This week has been an emotional one.
The volunteer I replaced left on Monday, and things went downhill briefly after that. My hostmom doesn't handle stress in constructive ways, and I took an emotional blow that afternoon, when she voiced her opinion that I will not, ever, understand Tashlheit.
That was, far and away, my lowest point in country thus far.
Things were slowly improving on Tuesday night, and when word of our consolidation exercise arrived on Wednesday morning, I was ready again to face the world.
If things go awry while we're in-country, the Peace Corps has established Consolidation Points for volunteers. We got official notice of a consolidation drill on Wednesday morning, and it turned out to be a refreshing overnight stay in the next province over from mine. It really served to recharge my batteries and remind me that I am making great strides in, well, everything... and I'm very grateful that it came when it did.
Also, I happened to make a lot of friends on that trip, receiving multiple phone numbers and business cards from people that wanted to have me over for tea after I returned home. I was surprised at how social a taxi ride can be, but I shouldn't be; Morocco is known for its hospitality.
Speaking of, in the middle writing this post at my favorite cyber, I was invited to have lunch at a friend's house before heading to the dar shebab (youth center)... so I must run.
Ar imik, inshaAllah!
23 May 2009
FYI: a short life update.
Just to keep you posted...
Re: Housing
The contract is signed, the house stuff has been purchased, and I've made that great wipe-my-hands-clean motion that goes along with the word safi -- you guessed it, I've got a house!
(Actually, it's an apartment. But you catch my drift.)
It's the same apartment that the volunteer before me used during her stay, which means that I don't have to move anything. It'll still be six weeks before I will live there full-time, but having everything secured and already there is quite the load off of my shoulders. I'm trying not to over-celebrate, as I'm anticipating another headache to take the place of moving... but it really is great to know that after homestay, the focus will remain on my integration into the community, instead of making sure that I have a plate on which to eat, a ponj on which to sleep, and a means with which to get both of those things home from the store.
Re: Bugs
Since my last post, I have recovered from the horror that was My First Scorpion, though I will be keeping my shoes in freezer-sized Zip-Loc bags from now on. Also, to answer your questions, we do indeed have camel spiders, though I have yet to see one. I've Wikipedia-ed the creatures, but am too creeped out proceed farther with research. Apparently I have more of a bug 'thing' than I thought.
Re: Pictures
Finally, after hours at the cybercafé trying to do so... preliminary pictures of everything thus far are officially posted. Enjoy!
http://www.flickr.com/photos/nicoleinmorocco
Re: Housing
The contract is signed, the house stuff has been purchased, and I've made that great wipe-my-hands-clean motion that goes along with the word safi -- you guessed it, I've got a house!
(Actually, it's an apartment. But you catch my drift.)
It's the same apartment that the volunteer before me used during her stay, which means that I don't have to move anything. It'll still be six weeks before I will live there full-time, but having everything secured and already there is quite the load off of my shoulders. I'm trying not to over-celebrate, as I'm anticipating another headache to take the place of moving... but it really is great to know that after homestay, the focus will remain on my integration into the community, instead of making sure that I have a plate on which to eat, a ponj on which to sleep, and a means with which to get both of those things home from the store.
Re: Bugs
Since my last post, I have recovered from the horror that was My First Scorpion, though I will be keeping my shoes in freezer-sized Zip-Loc bags from now on. Also, to answer your questions, we do indeed have camel spiders, though I have yet to see one. I've Wikipedia-ed the creatures, but am too creeped out proceed farther with research. Apparently I have more of a bug 'thing' than I thought.
Re: Pictures
Finally, after hours at the cybercafé trying to do so... preliminary pictures of everything thus far are officially posted. Enjoy!
http://www.flickr.com/photos/nicoleinmorocco
20 May 2009
What, did the remote control fall down?
This week, I had planned on writing about how living in a foreign culture and a foreign language serves to both educate and humble. I wanted to share how I've had to learn how not to participate in conversations, how to rely on my gut instinct regarding individuals and situations, and how things that would be ordinary and mundane at home are either exhilarating or terrifying here.
That post has to wait, however, because I cannot write anything like that before getting this out into the open:
I saw my first live scorpion last night, and I was freaked the (explicit) out. I have chills just typing about this, in fact.
The situation played as such: I was reading some Che in the family room, while host mom, brother and sister were watching cartoons (something Japanese, dubbed into Arabic, on a channel with an English name). Some movement caught my eye by the television, and wouldn't you know... a big, black scorpion was scampering around on the floor, looking a bit lost and frantic. As I've been in this situation many times since coming to this country, I should've been a bit more understanding of this poor guy. He was probably just looking for a familiar face, or some dinner, or somewhere to rest his stinger for a while.
Instead, I freaked out -- well, as effectively as one can when one only has the linguistic capacity of a three-year-old.
I get flustered when I get, uh, flustered (read: when I'm paralyzed with fear), and I forgot how to speak momentarily. I Francafied the word scorpion because I couldn't recall it in Tashlheit, but hostmom didn't get it.
What, did the remote control fall? she asked me.
OOHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, shoof! SHOOF! I returned. No, look! LOOK!
She saw it finally, announced it as a scorpion, and amidst the shouting of my siblings, killed the sucker with her shoe. Safi, baraka, the emergency was over.
Oho, my friends, oho. <-- that's the Tashlheit word for no.
Host mom felt that I needed to be educated, so she swept the carcass (which had to be between 4 and 5 inches long) up onto an empty bag of something sugary, and lovingingly shoved it in my face to show me where the stinger was. Even after I nodded vigorously that I understood and the poor sucker was thrown out the second-story window, I was not relieved or comforted.
I love horror movies and haunted houses and the like, and am really only bothered by my irrational fear of falling to my death. However, after all of this sharing, I must confess: this sucker kept me up all night. I tossed and turned thinking about this little guy, worrying if one of his brothers could get under my mosquito net, and tried to decide if I should risk getting out of bed to tuck my mosquito net under my mattress or not.
Folks, I haven't been that scared since I went on the Raptor at Cedar Point in the eleventh grade.
Conclusion:
I know that the bigger the scorpion is, the less harmful he is. I also know that I live in Morocco, and that this is something I will have to deal with this for the next two years. And I promise that I will return to walking around barefoot with confidence... in a few days.
P.S. Pictures are on my USB key and ready to upload... but they have to take a backseat to a potential housing crisis regarding my apartment for after my homestay is up. I will let you know when they're posted.
That post has to wait, however, because I cannot write anything like that before getting this out into the open:
I saw my first live scorpion last night, and I was freaked the (explicit) out. I have chills just typing about this, in fact.
The situation played as such: I was reading some Che in the family room, while host mom, brother and sister were watching cartoons (something Japanese, dubbed into Arabic, on a channel with an English name). Some movement caught my eye by the television, and wouldn't you know... a big, black scorpion was scampering around on the floor, looking a bit lost and frantic. As I've been in this situation many times since coming to this country, I should've been a bit more understanding of this poor guy. He was probably just looking for a familiar face, or some dinner, or somewhere to rest his stinger for a while.
Instead, I freaked out -- well, as effectively as one can when one only has the linguistic capacity of a three-year-old.
I get flustered when I get, uh, flustered (read: when I'm paralyzed with fear), and I forgot how to speak momentarily. I Francafied the word scorpion because I couldn't recall it in Tashlheit, but hostmom didn't get it.
What, did the remote control fall? she asked me.
OOHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, shoof! SHOOF! I returned. No, look! LOOK!
She saw it finally, announced it as a scorpion, and amidst the shouting of my siblings, killed the sucker with her shoe. Safi, baraka, the emergency was over.
Oho, my friends, oho. <-- that's the Tashlheit word for no.
Host mom felt that I needed to be educated, so she swept the carcass (which had to be between 4 and 5 inches long) up onto an empty bag of something sugary, and lovingingly shoved it in my face to show me where the stinger was. Even after I nodded vigorously that I understood and the poor sucker was thrown out the second-story window, I was not relieved or comforted.
I love horror movies and haunted houses and the like, and am really only bothered by my irrational fear of falling to my death. However, after all of this sharing, I must confess: this sucker kept me up all night. I tossed and turned thinking about this little guy, worrying if one of his brothers could get under my mosquito net, and tried to decide if I should risk getting out of bed to tuck my mosquito net under my mattress or not.
Folks, I haven't been that scared since I went on the Raptor at Cedar Point in the eleventh grade.
Conclusion:
I know that the bigger the scorpion is, the less harmful he is. I also know that I live in Morocco, and that this is something I will have to deal with this for the next two years. And I promise that I will return to walking around barefoot with confidence... in a few days.
P.S. Pictures are on my USB key and ready to upload... but they have to take a backseat to a potential housing crisis regarding my apartment for after my homestay is up. I will let you know when they're posted.
16 May 2009
Okay, vacation's over.
So I've survived training, made it to my final site, and will finish homestay shortly (inshaAllah). I've also travelled by myself, found the fastest cybers, and managed to locate the most important punctuation symbols on the French keyboard.
Now, I should probably organize the ol' blog.
The plan is to update twice a week: once, with a description of what life is like and how things are going here in the Souss, and again, with a fun (or embarrassing, or tear-jerking, or whatever) anecdote from the week.
Or, maybe I'll include a recipie.
Or my newfound love of (insert my new favorite anything here).
On second thought, let's just say I'll post something... different.
Before this starts, however, there are a few things that you need to be caught up on:
Photos:
I'm sorry that I haven't posted any photos yet. I'm not a fan of taking photographs, and have been very, very, very lazy with this aspect of my travels. My sincerest apologies, and I promise to post photos this coming week.
Speaking of photos... the scarf:
The photos that I will eventually post are pretty telling of the times when I'm wearing a scarf, and the times when I'm not. The scarf has been both a blessing and a curse, and I'm still working out the details of wearing it without looking too Moroccan (not that there's anything wrong with this; however, I'm here to represent the States, and I can't effectively do that if everyone thinks I'm just a chic-y Moroccan that refuses to speak English or broken Tashlheet). Pass any appropriate judgement, but keep in mind that my work comes first, and that if wearing a scarf hinders my work here... the scarf has to go.
The site:
My. Site. Is. Beautiful.
I really can't stress this enough!
The land here is more of a khaki color than the red of Azilal, but it's still a beautiful neutral to help contrast the green of the argan and palm trees. I'm still not authorized to speak on argan, but I (again) suggest that you Google it. The oil is highly labor-intensive (and, for this reason, iغla bzzef-- very expensive) and is manufactured solely by women here in the south. It's got this amazing nutty flavor that makes it... oh, gosh, is it lunch time yet?
Anyhow, my dad emailed me the other day about the doors, and I have to say that Morocco has doors that would bring my dad -- or any door-lover, for that matter -- to his knees. They're typically either wooden or metal, and almost always with a gorgeous paint job. Morocco's flag is green and red, but their national color should be sky (Carolina) blue, as doors and windows are frequently painted this color. I will post pictures of the doors soon, I promise.
The animals:
Host family has cows, goats, sheep and stray cats that just keep coming back... but unlike my first homestay, these animals have their own little house to live in. The fresh dairy products are delightful, though, and the stray cats are only a nusiance when they get in to things at night when... uh... someone happens to leave the door to the kitchen/back room open. Oops.
The host family:
My host family is outstanding. My hostmom sometimes forgets that I don't yet speak Tashlheet, but that problem will be eradicated soon enough (I hope!). She also loves to give me the mealtime guilt trip of:
Nicole, you didn't eat anything. Why not? Was it not delicious? Am I not a good cook?
Yes, hostmom, you're a good cook. Look at how much I ate! In fact, I'm quite full from eating this much (insert food item here) in one sitting. Would I like some more? No, I'm quite full already, thank you. Oh, you're going to put more on my plate anyway? Well, I guess I can stomach a few more bites...
My hostdad works all the time, but when he's at home, he's always in a good mood. He's incredibly patient, and is willing to help out with anything I need -- even if what I need is just some quiet time.
Hostbrother and hostsister are wonderful, but rambunctious (is that even close to the proper spelling?!). Hostsister can't seem to understand how I can not understand Tashlheet, but she's catching on to the words I do know. Hostbrother does not stop talking, ever. He's energetic and loud and silly and fits the mold of a typical five-year-old... but he keeps me on my toes.
The Maruja story:
note: Maruja is pronounced muh-roo-ha, in case you're not familiar with Spanish phonetics.
Maruja, if I haven't already told you this, is the chocolate to eat in Morocco. It's imported from our friends to the North (hence the j that sounds like an h), and it's got bits of delicious Spanish almonds mixed into its milk chocolate-y goodness that make me swoon a little with every bite.
Anyhow, after arriving to site, I made it a point to stop by and meet my local shop owner (called a boot-hanut) to say hello and to let him know that I had arrived. I decided to purchase a Maruja and some Tide (pronounced teed) that afternoon, with which to consume and to do some laundry, respectively. This went off without a hitch, and enjoyed my Maruja some time later.
Last week, I woke up for breakfast with the ladies one morning, and a woman made a joke about me smoking. This was pretty strange breakfast conversation, as I've been here under a month (not to mention that I don't smoke). I thought I had heard things wrong, so I laughed along with the lady awkwardly, and went about my breakfast of bread, jam and warm milk flavored with Nescafé. I was about to head back to my room to study a bit when my mom stopped me, and pulled me down on the ponj for a talk.
That woman at breakfast heard that you bought cigarettes from the boot-hanut last week, she told me. I told her that you don't smoke, but you know that if you do, it'd be best to buy your cigarettes from the city down the street, not here in town.
Uh, what? were the only words I could squeak out, along with the appropriate facial expression. This had me baffled on both a linguistic and a personal level.
It turns out that some punk (that woman's son, perhaps) had heard me ask for a Maruja, and when he didn't recognize the name as a brand of chocolate but saw the red label, he jumped to the conclusion that I must've bought cigarettes.
The scandal-that-could've-been has since been cleared up, thankfully, and I will be sure to be more wary of my surroundings (animate or otherwise) when I next choose to indulge a craving.
SIDA Day:
Yesterday was my first legitimate project! I scooted down the road to a friend's site to help out with her SIDA (AIDS) Day activity in her college. There were seven of us, total, that came and helped, and we had a fabulous girls' night in afterwards, complete with a trip to souq, a spaghetti dinner with garlic bread, and an episode of American Idol and Friends! And don't even get me started on the blueberry pancakes from this morning... I'm tearing up just thinking about how beautiful they are. But, to finish off the lovely girls' night, the bus I caught took the long way home, driving through the beautiful Ameln Valley. Talk about a pleasant surprise! The mountains here are incredible. Again, pictures soon.
Alright, friends, safi. Baraka. I'm done! You're now fully caught up on my life, and when we next speak, I will be sure to offer you a few visuals to go with my words. Until then, be careful about your chocolate purchases, and make sure to make a big deal about how much you've eaten, so as not to offend the chef.
Now, I should probably organize the ol' blog.
The plan is to update twice a week: once, with a description of what life is like and how things are going here in the Souss, and again, with a fun (or embarrassing, or tear-jerking, or whatever) anecdote from the week.
Or, maybe I'll include a recipie.
Or my newfound love of (insert my new favorite anything here).
On second thought, let's just say I'll post something... different.
Before this starts, however, there are a few things that you need to be caught up on:
Photos:
I'm sorry that I haven't posted any photos yet. I'm not a fan of taking photographs, and have been very, very, very lazy with this aspect of my travels. My sincerest apologies, and I promise to post photos this coming week.
Speaking of photos... the scarf:
The photos that I will eventually post are pretty telling of the times when I'm wearing a scarf, and the times when I'm not. The scarf has been both a blessing and a curse, and I'm still working out the details of wearing it without looking too Moroccan (not that there's anything wrong with this; however, I'm here to represent the States, and I can't effectively do that if everyone thinks I'm just a chic-y Moroccan that refuses to speak English or broken Tashlheet). Pass any appropriate judgement, but keep in mind that my work comes first, and that if wearing a scarf hinders my work here... the scarf has to go.
The site:
My. Site. Is. Beautiful.
I really can't stress this enough!
The land here is more of a khaki color than the red of Azilal, but it's still a beautiful neutral to help contrast the green of the argan and palm trees. I'm still not authorized to speak on argan, but I (again) suggest that you Google it. The oil is highly labor-intensive (and, for this reason, iغla bzzef-- very expensive) and is manufactured solely by women here in the south. It's got this amazing nutty flavor that makes it... oh, gosh, is it lunch time yet?
Anyhow, my dad emailed me the other day about the doors, and I have to say that Morocco has doors that would bring my dad -- or any door-lover, for that matter -- to his knees. They're typically either wooden or metal, and almost always with a gorgeous paint job. Morocco's flag is green and red, but their national color should be sky (Carolina) blue, as doors and windows are frequently painted this color. I will post pictures of the doors soon, I promise.
The animals:
Host family has cows, goats, sheep and stray cats that just keep coming back... but unlike my first homestay, these animals have their own little house to live in. The fresh dairy products are delightful, though, and the stray cats are only a nusiance when they get in to things at night when... uh... someone happens to leave the door to the kitchen/back room open. Oops.
The host family:
My host family is outstanding. My hostmom sometimes forgets that I don't yet speak Tashlheet, but that problem will be eradicated soon enough (I hope!). She also loves to give me the mealtime guilt trip of:
Nicole, you didn't eat anything. Why not? Was it not delicious? Am I not a good cook?
Yes, hostmom, you're a good cook. Look at how much I ate! In fact, I'm quite full from eating this much (insert food item here) in one sitting. Would I like some more? No, I'm quite full already, thank you. Oh, you're going to put more on my plate anyway? Well, I guess I can stomach a few more bites...
My hostdad works all the time, but when he's at home, he's always in a good mood. He's incredibly patient, and is willing to help out with anything I need -- even if what I need is just some quiet time.
Hostbrother and hostsister are wonderful, but rambunctious (is that even close to the proper spelling?!). Hostsister can't seem to understand how I can not understand Tashlheet, but she's catching on to the words I do know. Hostbrother does not stop talking, ever. He's energetic and loud and silly and fits the mold of a typical five-year-old... but he keeps me on my toes.
The Maruja story:
note: Maruja is pronounced muh-roo-ha, in case you're not familiar with Spanish phonetics.
Maruja, if I haven't already told you this, is the chocolate to eat in Morocco. It's imported from our friends to the North (hence the j that sounds like an h), and it's got bits of delicious Spanish almonds mixed into its milk chocolate-y goodness that make me swoon a little with every bite.
Anyhow, after arriving to site, I made it a point to stop by and meet my local shop owner (called a boot-hanut) to say hello and to let him know that I had arrived. I decided to purchase a Maruja and some Tide (pronounced teed) that afternoon, with which to consume and to do some laundry, respectively. This went off without a hitch, and enjoyed my Maruja some time later.
Last week, I woke up for breakfast with the ladies one morning, and a woman made a joke about me smoking. This was pretty strange breakfast conversation, as I've been here under a month (not to mention that I don't smoke). I thought I had heard things wrong, so I laughed along with the lady awkwardly, and went about my breakfast of bread, jam and warm milk flavored with Nescafé. I was about to head back to my room to study a bit when my mom stopped me, and pulled me down on the ponj for a talk.
That woman at breakfast heard that you bought cigarettes from the boot-hanut last week, she told me. I told her that you don't smoke, but you know that if you do, it'd be best to buy your cigarettes from the city down the street, not here in town.
Uh, what? were the only words I could squeak out, along with the appropriate facial expression. This had me baffled on both a linguistic and a personal level.
It turns out that some punk (that woman's son, perhaps) had heard me ask for a Maruja, and when he didn't recognize the name as a brand of chocolate but saw the red label, he jumped to the conclusion that I must've bought cigarettes.
The scandal-that-could've-been has since been cleared up, thankfully, and I will be sure to be more wary of my surroundings (animate or otherwise) when I next choose to indulge a craving.
SIDA Day:
Yesterday was my first legitimate project! I scooted down the road to a friend's site to help out with her SIDA (AIDS) Day activity in her college. There were seven of us, total, that came and helped, and we had a fabulous girls' night in afterwards, complete with a trip to souq, a spaghetti dinner with garlic bread, and an episode of American Idol and Friends! And don't even get me started on the blueberry pancakes from this morning... I'm tearing up just thinking about how beautiful they are. But, to finish off the lovely girls' night, the bus I caught took the long way home, driving through the beautiful Ameln Valley. Talk about a pleasant surprise! The mountains here are incredible. Again, pictures soon.
Alright, friends, safi. Baraka. I'm done! You're now fully caught up on my life, and when we next speak, I will be sure to offer you a few visuals to go with my words. Until then, be careful about your chocolate purchases, and make sure to make a big deal about how much you've eaten, so as not to offend the chef.
10 May 2009
One-week anniversary / Happy Mother's Day
First of all, happy Mother's Day, mom!
Secondly, it's been a week and two days since I've gotten to my site. People are starting to recognize me, and I even have a few legitimate friends! Everything is going slowly, however, which is to be expected.
I'm back to living with another host family, as I did during training. My second family is just as warm as my first, although they're quite different. My host sister is 8, and my host brother is 5... so you can imagine how the music videos and constant Z Aflam Hindi movies have changed over to American cartoons dubbed (or subtitled) into Arabic. I watched Finding Nemo in Arabic the other evening, for example, and was graced with an episode of Barney this morning. The Disney Channel is big here, and my host sister is a big fan of Kim Possible, Hanana Montana and That's So Raven. Who'd've thunk?
My family, however, is really pretty close to my own back in the States. My brother and sister are three years apart in age, just like me and my brother. My host dad even resembles my real dad! He also plays guitar and has a band that he jams with, so that helps with the comparisons...
My mom is the president of an Argan Oil Cooperative-y kind of deal, though their paperwork is still being processed before they can become an official Cooperative. The details of that are a bit foggy, so I'll update that chapter later. She's a feisty lady though, and I think that having me around -- someone with whom she can engage in some girl-talk, even if I can't really respond -- is a relief for her from the cartoons and tantrums that come along with being five and eight years old. I can't wait to really get to talk to her once my language skills improve, inshaAllah.
On the technical side of things, everything's been relatively painless so far. My paperwork is being filed, so I won't get kicked out of the country (is it too soon to make that reference?), and I have a new mailing address, and will have a Tashlheet and French tutor this week, iA. All I need to do now is adjust to the heat and the altitude (it's actually been really rough on my body), and I should be all set. One week down, 103 weeks left. :)
Secondly, it's been a week and two days since I've gotten to my site. People are starting to recognize me, and I even have a few legitimate friends! Everything is going slowly, however, which is to be expected.
I'm back to living with another host family, as I did during training. My second family is just as warm as my first, although they're quite different. My host sister is 8, and my host brother is 5... so you can imagine how the music videos and constant Z Aflam Hindi movies have changed over to American cartoons dubbed (or subtitled) into Arabic. I watched Finding Nemo in Arabic the other evening, for example, and was graced with an episode of Barney this morning. The Disney Channel is big here, and my host sister is a big fan of Kim Possible, Hanana Montana and That's So Raven. Who'd've thunk?
My family, however, is really pretty close to my own back in the States. My brother and sister are three years apart in age, just like me and my brother. My host dad even resembles my real dad! He also plays guitar and has a band that he jams with, so that helps with the comparisons...
My mom is the president of an Argan Oil Cooperative-y kind of deal, though their paperwork is still being processed before they can become an official Cooperative. The details of that are a bit foggy, so I'll update that chapter later. She's a feisty lady though, and I think that having me around -- someone with whom she can engage in some girl-talk, even if I can't really respond -- is a relief for her from the cartoons and tantrums that come along with being five and eight years old. I can't wait to really get to talk to her once my language skills improve, inshaAllah.
On the technical side of things, everything's been relatively painless so far. My paperwork is being filed, so I won't get kicked out of the country (is it too soon to make that reference?), and I have a new mailing address, and will have a Tashlheet and French tutor this week, iA. All I need to do now is adjust to the heat and the altitude (it's actually been really rough on my body), and I should be all set. One week down, 103 weeks left. :)
04 May 2009
And I thought life was a whirlwind before...
I made it, folks!
I arrived at* my final site -- in the beauuuuuutiful province of Tiznit -- about 2.5 days ago, and I have not stopped moving since. Ive been on a picnic, hiked up the Anti-Atlas Mountains, have had meetings with the mayor, the genderarmes and the Ministry of Health, and Im about ready to drop dead of exhaustion.
Lucikly, things will calm down by the end of this week. After my papers are filed and everyones seen my face, I can stop running errands and start getting to know people, the language and the community itself.
Im running short on time, but as Ive been reunited with my personal computer, Ill be sure to start drafting posts of substance (and proper grammar!) as soon as possible. Until then, please continue being patient with me!
*At? In? To? Im slowly forgetting how to speak English...
I arrived at* my final site -- in the beauuuuuutiful province of Tiznit -- about 2.5 days ago, and I have not stopped moving since. Ive been on a picnic, hiked up the Anti-Atlas Mountains, have had meetings with the mayor, the genderarmes and the Ministry of Health, and Im about ready to drop dead of exhaustion.
Lucikly, things will calm down by the end of this week. After my papers are filed and everyones seen my face, I can stop running errands and start getting to know people, the language and the community itself.
Im running short on time, but as Ive been reunited with my personal computer, Ill be sure to start drafting posts of substance (and proper grammar!) as soon as possible. Until then, please continue being patient with me!
*At? In? To? Im slowly forgetting how to speak English...
29 April 2009
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!)
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!)
23 April 2009
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... :)
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... :)
18 April 2009
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!
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!
12 April 2009
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! :)
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! :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
