Some Weeks Are Like That

For those of you that can hear my tone of voice when reading my blog postings, you'll understand that my Sunday trip to Meknes took up a large supply of my patience. Pedantic, didactic, colonialist Father-figure types are those that I am seeking to avoid. However, some of my attitude might be explained by the fact that I was getting sick. Monday morning I left the riad to Rachida's care and began my usual walk to Cafe Clock. After having my breakfast avocado smoothie, I moved slowly uphill. By the time I got to Simo's shop, things were not so good. He offered me a chair. I refused his offer of coffee or tea (why?). By the time I reached Nabil and he offered me a chair, I wasn't sure if sitting was a good idea. I did though for a short time and gave him a new scribbling journal. He is perpetually writing and goes through them rather quickly it seems. My next friendly face asked if he might take me for freshly squeezed orange juice as he was concerned. I declined with the usual stubborn intent on reaching my goal of the top of the hill. By the time I fell into Cafe Clock, I felt like crying, was ever so nauseous and desperate for someone to lean on. This was perhaps my sixth encounter with a migraine and thus it takes me a while to figure out what is going on. The manager and the staff were all attentive which tells you just how awful I must have looked. A giant cafe creme with sugar and one pot of shiba tea with yet more sugar and I felt like maybe I could make it home without being a teary mess. Downhill was a bit easier and Rachida was luckily finished cleaning so I could crawl into bed. I've been in bed now for two days with what became a head cold and am only getting up to make tea and have some of the spicy lentil stew that Sanae prepared. I am not sick out of sympathy for JD in RAK of the UAE who emailed about his winter cold a few days ago. (but don't tell him, I'm trying to get him to bring some scotch and sunshine out of guilt;) As I was typing in my blog about Meknes a few minutes ago, my mobile rang and Yacine was calling. I had sent him a text canceling my horseback riding lesson as I wasn't well. He was calling with concern and offering medicine and advice. He asked if I needed anything brought to me. Yacine lives on the other side of this rather large town. My riad is not convenient in any way. I am about to fall back into bed with my best friend the hotwater bottle. I just wanted all of you family and friends to know that although I am far away and irritatingly ill, these people are filled with kindness and care. They will look after me if I ask. So out of this horrible week comes a comforting feeling. Now if it just had scotch...