"Out Last Night"

We went out last night 
Like we swore we wouldn't do 
Drank too much beer last night 
A lot more than we wanted to 

There were girls from Argentina and Arkansas 
Maine, Alabama and Panama 
All mixed together and having a ball...

Who am I kidding?  I've gone absolutely nowhere since Wednesday.  I can't remember the last time I got sick, but some virus has kicked my butt; though, I'm finally getting better.

However, we did have a ball - basketball, that is!  Still had to coach my middle school girls basketball team in a scrimmage game on Thursday.  The George Washington Academy Lady Mustangs visited the crosstown rival Casablanca American School Cobras.  Yes, you read that correctly - basketball in September.  Don't even get me started on how the sports seasons are scheduled here!
I've got a young squad - 9 of 15 girls are 6th graders.  It is as multicultural a team as Kenny Chesney describes in the above lyrics - we've got Americans from all over in addition to the Moroccans.  One lass is half of each nationality.  I feel bad for the one hoopster who wears a hijab - how hot must playing in that be?!
When CAS took the floor, I thought we were going to be slaughtered - those gals obviously had more 8th graders, plus they had a lot more height.  The way I was feeling, I turned over the reins to my assistant and had her work the floor action from the sideline, while I tried to instruct the bench players as we watched what was happening on the court.  I was extremely proud of my girls in a 13-9 defeat that was nip-n-tuck til the end, especially since I was coaching to get everyone a good amount of playing time as opposed to coaching to win.  Still not sure how we did it, but I'm feeling better about our chances in Rabat next month!  Oops, I should mention my roommate led the boys to a victory after we left the floor - they looked real good...

Yeah, we went went out last night 
One thing started leading to another 
Out last night 
Hittin' on everybody and their mother 

There were two karaoke girls drunk on a dare 
Singing "I Got You Babe" by Sonny and Cher 
Yeah, life was good everywhere 
We went out last night...

That isn't quite accurate - "we" went nowhere, but colleagues of mine, "they" took an hour-long train ride north to the capital city of Rabat for Jazz au Chellah, an annual festival held at ancient Roman ruins in the area.  I dearly wanted to go and meet the gang (they were already there because they had attended our high school volleyball scrimmage vs Rabat American School earlier in the day), but before I could even get to the train station, my body let me know in no uncertain terms that it would be a huge mistake to try.
Had I gone, though, this is what I would've seen (courtesy of good ol' Google):


(This is an older photo)


(This is from last night)

How awesome would it be to see an event at that venue?!

Oh, well - maybe another time.  I also passed on going all the way to Tangier for "Tanjazz" last week; I'll have to wait for Jazzablanca in the spring, I suppose...

Well the fact that I'm still breathing 
Means that I must have survived 
And that I lived to go out with my friends again tonight...

"Here For A Good Time"

I'm not gonna lay around and whine and moan
Cause somebody done done me wrong
Don’t think for a minute that I am gonna sit around 
and sing some old sad song
I believe it’s half full not a…half empty glass
Every day I wake up…knowing it could be my last

I ain't here for a long time…I'm here for a good time
So bring on the sunshine to hell with the red wine
Pour me some moonshine
When I am gone put it in stone he left nothing behind
I ain't here for a long time…I'm here for a good time

George Strait leads us into a recap of an activity-packed weekend that is quickly winding down (as I write this it is 8 pm local time, +5 hours from the East Coast), so as I listen to the early NFL games through my computer, it's time to blog!

Gonna backtrack a lil' bit to Thursday evening - a spectacular building that once served as a Catholic church hosted a modern art exhibit.  The architects of Sacre Coeur (Fr. Sacred Heart) did a wonderful job of using cast concrete in melding Catholic and Muslim elements.  It's not been in use as a church for over a half-century - today the empty interior hosts intimate art & music exhibitions.  These are a couple of nice pics from a spring trip downtown:

Apparently, Casablanca has a growing artsy community.  It's always a very pleasant surprise when you somehow stumble upon information about an event in the community.  Getting good intel is an art unto itself.

Fast forward to Saturday morning...the day began with a trip to the local orphanage.  Played around with the toddlers on the playground, then held some of the infants on the upper floors (at least the ones who saw me and didn't scream in mortal fear).  Sorry I can't provide pics of the wee ones - privacy concerns.  But here are some photos of the exterior and the playground:

Inside is a pretty sterile-looking institution; the ladies do the very best they can with a ridiculous workload.  Scary thing is, I'm told that this place is easily the best of the bunch in the region.

Came back to my apartment and hooked up with a couple of the guys for lunch.  They had recently stumbled upon a hole-in-the-wall joint serving up Pakistani food.  It was cheap and delicious!  Then, off to a local watering hole for a night daycap of Leffe (Belgian) blonde beer while watching FC Barcelona and Athletico compete in La Liga action.  Finally, a birthday party at a gorgeous villa in the bustling beach town of Dar Bouazza to the south of Casa.  The potluck dishes were dee-lish and the Spanish beer tasty.

Sunday morning usually means the brunch thing at a nearby cafe, then basketball games with students and staff at the school.  Believe it or not, I fit in a lot of schoolwork this weekend, too.

Wait til you see where I am going next weekend for a concert...

Folks are always dreaming about what they like to do
But I like to do…just what I like
I'll take the chance…dance the dance
It might be wrong but then again it might be right
There’s no way of knowing…what tomorrow brings
Life’s too short to waste it I say bring on anything

I ain't here for a long time…I'm here for a good time
So bring on the sunshine to hell with the red wine
Pour me some moonshine
When I am gone put it in stone he left nothing behind
I ain't here for a long time…I'm here for a good time

"I'm Back In The Saddle Again"

Courtesy: Gene Autry - "America's Favorite Signing Cowboy"

I'm back in the saddle again (for year 3)
Out where a friend is a friend (though, you never know where a helping hand will/not come from)
Where the longhorn cattle (sheep) feed (til next month, anyway)
On the lowly Jimson weed (is that a nickname for hashish or shisha?)
Back in the saddle (yet) again

Ridin' the range once more
Totin' my old 44 (lmfao - no 2nd Amendment rights in this country)
Where you (can't get a good night's) sleep...every night
And the only law is right (actually, the cops are crooked, and are rightfully disrespected at every turn)
Back in the saddle again

The first full week of the school year is in the books.  I've only been back for a few weeks, yet in seems like a few months.  Not a complaint, just seems like it's been forever since I was kickin' it Stateside.  The joint is jumping - the school is bursting at the seams, and there is lots going on.  A whole of new colleagues.  I'll be darned - there are a pair of guys in my age range!  Couple of real characters.  Nice to have some people I can better relate to.
I am doing my same ol' thing again, working with 6th-12th graders.  Also, I just started coaching the middle school girls' basketball team (the sports seasons here are wacky).  In mid-October is the tournament in the capital city of Rabat.  I am also going to try to revive the school's National Honor Society chapter.  They say a rolling stone gathers no moss, right?  Well, there is no grass growing under these feet.  Besides, it's harder to hit a moving target ;)

I moved to a new apartment, same neighborhood, just a few blocks away.  The decor is, well, um...you decide for yourself:

I would NOT want to have a few cold ones and then stare at the 3D ceiling.  Not so sure about the entrance-way, either.  If this isn't the highlight, the this is...

This is called a frash (pron. 'frosh'), a Moroccan divan, if you will.  No arms or backs, just cushions on a low-slung base, sections next to one another, and up against the wall.  A very traditional piece of furniture.  This particular pattern is even more garish in person, the camera didn't capture the sheen of the shiny fabric.

The thin balcony runs behind the bedrooms, along the street.  You can see the product of the roommate's green thumb, and one of the drying racks (dryers are virtually non-existent in city life, and the washers minuscule).  Noisy street, the highlight of which is the guy pushing a cart, repeatedly making a sound like "meep".  Apparently, this guy will make a trade or give cash for an item you're looking to get rid of - he's a rolling one-man flea market!

No matter where you are in the kingdom of Morocco, you can hear the call to prayer (adhan) blared from mosque loudspeakers 5 times, day (and night).  I can hear the one at the end of the street pictured above.  It is a tiny corner building you would have trouble noticing, if not for the reserved area cordoned on the street.

Around the corner is the same grocery store I used last year; it has a liquor store attached (for the tourists, is the party line).  Corner cafes abound; probably 3-4 days per week I find my way to one.  I usually go for a cafe au lait (coffee cut with steamed milk).  Other colleagues favor cafe noir (espresso).  Mint tea is the national drink.  I'll pass.

Wild day yesterday.  Went downtown to the regional transfusion center to get a pint of red drawn in the early a.m. then went straight to the orphanage to play with the kids under the sun.  Should've had a little more to eat for breakfast.  Then again, maybe it was good that I didn't - I might've lost it when a donated sheep was slaughtered, right in front of the toddlers.
In second place for craziest story of the day, I'm on the turnpike, in the backseat of a colleagues car; she is in the passenger seat, and a Moroccan staff is at the wheel.  We get pulled over as we approach the tollbooth (like the time we had to pay a 100 dirham bribe).  Our man gets out of the car with the vehicle's documents to speak with the officer, who apparently wanted to give a 400 dirham ticket for me not having a seatbelt in the back while outside the city on the highway (since when?!?!).  Mustafa is a genius - he tells the guy that he is a hired driver for the Anglo woman passenger who owns the car, and the American guy in the back is related to the ambassador.  It worked!!  BAHAHAHA!!!

Never a dull day here - time for a late lunch before playing hoops and watching NFL openers thru an illicit website :)

Whoopi-ty-aye-oh
Rockin' to and fro
Back in the saddle again
Whoopi-ty-aye-yay
I go my way
Back in the saddle again