A Dangerous Game of Chicken

As it is probably becoming fairly clear my Moroccan adventure has been much like other foreign adventures, full of obstacles, mistery, and misadventure (my on-line name aptly chosen). I am harrassed on a daily basis, the food and the water have made me fairly ill, there were bugs in my bed which left some very nice red spots on my face, I was nearly crushed in the market coming back from the orphanage, I have been lost in the souk many times, and I still feel certain that at some point the heat will finally become unbearable and I will simply drop dead.
Strangly, or not, none of these events has freigtened or deterred me in any meaningful or lasting way. Marrakech, depsite the constant unwanted attention, is a very safe city. All public places are overflowing with police officers and people will come running, as I have seen, if you start to scream or panic.
There is one aspect of this city living which requires a leap of faith, literally, and possibly a little prayer: crossing the street. The streets of Marrakech are filled with cars, scooters, motorcycles, bicycles, horses, donkeys, carriages, and the odd partidge in a pear tree. The lanes which are marked on the pavement are more of suggestions, as motorists swurve in, out, around, and between each other in a dramatic and skillful display. The yellow parallel lines that one would think for padestrians also fall into the category of 'optional', as often do the stop lights and signs.
The strategy: when there is an opening you advance as far as possible and wait for another opening. You are often, therefore, in the middle of the chaos coming and going, twisting and turning. I have never been so happy to have under-sized feet in my life, as I am sure had I not I'd have undoubtedly lost a toe or two by now. I think a half point is awarded for any bodily appendage successfully removed and a full point for a knock-down. Tourists probably count double, as indicated by the frequency they seem to have to jump to the sidewalk to avoid being the latest roadkill. I am not entirely sure, but I imaginem that the accumulated points go towards some sort of tax reduction or perhaps an all expenses paid trip to Mecca.
I was so shocked by the spectacle at first that I stood on the street corner for a good long while, looking, devising, contemplating, trying hopeless to find logic or meaning. Then I did what any normal, sane person would do, I waited for a mother with a baby, let them go first, and closely followed behind. I am not proud, but I am alive. Point: Jen.