Home Sweet Home

by Danielle

I recently planned a trip home to Washington, DC to visit my mother. When I booked the trip, six days seemed like a respectable amount of time to visit with family and friends, and run a few errands. Oh, how wrong I was. As the trip neared and I plotted out social visits, my liesurely trip home became a jam-packed whirlwind-o-love.

Rachel was my sidekick on this trip (Joseph and Dan visited the Kunitz grandparents in London). I wish I could write that Rachel was her normal delightful self, but she was a bit of a beast. The 8-hour flights both directions were miserable (she wouldn’t sleep, and cried a lot), she had a hard time napping and sleeping in general even at my mom’s house.

After each flight my nerves were completley frayed from all the crying (hers not mine), and I was physically exhausted from holding her for so long.  It took me hours to recover. I know how hard it is to be a (child-free) traveller and listen to someone else’s kid cry during a long flight, it’s very annoying I agree.  But believe me, the parent feels terrible about it and is much more miserable than you are. If you ever see someone struggle with a fussy baby on a plane, offer help. Even if it’s just to hold the baby for two minutes while the mom goes to the bathroom, you will earn someone’s deeply heartfelt appreciation and get loads of good karma.

It’s been seven months since we left Washington, but it felt like it was only a week since we’d left. Nothing changes (except there is always more construction). It felt good to be able to drive a car, how liberating. I get a little tired of never going more that 20 mph (kph?) on the metro. But it didn’t take but one day before I was grumbling about the traffic! Like I said, nothing changes. 

I watched the news a few nights with my mother (something I don’t do much in Paris) and WHOA did that make me depressed. No wonder everyone is so bummed out about the economy… It just goes from bad to worse. I knew it was bad (I do *read* the news, after all) but to be ceaselessly hammered with it newscast after newscast, that was pretty harsh and very gloomy indeed.  

I send a special thank you to Ivy who hosted a gathering of the Newseum girls, and to Renee who allowed us to crash Julia’s post-butterfly birthday bash … I regret that my visits were so short and that I did not see everyone. I also wish I could have found a daytime babysitter so mom and I could have done something fun on our own. I miss her so much and wanted to treat her to something special; an art museum, a nice restaurant etc… But it was not meant to be. Hopefully I can make it up to her when she visits Paris in the spring.

Morocco

by Danielle

Last week we spent several days in Marrakech, our first visit to Africa and only a 3 hour flight from Charles de Gaulle Airport. We went seeking warmth and sun and sadly Allah was not kind to us. The first two days were rainy and cold, a rare combination we were told, even in winter.

We had rented what appeared to be a fantastic two-level, three-bedroom riad (house) in the heart of the Medina, the ancient, walled part of the city. Admittedly it was an a lovely place but it is clearly designed for a desert climate. The rooms all opened to face into a courtyard and only two of the rooms were warmed by heaters (which kept running out of propane).  Basically we were chilled the whole time, and we all had to sleep in the one bedroom which was warm.

I don’t mean to paint a dismal picture of the trip, though. It was a thrill to be exposed to a completely different culture. The Medina was a crazy maze of narrow alleys filled with veiled women, men in berber-style robes (think: Obi-Wan Kenobi), sad weary donkeys pulling heavy carts, beggars, motorcyclists, kids playing soccer and so on. At one point I told Dan, “I feel like we are in an American Express commercial!”

We took a tourist bus ride to get a feel for the city. This worked well for us in Barcelona, but not so well in Marrakech. It was again a double-decker bus, but too rainy to ride on top. Unfortunately the views from the lower level were partially obscured and we never felt motivated to get off and explore any of the palaces, tombs and gardens we passed.

With the dreary weather, I thought it might be a good opportunity to visit a hammam (sauna). Such places can be very fancy or simple, public or private. I read in a guidebook that there is/was a law that public hammams must be affordable, so that all women can attend. Apparently for some it is their only time they are allowed in public, and it can be grounds for divorce if their husband denies them the opportunity to visit regularly. What concept.  Usually there are hours where the hammam is strictly open for men, and then also for women.

I happened to have come at an odd time that I had a massage first (usually this would happen after the sauna). Imagine a long dark hall with rooms off to the side with massage tables in each one. I cannot say whether my masseuse was a certified massage therapist or not, but it did feel very nice. I do wish that it was a true massage table though (with a hole/ring where your face rests) but I’m not going to complain. I was in Marrakech getting a massage! I relaxed and focused on the soothing sounds of Kenny G.

Afterwards it was time for my sauna experience. I was greeted by a team of Arab women in their underwear (?) in a very humid wet room. These girls do not like their jobs, I didn’t need to speak Arabic to figure that one out. They stand near a big faucet, with big tubs of water and smaller buckets all around.  One waves you over and whack! Dumps a bucket of water on your head. Right when you are thinking, ”What the…?” WHACK! She does it again! I didn’t know if I was supposed to be thankful or mad, and I just started laughing. She pointed me into the next room. 

 This very warm/steamy room is filled with mud-covered people relaxing, talking, and trying not to pass out (there is a small pool of cold water and a bucket to rinse yourself if you get overheated). After a few minutes one of the cheery Arabs gal waves you back out and makes you lie down on a tile slab. She then proceeds to scrub the hell out of you with an extremely abrasive cloth. It might have been sandpaper, I’m not sure, I was just trying not to squeal like a pig. I thought how there were probably a lot of weird people out there who would pay top dollar for such type of treatment, so I felt lucky to be getting it for such a good price (the equivalent of 40 dollars, including massage).

After the scrubbing you are covered in black mud and sent back into the sauna for another 10 minutes. When you are all done you are whacked with about 10 more buckets of water. Then you wear a big fluffly robe and lie down in a relaxation chamber. You are given sugary mint tea to drink while the Arab girls sulk in the corner, wondering how much you are going to tip them (nada- sorry ladies). Your souvenir? The small abrasive cloth they used to scrub off your top layer of skin.

On the way back to the riad my guide gently suggested I zip up my jacket. “It’s cold,” he offered a little awkwardly. I could read between the lines, I was attracting  attention by having wet hair and exposing my neckline.  In a city full of women wearing headscarves, and quite a few in full body chadors, I was crossing a line and I felt self conscious. I didn’t feel like people were necessarily staring or leering, but I could understand how wearing at least a headscarf could make a woman feel less conspicuous and more safe from unwanted scrutiny.

Other high points… Amazing food including tagine (slow cooked) meats and veggies, the best fresh squeezed orange juice I have ever tasted, the beautiful Marjorelle Gardens, and a long drive into the Atlas Mountains on our one sunny warm day.

مراكش

 

Rachel at 9 months.

By Dan

Rachel turned 9 months old on Tuesday, the day we flew back from Marrakesh.  She is averaging exactly 1 continent every 3 months of her life.

More details of our trip to follow in another post.

For a sneak peek of the photos, click here, and notice there are two pages.

no class for three weeks, more time for blogging

by dan

a quick post – not because i have anything to say but because it has been a while.  (so you can stop reading now if you were hoping for something interesting.)

i feel that we have definitely turned a corner in terms of feeling more at home here, not just settling into a routine but enjoying it, not just trying to keep our heads above water but being busy in a more fulfilling way, .

after 5 months of barely speaking a word of french, i am finally getting serious about trying to practice and learn more french.  it is tough since i speak english in school all day, and at home, and have little free time.  but just in the last few weeks i have been making it a priority and enjoying it. 

we are making more friends, many of whom are bilingual, and trying to mix in more french with them when we can.  i have found a few private tutors online, met three of them so far, each with varying degrees of skills, availablity, and rates.  i still haven’t sorted out my long term strategy but i will probably try to schedule some regular lessons.  danielle continues to do language exchange a couple times a week and i may do something similar too.

in the coming months i’ll be crossing two more continents off my list.  friday we’re going to marrakesh – just for four days – we found cheap direct flights from paris.  and in early may i am going to shanghai as part of a school program.  in between we have a couple more trips to london planned, all of which i guess sounds like a lot but i actually thought we’d see more of europe this year than we will.  i’m not complaining though, it should be a nice spring.

i mentioned to danielle recently that i was thinking of retiring this blog.  we’re fairly settled now and have fewer moments of being struck by cultural differences and challenges.  but she wants to keep it going, and says once things start happening again, like all our upcoming trips, she’ll be knocking out the posts.  so stay tuned.