|A broken egg that I found yesterday outside the door to our bedroom, most likely one that fell from the top of a door or a decorative appendage on the wall.|
What can I say? Tom’s still not ready to go out. Although his symptoms have abated somewhat, he remains sluggish and out of sorts, lounging across the room most of the day.
Over the past four days, I’ve taken over his daily “job” of making ice tea, cracking the ice cube trays, and filling the water pot for morning coffee, a seemingly easy job which proves to be cumbersome for me.
Pouring water from 4-liter bottles into the tiny ice cube trays and then into the narrow nozzle bottles we use for the ice tea is nearly impossible with my bad shoulder. Doing his job may have been helpful in preventing his germs from infecting these items and making me sick. So far, so good. No symptoms.
|Roses on display when we last dined out on Wednesday, when Tom was in the throes of the first day of his illness.|
For three nights we’ve slept in separate bedrooms which hopefully ends tonight. We often hear of couples who no longer sleep in the same bed and it always saddens me. Yes, I know, snoring and all that. For us, the distance adds nothing to the quality of our sleep, only the temporary freedom from him sneezing and coughing into my face these past nights.
I don’t sleep well without him, even in the tiny beds we’ve shared over the miles. He doesn’t sleep well either from that which I can surmise. What guy says, “Oh, my love, I can’t sleep without you!”
Yesterday afternoon on one of my many daily forays upstairs to go to the bathroom or to get something from the bedroom, I noticed a broken egg, contents oozing, on the steps outside of the heavy drapery to the doorway to the master bedroom.
|It’s hard to resist stopping to peer at these cookies in a bakery window.|
Usually, a broken egg inside a house occurs in the kitchen. How odd. Getting up close and personal, I studied its contents searching for what perhaps might have been a bird embryo. Nothing was evident. Most likely it was a pigeon egg.
Each morning as I’ve mentioned many times, the pigeons fly inside the riad, cooing loudly while flapping wings against the railings and walls, while the rooster next door crows every minute. Add the call-to-prayer every few hours and it quite the noise fest. None of that bothers us. It’s simply unusual. But then, it was unusual when a warthog showed up at our door with four babies in tow day after day.
It was only last week that we posted a photo of the contents of a nest that had fallen from the top of a doorway to the floor in the courtyard. It is these types of infinitesimal experiences that add a special element to our travels, not the towering historical buildings surrounded by hoards of tourists. It’s a broken egg.
|These neatly stacked bags of dyed yarn make a colorful display.|
It was the dinner Madame made for us last night, always delicious, when she made a favorite of mine that requires more work and time to make; egg dipped sautéed aubergine (eggplant), a huge plate that I always devour in its entirety added to the perfectly roasted chicken parts, dark for me, white for Tom and the green beans, carrots, cooked cabbage and chips (fries) and bread for Tom, who only picked at his food.
I was famished eating enough for two minus the bread and chips. Then she adds another favorite of mine, omelets with no cheese, no butter, no salsa, and no veggies that somehow tastes divine in its simplicity. That special touch. More broken eggs, prepared with care and love. This is what we’ll recall in years to come.
|These two basic shoe styles are popular in the souks; slips on with pointy toes and slip-on with rounded toes. This style of our little interest to me, finding backless shoes unsuitable for the amount of walking required in our travels.|
As both Oumaima and Madame entered this morning they immediately inquired as to Tom’s well-being, worry, and concern on their faces. Soon Adil will stop by for his daily visit to inquire as to our choices for dinner based on another day and night indoors.
Well, we’re not really indoors living in a riad, as I notice another little tibbit (bird) walking on the flying carpet under my feet within inches (millimeters) of me. I longed to take a photo as I have more times than I can count. But, the slightest movement will send it flying away.
All of this…is what we’ll recall of our time in Morocco.
Photo from one year ago today, May 3, 2013:
There was no photo from one year ago today. It was the day that we donated three full large suitcases filled with mostly new clothing to a charity in Barcelona in order to lighten our load. Later, I regretted not taking photos. We were distracted and had time constraints in order to get everything ready for the port agent in Barcelona. For the full story, please click here.