i live in a pink and yellow and green riad (a small hotel in a traditional home) in Essaouira with Adil who runs the place, a variety of his brothers, other staff, various guests, and a small turtle named Mimi.
nobody can pronounce my name so they have christened me Leila.
one of the women who works at the riad has been really cool, she took me to the local hammam the other day where once again I scoured off several tablespoons worth of dead skin and is going to teach me how to make m'smma (this fantastic crepe).
in spite of my previous comments about the dorkiness of henna on tourists I have just been hennaed, for free courtesy of a friend of Adil's, and now have lovely temporary tattoos all over my hands.
i am learning some Arabic and might start taking lessons soon.
watched the World Cup final in an Italian bar filled with supporters for both teams. after the Italian victory I walked to the main square and passed the Essaouira Italian Victory Parade which consisted of about 7 very happy Italian people running around with a flag.
people keep feeding me tagine. delicious homemade tagine.
men keep trying to follow me home.
"just talking! I just want to talk! I'm not like the others!"
"i saw you at the cafe and wanted to talk to you"
there's also the classic "like my sister" line. When a dude tells me I'm like his sister is when the bullshit alarm goes off. Except Adil...I think he's actually all right, maybe a little overprotective but honest.
i can't remember the last time I washed my jeans. it may have been in Spain. that was in May. that was seven weeks ago. they look clean and they don't smell and that's the only thing that matters.
most days I get up, go out for breakfast (fresh orange juice, m'semma [the crepe] with loads of butter and honey, coffee or tea), get a newspaper, read a book. walk around, go to the patisserie to eat pastries and read, hang out at the cafe with Mohammed and Simo or at the riad with Adil and Amin or at the nearby organic vegetarian restaurant, La Triskalla (TOFU! For the first time in MONTHS!). Days go by fast when there's nothing to do but read and eat and speak broken french and smoke and drink tea. I can't believe it's already the 10th.
I am currently, right this very moment in fact, embroiled in an MSN conversation with Driss of Casablanca who I met in Essaouira during the festival through Phil and Mohammed and Benedicte - he has decided he "loves" me, although it's a "friendly love"...I am not sure what this means exactly, maybe he wrote it in french and then Babelfished it, but he really really wants me to come to Casablanca, to go see his cousin in Agadir...maybe if I can't go to Casa he will come to visit me here...sigh.
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1 comment:
you don't have to wash jeans ever, that's the beauty of them!
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