High Maintenance

Since moving to Marrakech, my beauty regime has not been kept up to previous standards. (Who knew I was so high maintenance?) Back in California I used to get my hair cut every 8 weeks, my eyebrows waxed every 3 weeks and have a pedicure around every 1-2 months depending on the weather.

I’ve managed to get my haircut since moving here, having found a French salon around the corner, but I still miss my hair time with Ashley back at Oxen Rose and with no curlers or flat iron here (the voltage can’t convert with those devices so I left them behind) my hair is pretty frizzy most of the time.

As for the eyebrows, I don’t know how much I trust anyone here with hot wax near my eyes. Actually I do know how much I trust them. Not at all. So I’ve been attempting to pluck my own eyebrows, which I hate.

I’ve already looked up an Aveda salon in London to rectify the situation.

And then there is the pedicure. I’ve actually been given recommendations for a place to go here in Marrakech, but I’ve been too lazy to go and now that the weather has turned cold, well nobody sees my feet anymore but me and Kept Man. And now you lucky people.

I know you're probably disgusted by looking at my feet, but look when we were Christmas shopping in the souks I bought myself some leather babouches in a pretty purple color which hides my un-pedicured feet from sight.


Kept Man thinks my slippers smell from the leather making process which he had the opportunity to visit on his guided tour of the Medina. He frequently throws them into the other room when I’m not looking. Poor pretty babouches.

In other news with all our Christmas shopping we've gotten better at haggling in the souks. Or rather Kept Man has gotten better. I've gotten better at keeping my mouth shut in the background and pretending to be a simpering well mannered wife.

Best Husband Ever

I came home last night to a sparkling home, BBQ chicken pizza, fresh, not frozen, raspberries (my favorite) and the next book in the Twilight Series (Eclipse) under my pillow.

I'm spolied rotten. Kept Man then started watching Pineapple Express and left me to crawl into bed and begin reading the stupidness that is Eclipse. I have to know what happens! Even if the series does drive me crazy. It's a sickness. I promptly feel asleep within a half hour in all my clothes. It was 9:00pm. I'm an old lady.

To those who care I'm also slowly watching a bad quality pirated version of New Moon. Although I'd like to I can't blame all the bad acting on the my bad copy. And yet, I'm still torturing myself. With Kept Man shaking his head in shame in the background.

And this little piggy

So living in what amounts to a pork free society, I've come to realize how many pork products I like. Used to be when I heard the word pork I made a face. I'm not a fan of pork chops (except for Kept Man's which is a recreation of a dish at Wood Tavern and perhaps Erik's but I haven't tried those yet) but I never really realized how many other parts of the pig I enjoy. (man that sounds dirty)

It's amazing to me how prevalent these products are at home back in the states and how DIFFICULT they are to find here. Anytime a recipe calls for bacon or procuitto or something along those lines, we inwardly groan both in longing and frustration as we're either going to have to supplement it with something else or pass over the recipe entirely. We are constantly scouring the grocery store for any pig products (to stock up whenever we get lucky and find some) and cursing any various Moroccan authority figures when we cannot.  Yesterday I went to the Moroccan equivalent of Costco and in the dairy section found salami, serano ham and bacon (yep, pig products mixed in with dairy). I immediately texted Kept Man with "found pig products" and received a "woo-hoo" in return. We are so easily pleased here.

Another situation which rams home my pork dependancy was during an attempt to torture myself earlier today by looking at the autumn menu at Wood Tavern back in Berkeley. Kept Man was making lamb sugo for dinner (which might I mention was excellent, I am spoiled) which was always a favorite of mine when we used to go there too often for dinner and I decided I just had to see what was on their current menu. As I was reading through the menu there were two new items that caught my eye, "Pig and Fig" and "Swine and Bovine". Both items immediately jumped off the page to me only because at this point they are such exotic items. Pork Belly! I might die from shock to see it here.

Thankfully we will soon be in the land of the Czechs where we can gorge ourselves on pig products and beer and be sedated for a while upon our return to Morocco. (but not too long)

Side Trip

We're going to Prague!

Seriously! And for a month or so. Not just a visit. That's right this Marrakech based couple is packing up and moving!

As some of you may be aware things with the hotel here in Marrakech are a little delayed and frankly I'm bored. I can only do so much without a property management system. So my fabulous boss at corporate level asked if I'd be willing to help at another hotel property where the Revenue Manager had just left and fill in until they found someone. I said YES! And at the same time she made sure that it would be alright for my husband to be there with me. He'll only take up a small corner of the hotel room and I promised he'd be as quiet as a mouse.

So after our London adventure we fly straight to Prague. When we come back I do not know yet.

Who wants to come visit?

This is kinda cool.....

and squishy and kinda gross.

So says my husband with his hand inside of a squid. I don't know how I feel about seeing my calamari before it becomes calamari. I've tried to avoid the kitchen as much as possible so as not to destroy the veil around deep fried breaded calamari goodness.

If anyone wants to know step by step instructions about cleaning a squid you can find it here. (You'll need to click on "play full" video and then "how to clean a squid"). Does anyone know what people did before the internet to learn this sort of stuff? Joy of Cooking I guess.

In the meantime, for your actual viewing pleasure.

Little Tabby

There is a kitten in our apartment. We were just starting dinner. Watching some TV and a little tabby kitten walked in from our balcony. Our fourth floor balcony. WTF?! He's currently behind the TV playing with some plastic and he's ignored all attempts to feed him milk or some burger. I don't know what to do. I don't want to put him back on the balcony or even kick him outside the door. It's like abandoning him to the wolves. But I can't keep him either. Maybe he belongs to a neighbor. I hope so.

I can't have a cat here. 1. Garren would kill me 2. I would have to bring him home 3. Willoughby and Maggie would kill me.

What do I do?!

Spanish Reflections

Upon our arrival in Spain it was hard not to compare it to Marrakech, where we have been for 3 months now and where we are seriously missing some westernized standards.

For example at some point Garren and I both noted how quiet the streets of Sevilla are. That's not say that they are silent and devoid of traffic, but they are devoid of constant honking, beeping and a million scooters, bikes, donkeys, carts and god knows what else screaming by as you try to cross the street. Even their light rail is quiet. And with that observation we immediately noticed how CLEAN Sevilla was. No fumes from passing trucks, scooters or cars (The idea of "green" or even smog control has not reached Morocco yet). No trash or construction debris in the street. No cats and dogs wandering around. No people sitting on sidewalks looking for handouts. It is a stark contrast and it was a strange feeling to consider it a luxury for the weekend.

Alternate observations included the number of strollers out and about. Now I know there are a few people who may be thinking, "Her biological clock is going like this!" (insert an image of Marisa Tomei from My Cousin Vinny), but seriously I don't think I've seen so many strollers in all my life. The number of children, babies and pregnant women observed on a typical day was insane. Maybe it's the Catholic culture prevelant in Spain, maybe it's just a city where it is good to raise a family or maybe we're just not used to seeing strollers here in Marrakech, but there were children EVERYWHERE (dressed alike I may add - and I wondered where my mom got that from) and if I knew what was good for me I would invent the new "IT" stroller and sell it in Spain because I would make a fortune. Below was my attempt to show how many strollers there were, however everytime I attempted to take a picture with multiple strollers in it someone got in my way. So I've circled them. They're there I swear. I didn't make it up. And I've got several more pictures of other strollers taken within a 10 minute period to prove it.