A Case of the ole Homesickness

Essouira, Morocco

Before coming into the internet cafe, I spent about a half an hour bartering with two young ladies and a young man, who usually sell womens slippers, for an old, leather bag, that definitely has a history, but with my little French and their little English, that history will forever remain a mystery. The price ended up being 100 Dirhams and a banana, approximately 14.45 US Dollars. However, after paying them, we all took a bite of the banana. I dined this evening with an English guy named Chris that I met on the balcony of the new hotel I moved to today. We ate at a small local kitchen restaurant where the locals eat. I ate there last night and wanted to provide the cook and owner, Abderachim, some repeat business. Not to mention the food is delicious and cheap. We each paid 25 Dirhams for tajine, a traditional Moroccan dish, and a pot of sweet mint tea. I discovered this little local restaurant nook yesterday, which is literally right off the main street but no tourists seem to find it - kind of like Harry Potters Diagon Alley - when I had lunch with Ahmed, the man who puts thousands of sardines through small hooks every day. He lead us there, and now I have the secret key and password. (Jordan apparently feels like typing random things as he is feeling wonderful.)
Today I was supposed to meet up with some people I met last night. We agreed on noon at the beach nearest the port. I was there for forty minutes and they didn't show up. So I headed off down the beach, listening to U2's, "Beautiful Day," to cheer up. I don't know if I mentioned it before, but for most of my time here in Morocco, I have had a sort of intense, underlying, internal discomfort. A sort of painful, emotional gnawing in my guts. As I meandered along the beach, away from the meeting point, I felt this same deep sadness intensify. I didn't understand it and I felt like crying, so I thought it a perfect time for a video journal entry. I took out my camera and recorded myself describing what I was feeling and exploring it as I went. I cried and I realized that what I was feeling was homesickness. I hadn't understood what I was feeling until now. And when I was able to identify it, it pretty much took the power out of it. As I walked on down the beach, I slowly felt better and better. It was no longer some unknown beast terrifying me in the dark. I had shined the light on it, to reveal a scared little mouse. Eventually I reached my destination. Pieces of a large, crumbling old tower or fortress that had seemingly fallen from the sky, landing and shattering right where the ocean met the shore. I sat atop a large piece of debris and wrote, shot video, took pictures, listened to music, and was moistened by sea mist. I felt so much better. The homesickness was gone and it was replaced by a joy, comfort, and excitement to explore Morocco. It was as if a new world had opened up. A muddy pane of glass was removed from my frame of vision and I could see the world anew. I can't tell you what a relief I feel now. By the time I was ready to leave the ruins, the tide had come back in, and my once stepping stones were now underwater, with slightly violent waves rushing over them. I timed it out and quickly scampered through the water, dashing from one rock to the next in order to beat the impending watery beast commonly referred to as a wave. He thrashed the bottom of my pants, but I got away otherwise unscathed. I walked back to my hotel with a renewed bounce in my step, a smile in my heart, and my pockets laden with shells and stones that I had compulsively collected. I got to the hotel in time to watch the glorious sunset and I said, "Thank you." Today was a beautiful day and I didn't let it get away.