of Asado, Angel, and being Moroccan

February 6 2010 at some hostel, I sincerely have no idea what it's called. I am at Paraguay 4601, across the street from the previous hostel.

Last night was spectacular, the hostel organised an "asado" or bbq with chorizo and lomo, which was beyond divine. I also had my first "Auberge Espagnole" moment while having dinner with people from literally everywhere (except Asia oddly enough) and swapped stories, advice, experiences, etc... I was particularly happy because half of the people there (so about 7, 8?) had a close relationship with North London and my dear favoured neighborhood in London, Angel. It was really odd being with an Italian hair dresser, dutch student, english travellers, in the heart of Palermo Viejo in Buenos Aires and be discussing Upper street, Essex Road, Chapel Market, Liverpool road, etc... That neighborhood, my neighborhood, will always be very close to my heart. As unassuming as it is, it has sent its spiritual offspring around the world.

Otherwise I'm still in good health, hamdulah. The weather has tempered a bit, we're just shy of 30°C with less humidity and the most perfect breeze today. My ideal scenario for Saturday afternoons has always been sitting at the terrace of a cafe/restaurant eating a late lunch, having a light drink, coffee, talking with people, etc... Well, that was basically it. I then went for a long walk around the rest of Palermo, a neighborhood I'm falling inlove with by the day. As a graffiti-fanatic I couldn't ask for a better area to live in, full of colours and drawings everywhere.

Finally, it has been a long time since being Moroccan wasn't such a cool thing. As much as I love Europe and Europeans, I have to admit it's generally not the coolest place to say you're from. And then as far as America is concerned, few people even know the country (although those who do generally have a very positive image of us). But over here it's always such a pleasure to tell someone I'm from Morocco and see their face light up in surprise and curiosity. Immediately people want to share personal information about themselves just because Morocco seems like such a rare and far place. It elicits almost the same reaction as if I said I was some successful bohemian artist; people immediately want to associate. Some have a football connection, others talk to me about El Guerrouj (the long distance track runner), and others are just happy to find a third-worlder interested in their country, as if our position in the world united us. It feels great, haven't had that in a while.

Anyways, I'm invited to someone's house for dinner, once again thanks to the Moroccan connection. I was visiting apartments and one of the owners was planning to visit Morocco with her friend. I offered to give them advice if they needed, and they promptly invited me for dinner. Hasta luego a todos!

FOT