Though Stephen Sondheim once argued that it's a hole in the world like a great black pit, and it's filled with people who are filled with shit, and the vermin of the world inhabit it... I still vote London pretty much rules. After eight long, albeit rewarding, months I managed to vacate Sedona-miz for greener, er colder, pastures. In a matter of three airborne hours, I went from 38 degree weather to 9. Though this happened to be the least of my problems that day.
I'll spare you all the details but the twelve hours prior to take-off consisted of: ipod headphones breaking, at least 40 seriously rambunctious school boys destroying public property - aka dismantling the bus i was on - en route to Marrakech, making a new friend on the aforementioned bus due to much needed distraction, sleeping in the cafe of the Marrakech airport, getting kicked out from 2am -4am and sleeping on a bench, wanting to kill myself during takeoff/descent due to the congestion I had accumulated during my stay in the airport, and haiving my ears plugged for the first 12 hours in country and perpetually sounding like I was a prisoner on the inside of a muffler. Joys.
Once in good old Angleterre I couldn't have been happier. Though I had pretty much lost my voice for most of the weekend and wasn't exactly prime partying material, it didn't stop me from eating my body weight in pork and taking at least two showers a day. It was a dream. All of you know the foodie inside me wants to take you through a far too descriptive play by play of my grazing habits during the calorific four day stay, but I'll just mention the highlights: Bodean's BBQ, Hummingbird Bakery, HK Diner, Snog, The Hoxton Pony, Nude Espresso, Insert nondescript Curry delivery here, Zizzi's, and Itsu, in chronological consumption order. It truly was a culinary tour de force for someone who has pretty much been eating tagine as a religion for the past eight months. Not to mention the fact that my friends paid a micro-country's GDP for our marathon feasting extravaganza. No regrets. Let's just hope my souq has celery, and nothing but, next Tuesday. And the Tuesday after that.
On a more 'blog-worthy' note I suppose, I was happy to find out I was still me there, as I am still me here. Part of me was legitimately concerned I would all of a sudden find myself wanting to stay in London and having some sort of out-of-body freak-out while some officially dressed officials dragged me by my heels through customs to make sure I got on a plane back to Morocco. Part of me was equally as worried I wouldn't fully connect with my dearest friends in London over lifestyle changes, priorities, personal hygiene... etc, and that I'd be preaching some pompous save-the-world dogma while we ate our crudités. Thankfully, both worries were not present in the slightest - well maybe slightest, as in my friends didn't fully appreciate my donkey side-swipe anecdotes amongst their 'screw people and their baby buggies in stores' conversations - and I was as happy to be there as I was to return here. It made me realize how much I do love about my life here in Sedona-miz and how much I will love returning to somewhere like London or New York afterward. Time and a place, insha'allah. And just for the record though, I kind of have the best friends in the world by the way. Like, seriously.
On another side note, the broski is officially off to Kuwait in June for a year's tour. And apparently he's thinking of not going home for Christmas... Now this puts me in quite the predicament. Now I can see why he's thinking of not doing so, abroad for the first time, seriously different surroundings, keeping a certain mindset while there, having a chance to travel, etc. The same things I faced to some degree in deciding to return home for the holidays. However, last year's miss of xmas was not by choice but by PC policy. I have been planning on flying home this Christmas as to hopefully get another point in the 'not going to hell in a handbag' column, but with the brother not going... do I go? I seriously cannot be held responsible for my mother ODing on Scotch and Sodas before sticking her head in the oven if both of her kids are in the Middle East during this joyful holiday season. This brings options to the table: home for just a week? Meet in the middle and do a New York celebration? Get thrown out of the will and take advantage of some travel during the time period in question? All things that will be discussed tomorrow during our Skype date I'm sure. Oh, am I posting this on the interwebs before chatting with the mumsie about my ditching her on Christmas? That would be correct. Wish me luck.
Edit: So while talking to the mom tonight did I lead with anything optimistic? No. Did I mention I wasn't thinking of coming? Yes. Did I eventually say I promise to come for at least 5 days around Christmas only after tears? Yes. Did I forget to say happy mother's day even after having her hint at least three times? Yes. Do I seriously fail as daughter of the year today? Yes.
Say what you want, but hotdamn that tasted good.
Heather, Me, and Mckinley. I need to start wearing a new cardigan. Oy.
Giovanni and myself with a pretty fantastic cupcake in the foreground.
God's gift to international pastry culture: the cheesecake brownie.
Glad you had a great time! It sounds like it was much-needed. The Christmas situation is definitely a tough one...I say do what you want this year- your parents won't die from ONE Christmas alone. Just make sure you don't do it again! And, fuck, that brownie looks amazing!
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