Since I arrived in the North African country of Morocco, I’ve been eating all kinds of questionable foods from street vendors and the like. It wasn’t until I ate at McDonald’s last night, however, that I took ill. I’ve had an upset stomach since this morning, and I’ve lost my appetite.
I needed to get the strap on my watch mended, so Anas borrowed his friend’s dirt bike and took me into town. Anas is a happy-go-lucky fellow, and this attitude seems to manifest itself in all that he does. His driving of the dirt bike was no exception. He rode at full speed and weaved recklessly between traffic. I clung on for dear life, imagining the bloody mess our helmet-less skulls would make were we to get into an accident. Fortunately, we made it to the watch repair shop alive and with only one near mishap, and I got the strap fixed. I dreaded getting on the bike again, but I had no choice. Luckily we survived the ride back as well, and besides my fixed watch, an afro was all I had to show for the ordeal.