It's real now!

"It's real now!" -Rachid, my APM.

Rachid's right, folks. I've taken the oath and am now an official Peace Corps Volunteer -- or PCV, for those who love acronyms. I can't say that I feel like a brand new person, or that this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship... but I'm

Also, before I forget, my address is changing now that I'm moving to my final site, down (or is it up?) in the Anti-Atlas Mountains. Please don't send any mail to my PC address, as they'll get upset. If you want to send me anything, please let me know so I can give you the new addy! This will ruin the "surprise box of goodies" idea, but I can't tell the whole world where I'm living and which post office I use, now can I?

Speaking of moving, tomorrow morning I'm up and out the door of our fancy-schmancy hotel and on my way to our final site. The trip is going to take two days, three taxis and a bus... at least*. But the trip will prove to be educational (and fun!), and I'll have a place to call home soon. :)

Finally, I've chosen to learn French in addition to my home-language of Tashlheet. If anyone has any good resources to help me with this, please speak up!

*A transportation strike is rumored to be looming (stemming from issues that started about a month ago), and could have us stuck in a big city before we can get down to the Tiz. This could take days... keep your fingers crossed for a resolution!)

Bullet points are cool, too.

Training is wrapping up, and its time to take a look back at the experience. In no particular order...

Pleasant discoveries:
-doing laundry by hand is relaxing (best done without an audience present).
-the غ is so much easier to say after having studied a Berber language!
-running water trumps electricity.
-not having a mirror isnt so bad after all!
-making friends with the shop owners, taxi guys and cafe owners is the best thing you can do here to become a member of the community.

Not-so-pleasant discoveries:
-spiders, mosquitos and bed bugs are pro-American.
-the donkey doesnt like the flashlight... and what he says, goes.
-Darija and Berber languages are anti-vowel.
-seeing your reflection in a mirror after weeks of going without, sucks. I know I look exhausted and that Im covered in bug bites and that my scarf is only half on. Thanks for rubbing it in.

Life in Morocco was better before:
-the discovery of Maruja chocolate, imported from Spain. As if I dont get enough sugar in my diet from drinking sugary tea and coffee six times a day, lets add the occassional chocolate bar!
-my first hammam. Bucket baths arent nearly as satisfying anymore.
-my love affair with dates.

I still cannot wrap my mind around...
-pigeons being revered as clean and beautiful animals.
-donkeys being considered dirty and dumb, even though EVERYONE HAS ONE AND THEY DO SO MUCH. Im not an animal person, but jeez!
-pajamas sets -- the more brightly colored, the better! -- being acceptable outfits for work, play and weddings. In fact, you cannot be fully Moroccan-ized without a pajama set.

Things that still scare me:
-Souq busses
-sending my luggage alone on a CTM. Lets hope it all comes back one piece...
-bargaining in the souq using franks, ryals and dirhams (and at least two languages at a time). My pocketbook doesnt mind this, however.
-winter!
-well water
-black henna... yikes.

This list will be fun to look at in, oh, say two years or so... :)

Training is almost over... what now?

I just hit the wrong button on this irritating French keyboard (which isnt that bad anymore) and deleted almost an entire post. To start over...

Things are going MUCH better than my last post, youll be happy to know. Last week I hit a crippling low, but things are looking up now. As far as PC-related stuff is concerned, our training wraps up this week, with the notable dates being Thursday -- our language proficiency interview -- and Saturday, which marks our last day of class and the party for our duar (pronounced doo-ar), or neighborhood. Then its time to pack up and head out of the province for swear-in and to travel to our final sites! Its amazing how quickly the time is already flying.

In lifestyle news, the bugs have subsided! A big thank you goes out to my two best friends, cortizone creme and the collosal mosquito net which PC kindly provided me. I will never forget you.

Alright, for final site news: Im headed to the province of Tiznit, which is known for being the most conservative in the country (many men leave to find work elsewhere, leaving behind a bunch of women, who want nothing to do with your miniskirts and tube tops!). My village is 1200m -- almost 4000ft -- up in the Anti-Atlas Mountains, though being from Michigan, I have no idea what that means. The summers are arid and brutal, with water being a major issue in my community. The winters provide bitter cold according to the volunteer that Im replacing, though being from the Virgin Islands, Im hoping that her idea of bitter cold is really only 50 or 60 degrees.

While my carte de sejour will read health educator, the area of main concern in my village is waste removal (both solid and liquid). I know nothing about this topic just yet, but well see where the polluted road takes me. I love the idea of spreading the environmental love, so Im all for promoting non-littering campaigns, and working on things like waste-water treatment and disposal. Right now, however, my focus is on passing my language exam, swearing in, getting to my site and schmoozing as many Moroccans as possible until my language is up to snuff.

In an unrelated note, the mosque next to our school is small enough that anyone (any man... hmph) can do The Call (to prayer)... and this afternoon, my LCF did it! Very cool indeed; tbarkallah!

The bled is not a fashion show.

Alright, alright, let me clarify: its awfully hard to be cute when one is living out of one suitcase, rotating a handful of articles of clothing and a few scarves, and only bathing every 10-14 days. Throw some bed bugs into the mix (that is not a joke), and one starts to feel downright disgusting. With that in mind, please excuse the grumpiness -- and the brevity -- of this post.

Yuckiness aside, things are going well. Training has been getting better and better with every day that passes, though my language skills arent progressing as quickly as the days themselves are. I cant believe that this is one of our last weekends in the province! Next Friday we find out our final sites -- where the team and I be spending the rest of our time in-country-- and then its one more week of classes before we head back to our starting point, swear in (inshaAllah) and disperse throughout the country. Where has this time gone?

Hind is a few computers down from me right now, posting more pictures. Make sure to check them out! Also, as much as it hurts my heart to say it, congrats to UNC for winning the national title. There are celebratory pictures on her blog, so if you have a weak stomach for the Carolina Blue, consider yourself warned.

Alright, friends, its time to hit the public hammam -- our first time! Im not thrilled about bathing in public whilst looking like I have the chicken pox, but I cant turn down an opportunity to get clean. The ladies of Taraboot Hussein (Sean went earlier this morning, dont worry) give our anticipatory allah leytik shhas to all of you.

Happy Easter! :)

PICTURES POSTED!

Theyre not my pictures, but theyre pictures of me, and us, and our village, and everything youve been wanted to see. Thank you, Marj, for letting me mooch.

http://easternedge.wordpress.com/

Enjoy!

Rain, rain, go away...

Rain, while a blessing to our provinces farming industry, makes life pretty boring. It also turns everything to mud (though, for the record, its a beautiful shade of red!), which makes travel much, much harder. Please forgive my lack of updates -- nothing in my life is under control right now, including my decision to head to the cyber (pronounced see-ber).

Oh, goodness -- have I mentioned that our province is known for its fresh almonds and olives (and therefore olive oil)? The almonds here, called lus, are the most incredible thing Ive ever eaten. This might be vague and will NOT do these justice, but Ima try it anyway: the almonds here taste like taste like almond extract smells. I have never had an almond like this before, and now all store-bought almonds are ruined for me.

Rain and fresh produce aside, things have been very up and down lately. I wont get into the details here, in public, but this new training layout -- living with a host family for a solid two months, with occassional hub days-- has had some unique challenges. Things are looking up, however, and were all looking forward to swearing-in, provided we all pass the language assessment. :)

Helping that process along is this weekend: our second (of three) out-of-community weekend. Were back in our provinces namesake, and its been refreshing experience. We met an Englishman while in a hilwa store last night, whose suave opening line of, hey, guys! earned him 5 new friends and a spot at our dinner table. Hes a university student outside of London, and when when the wanderlust gets bad, he books flights to random cities. Marrakesh was at the top of his list this time, and we met him here in the mountains. We were also graced by the presence of some Spanish tourists -- complete with an American studying abroad! -- in our hotel. After breaking the ice by asking about the papier hygenic for a member of our training group (TP is a precious commodity in Morocco), we chatted for a while about why we were all in Morocco, and why out of all of the Americans, I -- the girl in the scarf! -- spoke the best Spanish. Muchisimas gracias, Senora Bryan!

Let me tell you, folks, speaking Spanish, while having been immersed in Berber/Moroccan Arabic/French for so long, was hard. However, I miss and love Spanish dearly, and all of those feelings were resurrected last night. I hope that after my two years in the bled, that Ill be lucky enough to spend time in the Spanish-influenced north of Morocco. Enough of this French-as-our-only-option-other-than-Tashlheit nonsense! :)

On a random note -- as if everything in this entry hasnt already been random -- I cooked, and secured the recipie for, Moroccan lubya with chicken yesterday. Also, I made an excellent pot of Moroccan mint tea to go with it. Kul shi ihla bzzef!

Finally, I feel that my writing skills have taken an abrupt turn for the worse. If these posts become illegible at any point, please let me know. The Arabic language believes more in conjunctions than in punctuation, and Tashlheit isnt a written language at all... so really, this blog and my journal are the only things keeping me from forgetting entirely how to write in English. Please dont judge too harshly.

My carb-licious life.

Hello, friends! Weve been blessed with a lengthy lunch break today, which reminds me: I havent yet described the food yet! Samhatyyee -- I will correct the error of my ways right now.

My daily meal schedule consists of the following:

Breakfast, around 7am - bread, home-made olive oil, jam, and mint tea.

Tensies, our tea break at 10am - bread, olive oil, jam, and mint tea.

Lunch, around 12:30pm - typically a tagine*, but always served with bread as the primary utensil. Tea and fresh fruit are served after for dessert.

Foursies, around 4pm - bread and tea or coffee.

Immediately after arriving home from school - tea or coffee and bread with olive oil and jam.

Anytime I go visit anyones house, at any time of day - tea or coffee, bread, cookies, oil and jam.

Dinner, around 10pm - anything from tagine to watery rice. Always served with bread, and followed up with tea and fruit.

Thats right, folks. I eat bread more often than I hear the call to prayer. Im lucky to be in such a mountainous area of the country, where I have the opportunity to hike all of the carbs off each day. If I were to eat this much bread in, say, the flat desert... my fingers would eventually be too fat for this keyboard.

The tea and coffee are both heavily sugared, but are served in small enough cups to avoid having a sugar overload. The tea is always mint, while the coffee is spiced with a variety of flavors, and is usually cut in half with milk, producing qahwa nuss-nuss: literally, coffee half half.

Fun fact: the tea is poured from waaaaay up above the cup to produce a bit of froth on top of the tea, but this is inappropriate to do with coffee.

The things that I miss here are simple, though discussion of food reveals a few more dormant cravings. Garlic has been the standout element that I miss, though Lebanese, Chinese, Thai, Indian, Italian and Mexican food are all on the list of Things I Miss. American candy bars and pizza are up there, too, but Im more than satisfied with my culinary life right now... although Im excited to start cooking for myself again once Im out on my own, starting around July.

Speaking of cooking for myself, I have made a tagine and bread so far, but that was more of a put-this-in-here-now experience rather than true cooking. I will update again once I have my own kitchen and can cook for myself!

*Im sorry that I dont have time to blog thoroughly about tagine, but you can take some initiative and look it up yourselves. Its a stew of seasonal vegetables and meats (ranging anywhere from pigeon and rabbit to lamb and chicken), cooked for at least two hours, and seasoned with cumin, cinnamon and anything else youd like. Each family has its own recipie, so no two tagines taste alike. Tagines are all served in the traditional clay tagine, and bread is the utensil of choice for Moroccans. Each member eats from the unspoken pie slice in front of him, and only dips into the tagine with bread using the right hand -- never the left, as we use Turkish toilets here (the left hand is used for, ahem, other matters).

Holy cow-- I mean, holy shit!

I try very hard not to be vulgar, but we learned this week that my LCF - our language and culture facilitator, i.e. our Tashlheit teacher - has two favorite English idioms: to catch a taxi and holy shit. So in our efforts to be the ideal training group for him, we try hard to encourage his use of American English by using these phrases whenever possible.

And before everyone gets all hot and bothered about our CBT teaching our LCF hashuma American English phrases, he knew both of those phrases before we met him, I promise!

Hashuma language aside, things are continuing to go well here in the mountains. I still do not know how high up we are, but our weather continues to be beautiful (even the rain storms here, which Ive seen two of now), are beautiful. There is still snow up on the highest mountains, but where we are, there isnt a flake of snow to be found.

Speaking of the weather, Ive acquired a nasty cold since I last spoke with you. My energy level is finally returning to normal, hamdullah, but Im still a slave to the but-hanut - the store owner - who sells me bakeet after bakeet of Kleenex. Hes very patient with my Tashlheit language skills, too, which makes me smile (even if Im feeling disgusting). While we do not know the true origin of this pesky bug, three of five of Taraboot Hussein have been infected, and we were all pretty miserable. Today we ran into a few trainees today during our Big City Outting (we spent a few hours in our provinces namesake today), and found out that our cold was mild compared to the dysentery that has been plaguing some of the others. So while I am still a fountain of germs, I will thank my lucky stars that Im only sick from the neck up.

Thats great, Nicole, but what does this all have to do with the weather?

Good question. My family thinks that Im sick because I dont wear enough clothing. And theyre serious about that.

Apparently a daily wardrobe of a fleece, a long-sleeved thermal shirt and a sweater, leggings and a skirt AND a scarf arent enough to keep me warm in this chilly 80° weather. If this is cold, I can only begin to imagine how hot their idea of a nice day is.

In order to save me some time in writing this (I still have to get to birthday emails! Thanks for all of those, by the way!), I will do the rest of this post in a less-fun-to-write-but-still-mildly-informative format.

Birthday/family day:
Tuesday was my birthday and since Moroccans dont celebrate birthdays, I didnt expect anything in the way of celebration. The day had been set aside as a day off for time with the family, so the village kids and the Americans went to the Shalalat, or the local waterfalls. Moroccans seem to love photo shoots, so our hike turned into taking posed photos of our host brothers for a few hours before they had to go back to school (French educational system means half day on Tuesdays for the kids here). Again, all of these photos will be posted after Im done with training.
After lunch and another dance party, a few other members of Taraboot Hussein showed up at my door with our teacher. He said that he wanted to go to the shalalat (hes from the desert and had never seen waterfalls!), and then we had to go to school for a brief exercise. I wasnt thrilled about this, but I need to take advantage of any and all opportunities to learn the language here, so I agreed. We gathered up the rest of the Taraboot and headed to the waterfalls, and then back down to school. On the way my brother called to wish me a happy birthday from waaaaay over in Alaska, and as soon as I let him go, I walked into the classroom and into my surprise birthday party! I cant lie, I teared up a bit -- and am doing so again just writing this! I have the best training group of all time. My parents and my wonderful boyfriend called also, later in the day, and life was good.

Hamaam day:
Last week, immediately after my last blog update, I went home and got to go to the hamaam! I have an aunt that has a personal hamaam, so I was treated like royalty in this two-person sauna. The hamaam itself was all that I could ask for and more, but the real treat was the aftermath. Because the weather here is so cold - ha! - I was put into two pairs of pants, three shirts, a scarf AND a towel held around me like a khimar, whisked back to my house and was immediately swaddled and put to bed. Like a small child. I was given a pot of tea and a bottle of water, and explicit instructions to not leave my bed until further notice. I loooooooove Morocco.

Languages a go-go:
Codeswitching, a linguistic term for when people switch comfortably between languages in a given sentence or conversation, is something that has been studied, analyzed and written about for years in the States. In Morocco, however, its just a way of life. Its completely normal to hear a sentence containing Tashlheit, Darija and French all said in the same breath. Conversations are even worse, where locals use any language they can pull from to communicate their idea. Its unbelieveable, and has been a driving force for my passion to really nail this Tashlheit, and then move on to improving my classical Arabic and learning to be comfortable with Darija and French. The only language that doesnt seem to get you much of anywhere is English. Hamdullah, an 18-word vocabulary -- six in French, Arabic and Tashlheit -- will get you places. Eemik seemik, I suppose.

Im Moroccan:
As I have told a few people now, I look very Moroccan. I dont get the ca va! Francais, madamoiselle? that my other Tarabooties seem to get. Im quite Moroccan before I open my mouth, which makes my experience here very different than that of the others (and Ill blog more about that later). In fact, I look so Moroccan that I was thought to be an LCF today by a volunteer serving in our province!
That doesnt bother me at all though... in fact, I relish the opportunity to truly fit in. The language is holding me back, however, and after I kick this cold, Tashlheit had better watch out.

Alright, guys and gals, its time to get to those emails and to head back to the village. Hope everyones healthy and happy back home!

A real post, inshaAllah.

Im on my way to conquering the French keyboard, so Ive decided to try posting something of substance. Kindly ignore any typos.

Morocco has been very very good to me so far, hamdullah. After our first few days in a European hotel, were now out in the countryside where the keyboards are in French (oh wait, thats all of Morocco), the land is green and the people are kind.

I live in the High Atlas Mountains right now with four other trainees for our CBT, or community-based training. The weather hovers around 80 degrees each day and weve had a few rumbles of thunder, but no rain or bad weather to speak of. All the warm weather clothes I packed have stayed tucked away in my big suitcase, while Im being told that this weather IS cold and that Im not wearing enough layers. Anyhow, the landscape here is this unbelieveable dichotomy of either vivid green or terra cotta red. The speed of the connections at the cybers here makes posting pictures a real chore, but ill do my best to post the ones I have in the next few weeks.

My host family has been fantastic so far, thankfully. I live with a farmer and a housewife, two sisters and a brother, and a set of grandparents, whether maternal or paternal, Im not quite sure. One sister goes to boarding school and only sleeps at the house on Saturday nights, but the other sister is a permanent resident and is helpful, even though she speaks no English. Our house is very typical of those in our area, consisting of two courtyards, a room for the grandparents, a kitchen and three rooms that are used for storage, dining, satellite TV and sleeping. Oh, and did I mention the donkey stable (hashek*)? Yeah, its right next to the stable.

*Hashek, or hashem, is a word used when mentioning things that are considered a bit naughty. Donkeys are on this list (even though every family has one and they typically live in the house), as is the bit lma, or bathroom (even though every family has one and each member has to use it).

Im learning a language called Tashlheit, if I didnt already mention that, and its going... slowly. I mean, I DO still have seven more weeks to work on this, but its frustrating to live with a family, and in a community, where you speak none of their languages (Tash, Darija or French) sufficiently enough to get by without gestures and copious amounts of social faux pas. I feel that Im to the point where I can distinguish words and sounds, but I dont yet know what they mean. Imik simik, I suppose. Little by little.

Communications with the motherland are a double-edged sword, as I told Habibi earlier today. I love and appreciate emails, phone calls and the like, but Im left feeling very homesick afterward. I think that will fade with time, but please keep writing and calling! I have a cell and have pretty decent rizzo (reception) wherever I am.

Lets see... surprises? The things Ive been most surprised about are all related to America. For example, Ive heard and seen more Akon, Chris Brown, Miley Cirus and Beyonce here than I did in the States. Also - and this is super embarrassing - I was called out by my host sisters for not shaving my legs! I mean, really, why shave my legs if my boyfriend is in America and the culture of the village is to shower once a week? Safi, thats enough personal information for now.

My fellow teammates (on Tarabout Hussein, or Team Hussein) are great and Im so lucky to have been placed here, with them. Ill give you the lowdown, using our Moroccan names, given to us by the village kids:

3mr and Khadija are a married couple from all over, but graduated from Arizona State University a few years ago. When walking down our little road, their house comes up first. Their host sister happens to be our cook at school*, and shes fabulous at what she does.

*Speaking of school, our schedule looks like this: school Monday through Friday, 8a-5p GMT. Saturday is a half day, with school from 8a-2p. Sunday is a free day, mercifully. As you might be able to envision, our weeks are long and I am frequently tired, brain-dead from trying to speak Tash, Arabic and French, and full from EATING ALL THE TIME. More on the food in a later post.

About thirty feet from their house is Hotel Hinde, which is equipped with a washing machine, a sink, a mirror and liquid hand soap (the rest of us use a bucket, a water spigot, the reflection in a cabinet door and soap we brought from home, FYI)! Hinde graduated from UNC a few years back and is a fellow survivor of fus-ha classes.

Then, ten feet from her house, is my house!

Another thirty feet down the road brings you to Fadmas house, which is the end of the line. Shes a graduate of Elon U, and she and I both graduated about a year ago.

And that, friends, is that. Safi, baraka, Im done with this silly keyboard for now. InshaAllah everyones doing well back home, and that youre all saving your pennies to come visit me!

oh and by the way...

sorry for the lack of updates. i tried three times, unsuccessfully, to update at the hotel before i left for training. samhiyyee! im hoping for updates once a week now, on the weekends. inshaallah things will work out!