Our Optimism Runneth Over Like the Rain in the Gutter

And in other news besides Katrina’s demise, we are trying to focus on the positive in the “trying” events of the week. For instance, our rainy weekend in Fez, came with a room in a medina riad that was the “real deal.” We had to wind our way through a tiny mouse-hole of a skinny, dark alley to make our way to the door, but, once we were inside, it was all that we could have asked for. Tile, and fountains, and twisty stairs, oh my! The added bonus was that we had heat in our room and a shower with both hot water and decent water pressure! So, as the rain poured down outside, we were confident that we could eventually get dry and warm at the end of the day. Glass half full (of rain).

In another optimistic turn of events, when a piece of the concrete wall of the riad directly above the front door came crashing down, we were conveniently still inside eating breakfast. When the manager heard the loud bang and opened the front door to a cloud of dust, and we heard, “Oh. My. God.” We kept munching on our Moroccan pastries and tried not to imagine the rubble in the mouse-hole. Glass half full (and no brains gushing out on the sidewalk). We did spend the remainder of our visit sprinting whenever we had to run through the alley and covering our heads while holding our collective breath. We escaped unscathed.

When we had a small car accident on the way home from Fez, when an oncoming car turned into us, we focused on the fact that it was a sunny day as we passed four hours waiting on the side of the road for the insurance company, the police, some other police, lots of phone calls, and the insurance company again.  Since the police only arrived after Andy discovered that his driver’s license was back in Marrakech, we were positively thrilled that he did not end up in jail. Glass half full. On the flipside, the police were not happy. The car rental guy was terrified that the car was going to be hauled away. We had to call in a big favor from our apartment manager in Marrakech. He was home enjoying lunch, when we called in a panic, hoping he could go into our apartment to take a picture of Andy’s license. In typical Moroccan style, he bent over backwards to help us. He told us “30 minutes for me to get there,” and hung up. The police were even less thrilled. Thirty minutes later, as promised, the photos of Andy’s license arrived. And we were free to carry on with the waiting. Eventually, after a small payment to the insurance guy for the inconvenience of having to return, he filled out the paper work, and we were on our way after that speedy four-hour delay.

We decided to skip the drive through the mountains that we had planned for the way back to Marrakech, since the sun was practically setting by now, and I (the only one with a license) would be forced to drive with 6 hours of road time still looming. We headed for the toll road to Casablanca in hopes of finding easy, fast roads to drive in the dark. Just as we neared the city, traffic ground to a halt. Over the next three hours, we covered 20 km. It was not pretty. We saw at least five accidents and various cars that had broken down or run out of gas while sitting in traffic. We, however, did not have another accident. Glass half full.

We texted the apartment manager to thank him, and he mentioned that he’d had to break the lock on the apartment in order to get in. He had installed a new lock on the door and would leave the key with “Hassan in his office.” We weren’t sure who Hassan was, or what office we would find open at midnight, but we just thanked him. At this point, Brianna was texting in French for me, because I was driving in the dark, and auto-correct was having its own way with French words. It was an exercise in frustration, so rather than attempting to clarify the situation, we decided to figure it out when (and if) we made it back to Marrakech.

When we rolled up in front of our building at 11:00 p.m., the night security guard roused himself from his sleeping position on the motorbike outside the door, and greeted us with a concerned look and a key. We had a mimed conversation during which I believe he expressed concern about our little accident and made sure we were all okay. We thanked him and happily took the key and headed upstairs. I guess his name is Hassan, and his office is the motorbike. That will remain a mystery, but the key opened the door, and we were home at last. The universe had finally kicked in. Glass half full.

In other tests of patience this week, I waited 45 minutes in line to pay my bill at Maroc Telecom. To pay my bill! This does not seem like a good business strategy. If you want people to pay their bills, shouldn’t you make it as easy as possible? Alas, as I contemplated leaving in protest and not paying my bill, I also remembered the painful three hour wait I had endured to order our Internet service in the first place, and the wait for installation, and the wait for someone to return a few days later when it still didn’t work. I brilliantly came to the conclusion that having the Internet turned off would be much, much worse than waiting in line for a ridiculous amount of time to pay my bill. I settled in and played my favorite game of, “Guess her story.” That’s the one where I imagine the life of the people waiting there with me and make up my own story. It amuses me when I am in airports and telecom offices. It’s particularly fun when I don’t understand any of the conversations people are having because I have nothing to go on except body language and fashion choices. Mindful creative time at Maroc Telecom. Glass half full.

And, in Marrakech-on-the-world-stage this week we have the Marrakech International Film Festival happening. I was very excited to learn that passes are completely free to the public. You just need to register online and pick up your “official pass” at the Royal Theater. I registered days before the festival began and went to the Royal Theater to pick up our passes. We stood in line for an hour, and not one single person moved inside. There was, ironically, a problem on their end with the Internet. Andy went back later in the week to take care of this errand. The line was three times longer and not moving. Today, I ventured out again and waited in line for nearly an hour. No one went in or came out. I believe it’s a scam. “Free and open to the public,” but nobody gets in without a pass, and nobody can actually get a pass. Glass half empty. Sorry. I’m still bitter about this one.

On a positive note, I did get some very stylish red vinyl boots with shiny rubber toes. They make me smile and will keep my feet a bit warmer than the flip flops I have been trying to sport rain or shine.

In another positive development, Andy broke down and bought an umbrella today after forbidding me from packing one for our year in the desert. Glass half full (of rain).