Bewitched

Tuesday, September 10, 1974

Awoke today to dazzling sunlight, blue, blue skies.  Such a complete reversal of my life in such a short time. Here in Rabat, more precisely in a palatial home of the fortunate people in this city where the very poor penetrate everywhere. I had begun to read from books in the Thompson library, special ones chosen by Lynn's Dad, the history of this ancient place. Rabat (Rabat word meaning a monastery fortress) is the present capital of Morocco, transferred from Fez in 1912 by Alaouite dynasty and the third largest city. It (I learned later) is not too much one city but an aggregate of quarters - Medina, Mechanour, University sector, Government Ministries, cosmopolitan area around the hotels, residential area, and homes for the poor. As we drove past, Lynn's mother pointed out the various areas.

This morning a meeting, initial one this year, of Woman's Club was on our agenda. Any woman attached to the Embassy or any American in Rabat could belong. This meeting was held in the home of the American Ambassador which apparently was under Security, several, young men were lounging outside the entrance. The Ambassador's wife greeted us as we entered. This home suffered in comparison with the Thompsons, lacking its modernity and simplicity. It was a more traditional place, with each room separated and average in size. I'm describing only the areas I was able to see. However the dining room was open to the outside through the inevitable glass doors. We met several women friends of Mrs. T. - one a dark haired attractive woman interested in Catholic Relief, another young Turkish woman whose husband was head of the Peace Corpos, one older, dark haired whose brother lived in Shadyside and whose sister taught in Chatham, also a young American (advocate of Women's Lib?) counselor to Americans in Morocco, a position formerly held by a man.  Before the meeting again during the Social Hour I could have been in our own Social Rooms during a Guild Meeting - cookies similar to those we serve, coffee or tea, continual chatter and gossip of the women. Human nature is the same everywhere. After the meeting itself I bought a Moroccan cookbook and ordered a light beige handwoven woolen blanket and Lynn ordered two, differing in color and design. I had previously seen (in ads in NY Times) handwoven carpets similar to these.  While waiting, I stepped out into a formal garden, with a central fountain, and trellises vine-covered and filled with red and blue flowers. Later accompanied by the Ambassador's wife, we toured the gardens, noticing and recognizing flowers which we raise at home for a brief period but they raise to enjoy all year--marygolds, zinnias, lilies, coxcomb, pansies, roses. Some areas were recently seeded, some had tiny plants emerging, and some had seedlings ready to transplant - a never ending process. An unusual feature was the pen with the peacock. All this takes manpower which is cheap in Morocco. I was becoming increasingly bewitched with the magical spell of Morocco.

After lunch, we went to the Hilton Hotel primarily to swim in Hilton Pool where Thompsons have made arrangements for its year long use. David, Amy, Lynn and I walked there, pushing Tommy in his umbrella shaped carrier. We walked through the hotel lobby, which was decorated in Moroccan style with many hand-carved chests, white pillows, oriental rugs, large massive mirrors with brightly colored hand painted frames. Here again outside and the inside seemed to merge into one whole producing a spacious openness seldom found in Western hotels no matter how opulent.  People kept moving but we were scarcely noticed, all Americans must be regarded as customary Hilton residents. Amy and David, anxious to get into the pool and desiring us to meet the young manager, hurried until we reached the pool. This young manager had an eye for a pretty face, he became (broken English) interested in Lynn. The pool was almost empty; Tommy was more excited about the water than I had ever seen him - laughing again and again as David and Amy dived, wading in the little pool unafraid and gliding through the big pool on David's back. He loves the water. Afterwards we walked around the spacious gardens, sculptured, growing twice as big as the same flowers at home, blossoming profusely. We bought cards in the lobby, window shopped (glimpsing expensive items in specialty shops), observed people - saw an elegantly dressed young black man (dressed in native fashion) with a regal bearing (a tall prince figure, white woolen djellaba) entering the Hilton.