tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79141583932101257952012-02-16T05:57:21.064-06:00Peace Corps MoroccoNhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.comBlogger761100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-37758240244275414012010-11-23T10:35:00.011-06:002010-11-23T12:20:20.590-06:00

Where to begin, where to begin? Currently, I find myself in the sun room of a country house in southwest France. A fire crackles nearby, a broken grandfather clock looms silently over my shoulder, and light streams in through the skylights during breaks in the rain. Two Herculean dogs patrol the yard, over which a blanket of maple leaves has fallen. The forest beyond is all shades of autumn.

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-58192816360244918602010-11-11T02:26:00.000-06:002010-11-11T02:26:48.910-06:00

...and Rabat and Paris and Copenhagen. I'm comin' home.

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-35462224844048026852010-11-05T09:06:00.002-05:002010-11-05T09:08:06.511-05:00

The last five days were spent running around town with my replacement. Yassin, as we will call him for now until he chooses to reveal himself, is now acquainted with his host family (the same one I had), has his future lodgings secured for life after homestay (my house), has met his new sitemate (Donniell) his counterpart and "the guys", has a P.O. box and has seen a good amount of the town.

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-40667050893738329712010-10-29T15:14:00.007-05:002010-10-30T05:03:40.391-05:00

In joining Peace Corps, initially I had minimal intent toward bettering the world. A bit embarrassing to admit, but it's the truth. Rather, I needed to escape from a personal rut and the bounds of my comfort zone, and viewed the "world peace" and "international development" aspects as attractive side effects. If I could contribute to those, great-- but I needed to do something for myself first.

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-29056071430368833592010-10-25T09:00:00.006-05:002010-10-25T09:54:17.540-05:00

Eighteen days. In eighteen days I'll be signing my name in a book at the offices in Rabat, then I will have finished Peace Corps... two years, three months and a few tajines later. At this moment, things are quiet. The boxes have been shipped home, the gifts bought, final reports submitted, and everything is ready to be left behind or packed into suitcases, all of it resting in neat little

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-56065164035209043952010-10-10T08:04:00.006-05:002010-10-10T08:22:48.622-05:00

Medical? Check.Dental? Check.Mostly pointless conference sessions? Check.Seeing my fantastic staajmates? Double check.Lasagna at La Mamma and five meals of falafel over the course of a seven-day period? Oh yeah.Done. Onward... Chefchaouen: A town of somewhat mythical status, the place up north I'd just never had a good opportunity to visit. In fact, I had already come to acceptance with the

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-38319863618429919112010-10-03T18:04:00.000-05:002010-10-03T18:04:42.225-05:00

drawing by Lisa Payne

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-29504111339616196252010-09-26T09:41:00.012-05:002010-09-28T05:04:51.031-05:00

In just another day here I'll be making my way up to Rabat for COS Conference. We'll have dental and physical checkups, an exit interview with the Country Director, and a couple days of conferences relating to the transition to life following Peace Corps. Just imagine: as you go about your week, there will be approximately fifty Americans running around the Moroccan capital, home to the King and

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-87705611924649734102010-09-13T09:10:00.012-05:002010-09-13T13:21:33.673-05:00

On my way back to site from a day trip into the city on September 9th, I heard whisperings of the next day being l3id sghir, the holiday celebrating the end of Ramadan. Sure enough, the following morning white djellaba'd men filled the streets, calls echoed from the mosques, and I found myself at a neighbor's house, wide-eyed and buzzing as glass after glass of tooth dissolvingly sweet tea

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-75336927996164360062010-08-29T06:14:00.004-05:002010-08-29T21:48:52.288-05:00

I've remarked to several people, perhaps much to their concern, that I've been feeling as though I'm the subject of an isolation experiment, left to my own devices in a confined space day after day for observation. Look, look, he's at the computer again. Fascinating. Now he's walking to the other side of the room. Yes, write it down. Write it all down... As the furnace rages on outdoors, I

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-14448888087665820532010-08-23T07:56:00.004-05:002010-08-23T11:29:29.993-05:00

During a recent Skype call with my former sitemate, while reminiscing upon her final months of Peace Corps service last year, she uttered a phrase that seemed wildly apt to describe my status quo: checked out. It had not occurred to me to label my current mentality as such, though once she said it, it rang clear and true-- I am totally checking out. Though I haven't dropped my key off at the

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-30034503911893482862010-08-15T12:17:00.005-05:002010-08-15T18:54:19.708-05:00

I spent the night before the fast began on a train traveling most of the way across the country. I was awoken at 3:30 AM by the sound of crinkling plastic wrappers and backpacks unzipping as my Moroccan compartment-mates had suhoor, the pre-dawn meal. I took the opportunity to ingest the apple, banana, and Snickers bar I had brought along, as well as take a final swig from my water bottle.

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-9144566267967510162010-08-04T11:01:00.002-05:002010-08-12T09:52:47.277-05:00

One of the rules of Peace Corps states that Volunteers cannot take a leave of absence during the first or final three months of service. Seeing as my COS date is just over three months away, it's time to cash in the last of my vacation days and be whisked away via twelve hour train ride toooooo: Ras El Ma, or Cap de l'eau, if you'd prefer. Ras El Ma, a small beach town on the Mediterranean coast

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-86260251355292488732010-07-20T05:46:00.005-05:002010-07-20T07:26:45.745-05:00

Late July: The pace of things has slowed to a near-stop. The days are long, dragging, and largely unremarkable. The unreality of Groundhog's Day syndrome is setting in as the cycles and repetition of each day blur together. I do my best to keep occupied with interesting things-- reading, playing guitar, the internet, exercise, cooking meals, and napping, though these activities still don't seem

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-41711035972686384152010-07-09T03:06:00.000-05:002010-07-09T03:06:31.241-05:00

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-77982894355919430682010-07-01T01:43:00.000-05:002010-07-01T01:43:15.596-05:00

Recently designed to promote the artisans. This is the kind of magic you can conjure up in Microsoft Word, people. Insert Text Box, eh? I think I will. cover/back: inside: Also, I am pleased to report that the second group of participants in our humble endeavor had a swell time. Let's keep 'em coming.

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-79045182430762025342010-06-30T10:47:00.005-05:002010-06-30T16:34:14.344-05:00

The first torturous night of summer last night. Without electricity (due to some component up on the wires literally exploding) and therefore without use of my fan and insect repellent plug-in, the stage was set-- the air in my bedroom still and heavy, the near-invisible mosquitoes like vampires, thirsty and quivering at the door. I fell asleep easily, but awoke after only an hour or so, my hands

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-36401377887994684402010-06-15T16:22:00.003-05:002010-06-17T10:45:12.387-05:00

The first participants in the Explore Amizmiz project came to town last week, trying out every available activity: homestay, cooking lesson, couscous co-op, trekking to the mountain villages, and visiting the artisans. Very cool! They found our site via the Wikitravel link, and reported a great experience here. It's exciting to see real results come of our efforts. More people are booked for

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-46567007896883925282010-05-31T07:38:00.154-05:002010-06-04T02:46:51.644-05:00

I flew from Marrakech to London Gatwick, watching the beige shades of Morocco pass beneath, followed by the Strait of Gibraltar, the snowy mountains of Madrid, France, and finally descending over the verdant fields of England. Upon landing I quickly boarded the wrong train at the airport and shot off in the wrong direction, a discovery I made almost an hour into the journey. Never having been to

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-13478359034603782192010-05-03T10:25:00.001-05:002010-05-03T16:14:27.317-05:00

Tomorrow I'm off to Marrakech and will fly out the next morning to London. I'll be staying there briefly with a couple of S's friends who have generously offered to put me up for the night and point me in the right direction the following day, as I head across the pond to Chicago. The plan is to meet up with some family during my layover at O'Hare, then it's on to San Francisco! We've got a lot

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-13119951035665167692010-04-28T08:52:00.007-05:002010-04-28T14:33:16.896-05:00

Marché Maroc Marrakech, one in a series of country-wide, PCV-organized and implemented craft fairs, was held at the Ensemble Artisanal April 14-18. The intent of the fair was to provide an opportunity for artisans working with PCVs across the country to attend a workshop on identifying sales opportunities, customer service, exhibit presentation, and matching products to the market, then put the

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-39956677767864481272010-04-19T19:06:00.022-05:002010-04-21T12:49:21.010-05:00

  We walk the loop around the neighborhood, the three of us, down the main street where people gather in fours and fives beneath the awnings of lighted storefronts and linger in barbershop doorways, sandals shuffling in the grit, their conversation muffled by the chainsaw buzz of motorbikes and a wake of pale exhaust. One, in a black blazer and well-shined shoes that gleam under the streetlamps

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-28630719346420842272010-03-24T16:29:00.015-05:002010-03-24T17:32:38.993-05:00

I've been working on a committee organizing the Marché Maroc Marrakech, a series of workshops and subsequent craft fair scheduled for mid-April, at which artisans working with PCVs from across the country can come to receive training and immediately put into practice what they've learned. Should be good. Honestly, it's refreshing to take part in a project that involves more immediate, less

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-69585376068260221142010-03-01T06:19:00.028-06:002010-03-02T03:46:40.693-06:00

Arriving at site in November of 2008 was akin to a Quantum Leap-style immersion-- suddenly appearing in an entirely new context, dropped into a point in history with vague notions of some equally vague purpose that seemed impossibly distant-- that so much adjustment would have to take place simply to get my footing, let alone spearhead some kind of development work. Or at least that's how my

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-33714298836093292992010-02-16T09:52:00.007-06:002010-02-17T15:19:17.031-06:00

Spring is well on its way here! The near-daily rain showers have the almond trees a-blooming and the wheat fields a-growing. Last March and April were quite a sight to behold; lush, vivid green grasses and wildflowers like I'd never seen, a stunningly beautiful landscape bordering on surreal. It's exciting to see it all happening again-- knowing what to expect, recognizing the feel of the

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-28482191344321391542010-02-07T10:09:00.008-06:002010-02-09T03:18:49.563-06:00

I participated in the Marrakech Marathon January 31st, running the half-- 13.1 miles (21k) with three other PVCs and my friend and training partner from Amizmiz, Abderrahim. It all went by in a blur for the most part. It was a beautiful morning-- sunny and cool, perfect running weather. Memorable moments include when our route diverted into an olive grove where people darted off the trek left

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-72294972357508103982010-01-19T07:38:00.010-06:002010-01-24T15:06:05.801-06:00

Since January 8th I've been training for the Marrakech half marathon (13.1 miles) on the 31st of this month. Due to the close proximity of the race, the trick has been to increase mental and physical endurance to an adequate level within the time frame without injuring myself. So far, so good. Occasionally I am accompanied by my friend Abderrahim, heading out on the long, flat road west of town

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-442469131357718792010-01-08T08:37:00.008-06:002010-01-08T13:13:23.568-06:00

Stephanie came out to spend Christmas and New Year's with me-- her third trip to Amizmiz, the first being when we met last December at Ami's. It was a long-anticipated visit, as I had literally been counting down the days since her departure last May. It was a nail-biting experience for the both of us as she waited to take her plane from London into Marrakech. Due to snow and bad weather, her

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-19186813835580223032009-12-20T08:46:00.008-06:002009-12-20T15:14:31.895-06:00

I spent the first third of this month in Rabat, initially to attend a craft fair I was co-coordinating, followed by dental and medical checkups as well as a few meetings with Peace Corps staff. Not really too much exciting to report, I'm afraid. The craft fair was held in the gymnasium of the Rabat American School, which is a surreal little bubble of high school Americana, like someone

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-72552464360916269462009-11-29T11:18:00.013-06:002009-11-29T17:00:44.060-06:00

Before getting to the gore, I'd like to briefly recount this past Thursday's Thanksgiving extravaganza, hosted and attended by myself and my fantastic sitemate. Donniell arrived in the early afternoon, dead-but-still-warm chicken in tow, and wasted no time preparing the feast. Deftly concocting a homemade stuffing, she proceeded to fill the bird's recently vacated cavity and lavished its plucked

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-76775132830122738572009-11-24T11:13:00.008-06:002009-11-24T15:45:51.651-06:00

Here's a basic framework for the system I'd like to implement:Concept:Visiting tourists participate in a variety of cultural activities utilizing local resources. All aspects of coordination and execution will be carried out and sustained by locals.Goals:Boost economic opportunity for businesses and individuals in the area, offer new avenues of income to explore and develop. Empower local

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-85948195079376173912009-11-20T05:01:00.011-06:002009-11-20T11:25:29.343-06:00

It's been a whirlwind of a week.Ami, my sitemate extraordinaire and partner in crime here in the High Atlas foothills, screeched off into the sunrise via grand taxi and dust cloud this past Tuesday, having completed her service. Woo hoo!She's really been a big sister to me,-- helping me out, keeping me involved, and checking in on me, especially during those first few painful months of homestay.

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-71823069285055887622009-11-04T02:51:00.013-06:002009-11-04T08:32:40.003-06:00

I spent the last week of October in a small town near the edge of the Sahara attending a pottery workshop organized by two fellow Volunteers. As the tentative schedule had indicated that we would be learning intricate design and traditional decorative methods, I was initially hesitant to make the trip, thinking that I wouldn't be learning anything applicable to my own group of potters, whose work

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-36495572691898429012009-10-12T04:58:00.025-05:002009-10-12T13:45:53.318-05:00

English class is back in session, bigger and badder than ever! The number of students has doubled in size this time around, with mostly beginner level kids comprising the new additions. It makes for a rowdy couple of hours, as our humble garage cannot accommodate the enthusiasm in sound or occupancy levels, nor am I able to give equal attention to all students. The presence of the the entire

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-1145454053593977622009-09-21T10:14:00.005-05:002009-09-21T10:53:56.346-05:00

Today is l3id sghir, the holiday marking the completion of Ramadan. Everyone is out and about visiting each other, ingesting enough sweet tea and cookies to onset diabetes in a matter of hours. Thus far I have managed to avoid such nectarous excesses (not the case last year), strolling with my friends Abderrahim and 3ziz through the neighborhood to greet everyone, shaking hands and giving

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-11916689282873745492009-09-10T18:26:00.006-05:002009-09-10T18:40:13.478-05:00

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-1805371033783528602009-09-09T06:53:00.005-05:002009-09-09T07:12:17.849-05:00

One year ago today our plane touched down in Casablanca, dropping us off clueless in Morocco. Since then, we have learned many things, and some stuff. Here's to one more year (and two months)! Congrats to my fellow PCVs!Hello? Could you direct me toward the nearest....Excuse me, sir?....

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-20312559555380482622009-08-29T16:37:00.004-05:002009-08-29T17:46:13.536-05:00

view down the road as seen from my roof

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-75260262700061638702009-08-24T09:24:00.015-05:002009-08-25T18:32:06.722-05:00

Several nights ago I sat alone at home while dinner cooked, texting members of my first host family to congratulate them on the start of Ramadan. Outside, the glowing streetlamps illuminated a seemingly abandoned neighborhood-- the normal buzz and rumbling of passing motorbikes and voices was replaced with absolute stillness as people retreated indoors to break the day's fast together.I thought

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-5762438219173327142009-08-21T03:55:00.019-05:002009-08-25T18:33:28.991-05:00

Summer crawls on here in this sleepy corner of the world. Though still quite warm, it seems the worst of the heat has abated, cooling my blood from a rolling boil to a light simmer. It's refreshing; I can think and function again. I've even gone back to sleeping inside. I should be better prepared next summer, knowing what to expect and having some coping methods ready, the ones I figured out

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-45165528805663344972009-07-26T05:25:00.031-05:002009-07-27T02:13:44.790-05:00

At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if someone found me delirious, entangled in sweat-soaked mosquito netting, mumbling incomprehensibly, spinning the blades of my long-since burnt-out box fan with my fingers, lying on the floor of my bedroom surrounded by the bodies of a thousand dead insects.It's not just that it's hot here-- I am fairly acclimated to blazing summers, having lived in places

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-35738270792995936862009-07-18T13:21:00.003-05:002009-07-18T13:22:59.496-05:00

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-1214410041305152462009-06-28T10:30:00.019-05:002009-07-06T05:36:57.498-05:00

Jbel Toubkal, at 4,167 meters (13,671 ft), is the highest mountain in Morocco and all of North Africa. It's located about an hour southeast of my town as the crow flies, in Toubkal National Park.I hiked with five others-- two fellow PCVs and three guys visiting from the States. The way it works is on Day One, you hike from Imlil, the nearest town, through the mountain valleys to the "refuge", a

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-85136610512196778902009-06-14T14:34:00.024-05:002009-06-16T03:13:05.885-05:00

Alright, let's get to work.*rolls up sleeves, adjusts pants*The Regrega PottersApproximately fifty-six potters work in my neighborhood and the surrounding douars (small villages) on the mountainside, working individually or with the help of one or two others in special areas in or near their homes. They collect soil from areas outside the neighborhood, preparing it by sifting, water addition, and

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-37995187571321445652009-06-02T16:37:00.002-05:002009-06-02T17:41:27.661-05:00

...and I think it's the guy in charge of proofreading this:

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-22691512309983943502009-05-25T18:30:00.023-05:002009-05-26T05:16:38.235-05:00

I've been a bit neglectful of updates during the past few weeks, as May has been a month of hosting gracious guests from across the ocean here in my quiet mountain town. It's been so good to have them, and I'm immensely grateful for their company and efforts to have made it out here.The lush green wheat fields of spring (see blog title photo) have since turned to gold and been harvested; the cool

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-38450845424882859272009-04-20T08:11:00.017-05:002009-05-25T20:03:17.878-05:00

Step 1:Pick one of these yellow flowers, leaving plenty of stem length. If you live near me, you should have no trouble finding one, as millions of them populate the landscape.Step 2:Find a scorpion den. They look like this. If you live near me, you should have no trouble finding one, as millions of them populate the landscape.Step 3:Insert the flower into the den until you feel it stop. Now

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-3822435331193066842009-04-16T11:56:00.019-05:002009-04-18T13:49:13.626-05:00

This past weekend I traveled to Rabat in order to assist in the editing and assembling of PeaceWorks, a quarterly publication of Peace Corps Morocco-related news and volunteer-submitted essays, poetry, artwork, photographs recipes, and miscellaneous other stuff.During training I was elected as my stage's editor, and last weekend was my first opportunity (of how many, I don't know) to take part in

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-18302614262603838192009-04-01T06:48:00.009-05:002009-04-01T08:49:53.509-05:00

Due to some pretty severe budget cuts, we’ve received word that Peace Corps will no longer be active in Morocco as of next month. In lieu of a plane ticket home, those of us currently in service have been given the option to transfer to new locations where our skills and experience may be of use. Having opted to stay, I recently received word via anonymous phone call that I will be headed to

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-9790142922614019142009-03-12T11:50:00.031-05:002009-03-12T22:01:23.332-05:00

March 9, 8:57 AMI'm on the bus leaving Tinghir, so this may be sloppier than usual. Yesterday morning we went out to the gorges, a 10-minute taxi ride from town. Totally breathtaking-- we started out in the gorge-- huge rock walls rising almost vertically on both sides. We saw some serious climbers scaling them-- crazy. Hiked up a trail that took us out of the gorge and up a scenic, rocky path to

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-32565161098187379912009-03-04T02:54:00.000-06:002009-03-04T02:55:49.603-06:00

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-33325035205259614882009-02-18T10:16:00.012-06:002009-03-04T02:58:00.966-06:00

Under the orange glow of the streetlamp, watching the kids walk by in the road-- the river of dust they’ve known all their lives, I feel a hint of what it’s like to call this place home-- that these streets have been mine as long as I can remember, that I've walked them a hundred thousand times and know each step. I feel this for one fleeting moment and think of the places I have called home.I

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-44953178549506623552009-02-10T08:14:00.009-06:002009-02-10T08:40:43.982-06:00

Following a month of searching, bargaining, frenzied phone calls, late night drop-ins on my landlord-to-be, and a lot of help from my friends, I have a place to live. Whew.As the place is either brand new or recently renovated, I spent yesterday armed with a broom, dust pan and squeegee cleaning up the plaster dust and mud left by the workers.A description: Second story, two bedrooms, living room

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-15328380862052599532009-02-06T07:43:00.006-06:002009-02-06T07:54:36.499-06:00

I left homestay at the end of January, moving into a house on the upper side of town in a quiet neighborhood at the base of the closest mountain near to my counterpart, tutor, artisans, and several friends.Most of January was spent house-hunting. After a few false starts and with the help of several kind individuals I began to actually go look at houses, sometimes even from the inside. Through an

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-52249140391670674932009-01-20T07:40:00.008-06:002009-01-20T13:05:38.251-06:00

I sit behind a knee-high table in the salon each morning awaiting breakfast. My host mother appears from around the corner carrying a plastic tray on top of which sits an empty bowl, a pot of hot, soupy, oatmeal-like liquid called harira, and a small plate of dates.“Kayn lbrd lyum,” she says, setting the tray down in front of me. “It is cold today.”“Kayn lbrd bzaf,” I reply. “It is very cold.” I

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-30571281392921572672009-01-11T14:47:00.007-06:002009-01-13T12:18:53.195-06:00

I awake before dawn most days, a little after six. I imagine the light from my bedroom window must appear as a beacon to the darkened dwellings below--a strange figure, silhouetted, moves this way and that, darting from one end to the other, as I scramble to dress into clothes the same temperature as the frigid air in my room.Pushing open the door to the rooftop I find things much I as left them

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-37433373793507054302009-01-11T13:13:00.037-06:002009-01-11T16:31:03.894-06:00

I thought I should write a little installment regarding the new language, as it is such a central facet to Peace Corps life. The majority of training revolved around daily language sessions and now, at my site, learning, speaking, and improving my language ability is an everyday thing.My confidence with the language comes and goes in phases. I'll have a week or two where I feel as though I've

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-31616843803693242942008-12-28T13:41:00.012-06:002009-07-26T07:00:58.123-05:00

Last weekend while contemplating death on the bus to Marrakech, my thoughts were thankfully interrupted by the realization that Christmas would be here soon. It wouldn't be here exactly, but it would be somewhere. Without the sensory reminders of Xmas (lights, music, advertisments) one tends to forget about the holiday altogether. Without the religion to back up where the commercial and

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-36146033658282524262008-12-16T13:02:00.009-06:002008-12-16T13:19:56.305-06:00

habitually updating only during times of considerable event or circumstance I thought I should provide this stunning development:Today I bought galoshes.For galoshing.

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-73306769149410304072008-12-10T08:56:00.015-06:002008-12-10T09:34:53.100-06:00

12/09/08Today is l-Eid Kbir or “The Great Feast”, a religious holiday on which families slaughter a sheep in sacrifice as Abraham once did in substitute for his own son, as Islamic history tells us.For the past week or so I had a companion on my floor of the house. Kept in a makeshift cage in the area across from my room, he mostly ate hay and bleated dishearteningly well into the night. We never

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-20144945857608879232008-11-28T09:31:00.016-06:002008-11-29T05:40:31.907-06:00

Blankets, that’s what I’d advise. Layers of long johns maybe, or perhaps try setting yourself on fire. Just long enough to fall asleep at least. Whatever works, I guess-- that’s what I’d suggest if you’re coming to Morocco this winter.This morning, after looking for animal shapes in the clouds my breath made in the air followed by some serious motivational inner dialogue, I got out of bed and

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-1864539240929165712008-11-27T03:46:00.003-06:002008-11-27T05:41:38.875-06:00

I must apologize for the lack of current posts; as usual in the past weeks they've kept us moving here and there... so much to tell. Training is over! I've sworn in as an actual bonafide fer real Volunteer now, and am settling in at my site. Still alive and doing well, despite the coooold. It was 42 degrees in my bedroom when I woke up this morning. I'm not complaining though; it is beautiful

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-13032812259793503122008-11-09T16:01:00.011-06:002008-11-10T07:15:43.663-06:00

I’m sitting in the lobby of the Hotel Tazi at noon in Marrakech amid gaggles of European tourists all drinking Spéciale beer at 25 Dh apiece and dressed in ski jackets. Having been the first of my fellow trainees to arrive by bus this morning, I’m enjoying some respite from lugging my backpack across the city.We first arrived in 'Kech a week ago. Four of us, having traveled by grand taxi, train,

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-13048417094090412662008-10-23T03:41:00.022-05:002008-10-26T11:27:35.745-05:00

This isn't Africa-- Africa is where the wild things are. Africa is full of jungles, thatch-roofed huts, stretched-out earlobes and prides of lions basking in savanna grasses.Surely Africa isn't home to half-modern towns where internet cafes hide behind the walls of dingy street side buildings, where the woman in the teleboutique covered from head to toe in old bedsheets can disassemble and

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-11830311819401941302008-10-06T09:02:00.017-05:002008-10-12T15:10:49.307-05:00

I neglected to mention in my previous entry that I’ve been given a new name. Within minutes of meeting my host family two weeks ago I was dubbed “Samir”. “Nathaniel” was perhaps too long or awkward to bother pronouncing-- a common problem even in America. “Samir”, meaning “gentle summer breeze”, has grown on me. In our group we refer to each other by our Moroccan names even now, back at our

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-28345812103894273732008-09-24T15:13:00.016-05:002008-09-26T07:41:56.970-05:00

It's been three days since our group of five arrived for Community-Based Training in this small Moroccan town. I'm not supposed to reveal the name of our location on a public forum such as this, so henceforth I will refer to it as Pantsville. Our purpose here is to experience life with everyday Moroccan families, undergo intense language training, locate and interview local artisans, and prepare

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-41641610278853473242008-09-20T11:53:00.008-05:002008-09-20T14:18:23.652-05:00

After a long week in Azrou, we're heading to our CBT (Community-Based Training) sites tomorrow morning. The program manager placed us into groups yesterday, assigning us to specific dialects and cities/towns/villages. My group of five is heading to a small town/village about two hours away. I guess for security reasons we're not supposed to say where, specifically. *shrug* As of tomorrow evening

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-72683409697512879622008-09-17T14:35:00.020-05:002008-09-18T07:18:35.192-05:00

Perhaps some of you are curious as to what I'm doing here aside from strolling through markets and climbing around the outskirts of town... this supposed "training" you've heard mention of... a ruse, perhaps?Sadly (but not really) not. Things are in full swing here at the PCT "compound". We're undergoing marathon sessions each day, and in the evenings bury our noses in books and notes. They are

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-1381220044661099292008-09-14T12:33:00.003-05:002008-09-14T12:47:17.681-05:00

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-86346277251803075762008-09-13T19:20:00.011-05:002008-09-16T18:49:54.179-05:00

We certainly aren't "slumming it" yet, to say the least.Azrou is a beautiful city nestled in a valley surrounded by mountains of the Middle Atlas. It is a completely different environment here from Rabat-- breezy, slower placed, and you can't beat that view.We're staying in what I believe is some sort of ritzy hostel; we share rooms and bathrooms, but are still spoiled crazy with delicious meals

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-34746347342657190902008-09-11T13:59:00.010-05:002008-09-11T16:54:45.152-05:00

Last night after the day's sessions ended we were allowed to venture out of the hotel and onto the streets of Rabat. A small group of us went into the Médina-- the old part of the city-- to the souk (open market), comprised of ever-narrowing alleyways packed with vendors of food, clothing, electronics, and various media...tarps laid out on the street covered in piles of shoes, dvds and jewelry...

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-51440190033650758462008-09-10T07:23:00.006-05:002008-09-10T16:55:18.019-05:00

So much to write about. Let's see if I can fit it all in during this lunch break. I apologize for the lack of specifics, but there is very little free time. I'm sure once I'm out at my final sight months from now, I'll have more time than I know what to do with and I can write more.The plane ride over was surreal. Flying in a metal tube across the Atlantic to Africa. You step in from New York and

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-8203919317964309772008-09-09T14:35:00.003-05:002008-09-09T14:43:47.679-05:00

Well that's what they call it here. We arrived safe and sound (and completely exhausted) in Maroc as the sun was rising this morning. I have much to write about, but for the time being, check out the Photobucket link to the right for a few pictures of the Casablanca Airport, the scenery from the bus ride to Rabat, and the view from our hotel balcony.

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-51019564405890948122008-09-07T17:33:00.007-05:002008-09-08T17:15:16.000-05:00

I'm sitting at JFK International, amid a sea of luggage, waiting for the check-in counter to open. We left Philadelphia at 11 this morning by charter bus, driving through Manhattan and Queens on our way to the airport. It's 3:25 PM; our flight departs at 8-something this evening. But I'm getting ahead of myself here.The past two days were spent in a Sheraton in Philadelphia with fifty-eight other

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-42157798073565501702008-09-05T14:54:00.007-05:002008-09-05T15:39:07.219-05:00

Ugh, what a day to leave. It was an early start this morning, waking to a 5:30 AM alarm and dreary skies, finally having to face the day I thought I'd always just talk about. It was really tough to say goodbye. I sat silently panicking in my train seat as the midwestern towns flashed by, having suddenly realized the reality of my situation. Two years seems like such an eternity right now. I found

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7914158393210125795.post-76237619862823500182008-08-21T00:02:00.018-05:002008-09-07T17:48:08.946-05:00

September 6th... it approaches.Here's a rough timeline of the events leading up to and following my departure to Morocco:• train to Chicago on Sept. 5th• fly out of O'Hare at 7:30 AM on the 6th• land in Philadelphia, stay in a hotel downtown for two days of "staging"• on the third day, take a bus to New York City• fly out of JFK airport nonstop to Casablanca, Morocco• bus ride to the capital,

Nhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06499757226453386513noreply@blogger.com4