So in addition to the other aspects of my cultural adjustment there is the thrill of driving on the left-hand side (a legacy of English influence in South Africa).  Sometimes I don't even think about it, and sometimes I suddenly look around and think, "Yikes, I'm on the wrong side, oh wait, no I'm not."  In some sense most things are just reflected: steering wheel, shift, etc. (and once you get used to it, it is easier to steer with your right hand and shift with your left - if you are a righty).  But somethings are translated, not reflected, like turn signals and the pedals.  And traffic circles go clockwise instead of counterclockwise.  Probably no one thinks about this but me, but for the first week every time I wanted to indicate a turn I switched on the windshield wipers instead.  As a pedestrian you also have to learn to look to the right for oncoming traffic, not the left.
    Other notes:  traffic lights are called "robots."  Someone told me to turn left at the next robot and I thought, how cool, they have robots directing traffic.  Also, South Africans like to drive fast, a limit of 120 kph is common (that's about 73 mph).  There are also lots of vehicles that definitely would not pass inspection, so on the highway speeds range from about 80 to 150 kph.  FYI the conversion between kph and mph is the golden ratio (more or less). 

    Another day another feast.  I have not bothered to detail every fantastic meal I've had this week, for example the rabbit tajine I had in Marrakesh, or the platter of seven types of fresh seafood I had Mohammedia...  However today, at the midday school break, we retired to a teacher's house to enjoy Rfissa, a special plate reserved for holidays and overfed Americans. 
    Proper meal etiquette is to remove shoes when entering the house and recline on pillows.  Done.  I was politely informed that utensils are for foreigners.  This was announced apologetically as fork and knife were laid before all.  Moroccans eat with their hands from a central platter.  I was all for it, so our host brought out a basin and a pitcher of warm water so we could all wash our hands.  Then we jettisoned the utensils and dove in.  Right hands only, by the way.  This was followed by a course of fresh fruit and then, of course, tea.  Of many outstanding meals this might have been the best.

    The good news is that teachers generally teach either the first or second half of the day, but not both.  After our feast we all, except for one unhappy teacher, had the afternoon off, so we moved on to a cafe in my favorite area of Casablanca, H'Abous.  Proper cafe sitting is an art that requires extensive practice.  Your typical American is not so good at it.  That's because you're supposed to do as little as possible.  No laptops, no texting, no listening to your ipod.  Just sit and watch the world go by.  Conversation is allowed, but not required.  It is important to have a cup of coffee at hand or else, of course, tea.  Ideally you make this beverage last for an hour or so.  You don't want to fall asleep, you are searching for something just a notch above that.  I am a novice but demonstrate promising skills.  A huge meal helps.

    After a difficult day it is time to go home.  Driving in Morocco is a unique experience, and Casablanca is the pinnacle.  The mathematician in me keeps searching for the rules but there don't seem to be any.  Everyone gently but firmly forces their way.  It doesn't seem like it should work, and often that's the case.  If you can't read the sign in the photo it's okay because apparently no one in Morocco can.   I keep trying to capture the experience on a video, the problem is part of the fun is the element of surprise, for which I am (by definition) never prepared.  Still I believe the attached video comes close.  Listen carefully in the beginning and you will hear the call to prayer in the background, incongruous and yet appropriate.  VIDEO