Somewhere over the rainbow.

I just witnessed, the single-handedly most fantastical rainbow of my life. More like the three most fantastical rainbows.

Coming out of the dar chebab today, post-torrential rainfall, the glory of colour greeted us against the Atlas mountains and we all pretty much stood there for a few minutes in admiration. I guess Allah heard my previous bitching session about the lack of colour here. Him or Death Cab, that is.

Time is like, flying, dude. Three weeks in. Grammar is whizzing by, host family is freaking lovely, trips to local towns and cities on the weekends. Good times. Ohhh! And I actually exist now, I have a... drumroll please... phone number!! Message me via facebook and its all yours kids.

On a... gross note, had my first bout with food poisoning this weekend. Vom-tastic. All night. Not having eggs for a while, if you get my drift. And the added cultural-experience-bonus of aiming for the mini hole of a Turkish toilet definitely has it's cons. Back-splash, for one. No bueno folks. Though, otherwise, me and the Turkish toilet get on fine. After the oh-so-valueable experience on the overnight train from Istanbul to Sofia - Louisa knows what's up - I can handle the squat. Thighs of steel, man, thighs of steel.

Heading to Azrou on Thursday for some more vaccinations - yay, Rabies! - and staying the night. They have wireless at the Auberge, so I'm told, so I'm sure I will have some news for you all then.

Please let me know what's going on outside my fishbowl!! Heard the Philippines was underwater for a while there, hope all my friends' families are a-okay! Any countries at war? Popstar overdose? Fashion faux-pas? Fill me in! Prize to best update. The prize may or may not be my love. Or a postcard in about three months. SO worth it.

Love and lots of it xx

Across the universe

Busy, busy, busy. Learned how to tell time today. Boo-ya. Along with about 30 new verbs and another couple tenses. And a massive enslaught of environmental vocabulary. After meeting with the association yesterday, they've asked for our help in an effort to cleanup the city... or at least try. The town doesn't have any system or infrastructure on deposting of rubbish. At the moment the gorge on the outskirts has had the pleasure of being the dumping grounds. We are going to be working on environmental presentations at schools, community education, and the ever-present plant a tree day at the dar chebab. Hopefully. A lot of planning and meeting to be done, but it'll be fun! And hopefully leave an impression after we leave this CBT site.

At the end of our work day today, me and my fellow ninja turtles - side anecdote, there are four of us, I'm Donatell-a - jammed. After watching across the universe and feeling rather inspired, David broke out the ukalele and we pumped out some tunes. It was a little sad, if not pathetic, that our Beatles songbook knowledge was far superior to our Disney knowledge. Hakuna Matata was rough ya'll. Nothing at all like kareoke version some of you EF vets will(hopefully not) remember!

This weekend we have off, so we are going to be heading to a local town where another CBT site is in order to visit some friends for some down time. Which is much needed! Loving every minute, but perpetually exhausted.

Couple points that I consider note-worthy:

So mommy just emailed me back - HI MOM - and she said 'it sounds like you're in Alice's wonderland, only without colour'. It's kind of true. It's still kind of surreal that I live here. I'm not a traveller, or even the the stigma of tourist, I live here. A comment I made to my sitemates yesterday was the lack of colour here. Its not a big city, its charistmatic, but beige. In the movie today, Lucy mentions jumping down the Rabbit Hole. Running through the field after taking various hallucinagetics, post-Bono cameo (barf), she suggests jumping right on in. I did. I have. And I'm not even on drugs.

Watched Almost Famous yesterday as well. Those of you who know me well, know I was married to that movie for a few years (thanks Dave). I had completely space cadett-ed on the fact she ends up in Morocco at the end of it all. Things are coming together. Pieces are falling in the right places. I feel contented. Or at least I'm close.

xoxo

Eid

Hello food during daylight hours! How I've missed you.

So it was pretty up in the air as to when exactly Eid was going to happen... We hoped for yesterday but the moon... only in Morocco as it were... decided today was the day I could resume normal meal times. I've been fasting since I arrived at my site and have been aokay with the no eating thought... it's the no water thing that has been slightly difficult. And maybe the impure thought restriction. Ha. No? Okay then. Pete knows what I'm talking about.

Since today was a big celebration and all, I headed to the country side with my massive entourage of a family to their Grandmother's house. We literally went over the river. And through the woods. ... And the tobacco fields. Huuuuuge property with a million animals. Two of which, I believe we ate for lunch. It was also the first time I had what was essentially milk couscous. As in the american concept of milk rice or rice pudding, just made with couscous. Novel idea really. Though my tummy is currently experience the ramifications of that invention.

Rode a horse too. In a dress. May have comprimised some dignity in exchange for cultural experience. C'est la vie.

Ah random thing(s): The grapes here are mindblowing. They taste like vineyard grapes rather than your standered green or red. Which, now that I'm writing this, makes sense. Apparently, Morocco, though not a drinking culture, produces quite a bit of wine. Big export so they say.

Before I head out, I feel like I need to mention some of the music taste oozing out of my village. No, it's not just the delightfully traditional Berber music you may expect. Instead, they think us Yanks listen to nothing but Celine Dion, Bryan Adams, with the occasional splash of Shakira. For real. The Beatles? Never heard of 'em. Stones? Nope. Zeppelin? Can't even pronounce it. Even the shameful Britney Spears mention got a blank stare. I still don't know if I should be amused or concerned about this.

Tomorrow, class resumes and we head to the dar chebab to figure out our plan of action as far as English lessons, drama, sports, and pingpong are concerned. Wish us luck!!!

like woah.

Okay so to preface this, i am on a french keyboard. and due to lack of patience/time, you're getting q's instead of a's, z's instead of w's, and possibly commas instead of m's. deal with it. a3fak.

So those of you who knoz me (this is going to be qnnoying.) I hqve this funnel problem when I'm trying to sqy qbout a billion things qnd don't know which order to sqy them. My brqin is slightly exploding zith informqtion, qnecdotes, qnd 'darija' vocqb. I mqy hqve to do this in list form. Lettermans top 10 list if you will.

10. Turkish toilets. With no TP. A bidé never seemed so appealing.

9. My host family, 14 total, 9 kids, 1 building. Awesome and mental at the same time. GOGOGO. Love them all so much already.

8. My town... lets just say peace corps sent us here for a reason... people are lovely, however.

7. Donkeys. Everywhere. Sitemate hellbent on purchasing one. Hasak.

6. Language lessons. I swear I've learned more Moroccan Arabic in 3 days then French an entire semester.

5. Ramadan is an interesting time to enter a country. Mrmdn to the max. Calm down folks, the couscous is on its way.

4. And thank goodness it is because it is delicious. Holy moly do I love the food here. The get skinny plan is going to take some serious effort.

3. Henna and kaftans. Already been gifted such sweet things and still have visual evidence of the night of power on both my hands.

2. Atay. Atay atay atay. Always.

1. Surviving. Whether it be taxis (dude), bitlma, or ordering coffee (at a cafe I'm not really allowed at, being a girl and all). That's pretty much the aim of everyday right now. Short term goals make the intense transition tangible. And the awesome company I have here. Mamma hen needs the boys' humour to stay sane during the 4 to 6 hours of language lessons everyday.

I feel like I have so much to say but no real way to formulate it; other than the expected daily rundown of schedule which really isnt relavent or interesting in my opinion. It's 24/7 go time. And I'm just trying to hold on.

Will hopefully be getting a cell phone soon, so will send that to you all privately when I have it. Otherwise, my address for mail temporarily is:

Donniell Silva

s/c Corps de la Paix
2, Rue Abou Marauane Essaadi, Agdal
Rabat 10100, MOROCCO

Love yall and would love messages whenever you can send them my way!! Ps mck karl gio, no go on leaving country before the new year. bummed i cant join you for the holidays! grr. Also, sorry to whoevers birthday I have forgotten or will forget. It's going to happen. Don't hate me.

I couldn't make this stuff up.

So let me set the scene: Dinner time. Friday night. 8pm. 63 Americans sat down round 8 or so tables awaiting the now customary feast of some salad, some soup, something slaughtered, and something sweet. We began our descent into a basket of bread when half – the better half? ;) – of one of my favourite couple ever (no, seriously) stands up to mention how it would be kind if we had a moment of silence for the victims and families of September 11^th, given the eight year anniversary. We all nod in empathetic agreement and collectively agree that a minute or so should suffice. The room falls into an emotional silence and for the first time ever I find myself actually reflecting upon images, locations, and victims that could have been and glad weren’t.

Now, this would be a solemn, weighted, almost unnecessary post if that’s where the story ended and/or went down the cultural differences reflection you thought it might. Well, you see, the dining room we eat in has a TV in the corner that entertains staff when they’re not serving us the various culinary schmorgasboards throughout the day. Apparently Moroccans love their TVs, more especially - their Turkish soap operas. Tela Novella has nothing on this ya’ll. However, timing could have been better in this fine episode.

I’m sure Mr. Turkish really loved Miss Turkish, but being emphatically entwined in vocally significant lust during a 9/11 tribute could definitely have been pushed back about thirty seconds.

I swear I tried; I bit my lip, plugged my ears, held my breath; but nothing could stop me snorting myself to embarrassment as I catalyzed the entire room into bouts of terribly – and I mean terribly – inappropriate laughter. A little piece of me dies inside every time I think about it. I have a soul. Really I do. I’m in Peace Corps for goodness sake. But you try holding it in when sexual intercourse is blaring from the back of a room halfway through a moment of silence. You couldn’t pay me to make this stuff up folks.

Anyway, I don’t think I have enough dignity to write anything else after that... Going to ‘town’ tomorrow and leave for CBT site on Tuesday so who knows what internet access will be like after that. Will post if anything else significant or mortifying happens before then.

Oh, and I’d like to give a couple shout-outs as fellow lovely volunteers have mentioned some friends & fam reading. Here’s a ‘what-up’ to Allie’s mom and Sam’s friend Patrick. Oh and Aragons – Paylan sends his regards.

Roger that. xx

Sleep is near...

Holy Macaroni. In the words of a weekly comedy sketch that I, along with many friends across the pond, hold so dearly in our hearts – Have I got News for You. So I get to Philly along with 15 other early arrivals; 9 of whom are also from California. I’m the only so-cal. The rest of the bastards are Frisco kids. It’s fun banter though. Oh, right, and one of the aforementioned went to St Andrews for a year abroad. How bout them apples small-world theory?! Brenden something-or-other. He wears cowboy hats. He’s from San Francisco. The verdict is still out on him. He knows this. Hi, Brenden. Roommate was/is delightful, Yorda is a crack-up. Who also brought pink hair straighteners – oh yes, we did… I know – and matching ballet flats. And fell asleep to Rachael Zoe/Kardashian nonsense for our last American guilt trip TV sesh in the hotel room before takeoff. ‘Whaaaaaat?!?!’ – you ask. No CNN did not get that honor, not MSNBC, not even John & Kate. Rachael, Kim & Kourt got our full heading-to-third-world attention and we loved every minute of it. So sue me Christiane Amanpour. We all start somewhere.

So we then hopped on a bus to JFK. Spent an hour and a bit driving from Philly to New York City. Spent approximately the same driving through Brooklyn. Auto-shops anyone? Get to JFK… about seven hours early. Give everyone their new passports – group leader status, what-what – and we grub until check in time. Last meal = sushi & eggrolls. Delish. So we boarded the plane, embarked if you will, swindled a window seat (and by swindled I mean was kindly offered before I even asked by the dude sitting with me) and awaited the, or rather - what was expected to be, a rather normal flying experience ahead of me. Let me tell you, Royal Air Maroc is anything but normal. Dude, we taxied without the overhead bins closed. Tray tables were down; seatbacks were most definitely not in their upright position; pure mayhem ensued. We had not even arrived at proper elevation, still in obvious vertical assent, and the seatbelt light was turned off. TURNED OFF. wtf mate. Periodically, they decided to up the anti, and give us a bit of a rave effect with some strobe lighting. The guy at the overhead light switch seriously had a nervous twitch or something. And if not, they needed to have an epileptic disclaimer cuz there was some serious retina destruction going on. Apologies, I feel like the airplane protocol nazi. The service, however, was truly delightful. Polite? Yes. Concerned about my safety and well-being? Not so much.

So we air-force-oned it off the plane, glided through customs to be greeted by a bunch of the local staff. Such nice people, seriously. Obviously sincere in wanting to help us, welcome us, guide us. Straight to a 3 hour bus more specifically. Worst ride ever, not that it was anyone’s fault, just no sleep on plane + limited space and no sleep on bus = no sleep in like 48 hours. Dying. Still dying. Yet I still sit here typing. For you people.

Anyways, arrived to delightful little beachside town, was served an unbelievably large amount of delicious food. Scarfed. Had like three hours of orientation which pretty much everyone needed to repeat/hear again. You see, staff is just as zonked as us, they are rocking Ramadan right now. They are starvin’ Marvins if I’ve ever seen any. Energy was low across the board. But after some evening grub, a shower, & like 15 hours of sleep, I think we’ll all be on the same page tomorrow.

So far this trip, Crosby, Stills, & Nash have been the theme music - funnily enough not due to the cliché presence of the Marrakesh Express – but with You Don’t Have to Cry and Helplessly Hoping ringing through the mundanity of our Royal Air Maroc flight. The aim was to send me to sleep, but you now understand why that was not an option – with the addition of our pal Neil, Teach Your Children also sent a rather appropriate prophetic message through my dazed and confused, barely cognizant internal hearing receptors. Yeah, still desperately in need of sleep it appears.

As I listen to my fave CS&N tune Suite: Judy Blue Eyes (so bite me if it’s everyone’s favourite) I figure, what have I got lose on this trip? Time away from home? Culture Shock? Some of my American female independence? Chump change compared to what I’m gaining. In just 48 hours I’ve met 62 new people who could potentially be larger influences in my life than I’m currently giving them credit for. Truly, great group of people, naturally a few oddballs, but they keep things interesting, and obviously have their hearts in the right place. I’m still a bit ‘ahhh’ over intense language submersion, but planning on giving them more than I gave Mr. Neumann back in French class. That’s what she said? Anyways, for anyone out there concerned or worried about me: I’m fine, more than fine, I’m really happy; really full; really tired. And for those who are just curious, you need to get out there, live life uncomfortably. And if you don’t know what that means, that’s just your problem.

24...

Hours. Literally.Until take-off. With a little more anxiety and a little less Jack Bauer.

Nah, I'm getting really excited actually. I've 'started over' quite a few times in my mere 23 years. The self-reboot button is becoming all too familiar. Uni abroad, London job, Home part deux. New surroundings and new relationships are a natural high for me I suppose. I'm a proverbial junkie. Still, I'm hoping like-minded and motivated people are the kind that will show up to this song & dance, so here's to an optimistic and friendly beginning to this 27 month long cultural extravaganza.

Packing is complete, underweight for the first time ever, I think. I've had enough practice so no reason not to I suppose. Still need to finish up registration forms, though, witness signatures and all that jazz. ... It's only quarter to nine, though, and procrastination is my middle name...

I am, however, currently still debating on the 'bring the stuffed animal or don't' front. Yes, I'm a grown woman. Independent, intelligent, strong-willed, logical. Yet, I have a feeling baby beluga is making the trip. Judge if you must folks, but when I'm 6,000 miles away from Gustav and Killer - my two doggies if you aren't familiar - I'm gunna need something soft and cuddly to take their place. I'm afraid a foot long stuffed white whale might have to suffice.

Okay, I've put paperwork off long enough. Time to cross my 'T's and dot my 'I's.

See you across the pond. Again.

xx