who steals wet clothes?

December 22, 2010 § 3 Comments

Here’s the unenhanced, abridged account of the past few days.

Winter solstice Tuesday: Took my pictures off the blue tile wall in my room and cleared out my wardrobe in the Medina, hopped the train to Kenitra, got stood up by a girl who was going to meet me with a copy of my required reading for my Gender studies course, ran to my last Culture & Civilization course, train back to Rabat, Arabic lessons, collected my luggage from the Medina, said my goodbyes to my host family, host mother drove me to the Kasbah (to preempt any gossip I might’ve caused by marching off in the night with my suitcases), unloaded my stuff at the Kasbah.

Today (Wednesday): woke up at 6, rain and lightning, got to the train station at 7, Grammar class at 8:30, library from 11-2, waited with other History of French Literature students until the teacher called me (see below), train and rain, gym, got stranded in the wind and rain for 2 hours, got my jeans, boots, and belt and socks stolen, took refuge in Liberation Café, finally met Lisa, shower, reading.

In school I’ve always been geekishly young for my grade. I take more pride in having been on the High-Q knowledge bowl than on the cheerleading squad. Big sunglasses look stupid on me. I fall down or trip more often than a toddler learning to walk. My glasses steam up when I exercise, and they collect droplets in the rain or fog. I don’t watch Glee. I can’t pull off the “smoky-eye look” and my hair has never held curls. Today, I have the pleasure of adding “teachers pet” to the list. The other students in my History of French Literature and I had been fidgeting and small talking for 35 minutes, wondering if our professor would show up or not. I heard my phone ring through the buzzing conversations. “Oh, salut Madame”, I whispered, but not quietly enough. “C’est la prof??” said a girl with a gift for eavesdropping. Moments later, the entire class silenced itself and looked at me, the nerdy girl who gets called by the professor, saying “oui, oui, d’accord. Je vais leur dire… au revoir.” I hung up, blushing under the stares of the eager, and entertained students. “Um, nous n’avons pas de classe aujourd’hui…” They all giggled and packed up, but not before several asked me (rhetorically) why the professor had my phone number. I ain’t never been cool.

I’ll be living with Lisa in the Kasbah until the 27th or so.


§ 3 Responses to who steals wet clothes?

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