Cat in Rabat كات في الرباط

Reincarnation Cat-Style x 2 and 3 and 4

2009-02-16T19:27:00.003Z

I've been asked to update my de facto defunct blog with a link to my most recent and hopefully permanent reincarnation. I've amalgamated this blog as well as my subsequent blogs from Spain and Slovakia to the Mother of All Blogs thanks to my supreme technological knowledge.Cat in Rabat, La Gatita Gringa, Mačka in Slovak can all be found here. Ciao babies.

Reincarnation Cat-Style

2007-08-24T18:35:00.000Z

I am mortified at my own apparent inability to not blog. So for those masochists who want more ....La Gatita GringaYou've been warned.

The 9 Lives of Cat in Rabat: Life the 9th

2007-08-09T16:18:00.000Z

As The Walrus once prophesied, the time has finally come to talk of many things - perhaps not about shoes and ships and sealing wax but of matters close to my heart.Frankly, I haven't relished the thought of being the one to stick the needle into the Cat's paw and so, not surprisingly, I've let this go to the last possible moment. The truth is that I've grown attached to this humble space in the

A Conference of the Immortals

2007-08-07T11:39:00.004Z

"What?" roared Zeus setting the summit of Mount Olympus a-tremble with his oratory eruption. Pegasus, startled from his luncheon buffet, discreetly and judiciously stepped out of the god’s line of vision. "Did I just hear what I think I heard?""No, no ... it's impossible. She couldn't have!" gasped Apollo. His glorious sunbeams paled at the mere thought of it."She did! "Zeus thundered."What's

Primary Colours

2007-08-03T14:02:00.000Z

If I were a third grader creating my own Morocco, it would be a country of primary colours whose cities, rivers, and borders - I would add - would be painstakingly coloured within the lines (much to the relief of Western Sahara and a handful of child psychiatrists). And this would be my colour palette of crayons (remember, I am only 8 years old):* Marrakech is the red city.* Meknès is the yellow

Dog's Days & Dogma

2007-07-31T18:00:00.000Z

The Dog Days ... "when the seas boiled, wine turned sour, dogs grew mad, and all creatures became languid, causing to man burning fevers, hysterics, and phrensies"* ... have arrived in Rabat, and they're barking in full force. Simply put, it is stinking hot and equally stinking humid. So yesterday, in what would prove to be a futile attempt to combat Rabat's current weather woes and to briefly

And Then There Were Three

2007-07-29T14:28:00.003Z

A rather brief Cat in Rabat Public Service Announcement for Moroccan Oenophiles about which the author raises one conundrum and invites her readership to consider two possible solutions. There will be no references herein to early Genesis albums* Surely this is a coincidence. In fact, I'd like to think that this is a coincidence in the purest, most literal sense of the word but I can't help but

The Politics of Sex & Some Minor Marrakech-Bashing

2007-07-23T08:48:00.000Z

"Marrakech will be the target," my student judiciously advised me - this in the wake of Morocco's terror alert having been maxed out again this past weekend. "Why?" I asked, knowing full well what the answer would be. "Teacher," my student tried to reason with me (in a tone that clearly indicated that she thought I was a retard), "Marrakech is the most beautiful city in the world."Which it isn't

A Cat in Meknès

2007-07-17T18:32:00.000Z

I like Meknès. There, I've said it. Out loud. Liking Meknès isn't a something I share with too many of my colleagues but I like it, so there it is. Its greatest advantage, of course, is the fact that it isn't Rabat. Based on that alone, I could easily move on to the peroration of this posting. Many of you will probably wish that I had.Last Saturday, Mr. Cat in Rabat and I slipped away to the

Eyewitness to an Unveiling

2007-07-12T18:14:00.000Z

I have an excellent memory of which I am inordinately proud - it's not photographic but pretty darn close. If it's written in print, then I can easily commit it to memory; however, if it's a facial feature, I'm screwed. This is how the gods have repaid my hubris. In fact, it's safe to say that when I meet someone for the first time, even engage in a lengthy conversation with that person, it's

Where's the Kaboom?

2007-07-08T09:39:00.000Z

Fast on the heels of my Friday night adult class telling me that the government should have carte blanche in censoring the media, it was announced this weekend that Morocco's security alert had been raised to maximum. Now for those of you who are a little hazy on the ins & outs of 'maximum', it strongly suggests that some sort of nasty act of terrorism by a radical Islamist sect is on the

Bees and Beavers

2007-07-04T21:24:00.001Z

Not only have bees and beavers both been credited with being particularly industrious but they have equally earned the pithy little axion "busy as a (insert creature of choice here)". Not to put too fine a point on it, I have found myself busy as a (insert creature of choice here) these last few days and I see no respite for another week and a half. And by busy as a (insert creature of choice

Happy Birthday Canada!

2007-07-01T10:05:00.001Z

Ninety-nine & nine tenths of my students know absolutely nothing about the country from which I hail (clue on far left) in spite of the fact that more than a hefty handful would give their eye teeth for the opportunity to study or immigrate there. Now this isn't an indictment against Moroccans (see how paranoid hyper-sensitive you've all made me?) but a fact. For the most part, my students don't

Cat in Prison

2007-06-28T13:55:00.000Z

No more taboos! More freedom!There. I've said it. Now fine me. Throw me in prison.No?Well those were some of the slogans on the placards carried by human rights activist Mohamed Bougrine and his colleagues last month during a sit-in. The reason for the protest? - the arrest and imprisonment of other activists who had staged a peaceful demonstration on May Day to mark International Workers' Day.

Morocco for More

2007-06-26T09:08:00.000Z

A handful of years ago - a handful being defined as less than eight but more than six - Mr. Cat in Rabat and I crossed the Straits of Gibraltar and set our paws on the Maghreb for the first time. This trip - a month of backpacking around Morocco and Andalucía - was a lifetime dream (and by lifetime I mean 2 months) during which we could put our relationship to the test and perhaps buy a carpet.

A Very Brief Disquisition on Selected Roots: Words, Flowers and Idolatry

2007-06-21T12:16:00.000Z

This much I know: it is summer. Or to be woefully imprecise, it will be in 5 hours and 47 minutes from this very moment. Or to be just precise - which is always preferable - it will at 6:06 p.m. GT this evening. Indeed today, much of the world will celebrate or at least acknowledge in some wonderfully pagan way, the summer solstice, that heliotropic moment when our planet's axis tilts the most

Trainspotting

2007-06-19T10:28:00.000Z

I have grave reservations that this posting is in no way topical or timely - and for this I sincerely apologise - but last week the story once again raised its ugly head on, of all places, the Casa-Rabat train where Mr. Cat in Rabat and I were standing. Not sitting. Yes, in spite of the fact that we had purchased first-class tickets, we were compelled to stand in the (albeit first-class) aisle of

The Karma of Feline Philanthropy

2007-06-15T09:58:00.000Z

Or what goes around, comes around.It's pretty much common knowledge for the half-dozen or so faithful readers of this blog that I am, what is commonly termed, a 'cat person'. The more insightful individual undoubtedly came to this conclusion from my blog moniker, although this would not be wholly accurate: the 'cat' in my name refers only to my initials. I confess that I have always regretted

Nancy Drew & The Mystery of the Exploding Thong

2007-06-12T11:53:00.000Z

A *New* Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys MysteryIt is the year 2007 and when Nancy Drew – intrepid Girl Detective - flies, she makes a concerted effort to wear nothing that hasn't been woven from a plant and isn't held together with bits of raffia or hemp. Gone is her perky flip hairdo (aerosols are banned from carry-on luggage) as are her leather buckled pumps (her shoes are now made of metal-free man-made

Dirt Poor

2007-06-05T14:37:00.000Z

Does poverty have a uniform? And not to be indelicate, but do poor people smell? Sometimes it seems that way although I've known my fair share of The Quality who can make the hair on your chest curl (not that I have any.) Knarf in the City blogged today about being marooned on a poorly ventilated/non air-conditioned bus which was made decidedly rank and more unbearable by the presence of a

Cocktails with Mohammed

2007-05-31T11:25:00.000Z

The sun is slowly sinking on Cat in Rabat's dominion and within eight weeks, this blog will sadly be no more; Mr. CinR and I will be leaving Morocco for greener pastures. And by greener, I mean spirited. And by spirited, I mean a place with an enlightened view of alcohol. Not that that's the sole reason we're leaving - but the ability to enjoy a reasonably priced gin & tonic - out of doors where

Big Brother is Blocking

2007-05-28T13:53:00.000Z

The other night I made one of my rare visits to YouTube to verify for myself that a particular clip that had been recommended to me was as incomprehensibly vile as my colleague had portended it to be. Unfortunately, I couldn't make a connection but I was hardly nonplussed for such are the vagaries of internet connections in Morocco. Then this morning I received an e-mail from Youssef The Brave at

A Lesson from the Ouroboros

2007-05-24T11:08:00.000Z

When the individual with whom I was involved before Mr. Cat in Rabat entered my life - let's call him Satan - dumped me for another woman and I parted company, I sought closure in fairly conventional girly ways: I burned his photographs, I cut my hair short, and I got a tattoo (see crappy photo, left). My jaunty little fuck you ouroboros - a symbol of rebirth, growth, ying & yang, and the

On Rabbits & Frogs

2007-05-23T13:48:00.000Z

A few weeks ago I made reference to the fact that asking my students to suspend belief for the unbelievably interminable period of 15 minutes and actually use their imaginations in an 'outside the Moroccan/Muslim box' (yes, I know that the expression is both loathsome and passé) activity was a lesson in futility and frustration of Biblical proportions. Equally annoying is preparing a lesson with

Find Madeleine

2007-05-21T16:30:00.000Z

Most of us have seen the headlines: four-year old Madeleine McCann was abducted from her bed on May 3rd in Portugal while holidaying with her family. It's not often (well, never) that I am asked to provide a public service of any sort but Madeleine has recently been spotted in Morocco, and her family has asked Moroccan bloggers to sound the alarm, to raise awareness among Moroccans, ex-pats and

A Little Afternoon Whine Wine

2007-05-17T13:39:00.000Z

A week or two ago, I received a phone call from our friend and fellow gin & tonic poker-aficionado Mr. N who was bursting with good news. He saw, on a rather grotty side street (Dayat Aoua to be precise) in lower Agdal, just past Dirty Label Vie (as opposed to Clean Label Vie in Souissi), a brand-spanking new, yet-to-be open Nicolas wine shop. Its location on this particular street ... in this

What Book Am I?

2007-05-15T12:23:00.002Z

... and all this time I thought I'd be something by Dr. Seuss. I draw little comfort from this. You're Alice's Adventures in Wonderland!by Lewis Carroll After stumbling down the wrong turn in life, you've had your mind opened to a number of strange and curious things. As life grows curiouser and curiouser, you have to ask yourself what's real and what's the picture of illusion. Little is

The Island

2007-05-14T14:18:00.000Z

(Not a film with Ewan McGregor and Scarlett Johansson)Generally, I am loath to ask my students to suspend belief for even the briefest of moments because their responses tend to be as unimaginative as humanly possible for individuals not raised in cardboard boxes in basements or bombshelters deep underground. Expecting an answer of childlike whimsy has become my Brick Wall, and I long learned to

A Lobster's Tale

2007-05-10T11:57:00.000Z

(A Story of Absolutely No Merit Save That Writing It Gave Me Something to Do While I Was Defrosting my Fridge)The particularly fetching lobster that you see to the left is Larry. He has been so named because of the obvious alliteration produced when “Larry” is coupled with his surname. Which, in case your lobotomy stitches are still fresh, is "Lobster". Not very original but there it is. Larry

A Pair of Vehicular Vignettes

2007-05-08T09:40:00.000Z

The other day it occurred to me that over the past seventeen months of blogging, I may not have said enough about Moroccan drivers; in fact, I've probably only scratched the surface of Morocco's road-borne iceburg. Although I'm unable of rectifying that gross oversight today (as I'm still under the weather), I do want to share with you, dear reader, two separate and unrelated incidents which I

How to Become a Millionaire

2007-05-01T10:24:00.000Z

Having been on death's door for the better part of the last 5 days (and with so many bizarre symptoms, I might add, that I can only surmise that I've been the unwitting victim of some heinous chemical warfare campaign), I have spent my time doing the utterly useless things that sick people on death's door do. Sleep. Read. Sleep. Drink tea. Pee. Sleep. Read. Drink tea. Pee. Watch TV. Except not

A Fair to Middling Post from the V.O.L.

2007-04-27T13:42:00.000Z

I have nothing of value to say today which is a good thing because I have lost my voice. Not my literary voice (although that is arguably correct) but because there appears to be an irritation in or on (such medical and prepositional niceties elude me) my vocal folds. Until 10 minutes ago, I didn't even know that I possessed vocal folds. I considered posting a photo of said folds, but - you'll

If You Were the King ...

2007-04-24T09:15:00.000Z

... of Morocco, I asked, what law would you change? Such was the question I posed to half a dozen 20-and 30-somethings last night. Chairs were scraped repositioned into ersatz Conestoga wagon circles, heads met conspiratorially, voices dropped in hushed tones. I'm not certain what I expected (although the plight of the poor, environmental concerns, illiteracy rates & women's issues jumped to

Catwoman in Rabat

2007-04-19T12:08:00.000Z

A fairly accurate criticism long levied against me by my friends & family has been a decided absence of ambition in my genetic code. There is a reason why I am not Bill Gates: I am rather unfocused, too dismissive of the trappings of success, and I occasionally (sic) make harebrained decisions. Consider Catwoman. I could have aspired to becoming Eartha Kitt's Catwoman; instead there are excellent

Ex-Pat Blues

2007-04-17T10:57:00.000Z

(A slightly self-indulgent retrospective)On the epiphanic ladder of personal revelations, it shouldn't come as much of a surprise that when you leave your home - your community of friends and family - and move far far away, people move on with their lives. And for the most part, you're no longer part of that. It's not that you're forgotten per se, but there is an element of 'out of sight, out of

Nunzilla

2007-04-12T11:16:00.000Z

I have just figured out what Morocco needs. Nuns. Singing nuns, flying nuns – it doesn’t really matter. Nuns and lots of them. Think of that iconic nun Sister Mary Fill-in-the-Blank marching up and down the aisles of a primary school classroom, slapping a lethal metal-edged ruler into her palm, that ruler itching to come thwacking down on some unsuspecting cheater’s desk? Hear the

We Are The Champions ....

2007-04-04T22:11:00.000Z

I am cravenly snatching this from Myrtus' blog but I'm doing so not from any admission of writer's block but to make this piece as risible visible as possible. I confess that I began questioning Gaddafi (not seen left)'s sanity when my application for a visitor's visa to Libya was denied back in '92, and my concerns were further strengthened when I heard that Lionel Richie is still a popular

Random Observations on the Prophet (his birthday specifically) and Poultry (in general)

2007-04-03T10:52:00.000Z

Monday was the last day of the 2-day festivities marking the PM's birthday, and Agdal (not surprisingly) was pretty much a ghost town. In fact, it was pretty much a ghost town during the entire Mawlid extravaganza. It would seem that anyone who was anyone was in Marrakech. I was in Rabat.Yes, in Morocco's fabled Red City, birthday celebrations were in full force. On Saturday the king chaired a

Mulling Over the Mawlid

2007-03-30T13:27:00.000Z

This morning, for the first time in over a week, I didn't awake to the sounds of splash splash beep beep splash splash, as Rabat was once again inundated with its mercurial rain patterns. Instead, I awoke to the not-so dulcet tones of a particularly enthusiastic allahu akbar, in concert with a chorus of barking dogs, which culminated in a crescendo of equally enthusiastic chirping birds. Knowing

Beggars' Banquet

2007-03-26T10:44:00.000Z

In this city, in this country, I am a target. A walking bullseye which attracts - by virtue of my gender, fair skin, auburn hair (Garnier Belle-Color #550) and perceived wealth - a not inconsiderable amount of unsolicited attention. Attention which at best stirs the humanity in me, at worse repulses me beyond comprehension. Well into my second year in Rabat, the leers and comments and smacking of

Alas, I am Back

2007-03-22T22:07:00.000Z

... and except for the curious incident at Mohamed V airport in which the passport control officer whom I had the pleasure of discussing the finer points of World Geography was unfamiliar with the place name "Madrid" (this in response to 'where are you coming from?') - in spite of my repeated (literally) attempts at broadening his geographical horizons & pointing out the flight number clearly

A Cat in Castile

2007-03-17T20:17:00.000Z

I haven't slept in weeks, passing endless nights tossing & turning & stealing the covers in anticipation of those impending moments - moments of ineffable magic and delight - when I can once again:* walk without my eyes fixed to the ground, secure in the knowledge that I won't fall & disappear into a hole in the sidewalk, break a foot on the stub of a cement parking pylon, or snap my ankles

Morocco Wet n' Wild

2007-03-14T15:39:00.000Z

You'll forgive the prurient Spring Break-esque title for this post (it is March after all), but I assure you that the marked absence of nubile wet t-shirted (wet) young things drunk on anemic American macrobrews (wild) does not make it any less wet and wild. Or wet n' wild, as the case may be.My yesterday was wet and wild but in a very less R-rated way. More of a PG-13 with extensive some

Call Me Sasheen Littlefeather

2007-03-13T09:58:00.000Z

About a week or so ago, I became the unwitting recipient – although perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I was meritoriously tagged by fellow-blogger & maverick Go Go Bimbo – of an "a-ward", the Thinking Blogger Award. It's taken me this long to formulate a response that didn't begin with "It all started in a 5000-watt radio station in Fresno, California, a $65 paycheque and a crazy

More Pots & Kettles

2007-03-08T20:25:00.000Z

(Or J'accuse this, Hosni)It's been quite a while since I've indulged in a pot-calling-the-kettle-black post, but a headline I just read is making me see red, so off we go ... ... but before I vent, let me say that the BBC recently conducted a poll in which 28,000 were asked to rate a dozen nations as having a positive or negative influence in the world. Canada came out as number 1 (Israel was

The Cell Phone

2007-03-06T11:02:00.000Z

A Novelby Franz KafkaImagine that you want to purchase a cell phone. You browse a few dealers, select the phone you want from among the glittering overpriced Prada phones and cell-Mp3 hybrids in the dusty display case (this is, after all, Morocco) and walk in. You sign a few papers, dole out your dirhams, and *poof* you have a phone. What could be easier?Brokering world peace I suspect.I needed a

The Curious Incident of the Gregorian Monks in the Night*

2007-03-04T18:18:00.000Z

About a year ago (give or take a few months), I blogged about a singularly curious incident that befell me in the dead of the night; namely an otherworldly voice that eerily whispered "kerchief" over and over from outside my bedroom window. I am sad to say that the mystery was never solved.I am even sadder to say that another singularly curious incident occurred last night, or more precisely, in

On Cannons and Princesses

2007-03-01T10:29:00.000Z

The day before yesterday, I received a rather alarming phone call - this in a world where I routinely receive phone calls from a grand total of 3 people: Mr. Cat in Rabat, my supervisor, and a colleague who has the largest collection of telephones (cellular & ground) on the continent. To quote REM, "3 people have my number, the other 2 were with me" (which is wholly inaccurate as only 1 was with

Some like It Hot (or Let Them Eat Cake)

2007-02-27T09:30:00.000Z

... or bread. Or baguettes. Or croissants. It's all good. Most likely I will be disinherited by my mother for the preamble of this blog, but the truth is, when I was growing up my friends and I - as well as the knife-wielding fishwives of 18th century France - were generally deprived of decent bread. This is by no means an indictment of my mother; she was a full-time working mother in a time when

Pulling the Plug

2007-02-22T09:42:00.000Z

Does this photo look familiar? If it does, you are probably a female who entered adolescence in the late 60's or early 70's. This pamphlet (or one just like it) likely made its appearance during an excruciatingly uncomfortable private talk with your mother or distributed to a special girls-only "health class".Did it get you all enthused and excited about your imminent crossing over the threshhold

A Moroccan Animal Miscellany: Cows, Pigs and Monkeys

2007-02-19T17:02:00.000Z

For the second time in less than four weeks, I offer New Year's greetings to my faithful readers but this time with a decidedly Asian flavour. Given Rabat's lacklustre track record in replicating Asian cuisine in its restaurants, I have no qualms about the lack of originality or authenticity in this blog.Yesterday heralded the Year of the Pig (red fire pig specifically) or ding hai which is not,

Young Max: Soon to be a Moroccan Classic

2007-02-13T11:51:00.000Z

Like most Cats Of Mystery, I take great pains to conceal my true identity so that I might wander the streets of Agdal anonymously and unhindered in order to distribute kitty food to the city's scrawnier felines. Nonetheless, there are a handful of you in the city who can place face to name, and one of you has broken your code of silence by asking me to blog about an incident which I had recently

A Streetcar Named Bica*: an Addendum of Sorts

2007-02-11T22:20:00.000Z

A week or so ago, I was handed a copy of Israeli writer A.B. Yehoshua's "The Liberated Bride" and last night, quite by chance, a certain passage lept from the page and slapped me hard in the face. Not literally of course because that would be stretching the boundaries of literary license as well as be awfully painful (and reading should be pleasurable) whereas a papercut would be both plausible

A Brief Disquisition into Gender Issues in Morocco

2007-02-09T14:30:00.000Z

(or how I get the short end of the stick at my hair salon)Because Mr. Cat in Rabat's French is less than stellar and since mine is a few degrees higher than non-existent, I normally accompany him to his barber so that he might avail himself of my interpretative skills. I confess that once acquited of my duties (i.e., advising the barber that Mr. CinR wanted "the same but shorter"), I 'd normally

Slippery Slope

2007-02-07T14:27:00.000Z

I have a love affair (of sorts) with the slipper. I walk in the door and the first thing I do (depending on the demands of my bladder) is kick off my shoes (or more accurately flip-flops) and sink my feet into a pair of comfy slippers. It is my belief that the wearing of slippers is a hallmark of an advanced civilisation. Not surprisingly, I come from a long line of slipper-wearers; growing up in

A Streetcar Named Bica*

2007-02-05T13:30:00.000Z

A few weeks ago, Mr. Cat in Rabat and I found ourselves leaning against a railing in a subway train in Madrid when I suddenly had one of those rare (for me) epiphanic moments wherein the obvious is suddenly charged with great import."Look!" I cried (and probably possibly pointed rather rudely). "Everyone is reading!"And they were; for the most part, all of our fellow metro passengers were reading

A Few Loose Threads

2007-01-31T10:20:00.000Z

I am not so narcissistic as to believe that I have left any of my devoted readership hanging on tenterhooks waiting for conclusions to any unfinished blog entries (as that would suggest that I am a sloppy writer), but I have been recently reminded that there are 2 entries which beg for a conclusion gentle death (which confirms that I am indeed a sloppy writer). In any case, I warn you now that

Walking in a Moroccan Winter Wonderland

2007-01-29T13:45:00.000Z

Ask a local and they will tell you that winter arrived in Rabat three months ago. Not winter as I know it: there’s obviously no snow and, depending on the day, the drop in outdoor temperature is either slight or barely appreciable. For the past several months, more Rabatians than I can shake a ski pole at have cocooned themselves in parkas, ski jackets with fur-lined hoods, pulled on

Cat in Rabat's Tongues & A Few Parenthetical Thoughts About the Spanish Inquisition**

2007-01-25T13:12:00.000Z

I have a natural and possibly queer aversion to food that is named after parts of the body - especially animal parts. I think this eccentricity may stem from the acute guilt I experienced as a child whenever my mother gave me a box of animal crackers. Do I eat the head first or the feet? O the horror of it all! The idea of serving "finger" foods at a party makes my flesh crawl; hors d'oeuvres I

Party Like It's 1428 (A.H.)!

2007-01-21T10:16:00.000Z

It's the first day of Muharram, New Year’s Day in Islam. At least in Morocco. It was marked yesterday in pretty much everywhere else in the Muslim world so I may be a day late in wishing a Happy New Year to those who require another tool to watch the passage of time; for that I accept no responsibility and blame my adopted country. The New Year cannot be called until the new moon has been seen

Cat in Rabat is 1-Year Old

2007-01-17T14:26:00.000Z

My, my, where has the time flown? Is today really 17 Dhu l-hijja 1427? Has it already been a whole year since my first post? Calendars never lie; at least, they haven't lied to me (although mirrors frequently do). Truth be told, I've been under a bit of pressure as of late to dabble in a little assisted suicide so that the blog might come to a quiet & dignified conclusion. Yes, there are those

da Veni, da Vidi, da Vinci Code

2007-01-16T12:20:00.000Z

There's something decidedly dark & squirrelly about my character that compels me to seek out that which I despise - just so that I can despise it a little bit more. Case in point: Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code.A few years ago, while I and every other skinflint I knew were anxiously awaiting its paperback release (which would still be long in coming to Canada), a colleague of mine returned from a

Vindicated!

2007-01-09T11:38:00.000Z

See! - I am evil! Well, not very evil. Actually, just barely evil, but evil enough for my purposes.You Are 60% EvilYou are evil, but you haven't yet mastered the dark side.Fear not though - you are on your way to world domination.How Evil Are You?... and anyone who says that they wouldn't kill for $1,000,000 if they were guaranteed not to get caught is a barefaced liar. Thanks for Liosliath for

How Evil Am I?

2007-01-08T17:24:00.000Z

I have never been so disappointed in my life. My faith in spurious online personality tests has just gone down the crapper.How evil are you?

Ruminations on a Tangerine or Two

2007-01-05T17:01:00.000Z

Alas I am back.In a rather apparent & possibly sophomoric attempt to bridge one of my final postings of 2006 (the modest Clementine) with my inaugural blog of 2007, I offer you a not very brief dissertation on the tangerine. Or more accurately The Tangerine, for I have washed my hands of citrus fruit for the time being and wish to consider the man rather than the mandarine.But first, a minor

Best Fishes*

2006-12-21T09:58:00.000Z

A Cat in Rabat update:Hola from Andalucía . Mr. Cat in Rabat & I arrived on Monday, a little green around the gills after sharing perhaps too much Christmas cheer with Mr. N et al. and effectively eliminating several bottles of vodka and a blanc de blanc from the world´s supply of alcohol. As a wise woman once said, never ever drop by for drinks with Mr. N the night before travelling. We are

The Cat de Sejour: Part the Fourth

2006-12-15T21:34:00.000Z

"Our permanent cards will be ready in a few weeks."Those words are from a simpler time. A time of hope & promise. A time that will never be.I know that many of you have been on tenterhooks for the past month, waiting for the conclusion of our carte de sejour folies and it does seem a little cruel keeping my dear readers in suspense. As yesterday marked the day (plus 1) that Mr. Cat in

UnMystic Pizza

2006-12-11T18:23:00.000Z

Last autumn, to commemorate Ramadan, Pizza Hut in the U.S. introduced a new pizza so that its diners might "discover the Exotic Flavours of Morocco" - a catch-phrase best translated as "to further ensure that families never eat together at home and that American children become increasingly obese". Along with this so-called Mystical Moroccan Pizza - a square pizza, the import of which elludes me

A Self-Indulgent Moment from the Empress*

2006-12-11T09:16:00.000Z

Because we all want/need to know what Tarot card best characterizes our complex little selves, I, dear reader, am the Empress (I expected no less): You are The EmpressBeauty, happiness, pleasure, success, luxury, dissipation.The Empress is associated with Venus, the feminine planet, so it represents,beauty, charm, pleasure, luxury, and delight. You may be good at homedecorating, art or anything

My Darling Clementine ...

2006-12-07T14:28:00.000Z

Christmas has come to Morocco. Not in the shape of reindeer or Santas or nativity scenes but in something far more resonant of the holidays, something that hints at a reprieve from a long dark frigid Canadian winter ... the Moroccan clementine.When I was a girl - falling roughly sometime between the Industrial Revolution and the advent of the Gameboy - Christmas was a thing of wonder. My parents

Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat ...

2006-12-06T09:13:00.000Z

It's that time again when the streets of Agdal suddenly appear considerably less populated. No worries: the Not Very Nice Men still abound, trawling the streets & cafés for prey. I'm referring to the vast majority of Agdal's cats. They have gone missing; more accurately, its kittens, who should now be about 12 weeks old, have seemingly pulled a Keyser Soze & disappeared into the night.In the past

A Momentous Morocco Moment

2006-12-03T20:48:00.000Z

Yesterday morning, in the relative comfort of a grossly overpriced sidewalk café, Mr. Cat in Rabat & I sat in wonder as we watched a driver successfully parallel park his vehicle.Let there be no mistake: he was completely unaided; he manouevered his car alone with nary a parking jockey in sight.True, one wheel of the vehicle edged itself ever so slightly onto the curb after its hub cap ever so

Don't Come With Me to the Casbah

2006-11-29T11:44:00.000Z

The day before yesterday, Mr. Cat in Rabat & I went on what would prove to be a wild goose chase that led us through the medina and into the Kasbah des Oudaïas. The prize you ask? A postcard. Not just any postcard of course, but a particular one that I had selected to be this year's ersatz Christmas card. Not surprisingly, Christmas cards are as rare as hen's teeth and the only boxed sets I've

The Neighbourhood Haunt Hanoot

2006-11-26T18:34:00.000Z

If you stand in the middle of any street in Rabat (and evade being squished by a car), close your eyes (and evade being squished by a car) and lob a rock, chances are that you'll hit a teleboutique, a hairdresser, or a hanoot. A hanoot, you say? Do tell ...In its simplest terms, a hanoot is a convenience store. These ubiquitous Mom & Pop-style closets shops come in a variety of sizes (small,

The Cat de Sejour: Part the Third

2006-11-21T12:17:00.000Z

In this - the (hopefully) penultimate instalment of our heroes' quest for legal status in what most Moroccans deem to be 'the most beautiful country in the world' - we join our duo en route to the bank. The applications for their cartes de sejour have been dully filled out & filed with the proper authorities, and 24 hours must elapse before the temporary card will be ready. To the bank! To the

The Cat de Sejour: Part the Second

2006-11-17T13:43:00.000Z

When last we saw our intrepid duo, they were no longer in search of their cartes de sejour (having given up for the day like the half-assed bounders they are) and were off in search of liquor. Alcohol is imbibed, the sun sets, the moon rises, the sun rises, and presumably the moon buggers off somewhere.To resume our story ...The next day, again fully confident (there's that C word) that we are in

The Cat de Sejour: Part the First

2006-11-14T12:03:00.000Z

My, my - where has the year gone? Is it really time for me to reapply (or in the case of Mr. Cat in Rabat to apply) for the right to legally reside in this country? Must we expose ourselves to what was essentially Kafka's living model for the Castle? – just as Cairo's Mugamma Building (a 20-storeyed nightmare replete with winding corridors & unlabelled doors) was Dante's inspiration for all 7

Sorbonne, Shmorbonne

2006-11-11T20:07:00.000Z

I'm a sucker for a hunger strike. Anyone who is willing to systematically starve themselves to death for anything other than a (sub) zero dress size always gains my respect. Growing up, it never occurred to me that anyone would want to - or even could - just stop eating & die. I guess I thought that it was like holding your breath: eventually you'd just give up or pass out. All that changed for

Negative Thoughts

2006-11-09T09:34:00.000Z

There is a not insignificant segment of the planet who, by virtue of having once held a pen in their hands, has fancied themselves a writer in the rough - a cosmically thwarted individual struggling to reveal their inner bestseller. In the same vein, there are those who have picked up a camera and are instantly metamorphosized into a burgeoning Henri Cartier-Bresson. Without being accused of

This Week in Iran

2006-11-07T14:14:00.000Z

I know that I upset the apple cart a bit last month by discussing something mind-shatteringly positive (but as it turned out, reassuringly ephermeral) about the Islamic Republic of Iran so I hope to rectify this error by bringing you:This Week In Iran.Mohammad Askani, a political prisoner, was publicly hanged in Iran-Shahr;Amir E. and Ali H., 2 Iranian men, were hanged in a prison in Ahwaz for

BirthWrite

2006-11-05T19:02:00.000Z

or, Let Them Eat CakeThe month of October marks the beginning of the Cat in Rabat Birthday Corridor (the CRBC): a consecutive string of birthdays (with Christmas tossed in for good measure) wherein I celebrate birthday after birthday, send card after card, purchase gift after gift, contemplate my impending penury, and ask myself why I didn't go into law school or, at the very least, learn how to

Uncovered Meat & Other Horror Stories

2006-11-02T17:47:00.000Z

If you've read my recent posting "9 Weird Things About Me", then you may recall that I have a propensity to wander the streets of Agdal with cat food in my purse in order to feed its strays. Little did I know that by doing so - by feeding the city's neglected and hungry felines - I was propagating an "accepted" metaphor that equates cat food with promiscuous women. So what kind of devious

9 Weird Things About Me

2006-11-01T21:38:00.001Z

I have been tagged by Liosliath over at Morocco Time with the following challenge: to list 9 weird things about myself. In public. For all to see (and mock). I first balked at the idea because 1) I don't think there's anything particularly weird about me and b) if I racked my brain long enough and actually came up with an oddity or two, would I want to share them with my readers? So I peeked at

My Foot Fetish (Or a Cat Navigates Rabat)

2006-10-31T09:13:00.000Z

Behold my feet:If beauty is in the eye of the beholder then, in my mind's eye, my feet are the Audrey Hepburn of extremities. So enamoured am I with my little piggies that I take great pains to protect them - and occasionally photograph them before sweeping backdrops of nature (say, the Mediterranean Sea), knowing that such vistas will not detract from the grandeur of my feet.Just a handful of

Requiem for Two Goldfish

2006-10-29T18:19:00.000Z

"Scientists have discovered that a goldfish has a memory span of three seconds. I wondered how they found that out, so I asked my Goldfish. I said, ‘how long is your memory?’ and he said, ‘can you repeat the first part of the question?’” – AnonymousKen (r) and Gerard (l)2003-2006Princes Among GoldfishSwim in Peace

Allah's Alley Cats

2006-10-26T14:38:00.000Z

The will of Allah is a mighty thing. So potent and capriciously unpredictable is Allah's pleasure, that the very phrase in sh'allah must be invoked after even the most mundane oral transaction that hints at any future activity, effectively quashing the possibility of human control or accountability. "See you tomorrow." "In sh'allah!" "What time does the train leave?" "Three o'clock - in sh'allah.

It's Over ...

2006-10-24T10:15:00.000Z

To quote Roy Orbison,"It's over, it's over, it's oooooooooooooooooooover!"Yes, the month of Ramadan has finally drawn to a close. At least in Morocco. It has already ended elsewhere. Unlike other Muslim nations, Morocco's religious and governmental authorities didn't actually see the crescent moon rising on Sunday (or Mohammed VI didn't see his shadow negating the need for another 6 weeks of

Defending Titles

2006-10-19T15:34:00.000Z

It's been a while since I've offered any updates from my favourite vacation spot, the Islamic Republic of Iran, and I think it's high time that we take a peek at the recent flagrant human rights violations shenanigans carried out there in the name of Allah. I could talk about the pair of brothers who were hanged 3 weeks ago for launching an attack on a local City Hall to avenge the previous

If I Were a God.

2006-10-17T16:56:00.000Z

If I were a god or goddess (apart from being one in my own mind), what would I expect from my believers? Would I expect a dogged and literal reading of any text I may have disseminated to a chosen prophet or two over the millennia? Unlikely. Would I insist on any dietary laws, construct bizarre prohibitions against consuming specific items at the same time? I doubt it. Would I drive my faithful

If I Only Had a Brain ....

2006-10-15T19:42:00.000Z

Ofttimes, when I am alone, I give a lot of thought to quantum electrodynamics & the way that electrically charged particles interact with .... with cabbages .... and then I chop the leaves up finely and toss them into the pot, and then ... then ... then Rachel told Ross they were on a break so he slept with the girl from the photocopying shop but Phoebe told Rachel and ... omigod, I'm so confused

Oh Buoy!

2006-10-13T12:03:00.000Z

There's an Arabic television commercial - or rather a set of commercials - doing the rounds for Lifebuoy Soap which has piqued my interest. In the first ad, a youngster returns from the soccer field dragging a host of germs & various bacteria behind him. His horrified mother, who greets him at the door of the house, is undecided as to whether she should allow her plague-stricken son (to be fair,

This, The Second Monday in October

2006-10-09T15:55:00.000Z

Living in the shadow of the United States for most of my life I, like millions of other Canadians, have developed a healthy case of inadequacy in regards to our southern neighbours. For example, today (the 2nd Monday in October) is Thanksgiving in Canada and I have yet to be wished a 'Happy Thanksgiving' by any of my American colleagues. To be fair, this is a case of ignorance rather than

A Cautionary Traveller's Tale Saga of Woe with Unchristian Themes in Three Parts with an Edifying Moral for a Conclusion

2006-10-06T15:54:00.000Z

Caveat: I don't use the word saga lightly. If you are still desirous of reading this epic journey, put on the kettle. Or better yet, pour yourself a gin & tonic. If you are a Muslim, do not read this until after sunset when you can make yourself a nice cup of tea. ForwardAlas, I am back.It is a trusim of travel that more often that not, one bad day can effectively erase all the salubrious effects

An Andalucían Haiku

2006-10-02T16:30:00.000Z

Sun, sand, sangria:I find no Ramandan here.Topless on the beach.(Cat in Rabat blushes; Mr. Cat in Rabat grins)

Hey Mr. Tambourine Man ....

2006-09-28T17:42:00.000Z

Imagine being jarred out of a deliciously deep sleep. Imagine being jarred out of a deliciously deep sleep at 2:21 a.m.. Imagine being jarred out of a deliciously deep sleep by some moron banging a drum. Imagine being jarred out of a deliciously deep sleep by some moron banging a drum incessantly. Imagine being jarred out of a deliciously deep sleep by some moron banging a drum incessantly

A Moroccan Fairy Tale

2006-09-27T19:41:00.000Z

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful young girl - we'll call her Cinderella - who was enslaved by her fiendish stepmother and stepsisters shortly after the death of her father. While she was forced to endure endless hours of arduous labour, these crones luxuriated on soft cushions passing the hours by concocting novel ways to humiliate the girl and new tasks to assign to her. One day it came

TGIF*

2006-09-25T16:06:00.000Z

So, just in case Muslims worldwide don't have something to feel offended about, we have this little nugget of news out of the U.S.:A car commercial proclaiming a jihad on the U.S. auto market and offering "Fatwa Fridays" with free swords for the kids is offensive and should not be aired, Muslim leaders said on Sunday.Offensive? - you think? The radio advertisement for the Dennis Mitsubishi car

A Muezzin Compels Me to Cheat

2006-09-25T14:18:00.000Z

Dawn broke on Day 2 of Ramadan - actually it had yet to dawn, it was 4:21 a.m. - and Mr. Cat in Rabat & I were gently woken from our slumbers by the hyper-decibel eardrum-piercing strains of a muezzin urging all good Muslims in Rabat to haul their asses out of bed and pray. Being Ramadan, the volume of the speakers is adjusted from the normal "did I just hear something" range to a

A Bogus Buddhist is Bereft of Her Books

2006-09-21T13:34:00.000Z

As I approach my first anniversary here in Morocco (I'd crack open the champagne but it'll be during Ramadan & I wouldn't want to offend ...), I congratulate myself for surviving the year without the company of my 2 mainstays: my husband (who arrives tomorrow - for good), and my books.I hope everyone noted that I mentioned my husband first. That was awfully nice of me, wasn't it?But I do have a

In Cold Blood (Re-Screened & Revisited)

2006-09-21T13:25:00.000Z

The story unfolds:Moroccan security services announced Tuesday in Rabat the arrest of the alleged murderer of an Italian diplomat and his Belgian wife, who were found dead in their villa on Monday morning.The 34-year-old suspect killer, Karim Zimach, was arrested aboard a car belonging to the European Union Commission in Rabat, MAP news agency reported. Police had found out that the car and other