I just saw the biggest ant of my life. BIGGEST. ANT. EVER. Think about a big ant. Multiply its size many times. GIANT AFRICA BUGS WHAAAT.
I googled “giant ant” and this is what came up:
That’s about right. Thank you, Them!, 1954.
Anyway, my reluctant return to Morocco has been busy as poop; everything, all of a sudden, is due, el Maghrib is now HOT HOThotothtohhotthohohothot and hectic crazy things to do and write and read and do and things and hectic and WHOA. Also, sick. Am more fatigued than seems humanly possible, taking weird Georgian fever drugs and eating cheese and oranges. Magaria.
Some quick updates: Morocco exploded with anger and controversy over this story the week before I left. The story spread like wildfire over the social media, sparking protests, calls for reform, regulation, and the resignation of the judge who passed the ruling. It makes me sick and furious that things like this still happen, and Morocco is still roiling in the aftermath.
There was a coup in Mali this past week, which I saw on the news at Press Café in Batumi on Saturday. I nearly spat out the Georgian beer I’d just sipped, realizing holy shit Nick and Asad are there! They’re fine, though. They didn’t even know it happened till after they left.
Also, I’ll write something sometime about how my perceptions of government and democracy have evolved since being here. Returning to the Western news media is unsettling; I read this article just now, and though I normally dig the New York Times, the rhetoric of the writing bothers me a bit. I’d tell you about why if I were more coherent right now. Can you tell I’m in a sort of feverish haze? LALALALAAAALALAA
I haven’t had a moment to stop and gather myself, to reflect or even begin to think about how to write about what all went down in Georgia. So I’m just going to pick up where I am now, and let Georgia Stories happen when they happen. Quick summary for you all: GEORGIA FUCKING RULED. BEST TRIP EVARRRR. I DID NOT NOT NOT WANT TO LEAVE. GEORGIA = GREAT. KHATCHAPURI: YUM. RA GINDA, BITCHO?!?!??! DID I MENTION THAT I LOVED BEING IN GEORGIA WITH THIS GUY?
Did you know that neither Arabic H (there are 2) are the same as the English/American H? The letter ح is like an emphatic, back-of-the-throat sort of H, while the letter ه is more of a vocalized, resonant, chesty sort of H. Coooooool. Arabic is full of shit like that. I really, really enjoy studying Arabic, which is good because I have an exam on Thursday.
Moroccans use Facebook differently. The streets of Rabat are full of holes. I didn’t do any homework either, but class still went swimmingly today. I have a lot to tell you all but I’m really tired/it’s Tuesday and Sarah’s over and that has nothing to do with it but whatever. The bugs are coming out because it’s warm now. I’m pretty extremist when it comes to shoe ideology, and did you know that there are more Rastafarians than Unitarian Universalists in the world? Awesome. Holtz [well, holz if you spell it Germanly] is German for wood. Wood as in lumber, get your mind out of the gutter. There’s this sort of occupy movement/protest going on in front of Parliament. There are a bunch of people camping out in centre-ville, and it has something to do with political prisoners. The power went out twice today, big news. I cut my hair short last week and didn’t tell you because I left for Georgia, but it’s short. Wooo!