In The Name Of Jesus Christ, Take Me To Paradise

For the last few days, I have been in Rabat, the capital of Morocco. While I love my town, I needed to get away for a little bit. The cold winter air was starting to affect my mental health. Rabat is located on the Atlantic Ocean and has a warm, beachy climate. And I needed warmth and especially water. I went 6 months without seeing ocean, by far the longest time in my life, which is just too long. Never again.

Some highlights:
--Smelling the salt air. Oh me, oh my. One of the best smells in the world.
--Visiting the Peace Corps office and picking up more books from the library
--Talking with some American college students studying abroad in Spain.
--Going to a bar and drinking draft beer. It was amazing! When the waiter found out I spoke Tamazight, he got really excited. From then on, I was in charge of my group’s communication. Good thing too because when we got the bill, it had the largest discount I have ever gotten at a bar and all because I speak this wonderful oral language that many Moroccans do not speak. I love this country…
--Drinking Guinness at the American club. It was St. Patrick’s Day weekend so it was really nice to drink an Irish beer.
--not a highlight but an explanation. For the name of this blog post…While walking down the street some guy stopped his car, stuck his head out the window, and shouted, “In the name of Jesus Christ, take me to paradise.” I have gotten used to the heckling; the stopping of the cars and the touching bothers me a little but not too much. In fact, after receiving this “compliment” I couldn’t help but laugh. This is by far the most original thing that has been said to me.

Changing subjects, tomorrow is a big holiday. It is Aid Mouloud which literally stands for birthday. Tomorrow is the Prophet Mohammed’s birthday. I’ll see what kind of celebrations we have for this one…

Home Cookin'

Inspired by the fact that it is March and still 50 below outside and by an article in the NY Times about Apalachicola and the Forgotten Coast of Florida , I made myself a little southern feast the other day. Consisting of cornbread, cheese grits, and boiled peanuts, it was the most wonderful thing I have tasted in a long while. When I tasted the first boiled peanut, tears of joy appeared in my eyes.

And I am going to toot my horn a little, I made the cornbread from scratch—no self-rising cornmeal in Morocco—and the boiled peanut were not made using the green peanuts like back home—I had to soak regular peanuts for a day.

Switching subjects…Tuesday was my 6 month anniversary of arriving in Morocco. The time really does fly. I didn’t even realize it had been 6 months until Bri told me. On Tuesday, I did what I do every day. I walked around town and had tea. Yesterday, I went to the hammam which is one of the most Moroccan experiences there is. And I have learned my lesson…I pay for protection. The women who works in the hammam now watches out for me and makes sure people don’t stare or get mad at me for committing a faux pax. The extra security is much appreciated.

2 Entries For The Price of 1

It is Christmas morning for you guys. Here are 2 new entries:

Entry #1: Mrhba I taddartinu zwein

Welcome to my beautiful/amazing house!

I have finally set up my house the way I want it. I will be making some improvements but they will come later. So for now, here is what my house looks like:


Front door


Entry way looking at my desk area


My desk area


The entryway…the maps on the wall are a large one of Morocco, a small one of the States, the amazing satellite image of Econfina Creek that Dad sent me and one that everybody awes over when they visit, and a topographical map of the Azrou area


One angle of the kitchen


Another angle


The door to my living room with my sunset collage :)


Living room…That is 2 layers of books there :)


One of the walls that whoever visits will get to put their mark on…SiMo had fun with paint has you can see


Another wall of living room. That window overlooks the family courtyard


My bedroom…it is tucked into a corner in the house so I don’t like to spend much time in there except to sleep. I prefer to be out in the open parts of my house.


And my bathroom…disgusting, yes.

And I know my family is waiting for this picture:

My storage/I-swear-it-is-not-junk room



Entry #2:
I am continuing work on a project at Katie started in a little village 9K away from my town. The sun was shining yesterday so Chris (my sitemate) and I strapped on our helmets and jumped on our bikes and headed out there. Here is a little picture slideshow:


The little village


River and the main water source for the many fields the village harvests every year


Random cow


These storks are everywhere!


Walking through the fields

And I will end on this: As I got back into my town, I stopped on the side of the road to talk to someone and 3 very-outfitted SUVs with Mountain Travel Sobek logos all over them drove on by. I started to stare and my mouth began to water. I so badly wanted to shout “Take me with you.” Before I could recover, they were already out of town.

Odes to...

Various souk experiences have given me a true appreciation for Publix, Whole Foods, and Target. Oh, how I miss and love thee. These are 3 of the most wonderful places on Earth. The next time you walk into one of these places I would like you to think about what your life would be like without them. (I am only slightly kidding). At souk, I sometimes feel like I am at an auction (there are lots of wanna be auctioneers here). Moroccans bargain so they pay the very minimum but the sellers target me to be their bread and butter. I don’t want to be that.

One great thing about souk is the fresh vegetable. All the produce comes from Morocco and as close to my town as possible. I can forget about eating anything organic (unless it is sent to me or another volunteer, wink wink). Nevertheless, I sleep easier at night knowing most of my food was grown not very far from me.

Thanks to the wonders of Twinkle, the other morning I ate one of the most fabulous breakfasts on the planet…cheese grits and ________ (it’s major harem here but oh so yummy). It was like I had died and gone to heaven.

While I may be yearning for Western conveniences, I do love it here. Besides all the stuff I have mentioned in previous posts (my family, the people, the food, etc.), I have not mentioned this…black market DVDs. They are everywhere in the big cities and the selection is amazing. Sometimes I have to work a little to find ones in English, but that is no big deal. So far, I have been seen American Gangster, Juno, Charlie Wilson’s War, and a few others.

Twinkle’s Glimpse Into My Moroccan Life

Twinkle came to visit me in Morocco! For those who don’t know, my aunt Twinkle lives in Germany so she is the closest family member to me. She was here for a few days and it marked the first time I have seen family in more than 5 months. If my grandmothers were alive, that would have been major hshuma (Moroccan/Islamic concept).

So I met Twinkle at the airport in Fez and we spent Saturday night and Sunday in Fez. Following our trip back in time in the Fez medina, we traveled to my little town so she could meet my host family and see where I live. I am fairly confident that my town and how I live was a little different than what she was expecting. By the way, big shout out to Twink for bringing me basically an entire suitcase of goodies. I am indebted to you for it!

I have spent most of this month traveling around so I haven’t been able to write as much as I would like. And for your viewing pleasure, I have finally updated Flickr with pictures from the last 6 weeks. Quick update on Ali’s life (see a Dec. post about him): I swear that every time I go away for a few days; he grows an inch. I attended a Peace Corps training for 5 days and when I came back, he had gotten his first 2 teeth. I can’t believe I missed that milestone in his life.

And before I end, I would like to mention my friend Kathleen. I grew up a few houses down from her and she is now a student at Loyola New Orleans. She is running the Mardi Gras Marathon on Sunday in support of the St. Bernard Project. Check out her blog: runningfordaparish.blogspot.com and check out www.stbernardproject.org to find out more information about the cause and the rebuilding of New Orleans. Good luck Kathleen!

Sounds of Morocco

The Call To Prayer, 5 times a day—This is one of the most beautiful sounds I have ever heard. When I first found out I would be moving to Morocco, I wondered how I would react to the loud prayer calls. Well, I love them. They are also a great way to tell time. Most of my day is planned around them. And as most people know, I am a heavy sleeper so I don’t wake up during the early morning call.
Greetings—“Salaam, Labas, May T3nit, t3na”—A central part of Moroccan life is the greeting. It is not the normal “Hi, how are you doing?” passing greeting like in the United States.
Roosters Crowing—Unlike what you are led to believe in kindergarten, roosters do not crow early in the morning. I have only heard a few crow before I plan to wake up. But they will crow all other times of the day.
The sheep’s ‘baa’—My town is famous for its sheep. One reason is because the cold is hospitable to the sheep. The excessive cold allows makes them store more fat and lamb fat is a delicacy here. There are bzzaf amounts of sheep in my town and surrounding ones.
Berber music—This is constantly being played. I am not that big of a fan of it but it is starting to grow on me. It needs too because I hear it everywhere I go.
My Family’s laughter—My family laughs a lot; which is a very good thing. Hearing them laugh brings a smile to my face and I start to laugh with them. And I increasingly know what they are laughing at which is even better.
Ali’s Crying and Laughter—In my opinion, this child can do no wrong. When he cries, my heart aches. In the past month or so, he has grown sooo much. And he has started to laugh more :)

Life In My Moroccan Home

I have spent the last week or so settling into my house. My stuff is unpacked but I still have lots of things to do with it before I post pictures. Things are different now that I am in my own house. Yeah, I love the privacy it affords but I miss the constant activity of my family. And I say this even though I spend at least a couple hours a day with them.

I guess I am settling down into normal Moroccan life. As a foreigner though, things are a little different. I was in the hammam the other day. The hammam lady sent me up in a station that was already occupied but the person wasn’t there. So I started to bathe; just minding my own business until a large Moroccan woman came over and started yelling at me. I quickly found the hammam lady who helped me resolve the situation. For the rest of my time though, people just stared at me. Staring is normal but this was above and beyond normal. I couldn’t help but think that this is what it must be like for Larry Craig when he walks into a men’s restroom.

With this new privacy I have gained comes more loneliness. I am not lonely but with less family activities, I have time to catch up on news in the world. I wasn’t aware of how much I missed reading the New York Times, other various newspapers that I read while in college, and listening to news podcasts. I listen to “Wait, Wait Don’t Tell Me” and read The Economist religiously (Thanks Grandpa) but needed to branch out a little.

Setting up a house takes lots of trips to souk. Souk is great but tiresome. I was fortunate to inherit lots of things from my predecessor so I haven’t had to buy as much as others. Here in Morocco, few things have fixed prices. Even food can be bargained for. I am a child who grew up shopping at fixed-priced Target. Bargaining does not interest me in the least; I find it very exhausting.

I have previously mentioned that I have a different cultural experience every day. Here is one that left me laughing and I wanted to share it:
I was in the cibir the other day and ran into a teacher at the primary school here in my town. He used to teach Tamazight to PCVs several years ago so his English is pretty good. This was the first time I had met it and was enjoying talking to him. Conversation turned to the presidential elections. I had to inform him that I actually did not know a lot about what was going on because I haven’t been able to read newspapers or watch TV. He said that it was “moshi moshkil” (means no problem) but he wanted to hear my opinion on Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. Surprisingly, I have been asked very few political questions. Even though my political views are not in the least bit neutral, I try to give that impression here in Morocco. I trip over my mouth enough when trying to talk in Tamazight; the last thing I need to do here is get involved in politics. When I was asked my opinion on these two candidates, I quickly turned the question around and asked why he was interested in only the Democratic side. To which he replied, “Well no one cares about the other side.” Cue my laughing.