So today has been stimulating and sort of soul crushing.
I mean, it started out alright. I came to Rabat this last week because I chipped a cap on my molar and had gone to see the dentist. I left this morning on the train and then transfered to a taxi in order to get to my friend's site. I got into the taxi with two seemingly very nice little girls and their dad. Now, have I actually ever told you what it's like to ride in a taxi in Morocco? Just in case I haven't, you're in a normal sized sedan, with 6-8 people in it. Usually 7, but in hard times, more. This means that you're usually squished either in between the driver and the stick shift (think: stick shift continually shifting where your hip is resting) or you're squished between a variety of fun people (think anywhere from big Berber mommas to very skinny men). It's a regular box of chocolates; you never know what yer gonna get.
Anywho, I thought today's trip was going to be a breeze. Two pumpkin sized children who were napping and the father was looking out the window. I wasn't smushed or bothered at all. I really only had a 45 minute taxi ride from the train station to my friend's town. Lo and behold, 5 minutes until my friend's town and tragedy strikes. Not only do I look out the window in my happy reverie to see an over-turned vegetable truck! but little squirt has actually dumped the contents of her lunch on my white pants. The only time I wear white pants in this country and it was disaster. I'm actually pretty confident that my wearing of the white vestments actually challenged the universe and the only thing the universe could do was but smite me in it's deeply self-pleasing and ego-centric way. You ever know notice how the universe only cares about itself? It's down right un-conscientious.
I do feel bad for the kid though.
So, anyways, after meeting up with Liz in one of my most disgruntled moods, I basically ran to her house and hosed myself down. Then I washed my pants with tide, then bleach, and then more tide. They are currently drying over the window. This is really an unfortunate matter concerning clothes here....I mean, either they're ripped, gross, or covered in God knows what. I really do think that dressing like a hobo here has its own sense of propriety. At least it's modest.
I mean, it started out alright. I came to Rabat this last week because I chipped a cap on my molar and had gone to see the dentist. I left this morning on the train and then transfered to a taxi in order to get to my friend's site. I got into the taxi with two seemingly very nice little girls and their dad. Now, have I actually ever told you what it's like to ride in a taxi in Morocco? Just in case I haven't, you're in a normal sized sedan, with 6-8 people in it. Usually 7, but in hard times, more. This means that you're usually squished either in between the driver and the stick shift (think: stick shift continually shifting where your hip is resting) or you're squished between a variety of fun people (think anywhere from big Berber mommas to very skinny men). It's a regular box of chocolates; you never know what yer gonna get.
Anywho, I thought today's trip was going to be a breeze. Two pumpkin sized children who were napping and the father was looking out the window. I wasn't smushed or bothered at all. I really only had a 45 minute taxi ride from the train station to my friend's town. Lo and behold, 5 minutes until my friend's town and tragedy strikes. Not only do I look out the window in my happy reverie to see an over-turned vegetable truck! but little squirt has actually dumped the contents of her lunch on my white pants. The only time I wear white pants in this country and it was disaster. I'm actually pretty confident that my wearing of the white vestments actually challenged the universe and the only thing the universe could do was but smite me in it's deeply self-pleasing and ego-centric way. You ever know notice how the universe only cares about itself? It's down right un-conscientious.
I do feel bad for the kid though.
So, anyways, after meeting up with Liz in one of my most disgruntled moods, I basically ran to her house and hosed myself down. Then I washed my pants with tide, then bleach, and then more tide. They are currently drying over the window. This is really an unfortunate matter concerning clothes here....I mean, either they're ripped, gross, or covered in God knows what. I really do think that dressing like a hobo here has its own sense of propriety. At least it's modest.
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