Day 1 – Airports, airports, la la la.

So, I am in Morocco. This is quite exciting. I am so excited, I decided to sit in a hotel room and type this all out. I’m not alone though, so this does not count as being antisocial. In fact, I have as of now met up with a group so I am a member of a social group now, albeit an artificially created and maintained one. However previous to this I traveled alone.

The funny thing about traveling alone, especially with lots of dead time and serious jet lag delirium, is that you are forced to entertain yourself, either with yourself or with other people.What really made the difference for me was a bathroom filled with flair, and a Thai lady named Jeab. Because my French speaking is 1 part speech and 4 parts smiling so that the person I’m talking to looks past the bad speech, I had to go make my face appropriate for smiling in the bathroom. But I got distracted there. Why? Because this bathroom was ORANGE. It was an ORANGE bathroom! And not only was it ORANGE; it was the most high tech bathroom I’ve ever seen. The sinks were white with orange trim (to complement the walls) and they had the water, soap dispenser and drier all side by side. They were so efficient they didn’t even wait for you to put your hand anywhere near the sensor – they just all started going the minute you bent over towards the mirror. ALL. AT. ONCE. Like a horror movie! It was fascinating. I literally spent 20 minutes in an orange bathroom, playing with the sinks. I also took a picture, which I have determined is inappropriate to post because bathrooms are awkward. However, the makeup-application process did help me to speak to approximately 4 official men and ask them where in hell I was supposed to be because my flight wasn’t up on the board. Every single one of them thought I was Moroccan, so I would say it was a success. Although, they did all end up hitting on me, so it may have just been flattery. But I’ll take it. Note – every French person I spoke with in French was surprised I was American and not Canadian, and expressed delight in an apparent anomaly. That was cool.

SO after my sink/drying apparatus fiddling, I went to a cafe and accidentally consumed 3 double espressos, which contributed sizably to the ensuing “jetlag” delirium aka a serious caffeine high that lasted for like 4 hours. The only space free was catty corner from a woman wearing the most bedazzled outfit I have ever experienced. It was a white jean jacket with rhinestones, and matching short white skirt. She was also wearing strappy, shiny silver heels and seriously huge glasses with jewels. Her eye makeup was randomly really black, and her hair was actually longer than is probably natural. Being the awesome faux New Yorker I am, I sat near down and did the whole New York subway silence thing. However, as I sat at the table, bathroom makeup magic working overtime, the woman looked up and told me I had the “most beautiful eyes” she had ever seen. She then went on to say that my eye line was strong… And then she moved over to sit across from me and started telling me about her job.

That was somewhat awkward, but because I was alone, and lonely people just want a friend, I said thank you. And so began the most amazing conversation I have ever had in a public place with a random stranger with whom I do not actually share a common language. We discussed things in extremely broken English and French, and afterwards she handed me her business card and told me to email her, and to come to Thailand and go to her salon. She owns a beauty salon, dedicated to, and I quote, “extending eye lines” and doing eyebrow and lip tattoos. I’m not quite sure what that means, but if I am ever in the Thai night market I will be sure to look her up. She explained that lip tattoos were quite nice, especially when they were a light pink color. I am considering what permanent red lipstick would look like; I kind of like the idea.

Oh, yes, and I am in Morocco. But if you think that I am going to explain how Americans have to go to a special doctor’s office at customs to prove we don’t have swine flu, or how 27/30 of my program is female, or how during Ramadan you aren’t supposed to chew gum (!!!!!!!!!!!!!) in the street, or how the weather is incredible or how everyone’s really nice you are WRONG. Instead, here is an awkward picture of the orange bathroom so you can understand.

Oh, and my cellphone number is: 212-656-014-223. I need hope in the form of text messages so that I can continue to break the addiction, one day at a time. I have 6 packs of gum left. One is a superpack though, so it should give me an extra day or two. Oh, Ramadan, what have you done to your poor little Rachel?

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