It’s Not All Hot-Air Balloon Rides

There is one in our camp of two that feels the blog stories should keep on a coming, even if we’ve nothing monumental to report. I guess the point is to avoid becoming jaded about the nuances and daily idiosyncrasies of our life in Morocco. As we inevitably settle into a routine here, however, I wonder about the distinction between comfort and boring. I like that certain paths through the medina have become second nature; allows me to see a lot more now that I’m not in a panic about my direction, that’s for sure. I like that I know where to go for paint and electrical tape and great mesclun – that’s right, mesclun. I like that the neighborhood kids know who we are; okay, that assertion comes with a few exceptions (see Tarte Citron entry). This familiarity is comforting. So how to keep comfort from straying into boredom?

When we first moved to Los Angeles from New York, we promised to pinch one another if we ever became jaded about the palm trees; if their silly flamboyance and gawky, too-tall stature ever became something we no longer noticed, like the yellow lines down a highway, then we knew it was time to recalibrate. Anyway, in an effort to celebrate the every day, and to keep our eyes and minds open to the marvels around us, here are a few Moroccan “pinch-me-ifs”. More to follow, we hope.

It’s Ramadan, and we’ve discovered a chocolate store, Jeff de Bruges, with imported Belgian chocolates, that makes our mouths water every time we mention it. The chocolates are sold by the quarter kilo and they come in a lovely, chic blue-and-brown box, delicious truffles, dark chocolate-dipped orange peel and creamy nougat. We sneak furtively into the refrigerated air of the shop, which is laid out like a jewelry boutique, all glistening glass and marble, make our selections and then tuck the tell-tale box into our bag so as not to offend any fast-keepers we might pass on the way home. The box remains in our own fridge for a few days as we nibble away at the treasure. Even with plaster-dust in our hair and oil paint staining our fingernails from a day of manual labor at the house, we delight in the luxury of a perfect, sophisticated chocolate at the end of the day, symbol we’ve not yet become utter barbarians.

In keeping with the food theme, I don’t want to leave out another savory discovery: harira. This vegetable soup, typically a tomato broth with chickpeas, bits of pasta and lentils, is the soup that Muslims eat to break the fast around 6:20 p.m. each evening. Even before Ramadan, we’d become big fans of the stuff. Like the kefta, snail and orange juice stalls that litter the Place, there is also a line of harira stalls at the northern end of Djemaa el Fna. Anxious to find ourselves at the best of them, we consulted Hamoud, who directed us to the “ladel-man with the moustache,” a description akin to saying the butcher with the bloody apron. Moustaches seem to be a de rigeur in the food stall arena. Despite the less than standout description, we did find the mustachioed soup seller and partake weekly of his velvety harira. A bowl, which costs just 2 dirhams and 50 centimes (that’s about 30 cents), is one of the best bargains around and can be accompanied by a plate of dates or finished off with a taste of Morocco’s version of baklava, fried dough saturated with honey.

Personal service is another thing we’ve come to enjoy in Marrakech. There’s an old-world feel to dealing with people face to face, be it a bank teller instead of an ATM machine or a city clerk instead of an automated voice at the other end of the telephone. Part of this has to do with the fact that home phones are rare, cell phone use is expensive and computers are usually only found at Internet cafes. Therefore, appointments are made in person. Instead of calling the upholstery guy to see if our chairs are done, we hike over to his shop to check on the work ourselves. Granted, it’s a bit more time consuming to conduct life and business this way, but how much better for the body and soul to be walking around the city and navigating personal interactions with locals.