I spent three mostly lovely weeks in Morocco and now I'm back to NYC.
I say mostly lovely because, while I had a great time, it was hot!  I mean really, REALLY hot.  130F hot! (That's 54C for the metric people.) 
It took days for me to find out the actual temperature because Marrakech is strangely lacking in a local news program, CNN weather always skips past Morocco and the local paper doesn't bother with weather.  The most I heard was that most Marrakechis were sleeping in the public gardens at night in hope of some relief.  
In the meantime I was amazed how often my head was empty of any thought besides, "Damn....I'm hot!"  I marvelled that my hair, soaking from the shower as I hopped into a taxi, dried completely in the 10 minute drive across the city, thus making the wind hotter than my hair dryer. 
It wasn't until we rode to the supermarket that I caught the temperature flashing on a bank display.  I couldn't convert the celsius temperature to fahrenheit in my head because it went way beyond anything I'd ever thought to memorize. 
At the supermarket, which is more of a one-stop super store (owned byt the king) selling everything from baked goods to cheese to saddles to stationary, I made a bee-line towards the toys.  I had decided that water guns were definitely in order, and balloons wouldn't hurt either. I had it in my head that I would play with the (many) children in Zakaria's neighborhood hoping for some fun and relief from the heat.   Later that day I did have my water fight but it strangely ended up with 12 kids trying to chuck water balloons at me while Zakaria and his brother hid inside.  I'm not really sure what happened there but I didn't mind getting wet.....er....soaked.
Over the next few days Zak, his brother Medhi, his sister Safa and I had water fights in the house.  It didn't matter what got wet because the floors are all tile and everything else dried in minutes. We each picked a water gun and wouldn't put them down for fear of ambush.  Medhi, who lives downstairs from Zak, was subject to several sneak attacks.  Zakaria would lure him from his room with a trivial question then toss a water balloon on his head.  Medhi got him back, however, by sneaking down the stairs from the third floor while Zakaria was in the kitchen.  He held a green balloon high over his head and slammed it with gusto, and a rather evil facial expression, onto Zakaria's back.  Water flooded over our lunch but it was worth it to see Zakaria's, and Medhi's, expression.
Yes, indeed, it was hot.
Of course, there was more to this trip than the weather.
My mom actually accompanied me for the first week of the trip, eager to see Morocco with her own eyes.  We got off to a rough start as Royal Air Maroc had no record of her ticket.  We ended up getting her one at the same price based on the confirmation email they sent when we booked online.  Strange....confirmation.....no ticket....you figure it out.  We almost ended up on different planes because there were two flights leaving for Casablanca at the exact same time (again....strange) but we finally made sure we were on the same flight....but we couldn't sit next to each other.  I ended up next to an adorable, motherly, 68 year old Moroccan lady while my mom sat next to....no one.  The seat next to her was empty!  I was going to move but the Moroccan lady who I could only minimally communicate with got very upset when I disappeared for awhile.  I couldn't quite explain that my mom was on the flight but not sitting with me....she just didn't seem to get it.  (Meanwhile we were able to communicate: that she thought I should sleep, that she wanted some water, that she needed me to write her landing card because she was illiterate, that she wanted me to write her a letter when I got home, that I had a Moroccan boyfriend, that she was scared of flying but at least it put her closer to Allah.)  In the end, thankfully, Mom and I arrived in Marrakech in one piece and our luggage even got there too!!  
Mom spent a week checking out what wacky place her daughter is moving to next and seeing what Marrakech has to offer.  We went to all the usual spots: snakes, monkeys and henna in Djemma al Fna, spices shops in the Mellah (the old jewish quarter), cafes with Ganaoua singers, treasure troves of beautiful goods in the souks.  She visited Zakaria's house and had homemade couscous.  We had dinner the last night at a fancy spot in the Ville Nouvelle.  Generally I think she appreciated Morocco for the culture, art and food.....but I don't think she really enjoyed being there, the heat, hecticness and bargining.  This is fair and what I expected really.  Morocco can definitely test your patience. 
Finally, I spent the trip gathering useful information for a business venture I'm planning.  No details yet as I don't want to spoil the surprise.  If all goes well (In'challah) I'm sure I'll be telling everyone all about it in the next couple months.
Till then...pretty pictures...


The Meredien N Fis hotel garden


Raid Omar garden


Mom getting herbal remadies from a spice seller in the Mellah


The synagogue courtyard in the Mellah.


She's going to kill me for this one but I love it....Mom in a fez!


Carpets in the souk.

Obligatory shot of Djemma al-Fna.

Kitty hanging out in the produce.


Zakaria and me at dinner.