You Will Call Me Blasphemous …

… but the Madeleines here are better than the ones in Paris. There, I said it. (It’s been three years since I had them, of course, but I stand by my assessment.)

Seriously, every bit of food that I’ve had here is delicious. Even food that I normally shy away from (my mother would look at me cross-eyed if I told her the contents of some of the things I’ve actually eaten) has been amazing.

*Conspiracy Theory Time*

They’re trying to make us all fat. I don’t know why, but I think they are. How? “Shweeya b-shweeya.” I have proof.

Today, we got up, and ate a superb breakfast, which included a naan-like bread and a more traditional (in a Western sense) bread, accompanied by fresh orange juice, a wedge of spreadable cheese, jam (no idea what flavor, other than yummy), and honey.

Then, we had a short segment of orientation, and exited for a break (before lunch, mind you) whereupon we were presented with this:

Don’t forget about lunch. Salad, tagine, and of course, khubz.

Not to mention dinner. Which is about an hour and a half away. 

Looking back, I’m not so sure it’s “shweeya b-shweeya;” they’re moving at a much faster pace.

You know, it’s a good thing that I brought loose clothing. Because as much as I don’t want to gain weight (due equally to American cultural stereotypes and general health), I am definitely not going to miss out on any Moroccan food opportunities.

I rest my conspiracy theory. 

Also, Morocco continues to be beautiful. 

Random plant.

 Random wall. 

 In a field by the buildings.

Snails! 

A very common flower. 

I like flower shots. 

My morning walk in the "compound" we're staying at in Sale.

 Some of the buildings.