Yo peeps. Thanks for the comments and staying in touch. This internet stuff is hard cause its all in french, which I may be learning (watch out caitlin, romance!). But now I'm learning Arabic and the culture and there is a cyber where I can get on to the internet but because of the schedule and being with my host family it will probably be only once a week that I get to go. I don't know what I can type on here cause the peace corps are sticklers when it comes to blogs so I don't even want to bother with it anymore. They monitor the internet for blogs and anything that may give away too much info for security reasons. But I will write about my first experience with a Moroccan bathroom. Hopefully that will whet your appetites for. Morocco has Turkish Toilets. Google it and I'm sure you will find a picture. It takes getting used to. But very effective. But I like my reading time. So its got pluses and minuses. I got sick a couple of days ago cause we have three full meals plus three tea and bread breaks in between every day and I just can't eat that much. I'm now a pro at the Turkish toilets. We don't have showers here. Its either a sponge bath with a bucket of warm water and a bar of soap or a trip to the hammam which is a bath house like a sauna but with naked guys and one who scrubs you down. I haven't been but there are talks of a trip to it this weekend. I'm afraid I may love it. But I tried a sponge bath last Tuesday and it did not go swimmingly. My family is my host mom and her son who is 24 and his wife who is 19 and does all the cooking and cleaning, especially after me. On Tuesday my mom asked me “douche?” I stared at her. Five seconds later she says it again but making rubbing motions on her chest. Douche is actually duj which means wash but will always sound uncomfortable when saying. So when I said ok everyone got involved, heating up a bucket of water, pulling all sorts of supplies from the closet, and putting a patio chair in the very small bathroom, which is actually just a toilet with a faucet. I can't stand upright in it. Not very comfortable. Anyway, after trying to soap myself up and in all the crevices and maneuvering, I just gave up and poured soapy hot water to wash myself down, which ended up spilling out of the door and into the living room. Then when trying to dry myself off I dropped the soap down the toilet drain. Later my host brother had to break it up with a knife and pull it out. They spent 20 minutes cleaning up the mess. I kept apologizing and bought them two bars of soap the next day. I made sure to tell them it was because of me dropping the soap and not like I was insulting them by saying something like, “Hey here are two bars of soap. Catch my drift.” I may keep doing this blog, I'm not sure. Maybe in two months when I find out where I will be living for the next two years I'll have a better idea if I should. I do want to keep in contact with you all though so email if you have my address and I can give you my Moroccan cell phone number which is actually pretty fucking cool. It has a flashlight. That's useful. 'kuna.

P.S. As i was posting this i poked myself in my eye with my reading glasses and all the kids in the cyber saw it. thats internationally stupid

thanks for reading this everyone, i will write more im in a city called bzou living with a host family i got some cool stories and pics but am at a cyber cafe and cant write yet but will soon. thanks again for staying in contact i love hearing from everyone. kuna

not much i can say because i always get discon..