Here's a sweet story for you.
The other day as I was dropping Drea and Eli off at school I noticed a little boy from Eli's class had stopped at my feet and was staring up at me expectantly. I admit I was confused as I had never spoken to the little boy, and I didn't have any noticable candy stash in my pocket so I couldn't imagine what he needed. After all he wasn't speaking, just staring up at my looking adorable.
Then...ding, ding, ding! Lightbulb!
He was waiting for a kiss.
Kiss? you ask. Yes, a kiss. A tiny peck which, upon my realizing what he was waiting for so patiently, was sweetly given on the cheek.
People in Morocco like to kiss. They are brought up this way and, after this incident, I've observed children actually stopping their outdoor play to kiss a familiar grown-up who is walking by. No joke! They will even seek out all the adults in the home to give them kisses upon entering the house. It's super sweet and cute!
So let me tell you about the kisses, as their is a system, as there are with many things in Morocco. I will address this in a future blog. Women greet each other with kisses on both cheeks, but please understand, it's not always the same in each case. I've noticed that if a visitor comes to the house, of if I'm the visitor in question, then there is one kiss on the cheeck and then there are several kisses in a row on the second cheek. In between each of these kisses you are asking how the person you're kissing is doing.
It goes something like this.
Kiss on first cheek. "How are you?"
Kiss on other cheek. "I'm fine. Praise God"
Kiss on same cheeck. "How is your family"
Kiss on same cheek. "They're fine, and yours?
Kiss on same cheek. "How are your parents?"
Kiss on same cheek. "Praise God they're fine. And yours."
And on, and on, and on until you know how everyone is, and I do mean everyone. I've witnessed this kissing and I seriously don't know how many times they can ask "How are you" between kisses but they do it.
They're serious about kissing in Morocco.
Now, if I happen to walk into a family member's home, or a family member comes to me, then it's just one kiss on each cheek in greeting. This is all between females, of course. We can call this "kissing lite."
In the morning I greet Ali's grandparents by kissing the top of their hand as I give a slight bow. This type of kiss is reserved for older people as a sign of respect. Even if you meet them in the street this is what you do. And believe me, when it comes to the grandkids, grandparents want to be kissed often. I hear a lot of "Come kiss."
The final kiss I've observed is the kiss on the head. I'm not sure exactly who this is reserved for, but I can tell you that Ali does this to his older female relatives.
If you remember I began my blog with the story of Eli's school mate wanting a kiss. This leads me to another thing I've observed when it comes to kissing children. It's somewhat of a free-for-all. People in Morocco generally love children and always have kind words (and of course kisses) for them. My cThey'll stop in the street to kiss a child they don't know if that child for some reason catches their attention. Luckily the Moroccan society is not yet so jaded that this behavior warrents a 911 call or is even considered creepy. To me it really is endearing and charming.
So there you have it. Kisses all around, kisses for everyone!
Me at Jardin Majorelle
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Why I (and Americans I know) lost weight when visiting Marrakesh
Many of you have heard me talk (perhaps ad nauseum) about how I was looking forward to losing weight during my stay in Morocco.
Well, a month gone and 10 pounds down later and, you know what, I don't care how much I aggravated you!!!!
So you're wondering what is this Moroccan magic I speak of. Let me tell you. But understand, I believe the weight loss arises from a combination of reasons, and as I read about health, wellness and fitness often, trust me, I know what I'm talking about.
1. It's the food, stupid!
Seriously, these people eat fresh, wholesome, non-processed meat, veggies and fruit, green tea, coffee, mik, whole grain bread and olive oil every day. They buy this food every day and they cook it immediately. This leads me to the second reason for my shedding the weight.
2. No pantries.
This is a biggie, I can assure you. Pantries don't exist here and, other than the ingredients to cook with, there is not much to be found in the refrigerator. As a result, there is no mindless snacking between meals or when you sit down to a movie or any other of the million times you can find an excuse to eat when the goodies are right in front of you. No! You pretty much only eat at meal times, tea times and coffee times. No way, you say! Yes way. I've watched these people and there is no noshing between set eating times.
3. Portion control
In Morocco food is served on a single platter and everyone eats from it. As they don't serve a ton of food to begin with and you are sharing your food with everyone else,I believe this combination leads to less consumption overall. Also, no one goes back for seconds. This is another thing I've watched for and it's true. When the food is gone, so is the appetite apparantly.
4. No soda or other sugary drinks.
These folks drink water at meals. That's it.
5. They eat often.
When you wake up you have what is called first breakfast. This is anywhere from 7:30-9 a.m. There is usually soup (kind of like milky grits) and coffee. Then at 11:30 or so they serve second breakfast, which is normally mint green tea, freshly prepared and baked (in the home) whole grain bread which is dipped in olive oil. Come on!!! It just doesn't get much healthier that that. This food combination happens to be delicious and is one of my favorite snacks of the day. Lunch is eaten around 2:30, then we have coffee around 5 or 5:30 with dinner following at 8 or 8:30. So it seems like you're eating a lot but really you're only eating often, which results in a faster metabolism. It also keeps people out of the kitchen between set eating times...not that they'd find anything to eat anyway but you get my meaning.
So I think that's pretty much it. That in addition to all the walking you do. I walk my kids back and forth to school eight times a day. Eigtht times!!! Also, since they buy food every day, often before every meal, Moroccans are continuously walking to one of the many neighborhoods hanuts (tiny little stores that line the streets and are sandwiched between homes).
There you have it folks. The facts of the fabulousness that is eating and losing weight in Morocco!!!!
Well, a month gone and 10 pounds down later and, you know what, I don't care how much I aggravated you!!!!
So you're wondering what is this Moroccan magic I speak of. Let me tell you. But understand, I believe the weight loss arises from a combination of reasons, and as I read about health, wellness and fitness often, trust me, I know what I'm talking about.
1. It's the food, stupid!
Seriously, these people eat fresh, wholesome, non-processed meat, veggies and fruit, green tea, coffee, mik, whole grain bread and olive oil every day. They buy this food every day and they cook it immediately. This leads me to the second reason for my shedding the weight.
2. No pantries.
This is a biggie, I can assure you. Pantries don't exist here and, other than the ingredients to cook with, there is not much to be found in the refrigerator. As a result, there is no mindless snacking between meals or when you sit down to a movie or any other of the million times you can find an excuse to eat when the goodies are right in front of you. No! You pretty much only eat at meal times, tea times and coffee times. No way, you say! Yes way. I've watched these people and there is no noshing between set eating times.
3. Portion control
In Morocco food is served on a single platter and everyone eats from it. As they don't serve a ton of food to begin with and you are sharing your food with everyone else,I believe this combination leads to less consumption overall. Also, no one goes back for seconds. This is another thing I've watched for and it's true. When the food is gone, so is the appetite apparantly.
4. No soda or other sugary drinks.
These folks drink water at meals. That's it.
5. They eat often.
When you wake up you have what is called first breakfast. This is anywhere from 7:30-9 a.m. There is usually soup (kind of like milky grits) and coffee. Then at 11:30 or so they serve second breakfast, which is normally mint green tea, freshly prepared and baked (in the home) whole grain bread which is dipped in olive oil. Come on!!! It just doesn't get much healthier that that. This food combination happens to be delicious and is one of my favorite snacks of the day. Lunch is eaten around 2:30, then we have coffee around 5 or 5:30 with dinner following at 8 or 8:30. So it seems like you're eating a lot but really you're only eating often, which results in a faster metabolism. It also keeps people out of the kitchen between set eating times...not that they'd find anything to eat anyway but you get my meaning.
So I think that's pretty much it. That in addition to all the walking you do. I walk my kids back and forth to school eight times a day. Eigtht times!!! Also, since they buy food every day, often before every meal, Moroccans are continuously walking to one of the many neighborhoods hanuts (tiny little stores that line the streets and are sandwiched between homes).
There you have it folks. The facts of the fabulousness that is eating and losing weight in Morocco!!!!
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Tidbits
So in the interest of sharing information and in having a little fun I've collected some factoids to share. These are just a few things I've noticed during my time in Marrakesh and are my observations alone. They are in no way meant to be broad generalizations about the Moroccan people, but here's my take on some of the more interesting things I've seen.
1. A lot of them smoke...at least the men do.
Before coming to Marrakesh I mentioned to one of my friends that it seemed like smoking was so much of a taboo nowadays in America that I rarely saw people puffing, unless I checked the shadows. It seems those poor addicted souls have been pushed to the outskirts of society, shunned and generally looked down upon (sorry if any of you smoke, but this is how it seems to me). So to see so many people smoking here is a little jolting. I even saw a man smoking indoors today and, what with the shock of it all I about fell off my stool, which would have been bad since I was enjoying a yummy smoothie and generally enjoying myself.
2. They use bogus pictures as their Facebook profile pics.
Now this is a weird one. Of all of my relatives here who have FB pages, none of them use their own images as their profile pics. They use these random pics of who knows who. I can only guess they are models or pop stars. Who knows. And, even weirder, none of them use their own names. They either change their first or last names, or use their mother's maiden names or make up an entirely new moniker all together. Seriously, I don't get it, but I think it may have something to do with the secretive nature of Muslims, but I could be way off on that one. But I will tell you that Ali's cousin, who made up a different name for her FB page, told me she didn't want people to be able to find her on FB. Then what's the point, I say. Oh well, each to his own.
3. They're always cold.
I know, I know I already mentioned this in a previous blog, but really there is no getting over this. Today Eli got his long-sleeved shirt really dirty so of course he took it off with nary a worried glance from me I might add. Now, bowing slightly to peer pressure as I am, he did have on a white T-shirt underneath. Just short sleeves but hey, it was like 75 degrees today. Perfectly weather-appropriate attire right? Well, as soon as that shirt was off the great-grandmother is hollering that it's cold and am I crazy (at least this is what I imagine she was saying). And to prove how frigid it is she defiantly shows me the three shirts she's wearing. After that display I wonder if my totally disinterested and unconvinced stare translated. I think it did. I heard her mumbling under her breath for the next 15 minutes while stealing quick, disapproving glances at Eli and shaking her head. Subtle.
4. The men are bold.
What I mean by this is that they stare at the ladies. And by stare I don't mean a quick glance and look away I mean a stare you down, look you up and down and then turn around to stare at you some more as you walk away. And not just a few of them but nearly all of them. They even did this when I was walking with Ali and, let me tell you, I thought Ali was about to throw down a couple of times. Now when it comes to the characteristics of Islam most of my family come from the school of Ali and are probably shocked by what I've just written. But you must understand my husband actually tries to follow Islam which tells men and women "to lower their gaze and protect their modesty" when dealing with the opposite sex. Surprising I would come to a Muslim country and be so thoroughly checked out. But hey, it did give me the opportunity to give the finger in a foreign country!
5. They're serious about eating.
As I've mentioned in a previous blog, their eating is very regimented in that they have five eating times a day and, excepting for the lunch and dinner meals, basically the same food is served. In that vein, if you happen to be tired and go to bed at 8 after you've had your coffee and bread at 6 p.m. you better believe they will come in your room where you are asleep in the pitch dark and attempt to wake you up for dinner. This has actually happened to me. It's like they can't believe you might skip dinner (to be fair their food rocks so I get their concern but give a girl a break). My mother-in-law came to my room one night recently and, in a loud whisper, told me it was time to eat and that the food was very good and I should come down. It took me nearly a full minute to convince her that, thank you, thank you I'm sure the food is out of this world, outstanding, fabulous, etc., but I'm tired and I really want to sleep. Luckily my mother-in-law is super cool and didn't take offense, but man these people want you to eat. Also as a side note on food, they serve everything on platters, and I do mean everything. One night when I was trying to get to sleep early after a particularly long time at the hammam (public bath), I explained to my mother-in-law that I was going to sleep without dinner. It was all she could do to contain herself but she managed to recover admirably. However she couldn't quite help herself and she pushed two oranges and a cup of tea into my hands, served so sweetly on a platter. Oranges and tea my friends. It's like they can't believe you would (gasp!) carry a cup of tea and an orange in your hand up to your room. Funny stuff happening here, let me tell you.
6. Finally, a word about fashion...a lot of the guys wear studded belts.
As I sit here typing I am sharing the room with an orange belt with silver studs worn by Ali's nephew. His brother also has his own and I've been quick to notice similar styles on several of the young guys here. Really, I have no words for this particular tidbit only to say it's not as bad as you might think.
1. A lot of them smoke...at least the men do.
Before coming to Marrakesh I mentioned to one of my friends that it seemed like smoking was so much of a taboo nowadays in America that I rarely saw people puffing, unless I checked the shadows. It seems those poor addicted souls have been pushed to the outskirts of society, shunned and generally looked down upon (sorry if any of you smoke, but this is how it seems to me). So to see so many people smoking here is a little jolting. I even saw a man smoking indoors today and, what with the shock of it all I about fell off my stool, which would have been bad since I was enjoying a yummy smoothie and generally enjoying myself.
2. They use bogus pictures as their Facebook profile pics.
Now this is a weird one. Of all of my relatives here who have FB pages, none of them use their own images as their profile pics. They use these random pics of who knows who. I can only guess they are models or pop stars. Who knows. And, even weirder, none of them use their own names. They either change their first or last names, or use their mother's maiden names or make up an entirely new moniker all together. Seriously, I don't get it, but I think it may have something to do with the secretive nature of Muslims, but I could be way off on that one. But I will tell you that Ali's cousin, who made up a different name for her FB page, told me she didn't want people to be able to find her on FB. Then what's the point, I say. Oh well, each to his own.
3. They're always cold.
I know, I know I already mentioned this in a previous blog, but really there is no getting over this. Today Eli got his long-sleeved shirt really dirty so of course he took it off with nary a worried glance from me I might add. Now, bowing slightly to peer pressure as I am, he did have on a white T-shirt underneath. Just short sleeves but hey, it was like 75 degrees today. Perfectly weather-appropriate attire right? Well, as soon as that shirt was off the great-grandmother is hollering that it's cold and am I crazy (at least this is what I imagine she was saying). And to prove how frigid it is she defiantly shows me the three shirts she's wearing. After that display I wonder if my totally disinterested and unconvinced stare translated. I think it did. I heard her mumbling under her breath for the next 15 minutes while stealing quick, disapproving glances at Eli and shaking her head. Subtle.
4. The men are bold.
What I mean by this is that they stare at the ladies. And by stare I don't mean a quick glance and look away I mean a stare you down, look you up and down and then turn around to stare at you some more as you walk away. And not just a few of them but nearly all of them. They even did this when I was walking with Ali and, let me tell you, I thought Ali was about to throw down a couple of times. Now when it comes to the characteristics of Islam most of my family come from the school of Ali and are probably shocked by what I've just written. But you must understand my husband actually tries to follow Islam which tells men and women "to lower their gaze and protect their modesty" when dealing with the opposite sex. Surprising I would come to a Muslim country and be so thoroughly checked out. But hey, it did give me the opportunity to give the finger in a foreign country!
5. They're serious about eating.
As I've mentioned in a previous blog, their eating is very regimented in that they have five eating times a day and, excepting for the lunch and dinner meals, basically the same food is served. In that vein, if you happen to be tired and go to bed at 8 after you've had your coffee and bread at 6 p.m. you better believe they will come in your room where you are asleep in the pitch dark and attempt to wake you up for dinner. This has actually happened to me. It's like they can't believe you might skip dinner (to be fair their food rocks so I get their concern but give a girl a break). My mother-in-law came to my room one night recently and, in a loud whisper, told me it was time to eat and that the food was very good and I should come down. It took me nearly a full minute to convince her that, thank you, thank you I'm sure the food is out of this world, outstanding, fabulous, etc., but I'm tired and I really want to sleep. Luckily my mother-in-law is super cool and didn't take offense, but man these people want you to eat. Also as a side note on food, they serve everything on platters, and I do mean everything. One night when I was trying to get to sleep early after a particularly long time at the hammam (public bath), I explained to my mother-in-law that I was going to sleep without dinner. It was all she could do to contain herself but she managed to recover admirably. However she couldn't quite help herself and she pushed two oranges and a cup of tea into my hands, served so sweetly on a platter. Oranges and tea my friends. It's like they can't believe you would (gasp!) carry a cup of tea and an orange in your hand up to your room. Funny stuff happening here, let me tell you.
6. Finally, a word about fashion...a lot of the guys wear studded belts.
As I sit here typing I am sharing the room with an orange belt with silver studs worn by Ali's nephew. His brother also has his own and I've been quick to notice similar styles on several of the young guys here. Really, I have no words for this particular tidbit only to say it's not as bad as you might think.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Routine Thwarted
I knew blogging about the benefits of a routine, how wonderful it is and blah, blah, blah would come back to bite me in the butt. By way of explanation let's just say my day today turned out rather differently than I anticipated.
Let me tell you all about it.
First, I woke up as usual with the kids to the rush-hour frenzy that is getting ready for school in the Morocco house (as my kids call it.) I'm putting on clothes, brushing teeth, fending off potential early-morning-crankiness-induced fights, trying to get ample amounts of food into a resistant Drea's belly, telling Eli for the umpteenth time that he can't watch Spiderman before school lest it send him into a screaming fit when he has to turn it off to head to school. I'm sure all you parents have a sufficient mental picture of what's going on here, even 5,000 miles away.
Anyway, we are finally up and out the door and running only a few minutes late. However, it seems noone bothered to tell the foreigner (that would be me) that there is some holiday today in Morocco and there is no school. I kinda figured it out when I arrived at a quiet and locked-up school.
Drea was bummed, crazy girl that she is. "I'm mad at school. I miss school. I want to learn." Bless her heart, I thnk she was almost as upset as I was.
But not quite.
So back to the Morocco house we go, where Eli and his cousin Nazaar promptly start fighting and I and Nazaar's mother look at each other with the knowing (and grim) looks of mothers with a long, long day ahead of them.
Sister-in-law to the rescue. Or so I thought. Wafa (aforementioned sister-in-law) suggests a day spent at her older sister Saida's house. A quick look at Eli and Nazaar about to make like the WWF and I'm out of there.
Needless to say this was a mistake. Wafa assured me this was a 30-minute walk. I really should have known better.
What should have amounted to a half hour ended up taking over a hour as we were accompanied by these two whiny, seemingly crippled children. I really don't know where they came from.
All joking aside I was happy when we finally reached our destination and, in true Moroccan form, we were greeted with mint tea and freshly made bread and olive oil. Delish!!!!
Once satiated my mood changed considerably and for the better. Prepared mother that I am I had brought along four cartoon DVD's (which we buy for pennies at this great little shop near the Morocco house) and the kids were soon calmed and quiet. We ended up spending a nice afternoon with the fam, only interrupted by a little nap for Drea who was sufferering from a slight fever.
The walk home was better as my request to borrow my sister-in-law's stroller was happily complied with. I parked Eli in that sucker, put Drea on my back (when in Morocco do as the Moroccans do!) and headed home.
Once back home, we were greeted by Ali's uncle and his devil of a son (this is the kid who threatened Eli with a shockingly long kitchen knife, one which I had to pry out of his death grip before he murdered my son in a fit of rage, I kid you not) and the uncle's wife. They were here not five minutes, not even time to have a cup of coffee and those kids were at it. WWF was on and it was vicious! After the devil child whacked Eli across the face it was all over. I never saw two people (i.e. his parents) haul butt so quickly out of there. You should have seen Ali's mother's face when she realized they hadn't even had coffee (God forbid!), but that kid was heard kicking and screaming all the way out to the car, and you know what? I wasn't sorry at all to see him go. No telling what I would have done if he had pulled another knife.
After that I shuffled my kids (Eli screaming from his recent mistreatment) through the bath, calmed them down, put on Spiderman, took a deep breath and put them in the care of Wafa. That's what kid sisters-in-law are for after all.
They were sleeping by 7.
Let me tell you all about it.
First, I woke up as usual with the kids to the rush-hour frenzy that is getting ready for school in the Morocco house (as my kids call it.) I'm putting on clothes, brushing teeth, fending off potential early-morning-crankiness-induced fights, trying to get ample amounts of food into a resistant Drea's belly, telling Eli for the umpteenth time that he can't watch Spiderman before school lest it send him into a screaming fit when he has to turn it off to head to school. I'm sure all you parents have a sufficient mental picture of what's going on here, even 5,000 miles away.
Anyway, we are finally up and out the door and running only a few minutes late. However, it seems noone bothered to tell the foreigner (that would be me) that there is some holiday today in Morocco and there is no school. I kinda figured it out when I arrived at a quiet and locked-up school.
Drea was bummed, crazy girl that she is. "I'm mad at school. I miss school. I want to learn." Bless her heart, I thnk she was almost as upset as I was.
But not quite.
So back to the Morocco house we go, where Eli and his cousin Nazaar promptly start fighting and I and Nazaar's mother look at each other with the knowing (and grim) looks of mothers with a long, long day ahead of them.
Sister-in-law to the rescue. Or so I thought. Wafa (aforementioned sister-in-law) suggests a day spent at her older sister Saida's house. A quick look at Eli and Nazaar about to make like the WWF and I'm out of there.
Needless to say this was a mistake. Wafa assured me this was a 30-minute walk. I really should have known better.
What should have amounted to a half hour ended up taking over a hour as we were accompanied by these two whiny, seemingly crippled children. I really don't know where they came from.
All joking aside I was happy when we finally reached our destination and, in true Moroccan form, we were greeted with mint tea and freshly made bread and olive oil. Delish!!!!
Once satiated my mood changed considerably and for the better. Prepared mother that I am I had brought along four cartoon DVD's (which we buy for pennies at this great little shop near the Morocco house) and the kids were soon calmed and quiet. We ended up spending a nice afternoon with the fam, only interrupted by a little nap for Drea who was sufferering from a slight fever.
The walk home was better as my request to borrow my sister-in-law's stroller was happily complied with. I parked Eli in that sucker, put Drea on my back (when in Morocco do as the Moroccans do!) and headed home.
Once back home, we were greeted by Ali's uncle and his devil of a son (this is the kid who threatened Eli with a shockingly long kitchen knife, one which I had to pry out of his death grip before he murdered my son in a fit of rage, I kid you not) and the uncle's wife. They were here not five minutes, not even time to have a cup of coffee and those kids were at it. WWF was on and it was vicious! After the devil child whacked Eli across the face it was all over. I never saw two people (i.e. his parents) haul butt so quickly out of there. You should have seen Ali's mother's face when she realized they hadn't even had coffee (God forbid!), but that kid was heard kicking and screaming all the way out to the car, and you know what? I wasn't sorry at all to see him go. No telling what I would have done if he had pulled another knife.
After that I shuffled my kids (Eli screaming from his recent mistreatment) through the bath, calmed them down, put on Spiderman, took a deep breath and put them in the care of Wafa. That's what kid sisters-in-law are for after all.
They were sleeping by 7.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Routine
With Ali gone I've settled into a routine, which suits me just fine as anyone who knows me will tell you. I like order, a schedule of sorts with some fun thrown in.
Mornings start with getting kids off to school, dressing them, feeding them, pottying them and the like. Then we take the less-than-five-minute walk to school, where they stay from 8:30-11:30.
While they're away I keep myself busy. Besides doing a happy dance every five minutes, (kids in school will have that effect!), I have my morning soup, which is similar to milk-heavy grits, and my coffee. Then it's up to my room to make the bed and change into my workout clothes. Then it's on to the best part of my morning schedule-my workout. I love it! Not only do I feel great, but it reminds me of being at home, where I always exercized in the a.m. Then it's a shower and dress in time to go pick up the kids.
Once home we sit down to what's called "second breakfast" in Morocco, which usually consists of homemade bread (a daily staple) which we dip in olive oil. This is accompanied by the famous Moroccan mint tea. The whole meal is delish, and I and Drea love it. Eli usually munches on fruits and nuts while he watches cartoons or plays with his cousin. Good enough for me.
By 2 it's back to school for the kiddos until 5. I do a second happy dance of the day once they're dropped off, and then it's home for lunch. That is awesome, as usual, and then the rest of the day is free for walks around my neighborhood or a nap or whatever. I even did some cleaning and laundry today so I felt very productive.
Once the kids are home at five, I am quick to let them play a little, watch some TV and then it's dinner for them, bathroom needs and bed at 7 for Eli. I usually let Drea stay awake a little longer, maybe 7:30.
Tell me moms and dads, is is terrible that I can't wait for those kids to go to bed considering the six hours a day they spend at school?
No. I didn't think so.
A highlight of my day? I Skyped with Ali twice, once after I dropped off kids for afternoon school session and again when they got home. Nice!
Mornings start with getting kids off to school, dressing them, feeding them, pottying them and the like. Then we take the less-than-five-minute walk to school, where they stay from 8:30-11:30.
While they're away I keep myself busy. Besides doing a happy dance every five minutes, (kids in school will have that effect!), I have my morning soup, which is similar to milk-heavy grits, and my coffee. Then it's up to my room to make the bed and change into my workout clothes. Then it's on to the best part of my morning schedule-my workout. I love it! Not only do I feel great, but it reminds me of being at home, where I always exercized in the a.m. Then it's a shower and dress in time to go pick up the kids.
Once home we sit down to what's called "second breakfast" in Morocco, which usually consists of homemade bread (a daily staple) which we dip in olive oil. This is accompanied by the famous Moroccan mint tea. The whole meal is delish, and I and Drea love it. Eli usually munches on fruits and nuts while he watches cartoons or plays with his cousin. Good enough for me.
By 2 it's back to school for the kiddos until 5. I do a second happy dance of the day once they're dropped off, and then it's home for lunch. That is awesome, as usual, and then the rest of the day is free for walks around my neighborhood or a nap or whatever. I even did some cleaning and laundry today so I felt very productive.
Once the kids are home at five, I am quick to let them play a little, watch some TV and then it's dinner for them, bathroom needs and bed at 7 for Eli. I usually let Drea stay awake a little longer, maybe 7:30.
Tell me moms and dads, is is terrible that I can't wait for those kids to go to bed considering the six hours a day they spend at school?
No. I didn't think so.
A highlight of my day? I Skyped with Ali twice, once after I dropped off kids for afternoon school session and again when they got home. Nice!
Gone
When the time came so did the tears.
A few.
Ali left on Saturday to return home, and as he urged me not to cry too much lest I upset the kids, I held back. But seeing my husband go was hard, especially as I took in the pained look on his face. It was like this defining moment in our lives. Our first time apart for any significant length of time.
Some might say that's a dramatic sentiment, but I don't think so. After three weeks of non-stop time together, time often spent alone enjoying ourselves is this dynamic, ancient medina (city in Arabic), it was difficult to let go. But let go I did and now we're reduced to talking over a computer, but man am I grateful for it. I think Skype and Ali's iPhone with its constant connection to us will be our saving grace during this time. The kids are anxious to speak to him when they get out of school, and Ali is already showing signs of missing us (i.e. texting with me at 1:30 a.m. his time). He said being in a lonely quiet house is no good for him.
I know maybe you guys are expecting some sage observations from me about the sorrow of separation and the suckiness of it all, but I can't manage it right now. All I can say is that it's not ideal but, strong girl that I am, I know I can handle it.
For a while at least.
A few.
Ali left on Saturday to return home, and as he urged me not to cry too much lest I upset the kids, I held back. But seeing my husband go was hard, especially as I took in the pained look on his face. It was like this defining moment in our lives. Our first time apart for any significant length of time.
Some might say that's a dramatic sentiment, but I don't think so. After three weeks of non-stop time together, time often spent alone enjoying ourselves is this dynamic, ancient medina (city in Arabic), it was difficult to let go. But let go I did and now we're reduced to talking over a computer, but man am I grateful for it. I think Skype and Ali's iPhone with its constant connection to us will be our saving grace during this time. The kids are anxious to speak to him when they get out of school, and Ali is already showing signs of missing us (i.e. texting with me at 1:30 a.m. his time). He said being in a lonely quiet house is no good for him.
I know maybe you guys are expecting some sage observations from me about the sorrow of separation and the suckiness of it all, but I can't manage it right now. All I can say is that it's not ideal but, strong girl that I am, I know I can handle it.
For a while at least.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Vacation for two?
Yes, yes we brought the kids with us (though sometimes I question that wisdom), but with the kids enrolled in school full time before we had even been here a week (yeah we had those kids in school and out of our hair right quick!) Ali and I have been having a bit of time to ourselves.
And we've taken advantage!
First, we confiscated the moped from his nephew (insert evil laugh here!) and we hit the streets. It reminded me of the first time we came to Morocco, before babies and madness and we were completely carefree. Needless to say school has allowed a nice return to that feeling, at least until we have to pick them up.
So how have we been spending our time?
Ali gave me a driving tour of several of Marrakesh's hotels, many of them four- and five-star. We also toured Jardin Majorelle, a famous garden here noted for its vibrant blue hues of the home and surrounding grounds. We also hiked up a rock mountain smack dab in the middle of the city and were treated to gorgeous panaromic views of this ancient medina!!!! It was amazing and thanks to my hubby for suggesting it. We've also taken several walks together just checking out local neighborhoods and all the amzing architecture here. Even though all the buildings in Marrakesh must me red or a shade of red, there is an great amount of variety when it comes to the style of homes, many of them using colored glass tiles or intricate mosaics to complement doorways, windows and balconies. All in all, beautiful!
So this trip, unlike the last one when our babies were 2 and 2 months and we were largely homebound, Ali and I have had much more time to explore for my (albeit temporary) home and, most importantly, to be alone.
And we've taken advantage!
First, we confiscated the moped from his nephew (insert evil laugh here!) and we hit the streets. It reminded me of the first time we came to Morocco, before babies and madness and we were completely carefree. Needless to say school has allowed a nice return to that feeling, at least until we have to pick them up.
So how have we been spending our time?
Ali gave me a driving tour of several of Marrakesh's hotels, many of them four- and five-star. We also toured Jardin Majorelle, a famous garden here noted for its vibrant blue hues of the home and surrounding grounds. We also hiked up a rock mountain smack dab in the middle of the city and were treated to gorgeous panaromic views of this ancient medina!!!! It was amazing and thanks to my hubby for suggesting it. We've also taken several walks together just checking out local neighborhoods and all the amzing architecture here. Even though all the buildings in Marrakesh must me red or a shade of red, there is an great amount of variety when it comes to the style of homes, many of them using colored glass tiles or intricate mosaics to complement doorways, windows and balconies. All in all, beautiful!
So this trip, unlike the last one when our babies were 2 and 2 months and we were largely homebound, Ali and I have had much more time to explore for my (albeit temporary) home and, most importantly, to be alone.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
My mother-in-law
I'm writing this blog on the fly, that is to say with no particular subject in mind. However, a thought occured to me earlier while I was cleaning the dinner dishes, a feat I only barely managed to accomplish before my mother-in-law could step in and put a stop to such nonsense (i.e. me not letting her serve me 24/7). Furthermore, I'm still in shock I managed to sneak out of dinner early to do the dishes, another miracle I can't believe I pulled, plauged as I am with my mother-in-law's sharp eyes monitoring my every bite, no doubt calculating exactly how much food I require to fill my belly.
But I digress.
Let me offer a word about her kitchen. It is, by far, the smallest room in the house. But what comes out of that kitchen twice a day (the two major meals) is only comparable to the amount of people in and out of that cramped space. And I suspect the company my mother-in-law keepswhile tending to her stove is not only because of her terrific cooking, it's because of her.
My mother-in-law is definitely the heart of this home, and since she's often to be found in the kitchen, so is everyone else. Her children are in and out to talk to her, huddled in a small stool in the corner or casually perched on the countertop, speaking often in hushed tones, conveying intimacies and confidences. Her grandchildren scamper at her feet, in every danger from the yummies cooking on the stove but there's hardly a sharp word. Indeed it's the youngsters' parents who are often reprimanding the children only to be told "Leave him/her." So leave them we do. Besides they'll probably be in there before long, whispering their own secrets and having a laugh with her.
That's the other thing. My mother-in-law is pretty funny. At least so much as I can tell based on our very limited conversation. She's always laughing and always good for a joke or a funny story. Suffice it to say, I wish I knew her better.
But I digress.
Let me offer a word about her kitchen. It is, by far, the smallest room in the house. But what comes out of that kitchen twice a day (the two major meals) is only comparable to the amount of people in and out of that cramped space. And I suspect the company my mother-in-law keepswhile tending to her stove is not only because of her terrific cooking, it's because of her.
My mother-in-law is definitely the heart of this home, and since she's often to be found in the kitchen, so is everyone else. Her children are in and out to talk to her, huddled in a small stool in the corner or casually perched on the countertop, speaking often in hushed tones, conveying intimacies and confidences. Her grandchildren scamper at her feet, in every danger from the yummies cooking on the stove but there's hardly a sharp word. Indeed it's the youngsters' parents who are often reprimanding the children only to be told "Leave him/her." So leave them we do. Besides they'll probably be in there before long, whispering their own secrets and having a laugh with her.
That's the other thing. My mother-in-law is pretty funny. At least so much as I can tell based on our very limited conversation. She's always laughing and always good for a joke or a funny story. Suffice it to say, I wish I knew her better.
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