Partially because I was rejuvenated from a relaxing weekend in Chefchaouen, and partially because my work week was only four days long, my week started out great. Got lots done in the library, and even managed to begin the planning stages of a new, exciting project in the community. More on that later.² I cooked yummy Ethiopian food,³ had a couple of delicious dinners with friends, and enjoyed the city at night.⁴

Most of Friday was fantastic. For the hour before school started, I played Metropolis in the library for whoever felt like walking in and taking a look. A few of the students asked me what it was, and were impressed when I told them the film was made in 1927! They thought that was very cool. Later on, several teachers decided that they wanted to show their kids videos in the library as a special Friday treat. The Pre-Kindergarten and Kindergarten One classes got really into the Tom & Jerry cartoons I showed them, dancing along to the music and calling out the names of animals they recognized.⁵ One of the high school students was in the library doing work, and I caught him looking over at the video and grinning a few times. Proves my theory that there’s no age limit to good cartoons.

The afternoon, like many Friday afternoons in the library, was a bit (well, a lot) more stressful. Made it through the day, barely, and then spent the night unwinding at home with Loki on my lap and pasta in my belly. Went to bed early with a book.

I woke up on Saturday morning, still in a funk, and hopped into (well, trudged over and slouched into) a car with a friend, and we were off to M’diq, a seaside town about 45 minutes from Tangier. It was overcast and windy, with patches of blue sky peeking through like they were painted on. We pulled up to a windswept beach, where men dressed in somber colors were pacing along the water’s edge, lost in thought. I pulled out my seashell-collecting bag and started off down the beach.⁶

I was immediately amazed at how perfectly shaped and colorful the shells were. Each time I picked one up, I’d find an even prettier shell just a few paces away. White, yellow, purple, blue, pink, red, brown… colors I don’t even know how to describe, combined like watercolors over each ruffled surface.⁷ I searched the beach for two hours, unaware of anything but the sand and shells underfoot, the deafening crash of wind-whipped waves, and my own thoughts.⁸

Finally, looking up, I noticed other things. Each wave rolling in behind the next, tall like soldiers constantly battling the sand. The patterns of clouds, dark then light then dark again, stretching out to the horizon. Fishermen reeling in their lines, watching me curiously as I stooped to pick up bits of sea glass.⁹ Leaning in to take a photo that I hoped would capture the windy violence of the waves, one took me by surprise and I ended up with ocean all over my ankles and feet. Turned around to see that I had an audience of one, an old man leaning against the beach wall. I scampered back out of the surf and laughed at myself for a long time. I think he was laughing with me.

Once my seashell bag became too heavy to carry comfortably, I retrieved my friend and we set off for another part of town. Met some new friends (one Moroccan and two Czechs) for a fresh seafood lunch on the dock¹⁰ Then home again, home again jiggity jig, as the rhyme goes. Just in time for sunset, dinner, cat.

And we’re back to Sunday, with the sunlight in my window. Possibly for the first time in years, I stayed in bed to read a book. (The Help by Kathryn Stockett.) I adored it. It may sound odd coming from someone who is currently making a living working with books, but this book continually reminded me of how much literature can enrich lives. Since I moved to Morocco, I’ve made a conscious effort to reclaim my identity as a ravenous reader, something that I left behind back in middle school when academic reading became my primary focus. I think it’s probably true, too, that I’m inspired by some of my students. The ones who come into the library to return books they’ve taken only the day before, gushing about how much they loved every page. That used to be me, and–in my heart–it’s still me. The rigors of adult working life aside, I’m still that little girl who begged to be taken to the public library,¹¹ who checked out twenty books at a time and read them all in the first four days, who hid under the covers with a flashlight because reading was more important than rules about bedtime.

Arranged all of my new shells in a beautiful but wholly unnecessary manner, then took photographs. Went for the second run of my adult life and survived.¹² It was a gorgeous autumn day in Tangier, with constantly shifting light and a slightly wilder-than-usual sea breeze. Ran into town along the ocean, then up through the medina and back home via my favorite bakery, where I picked up two loaves of warm, freshly baked bread.

1. Sunrise arrives later here each day. On the days I go to work early–which is most days–I sometimes arrive at school before the sun does. On a related note, if someone can tell me why I’ve been going to work an hour early, making my workdays at least ten hours long, I’ll give ‘em 20 dirhams and a cat treat. Yes, it’s because I have lots of work to do, but doesn’t everyone?
2. I know, I promise that every time.
3. Recipe in a subsequent post.
4. That’s all I seem to manage these days, since I go to work just after sunrise and sometimes stay till after dark. It’s a good thing Tangier is such a nocturnal town… there’s always something to see/do/eat at any hour of the night.
5. In one of the Tom & Jerry cartoons, Tom is serenading a lovely female cat with his upright bass, singing a song with the lyrics “Is you is, or is you ain’t my baby?” Kathy, the assistant librarian, pointed out that at the end of the day these kids will probably go home and sing that for their parents, bad grammar and all. Watch the video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eR-Ckj5M-jU
6. I sent my friend in the other direction, since we were both collecting shells and I tend to be intensely competitive.
7. Luckily, I don’t have to describe them because I took photos. This was, hands down, the best beach for shell collecting that I’ve ever visited.
8. I like the idea that, when shell-hunting, you only see the product of other beachcombers. Maybe one has picked only orange and white shells, or another wanted ones small enough to put on a necklace. So you arrive and see a beach made of everyone’s extras, constantly shifting. Sorted by both tides and people.
9. Hoping these will become jewelry in the near future.
10. Yes, I know you’re shocked. I ate baysara, a delicious soup made primarily of puréed lentils, a salad, and some bread. Everyone else ate bug-eyed sardines and upset-looking shrimp. Less shocked now, right?
11. And eventually volunteered there, just to spend more time with the books.
12. I want you, dear readers, to picture the looks I get when I go for a run. First of all, I’m running for exercise, which, apparently, isn’t done much here. Second, I’m wearing shorts and a tank top, something I wouldn’t normally wear out. Third, I’m a girl. Fourth, I’ve got on those ridiculous looking Vibram FiveFingers shoes and they’re bright blue. Just imagine the reaction. Puzzled looks galore.

More photos on Flickr.

1. Against all logic, this restaurant is housed in an Irish pub.

When I was in elementary school, I used to complain about stomach aches all the time to get out of math class.¹ And when I say all the time, I mean all the time. The school nurse knew me. She could even recognize my footsteps and my knock. Anyway, being an extremely patient and sympathetic woman (perhaps she didn’t like math either), she always let me stay. I would hop up onto the spare cot with a Where’s Waldo book and spend the next half hour searching through the pages.

So after stumbling across downtown Silver Spring with a vicious zombie horde,² I found myself seated next to undead Waldo for a special screening of Shaun of the Dead! It was like a dream (nightmare?) come true!³ Here he is at the bar before the walk:⁴

The great thing that I discovered about Halloween in the city (versus good ol’ Fredericksburg) is that festivities go on for at least a week preceding the actual day! This meant that after the zombie walk on October 24th, I still had a whole week of events to look forward to! Highlights included a screening of Nosferatu at AFI with a live orchestra providing the soundtrack, trick-or-treating as Charlie Chaplin, and a Halloween in Paris party at Bistro Napoleon, where I spotted one of my favorite costumed pairs of all time:

Fantastic, right? Happy Halloween, and don’t forget to mail me your leftover candy!

1. What can I say? Math gives me a stomach ache ;)
2. Yes, I dressed as a zombie too, complete with slashed throat and blood-smeared face.
3. I think I alarmed him with my enthusiasm.
4. If you love Waldo as much as I do, you’ll be thrilled to know that the DC Defenestrators staged live-action Waldo searches in the city recently. The fun never ends!

The first sign that something was afoot came from (unsurprisingly) Facebook, and amused me much more than it probably should have. I glanced at the ‘groups’ page only to find these two randomly placed side-by-side:

Next up was the appearance of an obnoxiously large McCain banner hanging down the side of someone’s balcony in the UMW apartments, facing William Street. (According to university policy, it’s also a fire hazard. This hasn’t stopped them.) The night before Obama visited campus, someone painted “McCain” on the construction wall across from Ball Circle, where the rally was to be held. Or at least, he tried to, but left out the second “c”, so the lettering read “McAin”. It was soon painted over, though whether it was corrected by an Obama supporter or a spelling enthusiast will probably remain a mystery.

Enmeshed in a lengthy group project (which resulted in the mashup in my previous post) and with no intention of attending the rally, I briefly emerged from my apartment on Saturday afternoon. I was greeted by a line stretching all the way down William Street, around the corner, and along Sunken Road. Curious to see how far it went, I grabbed my camera and started following the line down Sunken.

The line curved around to the left, vanishing into the distance.

Selling t-shirts...

A family waiting in line.

McCain supporters walking down the line.

So at this point, I was practically in the center of campus, because I’d followed the line to its end behind Monroe Hall. I continued along campus walk to see how many people were already in Ball Circle, and ended up standing in a flowerbed taking photos of the crowds.

My (disappointing) view from atop the flowerbed.

"Gosh, Janet, I'm so glad that we have these fancy cameras and can use them as an excuse to get a clear view of everything. Imagine if we had to take photos from atop a flowerbed, through tent canopies and annoying tall people." "Haha! Oh, George. You do say the funniest things."

Impatient crowds.

Still waiting...

Best view in the house.

It was just at this point that the weather got sick of waiting, and dumped buckets of rain on us. I rushed my camera back to a friend’s dorm, and kept waiting. Obama arrived eventually (after a bizarre sermon, a campaign recruiting speech, and several loops of the same irritating playlist), and delighted the crowds with his ability to create elaborate, weather-appropriate metaphors. I saw his arm at one point (between the media tents and the tall guy in front of me) and his whole torso on the screen of a TV in one of the media vans. (Professor Anand Rao, who was lucky enough to snag a spot in the second row, has some amazing shots of Obama on his flickr page here.)

I dragged myself, soggy and exhausted, back to my apartment, where I discussed the rally with my housemates, also soggy and exhausted. Since Saturday, the rally has been covered in various publications, and my new favorite pastime is spotting friends in the AP photos. Campus is still recovering from the 26,000 people who invaded over the weekend, and Ball Circle will likely need reseeding. And I may never break the habit of glancing up at the roof of Ball Hall to check for Secret Service guys.