Don’t worry ladies, LuAnn’s got everything under control. At a certain point in the packing stages, our gal’s self-regard jumped from tourist to host to Moroccan to Countess of Morocco. In her mind she planned this trip and paid for it. All must bow down to her and say “Darling” in Arabic. You say Salaam, Jill says Shalom. Poor Morocco can only take Housewives in waves so the brunettes took the first plane. Kelly, wearing a Mickey Mouse t-shirt, flipped her hair around and was like, you guys, you guys, you guys, this is like the trip of a lifetime. Hey, that’s LuAnn’s line. “It’s. The. Trip. Of. A. Lifetime,” repeated the Countess. “It’s my pleasure to show you guys Morocco.” In the van—the Countess reserved this van by the way, or at least printed out the itinerary from Bravo’s travel agent—LuAnn assured the women that they were going first class all the way. Brad Pitt just left their hotel. He heard they were coming!
The blondes came next. Ramona was clutching her rider that specified there must be 30 hangers, a case of Pinot and some 10 lb. hand weights awaiting her arrival. Sonja looked unconvinced, despite the fact that she has some friends who have fabulous homes in Morocco. Oh Sonja, I feel like I don’t even know you anymore. Promise me it’s the cameras and the pressure of living up to last season’s charm that has you acting the fool. Enough with your honking wink of sexual innuendo. Enough with your blowsy affect. She looked kind of adorable in her glasses reading through a manuscript while Ramona and Alex snored away. But in the van to the hotel—poor Alex trapped in an American snob sandwich—she worried over the presence of desert. “I feel like someone could just jump out!” she said. “Sort of like New York in Central Park.” (Little does she know that yonder past that dune, Jill’s friend Brad sat crouched waiting for a bored PA to give him the thumbs-up sign.) Sonja thought she had problems. Poor Ramona can’t handle the dust! It gives her the sniffles, as do poor people.
Beep, beep, they’re here! LuAnn stood in the center of the staff, warmly welcoming the women to her country. “You’re so native looking now!” said Ramona. “How do you say hello in Morocco?” Sonja asked of her driver, who she was convinced was going to run off with her hats. As he told her the correct way to greet someone in Arabic, she grew tired of him. “Mmmnh, very nice,” she said. (Sonja! We had something once and you’re ruining everything.) The blondes joined the brunettes in the lobby where the air was thick with tension. Perhaps Cindy’s odd swimsuit cover-up was making everyone feel uncomfortable. All Sonja knows is that that dark man outside probably had his fist crammed into her jewelry sack—if you know what she means—so she’d better go hover rudely.
A terribly unlucky staff member was charged with helping a guest unpack, which meant scenes of a distraught-looking woman enduring a whirling onslaught of jet-lagged Ramona. “That’s just a fun dress, you know?” Ramona chirped to the woman, whose eyes shot daggers. “I don’t know if it goes here or not but I brought it anyway.” La la la! “I always go with my jewelry, don’t think I’m crazy, I know you probably do.” What really would have kicked this episode up a notch is if the housekeeper had gone with her instinct and rapped Ramona on the head with her necklace tree a few times. Whee, short shorts!
NEXT: Ramona and Sonja enjoy some Turtle Time. Morocco frowns.