I <3 Golf in Morocco! As promised...

A very Moroccan Birthday?

21 has never been more fun! I had just about all the "orange juice" one 21-year-old can manage on her own. Those Moroccans and their "orange juice."  They can really hold their "orange juice." Really, it's fresh squeezed.  

Truly, I had a lovely day that began with a cake fed-exed to Morocco from a one Deborah Ross in Bethesda, MD.  She's too good to me. And yes, if you were wondering, it was  chocolate! 

Tomorrow we're jet-setting off on our Southern Excursion:  Azrou, middelt, Merzouga, Unprouncable, Unreadable, village, desert, Marrakech (!), Essaouira.  Will be MIA for a week at the least!  

Four Imperial Cities: One Weekend. An Epic journey through the backcountry and big city on Donkey-back.

Four delightful tour guides guide us through the cities that once were kings..or home to Kings. 

First stop--Meknes, the wine capital of Morocco. But more importantly, Wine capital of Morocco! And Moulay Idriss's Grand Estate. The imperial founder of Morocco had quite the "digs." It was an archeological paradise! 

Hey Mom! Would you believe it: they play golf in Morocco! And by "they" I mean the members of the royal family and entourage. I'm sure you could play the back nine, though. (Please enjoy my exclusive picks of the Royal Gulf course --tpb soon) 

Then we dashed into a craftsman's salon to practice some bargaining: 100 dirham for a hand of Fatima keepsake/keychain? I don't think so. That's like (quickly divide 100/8.3 in my head in a bit of quick mental math...) 100/8.3 big ones!

I don't mess around with my dirham. 

A short windy bus ride later we make it to Moulay Idriss. Home of Molay Idriss's remains/mosque in his name. A quaint mountainside town.  We have a lovely lunch of couscous and lamb tagine topped off with oranges, bananas, and more digestive drama! (have you heard of McVities? Did you know they have activia yogurt here?)

Roman ruins in Morocco? Say hello to lovely jubalee Volibulous (Walilee).  I'l just say it: the Romans lived well. Not long. But well. Short and sweet. LIke our trip to Volibulous.  

18:50 Arrive fee Fes! Most famous of all cities named for hats! Largest Medina in all of Africa. (Oh did you forget I'm studying abroad in AFrica?) We dine in style and are entertained cross-eyed magicians and older than appropriate belly dancers. SErved delicious cookie made of clouds. Or whatever they're calling coconut these days. 

When it rains, it pours.

Well, I succeeded. I've been here just under a week, and I've already made it rain profusely.  I'd like to take this moment to thank my mother for making me buy/bring a raincoat...w/o a hood. That sounded a little mean.  I'll rephrase.  My Moroccan Oomi would never send me anywhere without proper raingear.  Also My Moroccan mother spoon feeds me couscous! How's that Debbie (JK! jk!) 

In all seriousnessness...oh nevermind--the turkish toilet has rendered seriousness a thing of the past.  Basically Rabat is endlessly fascinating and to one who's eyes wander (strabismus lives on!) it's virtually impossible not to get lost in the Medina.  Leading into the residential areas of this walled cavern I like to call Beitee--my home--are various marketplaces that are crawling with live animals and littered with dead ones.  There are also olives, spices, zeitun, sakar, shoes, djalabas, oranges, magic carpets, normal carpets,  surfboards, pirated copies of Will Smith movies, praying men, kneeling men, men without arms,  men without dignity, orphans, rubbish and gems.  

And that's not even the half of it. 

Here's the good news: Moroccans love Obama. It's the start and end of every conversation. MoroccObama indeed.