Saturday in the Rain

Friday night was pretty awful. Although I had been walking around all day—I mean for likely five hours, I could not get to sleep. It did not help that the rooster (or roosters) across the street crowed all night, perhaps because several new chickens were delivered last night. So at 3:00 I took half an Atavan and slept until 8:30, and thank goodness because lack of sleep can lead to immune defense difficulties.

It was cloudy when I went out. I decided to head into town to get a bus ticket for tomorrow to go to Agadir. As I say often, God loves me; I got the last ticket. My bus leaves at 2:00 tomorrow and is scheduled to arrive in Agadir at 5:00.

Then I went to see if I could find the beautiful little square that I happened on yesterday. I had wanted to find it last night, but chose the place I went to after giving up the search—the medina is a maze and, as I say, I have no map. Then it started to rain. I had a hat and my new light anti-mosquito coat, and they helped me stay reasonably dry as I walked the walk home in 30 minutes instead of the usual 45. I was soaked when I got home though, and felt cold. It felt good to get changed and into bed to read and write.

I have virtually no experience with being alone on vacation when it has rained. The only times I have had rain while on holiday were in Palm Springs, but both times I was with Steve and we had a car and could easily adapt. Essaouira is designed completely around the outdoors. The rain, therefore, has me inside. Outside is dark and WET. I did not plan for this, and although I like the efficiency of ebooks, they are not fun to curl up with like a real book. My New Yorker app is fulfilling, however.
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When Bruce and I were in India and we returned home one night to find our hotel chained and padlocked. As Bruce tells the story, when he turned to ask me what I thought we should do, I was gone. I believe I left my shoes behind, but as soon as I saw that lock, my response was immediate: nothing was going to keep me away from my things and my bed! I climbed the wall of the Mosque next door, jumped to the roof of the hotel and woke some hotel workers asleep in the courtyard. Very Indiana Jones, considering this was in Jaisalmer, India, very close to the Pakistan border.

That story speaks to a certain adaptability. In some respects, I am fearless and can have unlimited faith in myself—like when, in my late twenties, I took on the design, fundraising, construction and management of a small public theatre with virtually no relevant experience. But I had not a shred of doubt about what had to be done and how to do it. And I did it well. But alone and on the road, I can be total chicken. All my introvert genes come to the fore, and I know that it is not things or challenges that I fear, it's people. I walk a lot rather than have to deal with taxi drivers, and I even have to work to get into a restaurant when I travel. I am a scaredy cat, but if someone comes to join me, their presence gives me confidence plus a certain sense of responsibility, as when friends came to visit me in India.
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It seems clear that the day will be spent here in the room until, regardless of the weather, I will go out to eat at a restaurant—something close by. Rain was not part of my plan—during nine months in India,I never saw clouds, let alone rain.