While in funky town, Eliza and I stayed at the Marriott. Hotel rooms in this part of the world typically and considerately try to help to orient the guest to the direction of Mecca--usually with a medallion in the desk or ceiling pointing the proper direction. Whereas American hotels might have a Gideon bible, these hotels offer a Koran in the nightstand and a prayer rug conveniently stored in the closet. Here is the marker in Eliza's hotel room (sorry that the reflection of the flash somewhat obscures the arrow itself):
The hotel also has exercise facilities. Separated by gender, naturally. Conveniently, with 24-hour access. Except that the ladies facility, at any rate, appears to be locked for about 14-16 of those hours. As you might imagine, this makes for some interesting interactions with the hotel guards when one shows up to work out at 0500 hours... Nonetheless, I was determined to maintain my fine figure during the trip. Eliza teased me about my choice of exercise, but I'm somewhat of a traditionalist (dreadlocks notwithstanding--all part of my indefinable charm and allure):
What the 1960s TV ads for these gadgets seem to omit is the complication of friction. Not pretty.
bye, swatchy c