Attention = 2 * amount of blonde squared

^{Last weekend, my friend Hannah, who’s studying abroad in Spain, hopped down to visit me. She was flying into Casa late, so I went to meet her and we spent the night in Casa. Travelling down, I realized how little time I spend alone in this country. I studied the map before I got off the train, but still ended up unsure of where I was going. I don’t mind walking alone in Rabat, but I did not enjoy being shwiya lost (I wasn’t really even lost, but would have appreciated being able to look at my map without having to pull out my guidebook labeled “Morocco” in giant letters) in an unfamiliar city, especially as it was getting dark. Luckily, I managed to (pretty much accidentally) wander onto the street I was looking for. I realized that though I feel confident travelling alone in the US and Europe, I’m glad that I won’t be doing much of it here.}

I took Hannah to the hammam (it was way nicer than the ones I’ve been to in Rabat, but that meant that I was almost as lost as she was. Exploring on a Friday afternoon in Morocco was a bit of a plan fail—couscous Friday means everyone is at home with their families and nothing is open for most of the afternoon. So it was a bit empty and sketchy. But we found a pastry shop and got more than enough for both of us to eat for lunch for 17 dirhams (about $2). Hannah said that in Madrid, we wouldn’t have been able to get anything for that much. We went to see the grand mosque (and showed up just in time for a tour that I didn’t think was even happening) before heading back to Rabat, where we met my friends for an American night at Pizza hut. (I would never go there in the US, but here, we need those now and then, and it’s kind of comforting.) We got ice cream after dinner, and walking around with a third blonde in the group brought out substantial evidence to support Erin’s theory that the amount of attention received increases exponentially with the amount of blonde.

On Saturday, we explored Rabat. Unfortunately, it was raining, so we were slightly wet and miserable, but we enjoyed some couscous, marzipan balls and juice.

Seeing Hannah see Morocco for the first time really rough out how comfortable I’ve gotten here, whether it be walking in front of traffic to get across a busy road, ignoring catcalls, or navigating the medina maze or the pubic transportation system (which included walking across the train tracks to get to the next platform).

Oh, and catcall of the week: "Where are you going my pretty white chickens?"