Wednesday, July 01, 2009


On Saturday morning, I didn't know what time it was. The difference, everyone told me, was two hours behind Spain. But it wasn't. It was only one hour. Confused, I checked my watch, my phone, and my Mac. My gadgets could not agree with each other.

Chalk it up to the random implementation of Daylight Savings. Time for breakfast. A selection of wheat products and brightly colored jams, accompanied by instant coffee.

I'd forgotten about this too, like I'd forgotten about clinging-backpack-sweat. Hotel breakfasts are frequently expensive and disappointing. During, I used to carry my own coffee and always picked up a muffin or croissant the night before.

I thought wistfully for a minute about the spread at Hotel Flamenco, where I'd lived two summers before. Omelettes! In Cairo. But that's another time, another life, and partially responsible for my trip now. A birthday is coming up and the only thing worse than sitting at home being uninvited would be to actually be invited, to make nice with Important People who passively informed me that I was just a lowly blip in a series of blips.

I don't do blip well. Being erased put me on slow boil. For others, time heals all. For me, the longer I'm ignored, the more furious I become.

Like New Year's in Bolivia, the goal here is distraction.

After my meal of bread and bright red corn syrup gel, taken in a dark, padded room of Moroccan tchochkes, I walked back up the hill to the main square of Chaouen.

The car-free, pale-blue center was even more beautiful by morning light. I climbed the stairs of the Kasbah tower and looked out over the town and mountains in the morning light.


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