Tuesday, June 8, 2010
The last days in Morocco, before heading to the States for a 3-month stay, were filled with organization and anticipation. I packed all my clothes and personal belongings into one small room to make a 4th room available for sleeping. The house looked great and it was so gratifying to see every room in the house in use and cleaned. I actually felt very proud of myself as I looked at the totality of the house and recalled all the work it has taken to get it to this stage.
The heat was on and Hassan and I spent the last few days at Hotel Reda where they have a great, natural spring swimming pool and poolside food and drink service. Hardly anyone was at the pool as it was the first day of the season and the water was sparkling clean. In the evening, a group of musicians came with dancers and played until late in the night. It was so relaxing to be by the pool and have the ability to climb the stairs up to an air-conditioned room when the sun was at its highest. It was the one and only time Hassan and I agreed on hotel accommodations. Usually he thinks my choices are too posh and I think his choices are too, well, too 'limited' for my tastes and comfort. Finally, after 3 years, we agreed on something!
On Saturday afternoon, at 5:00 we headed up to Casablanca to the airport. A friend of Hassan's accompanied us so he would have some conversation and driving help on the return trip to Fes. We arrived at the airport in good time (3 hours before the flight) and only one near-death driving experience only to find the flight was delayed an hour. Oh well, nothing to do but wait so I urged Hassan to return to Fes and the comfort of Hotel Reda where he and his friend would spend Sunday at poolside.
No problems at all with the long travel to San Francisco. Just the reality of the fact that my connections were far between and I spent as much time waiting in airports as I did actually flying to my destination. That, plus the fact that the seats are far too small and a little bit like torture and I had 30+ hours of transit time. I finally arrived in San Francisco where my friend, Mary, was waiting for me with "WELCOME HOME EVELYN" sign in hand. I cried a few brief tears of gratitude and relief that I had arrived back in my favorite place in all the world.
Bacon and toast the next morning. What a lovely smell and even more heavenly taste. Champagne at dinner. Mixed green salad. Conversation. Phone calls where I can talk as long as I like. Well wishes from friends who know I have arrived, sitting in front of the television with a box of Wheat Thins on my lap. All so comforting and familiar.