More from the journal I kept during my visit to Morocco. In a doctor’s office in Rabat waiting to get my ear looked at. I’d had water in it for about 4-5 days at this point.
There’s something that stings when someone tells you to lose weight. My grandfather said it before I left. My family said it at [the only] Christmas [we had together] when I was in high school. When I look back at pictures I think I looked great and struggle with how I look currently. The doctor just weighed me and told me to lose weight in Morocco. There’s a theme here.
We live in such a negatively affected society. People are happy to mention what you should do to make yourself better. Yet they often neglect to tell you something you do well.
The doctor came in so I had to go.
Apparently I’m good at learning Darija. Moroccan Arabic is my shit. I know I haven’t even been here a week and so it’s presumptuous to be talking about next year, but I’d love to comeback. I’d love to become fluent in Arabic and learn basic french just so I can be better at Darija. It’d be cool ot work with 19more in the nice months in Seattle, and Rabat in the rainy winter months. I wonder what that would cost. Home stay for 3 months each year? Sell belongings in Seattle. Leave boxes in someone’s basement? I don’t know I could find roommates in Seattle where I could afford the rent — hella cheap. They would be willing to walk Garvey or rather take care of Garvey for a small fee while I’m out of the country. I dunno. It would be nice.