The previous evening, Adèle, an attractive, middle-class Parisian, put on her makeup while waiting for Mehdi and Antoine, the “escort boys” she’d contacted through the internet.
“Just because you pay doesn’t mean you should let yourself go,” she tells herself.
When patients were able to move about postoperatively, and later when going to Burou’s office to have their bandages changed, the clinic became a place where patients often had the opportunity to meet other transsexuals from various countries Burou later confirmed that he did not ask his patients too many questions, but sought to fulfil their wishes, and that he did restrict his services to male-to-female (MTF) transsexuals with a distinct “feminine” appearance or character.
Jan Morris, who was one of Burou’s most prominent MTF patients, recalled in her memoir Conundrum that he would do his rounds twice daily “dressed for the corniche and looking in general pretty devastating.” Morris recalled that he would sit at the end of her bed “and chat desultorily of this and that, type a few very slow words on [her] typewriter, read a headline from The Times in a delectable Maurice Chevalier accent, and eventually take an infinitely gentle look at his handiwork.” Burou had little interest in finance and did not like to discuss financial matters with his patients; Morris quotes him: “You know my fee?
With a small, unassuming medina and a traffic-congested ville nouvelle, travellers arriving via Casablanca may be tempted to find the first train out to nearby Rabat.
All the newspapers published articles about sex addiction, as if it were a new disease.
I loved the places I wandered through and the people who proved that Moroccans can be kind and welcoming and helpful.