Everything Here That Can Be Inflated, Needs Air

In London I continually marveled at how the urban landscape was so non-distinct that it took glaring indicators to remind me that I wasn’t in America. Therefore, it seems worthy of note that aside from Gueliz which looks like a zombie movie set in Miami, nothing in Marrakech feels like it could exist in America. Every three seconds someone or something fundamentally bizarre enters my peripheral (They only have two KFCs!). And once my brain stops trying to comprehend whatever it is I see, I smile. And so it has now become the habit of my travel companion and I to point out when something is actually reminiscent of our home.

The avenues outside our only good window meet in a T. Directly below us four children play a simple game wherein one of the children is not allowed to touch the soccer ball being kicked between the other three. Although it hasn’t happened yet, I have gone ahead and assumed that once this child who is doing all the running catches the ball, they will demand an informal changing of the guard. Their anguish will finally be at an end. That is a moment worth standing around for, when they embrace that relief. When they cease to be “it”.

Unfortunately, a position swap will probably not happen before dark. Those in control of the saggy ball each occupy one branch of the T, which gives them four meters in every direction to work with. “It” is simply chasing the ball from one foot to the other. Possibly hoping for one of them to get fancy, and slip up. But with that much space to utilize, they can afford to take a chance or two. A horrible strategy. You’ll just run yourself ragged doing that.

Just as I’m about to shout my expert opinions down at them, one of the children bends down to snatch the ball off the ground, and yells something in Arabic. At this, the three others immediately stand up straight, and calmly stride towards a wall. The one to the far right is still in the road when a motorbike whizzes past us, startling only me. The buzz of the engine is muffled as it turns the corner, and is gone. The children mutter something in unison, move back into their positions, and play begins again.

3 thoughts on “Everything Here That Can Be Inflated, Needs Air”

  1. Oh no, only two KFCs! How many McDonalds? I usually like to compare McDonalds in different countries. The finest McDonald’s I have yet to see is in Paris on the Avenue des Champs-Élysées. There is also the Big Mac Index. Perhaps you could get some Big Mac data there? For scientific purposes of course.

    https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Big_Mac_Index

  2. Universally, children will find a way to play. …as well as to “torture” one another. The ocean photo is gorgeous. Doesn’t remind me of the Atlantic, though, too blue.

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