Magical Musical Moments and Creepers

Quick timeline of events since last update: hike with family to local village, Brendan visiting site, Yorda visiting site, Gnaoua music festival in Essaouira, Yorda in Sedona-miz for three days, safi.

Let's start by discussing travel day 1 to Essaouira. Which begun promptly at 5:15am. My naive little brain assumed when I set my alarm for just after 5 am that morning, that the sun would indeed be up. Yeah, no. Negative. Big fat nuh-uh. Dragging ass out of bed before the sun takes some serious dedication to get to the beach by noon. After installing a quick caffeine IV (read 'eye-vee', not 'the fourth', as I have no idea what caffeine the fourth would be in reference too...), I rounded up the troops (Yorda) and we walked down to the bus stop with only minor delays - mint sellers & a pack of about 15 rabid dogs ready to eat my well-defined calves for breakfast. We made it to the stop safe & sound, bright & early, and apparently with 'harass me before dawn' written on our foreheads.

Okay before I give you the deets on that story (which, let's face it, you're dying to hear), I'm going to break down what follows into individual anecdotes: a few music related, a few harassment related. Enjoy.

Harassment: So we're chillin at the bus stop, a couple local girls hovering near us, communally yawning and squinting as the sun comes up over the mountain. Enter two douchebags stage left. Let's recap: 6:00am, rural village, bus top, Yorda & I, douchebags. Usually my 'screw you' armour is up, but seriously, at this hour, I was not with it enough to give half of a shit. I would have probably let Rodney Dangerfield, Gary Busey, and Hannibal Lecter have carte blanche with me, and I probably wouldn't even have noticed. These guys were persistent little buggers, however, literally not shutting up or moving more than a foot away from us for like twenty minutes. It was so annoying it drove me to take a transit instead of the bus for the first time ever having been in site for over eight months. In summary: it sucked.

Music: Anyway, we get to Marrakech and aim to get a CTM bus from Marrakech to Essaouira. After people watching for about three hours (we had arrived just before 8 hoping for an earlier bus... kill me) We hop on, three ladies in tow (Sarah has joined us by now), and we have the pleasure of sharing the four hour journey with the loudest, highest, drunkest Moroccan teenagers available in Kech at that hour. Ugh. So after about three hours of nauseating hell (not all due to the gentleman company... I attempted reading for more than 5 minutes... bleurgh. You think my childhood would have taught me a lesson on car-sickness), Yorda and I hear something in the distance... is that?.. there's no way... is that 'Like a Prayer' on Moroccan radio?! So after the initial 3 seconds of pure tear-filled joy that came out of this sound-bite, it occurred to me that 'could it be? could it beeee?? is that Lea Michelle???' I looked at Yorda with glassy, raised eye-browed, puppy dog eyes searching for conformation, when, in unison, we both squeal 'It's Kurt!' God, in recognition of the douchebags he placed on our bus, threw us a proverbial bone with the Glee version of Madonna's classic. Alhamdulilah.

Harassment: Fast forward to bus ride home from Marrakech to Sedona-miz after Gnaoua (you'll get a post on solely the festival soon enough) and the serious CREEPER whose memory has kept me up at night the last few days after returning home. Right, so Yorda and I sit together on left side of bus. Insert creepster old man in brown jilaba and straw hat to my right. Sitting in the seat across the aisle, yet not facing forwards. Facing me. Turned sideways. About 12 inches from my face, leaning in for a good look. For thirty minutes. Mostly, I found that more funny than anything, playing the game of not looking him in the eye and completely ignoring his existence before the major mid-stop between Kech and my town. So when half the bus exists at this stop, he makes some moves and sits behind me instead. Then leans in between Yorda and I to get a good perspective on the left side of my face since obviously it's completely different from my right. He leans back, scoots over a seat and proceeds to hump the back of my chair. Yes, you read that right. He literally pulsated his knee/groin/fist/all of the above against the rear of my seat for a good few minutes before I grabbed Yorda's arm and drug her across the aisle into seats far from the super-perv and his thrusting something-or-another. The guy kind of freaks out and starts swiveling his head to and fro to get his view back, when he decided to move AGAIN. Up two seats so he could turn around and stare at us backwards. Obvi. Welcome to my life in Morocco.

In short: I've decided my kind of harassment is sort of different than other PCVs. I understand the annoyance and fishbowl-ness and disgust that comes with the 'gazelle' 'oh beautiful' 'i want to love/marry/f**k you' quotes thrown at you at a daily/hourly/minute-ly basis, I get that from time to time too. But I get the dudes that I swear are planning my demise in their mother's basements. Guys who don't say anything, just follow me with their uninterrupted stares like those damn statues in the haunted mansion at Disneyland. They make scary movies out of the fellas I deal with down here. It's like the prologue to Dexter rather than a hashuma version of the Archie comic books. It kind of freaks me out. But I try and make light of it. Especially when I have Yorda to sit here and laugh about my sexual oppression with. Fun!

Music #2: So sitting in a cafe. Enjoying a cup a joe in Kech, people watching like it's my job (or my favourite sport, which it is), taking in the afternoon sun. When, after a round of Moroccan pop I couldn't (and won't) tell you anything about, the most hashuma song I've ever heard in my LIFE comes on. Flash back to middle-school: does this ring a bell?: 'my neck... my back... lick my p***y and my crack...'

Uh.

What now?

Did they just...?

That song played for the next five minutes straight. We were flabbergasted. Literally debating whether or not to tell the coffee shop staff that they should immediately stop playing this filth from their speakers. They, along with their patrons, were just bobbing along, grooving to the beat, blissfully unaware of the impure smut they were serving along side our Mochaccinos. I mean, my God.

Stay tuned for Gnaoua update & some pictures from a local mountain village hike tomorrow.

Ps. Send me a package! :)

Random Smorgasbord

How the hell do people who watch Dexter sleep at night.

I managed to watch the entirety of season 1 within two days of being back at site. It should seriously come with a warning label: increases blood pressure, triggers schizophrenia-like outbursts, expect prolonged nausea, and a high likelihood of wetting your bed. I have never been so paranoid as I was night before last, strung out at three am, five episodes deep. My God. Thankfully, I only had season 1 on my hard drive, so my current state of emotional instability can slowly come back to normal.

The interim Country Director and new PCMO (Peace Corps Medical Officer) swung by Sedona-miz yesterday for a little visit with the site-mate and I. Other than a jaunt up the mountain and consuming copious amounts of pastries at my host-family's, we didn't really do much else. It was kind of nice to have some PC people to show around though, even though I'm sure the entire village just though they were my grandparents. Or as my host-dad joked 'Wesh huma grand-grand-grand-grand parents dyalk?' Followed by a long-rolling belly-laugh. Oh tact, how often you are ignored here in Morocco.

Today I managed to get an association meeting rescheduled due to my wanting to watch the America-Slovenia game at 3. I love a country that has its priorities straight.

So when lots of PCVs get together, as was the case during IST last week, we like to catch each other up on American cultural gems we may have missed out on being in our rural corners of the country. I'd like to share with you three musical items I could have continued living without, but have been recently exposed to nonetheless.

Katy Perry - California Gurls - Okay, so terrible lyrics aside - why mess with Beach Boys territory? - the beat is obviously catchy, Snoop Dogg is involved, and hi, I'm from California, so I want to like it. What won me over was not the video per-se, but the video concept. I freaking LOVED Candyland as a kid. I think I still have it in the top shelf of my closet at home. Lord Licorice? Queen Frostine? Jolly the jujube/gumdrop? All about it.

Lady Gaga - Bad Romance - Obvious commentary aside, it occurred to Yorda & I what the obvious inspiration was for one costume choice... I give you: the car-dealership blow-up sock.

Rhianna - Rude Boy - Can. Not. Get. This. Song. Out. Of. My. Head. I waiver between dancing along alone in my house and wanting to wash my ears out with soap. The lyrics are out of control. Are the same girls who love Hannah Montana and that Beiber kid listening to this?

Anyway, off to some rooftop lunching before the game. GO USA!

World Cup Fever Takes Over

I have never felt as patriotic during my Peace Corps service as I did this past Saturday night. With IST (Inter-Service Training) having finished on Friday in Rabat, a few of us decided to stay an extra day in order to watch the USA-England game. Our crew of expats arrived around 6:30 to the Irish pub of choice, early for the 7:30 start time, and were initially a little worried as the place was pretty quiet upon arrival. But one hour, two beers, and a BLT later, the house was packed with Brits and Yankees alike, and the friendly, yet, combative banter we hoped for looked promising.

As the teams marched out, cheering commenced. And with the start of the national anthem we compatriots gathered together, stood on our feet, with hats off and hands on our hearts, we belted out the Star Spangled Banner much to the chagrin of our British company.

And then England scored 4 minutes in.

You all watched the game, you know what happened. In the end, we won, 1-1. Alhamdulilah for Tim Howard, who is about ten times the goalie Green is. And as a fellow PCV noted: 'good thing Green isn't playing for Columbia circa 1994...' True that.

The testosterone-filled members of our group. Menacing n'est-ce pas?

IST Road Trip Playlist

What did I do this sweltering, humid Tuesday? Compiled a playlist to use and abuse on the train ride up to Rabat tomorrow, that's what... It feels like aaaaaaaaaaages since I've indulged and let myself fall into the infinite abyss that is itunes and stroll down memory lane all afternoon, hand in hand with the likes of Mr White, Mr Plant, and Mrs O.

Here are some oldies but goodies I forgot had existed and who are now happily in regular rotation once again:

Red Hot Chili Peppers - Road Trippin' - Appropriate n'est-ce pas? Still need to get some snacks & supplies though, as Anthony suggests.

Supertramp - Breakfast in America - Still upsets me how so many tweens think the Gym Class Heros came up with this bit of melodic genius. Hodgson deserves better.

The Nightwatchman - The Road I must Travel - Few things are sexier than a solo radical Tom Morello.

Tom Petty - Don't Come Around Here No More - I still remember being like five or six years old and watching this video for the first time. Despite the fact that they ate her as dessert, I SO wanted to be this version of Alice over the Disney cartoon. Plus, anything with a sitar is a winner in my book.

Sublime - Rivers of Babylon - I love this song because a)it's pretty damn catchy in a s'mores around the campfire type way and b) it includes flashbacks to when every male at my high school would play this song in the bowl - our HS outdoor amphitheater - thinking they were going to get laid or something. Every girl's face resembling a literal translation of 'oh pleeeeeeeeeeeease'. Cue mocking giggle-fest.

TV on the Radio - Dancing Choose - Merely for a foam injected Axl Rose, life size. Finer poetry has ne'er been written.

Weezer - Kids/Pokerface - The most epically hysterical mashup ever. Weezer coming out on stage in snuggies, on a rotating couch, proceeding to lead their set with MGMT meets Gaga. Searched high and low for an audio of this puppy and plan to play it on repeat for a significant duration of my trip now that I have it.

Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Zero - I'm a girl. I love her. Don't judge me.

The Raconteurs - These Stones Will Shout - I don't know how to explain it, but I felt like this song had been hiding, living somewhere inside me this first time I heard it. Something about it is just really lovely and familiar.

Santana - She's Not There - I'm a big Zombies fan, but still prefer this version wayyyyy more. Much like I prefer Jimi's version of All Along the Watchtower and Clapton's version of Knockin' on Heaven's Door. Sure Dylan's a genius, I just like it better when other people sing him.

Dead Man's Bones - Name in Stone - Anything that lists the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland one of their inspirations has my vote. And, you know, Ryan Gosling isn't bad to look at either. Drool.

Stillwater - Fever Dog - Just because they are a fictional band living in Cameron Crowe's imagination does not mean they are not worthy of my love. How many of you list Spinal Tap as one of your favourite bands? Yeah, exactly, that's what I thought.

Other than those little morsels of musical joy, I'll probably be listening to full albums of Beck, Neutral Milk Hotel, Saves the Day, The Dead Weather, Wolfmother, Fire on Fire, and Zeppelin as per usual. I love days when I get to fall in love with music all over again.