snatched. Locals have warned me that if I'm on my cell phone in the car, I need to keep it on the ear that is away from the window, because someone could come by, reach in and snatch it out of my hand. Same goes for purses and packages, keep items on the floor behind you.

Never go running with money, a purse, or something valuable to steel. I always run with nothing on me, just in case. I always run either inside Marina Blanca where there will not be a problem, or on the street where there are lots and lots of people. I have more danger getting hit by a taxi or car suddenly pulling off onto the shoulder or a moped than anything else. I never go out alone where there are no people, forget about going out at night. Don't walk down a street that is dark. If you don't get attacked by a man, you might get attacked by a pack of wild dogs. I'm more afraid of the dogs currently than men.

I have yet to have a problem, but I think that has something to do with luck. A woman got her purse snatched last week while she was walking with her husband by a guy, albeit, not a very bright one who was on foot. Her husband is fit and was wearing trainers. Together they yelled and ran after the guy. He chucked the purse on the ground and continued running off. He broke the strap of her purse as he tried to steal it.

I understand why women wear djelabas. They have open pockets, so you put your belongings on the inside. I might just go out and snag my own, makes it kind of hard to get to my purse though if it's shoved inside a Djelaba, oh well. I guess the key is to look poor, but who wants to go around all covered up looking poor? Not I. I just want to be myself and not have any issues. Most people are very, very nice and friendly. It's just scary when something like this happens. You know it will happen, it's just a matter of time. I figured I'm safer since I live in Dar Bouazza, still I NEVER feel safe here either. I totally stick out. I just try to remain where there are people and never walk off onto a side road. I also don't wear too many nice things, not that I have so much jewelery anyway. Still I'd be pissed if someone stole my wedding band or my engagement ring. Those are sentimental. Let's hope nothing will ever happen.

Ramadan 8/2012

Oh, the dreaded and mysterious Ramadan.

Business hours get messed up, restaurants close during the day. Starbucks isn't open at the mall anymore. My life is over, or is it?....

Ramadan is time of the great fast. No drinking or eating while the sun is up. People's clocks get reversed.

Breakfast starts at Ftour, this year, around 7:45 PM when the sun goes down.

People start with dates, sweets, croissants, tsimmon (moroccan pancakes) and harera (moroccan tomato soup), coffee or tea.

Then around 11:30 PM/Midnight comes the main meal (pastilla), tajine, couscous, whatever.

Then around 3:30 AM before the morning prayer that starts maybe around 3:45 AM, not sure about the exact time, some people get up to have a last light breakfast of fruit and yogurt.

Ftour is a time for family and friends to get together and share a large meal. Eat and party (without alcohol). Honestly, I think it's awesome. The atmosphere at night at Marina Blanca is fantastic. Kids stay up and play until 11 PM, everyone is outside eating and drinking and having a grand old time without adults getting trashed. I think it's really great! Restaurants open up again late at night to serve people Ftour and dinner. It's kind of cool.

Most restaurants are closed during the day. I rarely eat out anyway. I don't find the food in restaurants to be that good. I prefer what Najat cooks at home. The restaurants are all the same anyway, for me brochette, tajine, salad and harera. You can only take so much of that. I haven't had really good steak since I have the impression the meat is sketchy. I won't eat anything unless it's fully cooked. No one seems to know how to butcher meat. They just lob off a hunk of the cow hanging from the hook. No point asking for filet mignon. I'm not a big fan of lamb either. For me, the taste is a little too strong.

I tried to observe Ramadan the first day. I was deathly hungry by the end of the day. I like to run in the early evening and if I have no food, then I have no gas. It didn't quite work for me. Out of respect for others, I don't eat or drink in public. Honestly, it's so hot, I'm not that hungry during the day anyway. Ramadan is more an issue for expats at work. The restaurants are all closed so they have to bring their food with them and eat quietly away from others. It's ok. We're in week 2 already.

It doesn't feel that much different from France. In the month of August, often times small stores and bakeries will just close down completely for the holiday. It annoyed me when I was living in Paris in 1998-1999 because I was still on American mentality that commerce should never stop. Now, I think that is a silly and foolish attitude. Life happens, everyone needs a vacation sometimes...Enjoy.

Sexuality...I understand a little more...I Think 8/2012

Ok, I'll only talk about the women, because I've never actually talked to a man about sex, sorry to say.

When women are unmarried, but hunting, dress western. They are cute, wear makeup, leave their long hair down, uncovered. In short, they look Western. This is a signal to men that they are on the hunt and available.

Western: Europe and America, includes for me East Europe, Australia, Russia, Canada, so on and so forth.

Women always have long hair, even when they are grandma. Not sure why? Not all women have long hair, some cut it, but I don't ever recall a Moroccan woman here with a really, really short hair cut. At shortest, it might fall down to their shoulders.

Once a woman is in an established relationship, ie she plans to marry the guy she's dating, she will start to cover up. She covers everything except her face, hands, and feet. In the summer, I've seen exceptions to this rule and women come out wearing a lot less because after all, it's hot! The reason why women cover their bodies is because men apparently are very jealous and don't want any other man to look at their woman. The insistence seems to come from men. However, a woman who covers herself is a woman who is well raised and chaste.

Women who are fortunate it enough to have more education and who have had the opportunity to travel, will embrace more western ways of dressing and are more likely to speak either French or sometimes even English to their children. Language is a social class differentiation. There is an unspoken caste system here in which people are born into. You can break out of it, but I've heard people mention more than once the idea of being born into a specific caste. There seem to be general feelings of rights of birth (and luck of birth.)

I am kind of confused about how sex drives work inside a marriage. For me, my drive increases when I feel sexy and am being flirted with or hit on by other men. It helps my sexuality in my own marriage. I figure it must be the same for men. Personally for me, to deny myself this "uplift," will most likely have a negative direct impact on my sex drive and thus on the frequency of my "marriage relations." The sexier I feel, the greater the frequency.

I think across the board, when people don't feel attractive, their sex drive decreases. This is true if they feel ugly or out of shape, beaten up from a boss who is bullying you at work, etc. I don't understand why this would be different for Morocco.

An expat told me that she lived in Saudi Arabia before. Mind you, I have yet to have the pleasure of visiting this country, I'm very curious. But she taught English in highschool. The women in Saudi Arabia are completely covered. She explained that often times, a woman's goal is just to get married because she wants a man to take care of her. That's it. Once a marriage has been established, she completely lets herself go. It's like the opposite of vanity. I cannot imagine thinking like that. In the west, sadly divorce is now pre-programmed in our brains. Half of us now come from divorced parents, so we see things a little differently. I always assume that my husband might leave me one day, so I think about how I'm going to support myself if that should ever come to pass. I don't think women in Saudi Arabia think this way. At least, not yet.

Equality in Sexuality seems to come in conjunction with equality in education and work.  Once a woman can financially support herself, she is in a better position to call some shots in her life and in the couple.
 
When I was a young sexually active unwed female, I wanted to find a man who had lots of sexual experience. I figured, let him learn on someone else. I wanted someone to come to the table with skills. It seems like men in the west want the same things from their spouses. This freedom of sexuality is actually shocking for MANY cultures. My Lebanese friend was shocked when she found out I wasn't a virgin when I married my husband. She asked, "didn't he mind?" I said, "I think he would have minded much more if I was still a virgin." She couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe that in her culture men take their future brides to be inspected to make sure she's still "whole." After all, it's just sex. Why is there such a fuss?

I advise people regarding marriage: If you're going to eat out at the same restaurant for the rest of your life, you better check out a few restaurants first before making that decision. You don't want to wonder years later that you may be getting a bad meal.  It is an inopportune time to decide to change restaurants once  you're already married.

Unwanted House Guests 08/2012

There are 2 unwanted house guests that we just can't seem to get rid of:

1. Ants
2. Cockroaches

1. Ants are a given. They're small, they get into many things. They come out of the cracks in the walls, floors, and behind the wood frame on the doors. We spray poison but that's about all we can do.

2. Cockroaches: Every day we have about 5 in the house, mostly live. They prefer to come out at night. They crawl up the patio and under the doors, climb up drains, climb up the outside walls and in through the windows. They are big and fast. They often somehow end up falling on their backs, then get stuck that way, so in the morning I go around collecting stranded cockroaches and throw them out the window.

The company here at Marina Blanca spray inside and outside, but it doesn't seem to help. Of course, when I asked them to come out and spray again, their only answer was "well ma'am, it's cockroach season."

How to kill a cockroach: The first time I saw a giant cockroach was upstairs on the second floor. Cockroaches were "new" to the family since we didn't have them in the winter and the kids were very excited and agitated to see one. I took a big shoe and smashed it. Guts and Goo shot out of it all over the wall. It was very squished and stopped moving. Nicolas was very excited about mom's fresh kill and blew on it. Suddenly, it jumped up, entrails dragging behind it and started running around. All three kids went hysterical. Nicolas broke out into tears. Anaïs hustled everyone down the hallway to her bedroom.

Sadly it wasn't just the kids who were terrified, mom was too. So, I took the shoe and slammed it on the cockroach a second time. More guts and goo shot out and sprayed the wall. Really disgusting. I'm thinking this is an awful mess to clean up for one cockroach. This time he looked definitively dead. I got a wad of toilet paper and decided to pick him up and flush him down the toilet. Honestly, I had goose bumps and images of this thing coming back to life a third time, running up my arm. I will not lie, I was concerned...But he stayed dead.

I only stomp on a cockroach if it's moving at top speed and I have no choice because it might disappear under the couch or something. My new method (since I find at least one almost EVERY night in my bathroom), I put my hand in a washcloth, pick the thing up live and simply hurl it out the window. I have a tendency to pick them up too roughly 'cause sometimes their guts squish out a bit, ewe, yuk, but not sure that will actually kill it, so it too gets hurled out the window. Sometimes I miss the window and it ricochets back on me, springs to life and starts cruising around. That happened this evening. Wasn't too happy about it, but still managed to put it back out the window.

I have yet to start grabbing them with my bare hands, though that time may yet come...Yuk. They are harmless, just disgusting.

Kids are pretty impressive and getting used to cockroaches. One night, Anaïs came into my bedroom in the middle of the night and said "um, mom, there's a cockroach in my bed." Well, I figured I better get up because that's kind of an emergency. Sure enough, a cockroach climbed up inside Anaïs's mosquito net above her bed. I trapped the thing in the net, unhooked it from the ceiling, then dangled it out of the net outside off her balcony. I showed her the evidence of the empty net a few times, but she didn't believe me that it was gone, so we didn't hook her mosquito net back up that night. I double checked her covers, just in case because I know a cockroach in my bed would totally freak me out. Once we established her bed was clear, she was able to go back to sleep, albeit, she probably got eaten to death that night by a million and one mosquitoes that fly everywhere (thus the mosquito nets.)

I was really impressed that Anaïs at 9 years of age didn't go screaming and freaking out over a cockroach in her bed. She remained quite calm. I figured most other little girls would have screamed and cried hysterically. When I freak out, I try to only freak out on the inside and show a stoic front to the kids so they remain calmer. Still, cockroaches, yeah, I'm getting sick of them. Too bad you can't turn them into soup or something...free meal, lots of protein.

Doing Business in Morocco June 2012

First, if you're going to do business here and you're Western, you are going to have to arm yourself with a good pair of rubber boots and a shovel; to dig your way through all the bull shit.

Argan

Big beauty industry here is Argan oil. I think Morocco has some beautiful natural products here that are bio and wonderful for the cosmetic industry. Like so many others, I want to create beautiful bio bien être products for use in the USA. I'm just at the beginning stages of this business.

I met with the director of the American Chamber of Commerce in Casablanca. She told me it might be a good idea to first begin with the cooperatives. She called a guy running a cooperative out of Essaouira. He happened to be coming to Casablanca.

All of the Argan is done only between Essaouria and Agadir. As far as I currently know, that is the only place in the world where Argan trees grow.

So, all I wanted was a list of products from this guy, prices, and samples if any. I met him for coffee in town with Xavier that night. He brought nothing, just a meet and greet. He told me the samples are traveling that night and they will arrive tomorrow. He offered to have lunch the next day, there he would give me everything I'm asking for.

So, the next day we meet for lunch. I received nothing. He said the samples haven't arrived yet. He offered for me to come back to Casablanca the next day. I said no. I told him I was planning to take a trip to Essaouira next week, when I come down, we'll get together in the morning, he can give me everything then. I gave him my email address.

So, we plan our trip to Essaouira. Xavier took off of work and we collected Driss to make the drive. Otherwise I would have gone alone with Driss. Driss is 34 and in a relationship. I'm 36 so, I'm not too comfortable with the idea of spending a few days alone with Driss. That's a lot of time to spend with someone. Xavier was even less keen on the idea.

Xavier also had a lead on a house for sale somewhere between Safi and Essaouira. It looked like a dump from the photo. But, what the heck? He wanted us to camp in this place overnight to see how it feels. So, we packed the camping gear as well. Why not? I've slept in worse.

We finally arrive at this dive of a house in the middle of nowhere. Driss was terrified. Xavier still insisted on sleeping in the house. There was no phone reception, so if we have a problem we can't call for help. Driss said there is no security. I don't know what's worse, being in town with tons of people, or in the middle of nowhere with no neighbors. So we set up camp. There was a gecko in the house. Driss didn't sleep a wink that night.

The next day, we got coffee and called my contact for Argan. He came with a buddy, some guy who owns a travel agency in Essaouira. Not sure why he came?? So they bring us back to his house and gave breakfast. We had Amlou, honey, Argan oil and olive oil with bread and rolls and mint tea of course. It was very good. Amlou is crushed almonds with argan oil and honey. Very yummy. Argan oil tastes nutty, kind of like peanut oil. After breakfast, we went to look at Argan trees.

We told them were we slept and they said we got very lucky. They said in that exact area, there was crime committed every year. People would set up road blocks on the main road (4 meters from the house we slept in) and rob people at night. They said it was incredibly stupid of us to have slept there, with no neighbors and no phone reception. 

We took this guy's sister with us for some reason and then picked up some guy on the road who ended up being their chauffeur. Then, we picked up another guy on a moped who was waiting for us at the beginning of the Argan forest. Presumably, he owns the land the trees are growing, but not sure. From this point on we off roaded it through a dirt path with the cars. They explained the fruit on the Argan tree, that you pick it up when it falls freely from the tree. Well, actually the women beat the tree and the fruit the size of small yellow prunes drop off. Then they collect the fruit, wait for them to dry. They beat them open with rocks. Inside there is a shell that they use to feed goats and to light fires. Inside the shell is the little nut that looks like a slivered almond. Inside you can have from 1-3 "argan nuts." Very small quantity of things. If you are going to eat it, you grill the nuts first then grind them to oil. If you're making beauty products, you grind the raw argan. Edible argan is more expensive to make, probably due to the extra step, plus it has a stronger nuttier flavor.

Once the argan is ground into a runny paste, the women mix it into a bowl with water which separates the ground nuts from the oil and they manually squeeze the oil out with their hands. It is a laborious process. The women at the co-ops get paid per quantity they produce.

So, I took some photos of Argan trees that are over 100 years old, or so they said. Finally, at the end of this long haul, we ended at the farmer's house. He got two mules and insisted that Xavier and I ride the mules. So, that was my first experience riding a mule on the side of a hill. I actually could have gone on faster on foot, but it was on my list of things to experience before I die. Ride a mule, check....

We got back to the farmer's house, he showed us this mud hut that his wife built to bake bread. We went into his family room. The room consisted of 1 meter by 3 meters, a tv, some mats on the floor in the corner, a very low round table and about 200 flies. We were hot and sweaty and sat down on the mats surrounding this table. They brought out the ceremonial hand washing pitcher and basin for guests made out of tin. You hold your hands over the basin and the host pours water from a pitcher over your hands to clean them.  They brought out a giant round bread, not made of wheat, but of something else the name of which eludes me, slathered in homemade butter from their own cows. It was very good. We drank water from their well. I was really worried about getting sick from drinking well water, especially after I looked inside the well and saw how dirty the water was, but I felt pressured to drink some. (I never got sick, though the water had flavor.)

Then he brought out the ceremonious mint tea and some homemade cookies. I had gorged myself on food for breakfast stuffing my belly full of super rich amlou, so I had to make an effort to eat, though I had absolutely no desire. The flies seemed to slowly leave, then he brought out a whole plate of couscous.

Kindly, he gave us all spoons. In Morocco you eat couscous with your fingers and bread and everyone out of the same platter. Being western, I have a really hard time putting my fingers in food and then into my mouth, especially if I don't have access to soap first. Still I felt obligated. The meat in the couscous is sheep's head. Having never eaten sheep's head before, fresh from his yard, I wasn't too keen on starting now. Eating sheep's head is NOT on my list of things to experience before I die, however, it will now be on the list. The man who owned the travel agency passed me a piece of meat with his fingers all covered in couscous and said this is sheep tongue, eat it. So, I tried it. It had solid pieces that I discreetly laid on the table since I had no plate or napkin. Then, he gave me another piece of meat, this time an ear. I'm thinking, man I really don't want to eat it, especially after so many fingers have touched it??? But, I did. It's chewy. Then, with couscous it's customary to serve milk called Leben, like buttermilk in the states, though with lots of chunks. One man gave me a bowl and mixed the milk with the couscous and gave it to me to eat. Yet another name for that which eludes me. Xavier offered a financial gift of 50 dhm to the man for his time and effort (really that of his wife). At first he refused, then Driss offered to give it to his children. This, he was accepting and grateful. It was a bit awkward because in the West, offering money is really rude. Here, it was the right thing to do. Kudos for Xavier for thinking of that, because I didn't.

All in all, it was ok. I had a hard time drinking the Leben, since there were so many unidentifiable solid pieces in it. After, we went to a co-op. It was a tourist trap, yet I still took photos of the women working. There was a woman there doing sales and I started asking her questions, wanting price lists, product lists, and certifications. They had none. All of the men swarmed me to stop me from asking her these questions. They said we would come back, but we never did.

The next part became very bizarre. The travel agent took us to a junior highschool/orphanage. This was a school for poor girls age 12-15 whose fathers have died. The guy gave us a tour and then pressured me to sit down with the girls and talk to them. I was very uncomfortable. I was also totally annoyed with these men because I felt like they were trying to keep me from my real purpose in Essaouira. So, I asked the guy "why did you bring me here?" I wanted to hear him say it. The yankee cash cow has arrived and we plan on milking the shit out of her. After some thought and insistence for a response he said "because I wanted to show you the real back country of Essouira."

So, I gave the girls a hello, how are you? Study hard pep talk. Told them my first language isn't French either. Explained to them that I'm American, but didn't tell them what I was doing there, since I didn't know myself, other than suspecting they were hoping for a large donation. I asked the girls what they wanted to be when they grow up. Doctor, math teacher, good answers. I told them to study hard, pass their BAC, then go onto university. I told them they can become anything they want, they have to just study and work hard. The girls were very cute and nice. Some were very shy, almost terrified. Others were very excited. It was nice, not very helpful for my business, but nice.

The travel agent insisted on taking lots of photographs, then had all of us stand up together. It was kind of weird. At this point I was ready to leave, but they insisted on having dinner. The next thing I know, the director of the school is coming with us to dinner, met with their local doctor who checks all their samples.

At the restaurant, we had mint tea, again. Then, they brought out two tajines with meat and potatoes. We had to eat it with our fingers and bread again. I didn't have an appetite and was being slightly criticized for not eating enough. I tell you, I have a hard time with the finger thing. After dinner, we just wanted to get out of there and to the hotel. I was starting to get annoyed because I felt like they were totally manipulating me to keep me there among them and NOT letting me get on with other things. We ended up getting to a hotel around 9 PM. By then I was really irritated.

Conclusion:

There is a strange mentality in Morocco. If you are Moroccan,  you are poor. If you are French or European, you are rich. However, if you are American, you shit money. To them, I was a yankee cash cow. I spent that day with the men blowing enough smoke up my rear end that I could be a float in the Macy's Parade. They wanted me to pay for the orphanage. They wanted me to pay for them to begin another co-op. I could tell them the truth, but they hold onto this fallacy, this dream with such fervor, I don't think they could accept reality.

Current Reality of me:

Jennel is currently a housewife = no job = no money

There ain't no kind of yankee cash cow in the building.

*                                              *                                          *                                      *

The next day was much more productive. I visited roughly 10 co-ops and got 2 decent contacts out of that group, both run, owned, and operated by women. I have blown off the men gently and politely since then. Driss thinks we got run in with the local Essouira Mafia who were trying to hoodwink us, not very successfully. They tried to get Driss to sleep at their house instead of at the hotel with us. We kept Driss with us. The men never did send me any information and or samples.

10th Year Wedding Anniversary

Friday June 22 was our 10th Wedding Anniversary. We got married twice. The first time was at the justice of the peace in Austin on April 21, 2002. Then we had the big proper church wedding and party in France on June 22, 2002. On our first wedding anniversary, Xavier set up a surprise day out at the spa with just the two of us at Hotel Des Arts right here in Dar Bouazza. It was lovely. I figured I had to do something grand for the anniversary on June 22. Neither of us are big gift givers, so I didn't really care to buy anything. I wracked my brain as to what I could give him? He always said I never write to him. So, I thought, what better than a love poem? I did some research online and most love poems are totally cheesy and sappy, something I'm not, so Thursday, I started free writing. On Friday, friend's of ours were hosting a good-bye party for Ron who will be leaving Morocco since his 2 year contract is up. I asked Marina if I could surprise Xavier and read the poem aloud at the party to him. So, she was in on the surprise.

Xavier was very happy about the poem, though at first he seemed quite nervous. I asked him if I could publish it on my blog, he gave his blessing. Here is is:

My love poem to you

Who could have thought

10 years would come to pass

and here we are, together

still loving at last

through our love, we've grown a family

of five

here we are, thinking of adding one more

my God, how ever will we survive?

your hair so dark

your eyes so brown

Your heart beats in my chest

I love you dearest

I'm obviously obsessed

You always say I never write

of that I am sincerely contrite

Since this anniversary is a big one

I didn't want to be outdone

You took us to a spa in april

now on our anniversary, you're in rabat

and being away, I thought

to do something momentous, I ought

and being me, cheap and simple

I wanted to keep it rather nimble

here we are, traveling true

from paris

to austin

to dresden

to munich

to gréoux

to Casablanca

our hearts always create something new

I love you tenderly, dearest and true

I love how you always cut your hair the same way

and now that your beard is getting some grey

my love's madness, if you only knew

I want to give all my heart to you

I love your beautiful olive skin

the beauty of your grin

how you turn golden brown in the sun

the way you touch me...

baby, you're number one

no other can give me such delight

just thinking of you

mmmmmm, what a sight

hold me close, hold me near

whisper sweet nothings in my ear

tickle me, kiss me

make me laugh and beam

I love you more than I could ever dream

no other love could grow to greater height

I think of you both day and night

as you tug playfully at my hair

or nibble gently on my ear

your humor makes me laugh

though I don't always understand

still I think you're quite grand

it's because you're so brilliant you see

that you fill me with such glee

though this poem may not be Yeats

I've tried my best

to keep it short and sweet

but what I really want to say

though I'm not pressed

is

babe, you're the best!

I love you!

happy 10^th anniversary!

Airport June 2012

I pulled a Thelma and Louise with my sister Rhonda in May. We drove the Mustang from France to Casablanca. We took about 9 days for this road trip. But, that is another story.

In June, we left Morocco again for France, part of our quarterly departure since our residence papers are not yet ready, lucky us. At the airport, the customs guy flagged me. He said "there is a car issue." So we went to the office of the customs guy. He said to us "I see you brought a car into Morocco, where is it?" We answered, "at home." He said, "well, you have to bring it to the airport with you when you leave. We have to go outside and verify that it's here, then you have to give us the car papers and the keys and leave it with us."

I'm thinking, is he for frickin' real? No way in heck am I giving this guy the ownership papers to our mustang along with the keys. We'll never see the car again.

We explained that we have 2 cars and a chauffeur and that our car is very expensive and there is no way we are going to risk leaving the car at the airport to get stolen. So, I was totally annoyed thinking I was not going to be able to leave the country because of these imbeciles. So, I said, "I'm sorry, but I have to ask the question, ""Why?"" Can you guess his answer? "C'est la procédure, madame." Non, really, "why?" He finally said because expats come and sell their cars for very expensive then leave the country. So, Xavier dropped names like he was sought after to work for OCP and that we leave every 3 mos because our residence papers are not yet done, however, we of course will be coming back to Morocco in like 4 days. The customs officer said that he has an entire drawer filled with car papers and keys.

So, next time, I guess I'll bring a photocopy of the papers with and leave them at the customs office, yet keep the car at home. Getting a carte grise for the Mustang was expensive and total hell in France. I'm not risking leaving that very important paper with these guys. We'll see. Pretty irritating. Who could have guessed that would happen?? In the meantime, I'm thinking we're going to miss our flight because of this sheer stupidity. In the end, we didn't.

Conclusion: Dude, just let people sell cars in Morocco and stop with the stupid paperwork and harassment.

Morrocco January 2012

This blog is extremely old, but for some reason I forgot to publish it. So, here it is...

How does one describe Morrocco?

Answer: Well, it's a developing country, isn't it??

I have never seen a filthier place. It's like the worst of the Chicago southside with some sheep, chickens, turkeys, cows, and camels thrown in. When you see images of Africa with awful little dirty storefronts....Well, that's how I see Dar Bouazza.

Everyone speaks Arabic and less people speak French. It's based on the level of the individual's education. It feels as though the mass populace is far less educated the the US and Europe. There are police everywhere manning the traffic lights, manually changing the lights.

People drive with cars that are 40 yrs old. Dirty and reeling pollution. There are large developments and in btw empty lots of land that has animals grazing on it freely and the lot will also be covered in trash.

People are really nice here and there is really good service. There are lots of little jobs off the books. Everywhere you park, there is a guy who will watch your car for you and help you park. You have to tip them. You can also have your car washed for a few extra coins. People are very open to helping when you ask for help. I'm trying to learn a bit of Arabic, because it is necessary for survival here. Morroccan Arabic has a lot of French words mixed in. So that kind of helps I guess.

We found a wonderful woman who works for us full-time. She cleans, cooks, does the laundry, irons, and can do the shopping and watches the kids. She speaks very good French. She is very outgoing and nice. She has also been extremely helpful. Instead of me fumbling about on my own trying to learn the rules here, she explains them to me. She tells me the correct prices on things. There are 2 prices here 1. Local 2. French. I took her to the large grocery store at the Morrocco mall to help me do some initial shopping. It was a fun day out. It was her first time to the mall so we walked it before we went shopping. She is very well connected and knew a lot of people working at the mall from Dar Bouazza, where we both live.

Roads: Sometimes the roads are paved, more times they are dirt, yes, dirt. The road in front of the local grocery store is dirt.

More on Driving in Morocco

Hi, yeah realized somehow that I had been mispelling Morocco to my mortal embarrassement. Oh well. I looked it up in the dictionary, but apparently forgot how to write it. Anyway, hope I don't forget in the future?

White Taxi: Have proximity alarms. When in town if you drive too close, their proximity alarms start blaring. When I say too close I mean like within 6 cm. Once in bad traffic, I set off 3 white taxi alarms. White taxis are simply very old 4 door mercedes that are white or cream colored and are taxis. They fit up to 6 people not including the driver and always max out this number. 2 adults wedged in the front seat, 4 adults in the back. It gets very intimate for a country that has so little contact btw the sexes.

I almost blew a stop light the other day. I was in the far right lane of the 3 lane road. On the right of me was a bicycle. Suddenly, he swerved wide into my lane because he was avoiding about five 11 yr old boys who decided to lunge across the street. I was totally freaked out because they ran around my car and I was terrified to hit a kid that I wasn't focused on the large intersection coming up and almost blew right through the red light.

The Death Star: Right by my husband's office, there is a 6 way intersection ran by traffic lights. Each road consists of about 3 lanes. The lights are controlled by 2 cops. It's always a pleasure trying to drive in Morocco. I just start directing people now when everyone gets stuck at a street and jammed. People will just sit there stupidly without making a move or a decision. It makes me crazy!!

I got stuck the other day on a small road filled with parked cars because a truck was just sitting there with his turn signal on. He was blocking everything. I was driving a different car and couldn't find the horn, so I rolled down the window after probably mumbling expletives to myself, put my arm outside the car and pointed to the guy in the truck, then gestured my hand for him to either move forwards or turn, but to make a frickin' decision already. He just sat there at first, and I continued to insist, then moved my car out of the way to get him going. He finally moved forward. The whole affair lasted about 5 minutes, 4.5 of which it took for the truck driver to wake up and move.

Still haven't hit any pedestrian yet, bicycle, mobilette, moped, motorcycle, and car. I'll keep my fingers crossed. I've had a lot of near misses though. It is incredibly tempting to hit pedestrians since they always insist on walking in the middle of the road, especially when there is a ton of space on the shoulder off the road. It's just dusty on the shoulder. People don't want to get their shoes dirty, not that I blame them. When I go running, I run on the road as well to avoid getting dust in my shoes. There is nothing like running in Morocco, no sidewalks, cars, wild dogs roaming outside, motorcycles clipping you. Nothing like sharing the road with everyone and inhaling the gas fumes that spew out of cars. Guys honking at you, or yelling things out of the windows in French, Arabic or English, or guys hollering after you off their motorcycles. I have this fear I'm going to experience a drive-by bum smacking by some guy on a moped. It hasn't happened yet, though I make sure I always get off the road when wheels approach...just in case.

Conclusion: If you ever feel ugly or fat, just take a run in Morocco to feel better. If you don't mind a little sexual harassment. When you reach mid-life, after a few kids, sexual harassment by some 20-50 yr olds (scary when it's from a child), can be perhaps, not such a terrible thing.

Reflections March 2012

Warning: this blog is a few months old now. A lot has changed since, but for some reason I forgot to publish it. Enjoy...

I sort of read through my blogs last night and realized we appear to be totally unstable!!

I never felt that way. It looks like we move every 3 months which isn't the case at all. Xavier's family and friends are always wondering why on Earth he has chosen this lifestyle. These questions come from people who live more traditional lifestyles that are much more stable. Good friends, live in the same house or neighborhood for years. Their kids all keep going to the same schools so they don't have to constantly make new friends.

I asked Xavier if we were making the right decisions or if we should maybe think about doing some things different. Then come all the usual discussions, US versus France. France has much better social and vacations, but we had no money in France and were financially really stuck. That kind of sucks. The taxes are very high, homes in the south are way over priced for what you get, gas is expensive. But, we had a nice quality of life, even if we couldn't afford to fly back to the states or even take a vacation. Not sure how other people managed.

Then we talked about the US which has no retirement. The healthcare system is one hospital stay away from a family filing for bankruptcy. I was looking into going back to the states for awhile this summer and was looking into camp for the kids and it was like $1,000 per child for half a day. That's crazy! The prices are insane!! I've got 3 kids. You kind of forget how expensive life is in the US. There is a lot you can do, but it will bleed your wallet dry.

What I really want to do is go back to work, save money, build a wood chalet in Savoie and put all of our American furniture in it since right now it's in storage and I have no intention to ship it all over the world, it's cheaper to buy new furniture. Then I want to buy an affordable townhome in Chicago near my family. The chalet I want to rent out furnished for holiday goers and the house I want to rent out unfurnished yearly. I want to live cheap and save cash while we're here in Morocco.

I want to have a career now. I still don't know what I want to do besides publish novels. I fear I won't make any money writing, but you never know until you try. I haven't worked on my novel in a little while and have no excuse now. The woman who works for me calls me Jennel the princess...ouch. I agree, I don't serve much of a purpose now that I've hired someone to replace myself since I thought I was going to work for Jacobs, which is not panning out at all. Now, we've just hired a chauffeur to drive our car in the afternoon. I drive with Xavier and the kids in the morning. We leave at 7:30 and I get back around 9:15. The afternoon was torture since I have to leave at 14:45 to get the kids by 15:30, then come home by about 4:15-4:30 and attempt to get their homework going but still give them a little break to go outside and blow some steam before. Then leave again at 17:15 to get Xavier by 18:00, only to get home somewhere around 19:00. The kids sometimes get their homework done but have misunderstood the directions. Most often Xavier doesn't want to stay until 18:00, so I will do back to back turn around trips, or take the kids with me to his office and sit outside in the restaurant and have a snack there while we wait for Xavier to finish his work.

I was always the only one at the restaurant with kids. I got to know the people working the kiosk at the restaurant. They're all very nice there. People in Morocco always get to know you and they remember you, from the guy at l'épicerie, to the guy selling fruits and veggies, to the people working at the restaurant. For example, yesterday I had a coffee with Xavier at the restaurant before work. I was in line waiting to give the drink vendor my order. He remembers I always order café au lait and while I was waiting in line, he already got it made for me, so by the time I got to him, he said, "café au lait, right? I've already made it for you, here," and he handed it to me. Very nice.

Last time I had a coffee at the restaurant with Missy. We were waiting for her husband to come down and we started smelling something burning. We were sitting all the way in the back in non-smoking, but the windows were open. People burn trash and all sorts of crazy things in Morocco so weird smoky smells are the norm. So, we figured someone was burning trash just outside the restaurant somewhere. So, as we sat there drinking coffee, we played "Name That Smell". Is it burning metal? Rubber?

Then the lights went out. We figured they were closing up. I offered for us to move outside but it was windy and cold that day and Missy wasn't well covered so she said, "let's just wait for them to throw us out." I said, "no problem."

Other people started leaving and soon we were the last people in the restaurant. Finally the cashier came over and apologized to us in English and said, "I'm so sorry, you have to leave the restaurant, there's an electrical fire." We're like, oh, well that's explains the smell. No one seemed stressed or rushed. As we left we looked up at the air vents and black smoke was pouring out. We couldn't see it from where we were seated in the restaurant.

Another nice thing that happened not long ago. I usually shop at the nearest little grocery store called le Littoral. There are only 2 young men who work there. Najat knows both of them, I guess she went to school with them. She seems to know everyone in the neighborhood. Anyway, I went in there last week doing the usual shopping spiel and as I got to the checkout, he handed me a teapot and said, "un cadeau pour toi." (Here, this is a present for you.) That was very sweet. It made my afternoon.

Service: people at the grocery store will carry heavy items for you and carry your bags out to the car for you and load it. Very nice. This seems to be a standard practice. Other things, lots of street attendants for parking. You give them a tip and they may even wash your car for you while you're out shopping or doing whatever. Fantastic, since our car is constantly dirty. Of course now that we have a chauffeur, I've asked him if he would be so kind as to wash the car in between car runs.

It's odd. All of my jobs seemed to get outsourced. I'm left now with a whole lotta time on my hands to figure out what the heck I'm going to do. Xavier says, "make money!!!!" Now there's an idea! That was the original plan. I was so smug when I arrived in December because I had a lead for a job and the papers were done, but nothing ever happened. I've never seen anything like it, so it just stagnated and never went anywhere. I kept calling, but nothing materialized. So, to continue with my 13 yr long identity crisis...and running.

There were a few things I really wanted to do in my life in order of importance
1. Travel - leave the US and travel around the world
Check (Beginning in 1998 Paris, Austin TX, Dresden Germany, Munich Germany, South of France, Casablanca - and counting)

2. Find hot guy...oh I mean love
Check (New's Year's Eve 1998 Xavier)

3. Have kids
Check (2003 Anaïs, 2005 Austin, 2008 Nicolas and counting....)

4. Learn a few languages (namely French, Italien, Spanish and German)
Check French, German, beginning Arabic

5. Become accomplished professionally....hmmmm.....not quite there. What to do???

6. Publish novels
Started Isabelle, but not yet finished (or even close, originally I wanted it to be done by feb)
I have 4 other novel ideas in my head that I want to write.  They're all fiction, all are around women, and are all based in the countries I've lived. So, we'll see. It's better to write novels based in a country while you're actually in that country because when you leave, you forget the little things about the culture. You think you'd remember, but you really don't. Half the time I can't figure out how to spell words in English. It's strange how fast you forget words and your spelling. When I reread my blogs I'm horrified by the blatent errors, but am too lazy to correct them after the fact.

Last weekend we flew back to France. We have to leave the country every 3 mos because our residence permits are not yet ready. So, 3 months ended last weekend. We flew to Lyon to spend time with Xavier's family, then drove down to Gréoux to pick up my car and do some more paper work. We spent the night at a friend's house and I went out to dinner very last minute with some girlfriends since this was a last minute trip. My friend's husband was telling us we were probably going to get mugged being out alone. I never had a problem, but you never know, so I emptied my purse of the passports. However, my car papers are roughly the same size as the passports, so I emptied those as well by mistake.

I had a really nice time. I drove my friend there, while Xavier stayed home and ate pizza and drank beer with his friend. I had a nice meal, and drank 2 glasses of wine. On the way home, the police were doing a check. I never knew how much I'm legally allowed to drink, but 2 small glasses of white wine seemed ok to me. My friend said, you're not going to pass the breathalizer test. I thought, "oh, shit." I felt completely fine, but became totally self-conscious. The cop was a chick, she asked me for my papers. Sure, I had them earlier, no problem, I look through my purse, "oh, shit," can't find the papers. I emptied the contents of my purse and wracked my brain since I was the one who packed them in the first place. Now, I'm panicking, but trying very hard not to show it.

I'm thinking, I'm going to get handcuffed and brought to jail, all for 2 glasses of wine!! I'm thinking my friend is going to go down with me, since she had about 2 glasses as well and the cops probably won't let her drive either. I'm thinking I'm going to have to make the phone call of shame to my husband to come and pick me up, but then again he might be drunk off beer anyway. I'm thinking my friend's husband is going to have an issue with me hanging out with his wife if I get us landed in jail. He'll be really, really upset and never let us forget it.

The only reason I could think of is that my husband drove my car earlier that day and maybe he just kept the papers with him. She asked me if I have insurance and if my controle technique was up to date. I never know when my controle technique is expired, so I hoped for the best and said, yes. She checked, it was up to date. Phew... She told me all 4 tires are bald and that they can explode. She said insurance won't cover if your tires are old. I explained to her that I moved to Morocco and that my husband and I came back to pick up my car and bring it into storage in Lyon and that we're leaving tomorrow. She said, "alright," and let me go.

I was very happy. That was the first time I've ever had a traffic control in France.

When we were in Lyon it was cold, windy, grey and wet. The streets all over France were dead. No one was out and about. Oddly, I longed to come back to Morocco!!! I wanted to be in warm sunshine and palm trees. I wanted to come back to Casablanca where life is happening everywhere. People are always out and about on the streets. People seem to live outside. Oddly, I really missed that. I was happy to come back to Morocco. Xavier was very homesick and had a hard time leaving his family. I understand.

The only thing is I think Casablanca is killing me the same way Germany killed me. I've been here 3 months and have hacked my lungs out for 2.5 months. Here there is so much dust in the air and pollution. I'm afraid I have some kind of lung weakness and it's actually damaging me. It might all be in my head, but I feel like it's significantly lowering my overall lifespan. In, Germany, I was constantly ill with sinus infections and coughing. It was on a year round basis, absolutely horrid. Germany had done tremendous damage to my bronchi. Our family doctor in France had me take an x-ray of my lungs and it looked like 30% was damaged from asthma. Xavier also had bronchitis at least twice in Germany. I feel like I was so much healthier in TX. My bronchi are constantly irritated by something, not sure what??

It rained for the first time in a long time yesterday and it was like liquid mud had fallen on the car. I've never seen anything like it. The sky here has so much crap in it, it's actually brown. I think it's a combination of pollution, ozone, dirt, diesel engine fumes, and smoke from people burning their trash. Every morning we get on the toll road and have to take a ticket. Every morning this toll booth is engulfed in smoke, not like nice lets burn a campfire smoke. Imagine a garbage dump being on fire. I want to die every morning. We sit there and choke and sputter out the last remnants of oxygen, then drive further away, roll down all the windows just to change the air in the car. It's awful. It's every single day. We feel for the people who work at the toll booth. I'd love to call the police to complain, but what do I say? Someone, somewhere, the exact location I cannot pinpoint is burning something awfully toxic and a lot of it, please ask them to stop. I think that's not likely to happen.

I'm just shocked by the amount of carbon, Moroccans readily put into the air. When they prune trees, they burn the clippings. You'll see giant blazing fires all along the road underneath large trees that have just been pruned. I'm thinking wild fire, oh my god this is going to get out of hand!

Nothing has burned down yet, including our house. However, electrical fires seem to be the norm. In our area alone, it seems everyone at one point or another has an electrical fire. Apparently there is nothing holding the electrical current stable, therefore it fluctuates. In the west, there is something that keeps the current stable before it comes to your home. Apparently, they are trying to put this system into place, but it's not quite here yet. So, my understanding is this. Because the current in unstable, it literally vibrates the wiring outside. Slowly the vibration shakes the wires loose and given the humidity in the air, the two wires shake themselves close to one another. In conjunction with the humidity, acting as a conductor, the current hops and touches the other wire without being grounded.

Conclusion: We had a sudden voltage of about 300V surging through the house. It literally melted the fuse box outside and fried a bunch of our electrical components. Now, we have to be careful.

Car Tow

On Route d'Azemmour, you can usually park on the street except when the Moroccan flags are flying which means the king is in residence. He has a palace on the beach in Dar Bouazza and another palace in Casablanca and probably others.

On this particular day Xavier had to get an x-ray, nothing serious, but anyway....So, I drove him to this area to get an x-ray. Parking is usually a problem. Lots of people were parked on the main street Route d'Azemmour, so I figured we'd be ok, but still I was a little nervous.

An hour goes by, I'm getting nervous. When we finally went outside, we saw all of the cars were towed. Sugar Honey Ice Tea! I see my car down the lane and directly behind it is a tow truck. Xavier yells, "you're being towed, run, run!" So, there I go, running away down the street, preparing to arm myself all of my feminine wiles available to use in negotiation with the driver.

By the time I got to the car, I saw that the tow truck that was about to tow me away actually broke down behind my car. Luckily, the tow trucks here appear to be from the 1950's, so they break down a lot. That day, I just got really lucky, so now I know to never park on that street again. It seems like it's the only street in Casablanca where they actually tow people.

Cheers!

Knockoffs

I went to the medina today in Casablanca with a new friend. I learned something wonderful, knockoffs. They have luxury purses that are imitation that look like the real thing, but are all Chinese knockoffs. They have all the top named brands, Guess, Fendi, Prada, etc. I don't know much about brands, but the Guess purses looked exactly like the real deal. Except, most of them are NOT made out of real leather.

The price? 200-400 dhms ($20-$40.) Najat told me that is way too expensive, that the owners are charging me too much because I'm white. She said she can get me a better deal. Apparently, fake purses are NOT illegal in Morocco. Some were not so great knockoffs, ie really cheap looking. Others, were fantastic. I didn't buy any because I didn't have enough money, but the next time I go, I think I will get one.

I did decide to cover my head today at the Medina with a scarf. I took Xavier's ugly green winter scarf and wrapped it around my head. My goal was to buy some scarves at the medina. I found 3 great knock-offs for very cheap, a silk Louis Vuitton for 50 dhm ($5) that looks exactly like the real deal, except it has a tag that says made in Itrly. I got a Gucci and Dolce and Gabbana scarf for 40 dhm ($4). Somehow, I found these prices expensive?? I tried to lower it. I couldn't lower the 40 dhm price, but my silk scarf was originally 60 dhm and I got him down to 50.

learned that there are knockoffs here. I'm looking for clothes, but haven't found it yet, outside of purses and scarves. Needless to say, all knockoffs come from China, like everything else in Morocco. There is a quality issue with Chinese things in the states, but the quality is actually worse here, if you can imagine. Everything breaks within a week, batteries, power cords, clothes, you name it. I'm very cautious now about where I buy my things, though I don't actually shop that often. I don't really care. Xavier bought knockoff DVD's. You never know what you're going to get. He bought Tintin and someone actually played the movie on the tv, then put a recorder up next to the screen and recorded. It is not a proper copy, so the sound quality is God awful.

Interesting things....