Memoirs of Morocco

It's a slow recovery on the left side of my mouth. I had two impacted wisdom teeth pulled. They didn’t put me under, and the only pain medication I have is Motrin. My jaw won’t even open wide enough for a hamburger. That doesn’t mean I haven’t tried.

In a couple of days I’ll go in for the right side. There’s another impacted one there. I clearly remember the sound of them trying to pry it loose, breaking it finally into smaller pieces. Though I felt no real pain, I felt such pressure, and could hear everything through my head.

I’m taking this all in good humor. I have an awful hotel room and woke up this morning to a swimming pool in our room. The toilet next door must have leaked out all night long and left a good inch of water over the entire floor. If I only had a joint. If I only had a joint my life would be much better.

I’ve got a good story about my ride up to Rabat. It all started with the knock on the door at five o’clock outside the gallery. No problems there. I immediately fell back asleep in the passenger’s side of the van. Not long after we set off to Marrakech (I know because it was still dark), the guy (chubby with moustache) pulled the car over to the side of the road, got out, and looked at something. He got back in and drove on. Five minutes later he did the same thing, pulled over, got out, came back over to the door and stuck his hands through the window to turn the steering wheel. I figured it was something with the tires and went back to sleep. This continued as so for a while longer. He must have been analyzing all possibilities of the problem.

The next thing I know he does a speedy U-turn. We almost lifted up on two wheels doing it. We drove on in the opposite direction for a while, and when he pulled up to the closest town, he tapped me on the knee, and said in Tashlheit, “We’ll get you on the first bus we see.” No problem. Really. I was still half-asleep struggling to register and translate what he was saying anyway.

Low and behold, not but ten minutes later, a bus pulled up. He got out of the car to get my bags while I got out and dragged Suzanne with me. I asked him if he told anyone that we wanted on the bus, and, as he answered no, not yet, the bus revved and started to leave. Somehow my mind switched on and I started yelling at the top of my lungs in Arabic towards the bus, wait a minute, and made it on the bus to Marrakech.