no longer the new kid on the block

A little over halfway through my internship and stay here in Morocco, I can honestly call Rabat Home Sweet Home... even if home itself is, in all seriousness, a hotel named after Berlin (though it has no linkage - through its management or its clientele - to its German namesake). My room, for all its worth (20 USD/night, to be exact), has become my peaceful abode. A bed, a tiny bathroom, and a clothes rack that took ages to find hangers for make up my living situation. Before arriving to Morocco, I tried to Google Hotel Berlin with the hopes of finding some tidbit of information that would help paint a clearer picture of what was awaiting me. The only review of Hotel Berlin that I could find alluded to the possibility of the establishment serving as a double for a brothel. Whether or not it engages in shady business, I have the luxury of having my bed made every day for me and I have the safety of knowing that the main doors are barricaded shut with steel chain and bolt after 12:30pm. On late nights out, I ring a buzzer and say "c'est Stéphanie!" to have one of two brothers, either Hischam or Hassan, come barreling down the main stairwell to let me back into the homestead.

I'm on rather good terms with all of the staff here at Hotel Berlin. The cleaning lady gets a kick out of the high-pitched way I say goodbye in Arabic. The brothers enjoy confusing me (which isn't hard to do). And from Day One, the owner insisted that I address him using the informal French pronoun "tu" instead of the more formal "vous" because I was to consider him as a brother, if ever I needed help.

Home finds itself on one of Rabat's main streets in Centre-Ville, avenue Mohammed V. I am just a 2-minute hop, skip, and jump away from the walled-off portion of the city, referred to as the Medina. This is known as the âme de la ville, the soul of the city. Infused with colour, smells of roasting meat, stalls overflowing with fresh fruit, and vendors haggling passerby, the medina offers a taste of tradition. The further one ventures outside of of its walls, the more modern the neighbourhoods become. I'm sort of smack in the middle between Rabat's dual character, a short walk away from either of its surroundings.

I've been here long enough to have a favourite of everything. A favourite café, a favourite stall to buy yoghurt, a favourite burger joint, a favourite jazz bar... I know the times that strikes march past my hotel (see photo), and I even noticed that a member of the gym I go to who I had never said a word to recently got a new hair cut.

The point is, I'm comfortable here now. And I'm about to share thic city and all that it has to offer with one of my best guy friends, Chris, from Toronto who will be landing at the Rabat Airport any minute now. I scored him an internship at a language lab herefor the remainder of the summer, and on a whim he decided to pack up his belongings and re-settle here in Morocco for two months. This city just got a whole ton better!