Shaq filwaqt

Today was cous-cous Friday and after class I went home to eat with my host family. As in practically every house in Morocco the family brought out an enormous bowl (about a foot and a half in diameter) full of cous-cous topped with chicken and vegetables. It's quite an experience to eat with the family as they say Kul! Kul! (Eat! Eat!) and the sound of Friday prayers is broadcast on the television. Le ila ile allah...le ila ilehu... And I love watching my host family eat cous-cous. The proper method of eating cous-cous in Morocco is to grab and handful along with some chicken and vegetables and roll it into a ball in the palm of one hand, tossing it gently to perfect the sphere. Then you pop it into your mouth. It looks easy but it's a real art to create the ball so that it doesn't crumble. I just stick to a spoon.

A friend is staying the night so that we can go to Rabat early in the morning to spend the day there. We met up with some friends to walk to the old city and do some shopping, though none of us ended up buying anything. The sooq is absolutely packed with people after sunset, and the saha, the main square, is bustling with vendors, running children, bands playing traditional music, men with camels, and snake charmers. People were buying light-up frisbees and tossing them in the air in high arcs that accented the sparkling atmosphere of night life in Meknes. Less magical are the men who walk around huffing paint from plastic bags, or even surgical gloves.

And as I was sitting here, typing away on this post, I was drinking water from a regular drinking glass, when suddenly the bottom just fell out of it, silently and without warning. Water splashed all over my lap and all I could say was "Wait, really?" Upon examination, the break was so smooth and clean as to have been cut, but there was no visible crack until the moment it broke.

I'm chalking it up to a quantum-mechanical fluke, aliens, or the Mossad.