Minute by minute

Dear Dennis,

It has been an eventful few days here in Marrakech. Perhaps I will give you only a brief recap in order to intrigue you and get you to call me... but then again you have never been ALL that interested in the details of my life.

Friday morning we had big plans to go the barrage.. even thought we didn't really have much of an idea what the Barrage was. Jules picked me up for Friday half day at my work (which is in the old palace, suitable for me as I am a princess). After haggling with several cab drivers who were totally intent on ripping us off, we gave up. We headed to our local Peach Pit, where we always act surprised to run into the cute French boys we have developed crushes on.. Even though they work there, so seem to be a little confused by our surprise. The owner, we'll call him Jerry since I forgot his name, has a lab named Whiskey who is, obviously, the true object of my affections. He invited us, which we are beginning to realize in Marrakech means not so much asking as commanding, to visit his Riad that night. As he runs with the French crew that Jules and I are desperate to be a part of, we immediatly accepted.

We then headed bravely into the Medina to visit the Musee de Marrakesh and the Saadian Tombs. We allowed ourselves a half hour to find it (supposedly right inside the souks) but instead it took almost two. To get to it, you have to weave though the many alleys that seem just wide enough to fit the two of us, but amazingly somehow also fit donkeys carrying carts of fruit, motorcycles, and a few cars. It is really a bit terrifying as I tend to space out a bit while walking and this really is the worst place for it. We asked directions at every corner and were just told go left, go left and then ask again.

We eventually found it and the museum was lovely and had tons of winding hallways with weird Moroccan modern art, but way more importantly, we met Harry. Harry is from Minnesota, he is handsome, he is smart, he was not wearing shoes that made me cringe.. Harry was perfect. Julia and I both briefly and individually planned our lives with him and then asked him what brought him to Morocco. Study abroad in Spain. Twenty years old. Almost.

Then we went to the Riad where Jerry, who seemed to forget he had invited us for an appetizer, left us with his father who loved to smile and spoke little English. We all smiled at one another a lot over a glass of wine, and then Julia and I excused ourselves in French.

Off to the Trattoria for dinner, where my husband, the owner, treated us to dinner. This meant he ordered the whole menu for us. After dinner, we went along with him and his friend, and older German lady whose story is a bit of a mystery to us, to his house. We drank wine, and watched MTV Idol. Watching "Lemon Incest," while Jules tries in vain to explain why she thinks it is a bit inappropriate for a father and daughter to be in bed together like that.. Too tired to speak broken French, I insisted we return home to rest up for our next day in the Ourika valley..

In the next minute by minute, Jules will fill you in on the break up of my marriage with Mohammed (who is, incidentally, on her facebook page if you would like to catch a glimpse and also who, incidentaly, is married), our short lived modelling careers for Pasha (yes, that's the biggest nightclub in all of North Africa), our visit to the lime farm, and Morocco's love for Norah Jones and Traci Chapman.

Missyouloveyou,
Megan