On the Right Path

Lately I’ve noticed an unexpected and not so subtle change in my attitude. I’m pretty sure I know the reason for this change but I’m not going to give voice to it so I don’t jinx it. But there it is. And it’s resulted in a kind of an awakening.

I find I am a lot more accepting. I think I might even be starting to enjoy my experiences here. Now that’s going to sound pretty weird, I know. For why on earth would I have spent nearly 4 years here NOT enjoying myself? But things have been pretty difficult for me for a variety of reasons and I’ve slugged through my life believing I have to work hard to overcome these difficulties. So facing hard times is not new to me and I’ve always had the notion that life would always be this way. But I have come to realize we do experience periods of Grace and now one of my greatest difficulties here has seemingly vanished into thin air. POOF. It’s over. And quite unexpectedly, but probably just in the knick of time, I am feeling rather happy because I was ‘this close’ to running away for good.

But run away to where? For what they say is true … ‘wherever you go, there you are.”

So what it all really boils down to is changes in me. Sure, an obstacle in my life has been removed and I’m finding life a little easier these days. But when I reflect on my situation and think about all that I’ve experienced, I realize that I have put up a lot of resistance to my situation here. And this newfound acceptance and appreciation for all the situations life throws at you is one of the great results of the time I’ve spent here in Morocco.

A Visit to the Doctor

For the first time in nearly 4 years I had to visit a doctor. I was rather nervous about the whole thing because most doctor's don't speak English and this was a visit of a very personal nature. I waited as long as I dared before making an appointment and yesterday I bit the bullet and had my husband call the doctor. We were told to rush in right away unless we wanted to wait another two weeks. I dashed out of the house in a very sorry state and we drove to the doctor's office straight away.

I waited nearly two hours before being seen. During that time my husband had to leave as he had an appointment that couldn't be missed. I paced back and forth in the waiting room, worrying about the appointment and wondering how I would get back to the house, wash my hair (it was wrapped in a scarf to disguise the terrible bed head) and gather my materials for my 3:00 class. Anxiety mounted with each passing moment. It occurred to me I could have done all that needed to be done before rushing off to the doctor's office and still have had time to see the physician. Oh well. Could have, should have, would have.

Finally, I was called into the inner chambers. I was directed to step onto a scale which I was loathe to do, especially with the extra weight of all my clothes. Thankfully, the number on the scale wasn't nearly as formidable as I thought it would be and I breathed my first sigh of relief.

In horrible and halting French, I tried to tell the doctor my problem. She nodded and proceeded with her examination. By U.S. standards, everything was rather, well, basic I guess you could say. Expedient is another word I would use. I'm not at all sure what the diagnosis was (is 'banana' a medical term????) but I do know I had to spend nearly $100 for the treatment. Yikes! My prescription pad had 6 separate items on it and of course I don't understand what's in any package nor do I know exactly what to do with any of it without the help of a translator. And of course the translation will only tell me what to do -- not why it's being done. Some medicine I am to take before eating, others after eating. There are creams, suppositories (how very French) and there's even some powder to add water to and use every night. Ten days of treatment and I think anything wrong with me (besides the original problem) should be vigorously attacked by all the medication.

But that's not all. The next hurdle is filling out the paperwork to get reimbursed for the fees and prescription charges. Every box of medicine is to be saved along with the instruction sheets within and attached to the form which need both the doctor's and the pharmacists signatures. Geez, and I thought it was tough in the United States. All I can do is blindly follow instructions and put my faith in the expertise of others. No answers to my queries of "why" or "what does it mean?" Just do what you're told to do and don't ask any questions because no one has the vocabulary to tell you. Or rather, I don't have the vocabulary to understand.

The House Knows All

All hell is about to break loose in the house.

Even though I was determined NOT to invest any more money in the house and dedicated to trying to sell it as soon as I returned from the states this summer, it seems DESTINY has something else in store.

A week ago a huge plumbing problem reared its ugly head and necessitated breaking through walls and installing new pipes. And now that repairs to the wall must be made, I figured the house was telling me I am not through with her yet and must give her what she wants.

So, tomorrow, tile work and plaster and painting will commence. The walls in the upstairs bathroom are going to be tiled and the same goes for the water closet on the in-between floor. A new sink has been purchased for the water closet and repairs are going to be made to all the necessary places on the ground floor. And, of course, the kitchen walls have to be re-plastered and painted where the new pipes were installed.

Every room in the house will be covered in dust and debris. This I am sure of. And of course, this is happening right after I cleaned everything this morning. Silly me. But at least I get to enjoy a clean house for one day. Then, when everything is finished, a thorough seasonal cleaning will commence and the house will be better than ever.

A sturdy plastic cover has been custom-made to cover the halqa in preparation for the winter rains. The drainage problem on the terrace has hopefully been addressed.

Next step: gather some money together (just how to do this is yet unknown) and apply for a permit to make this a guest house. That’s the only way to recoup the money I have been spending to repair and improve my voraciously hungry and greedy little house.

Are you paying attention house? I’m listening to you and giving you what you seem to want. You seem to be fighting me when I try to break loose so I surrender. Believe me, I truly am trying to find the proper attitude to assume about the whole thing. But I waver between feeling trapped and calm acceptance. I know you are watching my every move and reading my mind -- I only wish I could read you as clearly as you seem to read me.

Tell me, once you are fully restored and delighting tourists from all over the world, are you planning for me to resume my journey to Istanbul that you interrupted when I arrived here almost 4 years ago? Will you send me a buyer looking for a turnkey operation so I can take advantage of the depressed real estate market back in California? Or is there something else you are contemplating that will totally surprise and astound me?

Tell me soon, little Dar on the Derb … What door will you open for me? For I am chomping at the bit for some significant change in my life.