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| Secluded Garden |
The bad was my suitcase never arriving from Madrid, so I had to buy clothes, which is trying in the best of times, much less in a Muslim country where, although fairly liberal, women wear long sleeves, no matter the temperature. Definitely not my style, nor the weight of clothes I need at home. I'm tall so the pants looked like capris, and the stores in the mall were full of the latest winter wear. I managed to find a pair of polyester pants and a long sweater, just in case the desert was cold. Those, plus a probably unauthorized AC/DC 1981 tour T-shirt I bought at a teen store, another T-shirt from the modern art museum in Rabat, and some underwear, rounded out my clothes. The frump-o-meter was spinning. I definitely learned I can travel with a lot fewer clothes than I had packed. I donated the unworn sweater to a women’s association in Marrakesh. The rest plus the skirt and blouse I had on when we flew to Morocco may be ritually burned when I get home.
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| One of My 2 Outfits |
The ugly was getting pink eye in not just one, but both eyes, half way through the trip. I couldn’t be satisfied with a bad cold and sore throat. No, I added pink eye. By the last day, two more tour members had caught it, and several more were looking possible. Fortunately, in Morocco, I could go to the nearby pharmacy and get OTC antibiotic eye drops without a prescription. Easy, peasy. I speak no French, and the pharmacist spoke no English, but after taking one look at my weeping right eye, she immediately knew what I needed. Back at the hotel, I consulted with the three doctors in our group about using the drops. Interestingly, the two internists were more cautious than the oncologist. I wonder if that's from the type of patient they saw in their practices. After waiting 24 hours at the suggestion of the internists, and my natural inclination, with my left eye now crusty, I began using the drops. I didn't dare ask what else could go wrong and temp the fates to answer.
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