This wasn't exactly a remake of the film "The Road to Morocco" or....

...what have I got up to now?

Mild weather, good business and happy Afghans. And I decide to go away. Just for a four nighter. To Marrakech. Yes, that's right, all the way to Marrakech. Why not?

I'm rather blessed with a dog sitter, a cottage tenant, and a part time house guest so off I go. 

Connections aren't trustworthy, so I had a car meet me in Casablanca for the almost 3 hour ride to the boutique hotel of choice 20 K south of town. Lovely modernist Moroccan building with 16 rooms, a breathtaking pool with views of the Atlas Mountains and a small farm. La Palais Paysan. 

I dined on some wonderful meals, sat under a straw umbrella two afternoons and rather enjoyed the 106 degree dry heat and great breeze, had a hamam scrub and massage, attended a French-English meeting in the new city with transfer seemlessly provided through hotel and felt like a little shopping in town on the third day. Which never quite happened the way I planned. What do they say? "Make plans and God laughs?" Well, he must have been ROTFLHAO because what ensued was worse than Lucy and Ethel ever experienced. 

I met an arranged-from-hotel drunk guide who reeked of wine at the entrance to the Medina, with a bandaged arm and upon hearing my specific adress locations completely ignored them and dragged me through hot, sweltering, moped-filled dirty streets trying to direct me to places where he gets baksheesh(commission). I asked military guards several times where to find the first location and walked and walked because the address system here is not anything like I have seen. Memories of Bumfuk Egypt (Turkey) flash through my mind as I forced them out, determined to make it through the sweltering afternoon heat of 106 degrees without the sweet country breeze. 

My lovely ATT phone was totally inoperable after countless calls but that's another story. The drunken old guide couldn't keep up with me and phoned the driver who promptly appeared after about an hour of passing the most horrendous sites and thinking my little escape was terrible. A young crippled and disfigured man in fresh clean clothes layed splayed in the street, unable to talk, just moaned, with his hand outstretched for alms. Old donkeys that are sold after they can't maneuver the mountains any more are used to schlep supplies in the narrow streets are undernourished, over-burdened and scarred/scared with blank stares as they're whipped unmercifully to move impossibly heavy loads through the filthy  cobbled-stoned narrow passages. I had to get out of Denver and fast. I didn't want to see the poverty and desperation, I was here for a holiday not a UNICEF recon mission. 

Ground transport appeared after some time and I jumped in the front seat, pushed the drunk away and we were off. Then there was the whole drama about I didn't want to pay for inferior services. And reception finally agreed to take the loss after seemingly ages of arguing. 

So the next day, I try for two destinations. One is 4 miles away according to google maps. The same driver couldn't find it. We drove on unpaved roads watching the poor people begging for food with sign language, homes that looked worse than old sheds and malnourished, sad and weary animals of dry dusty Morocco flash before my eyes. When we asked people for directions, we received conflicting info. The driver insisted it was one way, not the map or directions way. Calls didn't go through. Thanks ATT. So...two hours later we abandon this brilliant idea and try for a home goods showroom. Sounds easy? Hah! A couple more hours driving, driving and bad directions. 

So I used his phone to call the hotel and I relayed this ridiculous story and I said I wasn't paying for this nonsense. Well the driver only heard ridiculous and stopped the car in the middle of the desert hi way and turned off the air con and was yelling to dispatch. He said I had to pay right now or I had to get out of the car. I said "call the police" but he didn't. Instead a colleague rolled up who spoke English and it was sorted out. Sort of. Just then, my friends, who were at the first destination, called and said they'd collect me on the highway and NOT to get out of the car. Then the car hire people said they'd take me back to the hotel where my friends were waiting. So off I went with them to visit their donkey conservancy which was one of the highlights of my trip. Jarjeer Donkeys. 

This wonderful retired English woman attorney who lives in the countryside of Marrakech has taken it upon herself to rescue these poor animals. It seems that after they work them to near death in the mountains, they're sold to the people in the old city to haul trash and other tremendously heavy loads. They're the last ones to eat in these poor families and never have vet care. She saw one collapsed from malnourishment and dehydration on the street and little kids kicked and hit it. She pulled them off, got some water and food for it and had it brought to her home. He's still there, living out his days nicely. Sweet Pablo. She has a handful of others and a rescued mama cow who was in bad shape and her calf that she convinced the people to sell to her. The mama is getting better and the little guy is 18 months now and big! The people want him back because he's valuable and don't get that they sold him to rescue. This big silly guy was licking my calf. Later it dawned on me: a calf licking my calf. 

Now, more hotel nonsense. After 5 hours of endless driving in the hot sun and being bullied into paying it or being left by the side if the road, the hotel manager was still convinced that I had to pay for this trip that wasn't susccesful. His comment was, "You're American, you're on holiday, you pay, I'm just a poor Moroccan, not on holiday." So I said, "call the cops" which they were happy to do only as I was checking out and my car, arranged by the donkey rescue folks, pulled up. Pussies. I ended up paying 39€. Just to get away. Beware people, beware. 

And did I tell you about the receptionist with the ever-present moronic grin who insisted I speak English even though my French is decent? Well, she asked me if I'd like to take something to drink as I walked to the terrace. I said, "coffee with milk, please," and then repeated it in French. There were only a party of two in the entire hotel so 15 minutes later, some one brings me a shot of espresso. Wth?

Back to the poor donkeys, thanks tripadvisor.com for helping me find them when I clicked on attractions at the hotel one night. http://www.marrakechmules.com. I'm going to be a supporter and help her expand the sanctuary. 

My flight was at 4 am, yes, you read it correctly. So I went into town to do some shopping with the donkey-savers' right hand man. No problems. Didn't get lost at all. It was fun. Then a few hours of pampering at La Mamounia Spa. One of the most elegant hotels/spas in the world in MHO. It's a restored Art Deco meets Moroccan styled Hollywood-inspired hotel the likes of which Chirchill, Garbo et al frequented back in the day. 

Spa treatment was delightful. A hamamm scrub and exfoliation, a massage, a trim, shampoo and blowout, jar of mud, for over $400 usd total, followed by a walk through their amazing gardens in an afternoon rain under hotel-provided umbrellas then a $10 glass of fresh orange juice. Then the $43 usd burger and coke. Burger cold, coke was hot. Allah, Allah. 

Of course there was more Lucy and Erhel comedies but I'd like to leave this on a pleasant note: it was really nice to get away and experience a different climate and people but, damn, I miss Westchestah and my family and really the kids. 

Final thoughts: don't expect much at LA Paysan. 

May God bless. 

Photos: interior courtyard at LA Mamounia, view from room balcony outside town, luscious peaches, abandoned home on the way to Jarjeer Mules Sanctuary. 

Deer-proof, bird-proof but not...

...Moose-proof! Wtf?

Things are going well, finally. Pool is clear and sparlkling. Septic field dilemma addressed. Little garden plants doing well. I've been having fresh salad almost every day. Cottage has been furnished, decorated and staged. Looks lovely. Will be rented soon. 

Back to the title issue. I saw something bright lime green in Mustafah's little mouth one morning and when called his head and ears went down and he wouldn't budge. I approached him only to find a half-molested little cucumber! Sommabitch, how did he get it? First of all, I didn't even know any had grown. There were heavy rains three nights in a row so I guess that's when this little cuke sprouted. But I didn't see it. Mr. Moose did. His little beak somehow went under the fence or through it to extract the stalk and remove it. He willingly surrendered it so I gave him a pat on his sweet little head and pondered the solution. Photo: the babies: Fatush is the blonde, Mustafa is the dark one. 

Miss Zelda's very own photo book

Here's Miss Zelda's very own photobook depicting her first moments in New York and freedom to today

Click here to view this photo book larger

Shutterfly offers exclusive photobook layouts so you can make your book just the way you want.

where shes a happy member of our silly little family.

I can't make this shi+ up or...

How to survive a South Salem sh!t storm. 

I love being in the country. I love this grand old home. 

It turned from a house to a home rather quickly and I've added my quirky touches to make it cozy. Like the 180 odd candle places in a big Gothic Eastern Orthodox candle stand. Or the wrought iron gates dividing areas of the house to corral the Hounds and keep them out of trouble. What I didn't anticipate, nor can thoroughly deal with, is the lack of love this home and property has endured. Kind of fitting: the lost girl and her rescue Afghans rescuing this grand old place from years of neglect.

First it started with Bertha, the loud and rumbling basement furnace in the original part of the house that can be clearly heard and felt four floors up. And the newer furnace in the new part of the house, nameless to date, who wouldn't go off. At all. The owner had the balls to tell me to open windows! After a 9k oil bill for 5 weeks, I told him not to di€k around and do something. So he sends Stinky, a useless one with bad breath who stands to close and tied to give me the once over. I corrected that right away and he hasn't been seen since. And the cheapest landlord on the planet who believes his cheap, quick fixes really work.  Karma, baby, karma. The flagstone front steps had grout that loosened. With a little investigating, it was revealed that a neighbourhood kid who was hired to fix them never cemented them down and someone almost split their head open leaving here one day as it tipped without proper distribution of weight and fell out of it's place leaving its victim tottering for dear life. Allah, Allah but it gets better.  And when the pool was opened, the flags surrounding it are still loose.

The 50', 11' deep pool needed a draining and an acid wash. Which I didn't have in my lease as my project.  

And the poor little cottage desperately needed interior paint and basically a total facelift inside to make her pretty and sweet again. But the owner is dragging his feet paying.

Then the grounds that haven't been touched in years. Box woods planted too close to the road that perished from salt and chemicals that were laid down this brutal winter had to be removed. Bushes around the house needed removal because the gutters weren't cleaned in ages and slabs of ice ended their little lives. Damaging limbs had to be removed and privet hedges needed a haircut. Now the grand entry looks, well, grand. Well, except for the rotted wooden gate the owner won't replace. 

The vegetable garden was so overgrown that it took 2 men 2 days to pull weeds and remove rocks to prepare it for some highly anticipated organic, non GMO-ed vegetables and berries. Woohoo! And there's even a tiny pond with three frogs in the garden that a previous tenant must have constructed. 

The gas fireplace between the new master and it's jacuzzi bath has to be fiddled with by a plumbing and heating specialist for its maiden warm-up.  It was never even hooked up. Speaking of the new master, the little Juliet balcony with a view of the pool has rotted out. 

The door knob in the pool house fell off in my hands one day.  The flooding down there has to be revisited. "Noah!" And at first I thought replacing a few toilet seats and under-cabinet lighting was a priority.  Hah!

It only took the owner 5 months to get the dishwasher cranking agian as well as the Garland stoves' ovens heating at all.

This weeks drama: the septic system backed up last Saturday leaving turds in one section of the dogs fenced in area and smells like, wait for it...shit! No kidding. And 3 of the dogs stand ankle-deep munching away whenever I turn my back for a moment. And the stench! Oy vey is mir. They smell like little mobile sewers and the whole back yard reeks.  Little sh£thead:

When the owner finally arranged a service pump out 6 days later, the tech told me the Board of Health has to be notified and the owner has to spend upwards of 25k usd to leech the leech fields or re-dig them or something time consuming and costly. Yes, he's gonna shit :) like I said, Karma, baby, Karma.

What a looooong strange trip it's been or...

....we loaded up the truck and moved to Beverly!

Swimming pools, movie stars. Richard Gere, Stanley Tucci, Ralph Loren and that evil Martha Stewart are our neighbors. We even have a see ment pond!  Golly gee, Jethro!

It's been such a long time and so much has happened. But nothing really ridiculous to write home about. Or here. I'm stuck on a Delta flight to Denver and have the opportunity and solitude to catch you up. 

We have a new sister for Zazzy and ililiSit!  Her name is Zelda and she's a black Afghan Hound. She's quite lovely and delicate, the opposite of you-know-who. And she's truly a blessing. She came from a tragic circumstance and the inhumane breeder severed her vocal chords so she can't bark. She tries, but nothing much ruminates from her little mouth. Heartbreaking. Fucking assholes. 

But she's the sweetest, gentlest, cuddly-est little girl anyone might dream to have on their couch. She was so frightened when she first arrived 27 April, 2013, that she cowered with her tail between her legs. She had been a kennel dog which means she was in an outdoor run all day then in a cage alone at night. It didn't take her long at all to warm up to me and the first night she gave me little kisses and rolled on her side and gave me gentle taps with her paw that meant she wanted a tummy massage. What a sweetie!

Mr. Zazoo took to her immediately and they sat together on the big bed by that first evening. ililiSit! was too friendly and way to nosey, which is her style, sort of like a New Yorker, and Miss Zelda had to put her in her place. Quite comical actually. Silly lili didn't get it at first. 

So, we're up in Beverly Glen with an Olympic-sized pool and a great fenced-in area around it that has to be a half acre.  When I called them in one day, Zazzy moseyed on over but silli lili wouldn't budge. Zelda herded her back to me! Damn, she's the best. Now lili flies back to me on the first call. 

Speaking of naughtiness, during a brief thaw, the bitches dug their way through the mud and under the heavily- fortressed fence. Sommabitch! It's a wooden 3 tier corral with 1x6's, a 2" square metal fence and chicken wire extended to 7-8 feet, depending on what part of the fence.  

As I've said before, praise Allah for Tagg.com. If it wasn't for Mr. Zazoo and his "mommy, mommy, Timmy fell down the well" bark and my iPhone with said gps tracking app, we all would have been up the proverbial creek sans paddle. I was able to get them home safely where the little bitches were so pooped that they both flopped in lilili's crate for a deep snore. 

So, we had the white boy come to add another 500$ plus labour of 1x6's around the bottom. That pissed off lili to no end. She was damned if she couldn't find a way out. Gopher. 

More about the see-ment pond: it was so cold that the accumulated snow froze on the cover and the bitches had a scating rink. They had a blast running and sliding and silli lili would downward dawg across the pool. Mr. Z was too damn sophisticated to get in on all the fun. He sat elegantly and gazed at the ninnies in disbelief. 

ililiSit!'s a little instigator. At first I thought the black kids were picking on her. This only happened outside when they horse

around. They nip and growl and it looks like a big commotion. I always break it up but one day I silently observed from a close distance. She actually egged them on, the little witch, and there I was, a Mama who felt sorry for her and I had deprived them of their monkeyshines. 

So, you might be thinking, Denver? What the...? Not Istanbul, Palermo, Marrakech or Dubai? Denver? Yes, Denver. As in SophieNo! territory. I'm going to meet her in a few and see why her Mama keeps trying to send her to me for a visit. Little does she know, I have silli Lilli and I'm dropping HER to visit SophieNo! 

Well, not really. I'm picking up 2 Afghan Puppies who have been rescued from deplorable conditions. A mini lili and a mini Zelly. Woohoo!

New babies returning from LGA. More later...I hope. Inshallah.