Friday, January 21, 2011

Tongue in Cheek

In recent weeks, a few videos depicting Peace Corps life have made the rounds through volunteers here in Morocco. I thought it was about time I'd share them with you fine folks. Please take each of the following with a grain of salt. And a change of underwear, as you may risk peeing yourself from laughter. Enjoy.

So you want to join Peace Corps?


You know you're a Peace Corps Volunteer in Africa when...


Why Belle, from Beauty and the Beast, is actually a Peace Corps Morocco Volunteer
(Stolen from Rachel - a fellow YD volunteer, via Faye, via Hillary, via many others)


1. She reads books, and people think that's odd. It's especially odd because she carries them around with her all the time.
2. People scream "Bonjour!" at her from windowsills and alleyways.
3. She lives in a "little town...a quiet village."
4. Everyday is "like the one before." (also see: "Every morning [is] just the same since the morning that [she] came to this poor provincial town.)
5. She sees the baker first thing in the morning with the "same old bread and rolls to sell."
6. Minute 1:00 - She excitedly recounts to someone an important story (in her mind), and is politely dismissed because the story has nothing to do with the number or price of produce that day.
7. Minute 1:07 - People in town start talking about her behind her back. She doesn't notice -- it's almost as if they're speaking another language and she's happily strolling through town, oblivious to their comments...just smiling at them the whole time.
8. Minute 1:20 - She hitches a ride on a horse/donkey cart. This is a common occurrence in Peace Corps (though I can only comfortably speak to my experiences in Morocco). Sometimes there's no other transportation available, and hitch on a donkey cart, you must.
9. Minute 1:24 - People are greeting each other, not only saying hello, but asking about their families. Although their greetings here do not extend into the 30-second long salutation that we experience in the bled, I'm sure it would if the song had been longer if American audiences were judged patient enough to sit through that kind of thing.
10. Minute 1:30 - There is an exasperated woman with multiple babies in her arms.
11. Exasperated woman wants 6 eggs, but that's "too expensive." Six eggs would also be deemed preventively expensive in many places here as well.
12. Minute 1:35 - Belle says, "There must be more than this provincial life!" She's complaining again. She didn't say, "I miss peanut butter and Mexican food," but that's pretty much what she meant. Again, note the complaining. Peace Corps Volunteers are EXPERT complainers.
13. Bookstore owner is a cute little goat-looking man. Those are found in abundance in Morocco.
14. Minute 1:50- Belle climbs the ladder in the bookstore and swings it to the other side of the bookshelf. In a Barnes and Noble, this would prompt screaming store attendants, wary of a possible lawsuit when you fall. In Morocco (and in Belle's world), no problem. If you fall, Allah willed it.
15. Minute 2:00 - Belle goes on and on about how much she loves something, which basically requires the nice goat-man to give it to her. You often see this in Morocco.
16. Minute 2:02 - Men staring at her and trying to get her attention.
17. Minute 2:10 - Belle pats a random child's head. This is considered creepy in America, but in Morocco, PCVs are encourages to pat, hold, and feed random children.
18. Minute 2:21 - Belle sits in the town center next to the fountain, (like Morocco - except their fountain works) surrounded by sheep.
19. ...then Belle starts to talk to the sheep. Many a PCV talk to their pets, because they sometimes understand English better than the townspeople (or so they think).
20. Also, at the same moment, you see a woman washing her clothes in the public water source. Hopefully she's not using Tide and exposing us all to dangerous levels of phosphates.
21. Minute 3:00- Townsfolk say they think she's beautiful because she's fair. Moroccans often say this about light-skinned Americans. Belle, on the other hand, probably fancies a nice tan (and could probably use one, too).
22. Minute 3:20 - Gaston wears tight Euro-trash pants and shirt, and obviously thinks more of himself than he should. Reminds me of a few select 20-something boys in Morocco.
23. Minute 3:35-4:00 - Gaston wants to marry the foreign girl because he thinks she's pretty.
24. Minute 4:45 - Townsfolk joyfully remark how Belle doesn't "quite" fit in (even if she has been there for almost 2 years!).
25. Minute 4:55 - Everyone is staring at her.

Monday, January 17, 2011

The Guilt Trip

I hate New Year's resolutions. The idea of formulating something that is inevitably doomed to fail just seems... irresponsible. And counterproductive. Thus, my decision to no longer feel incessantly guilty as a PCV was regarded as more of a second year (of PCV life) mantra than a so-called New Years resolution.

As it were, I worked my ass off last year. I gave 110%. I was a freaking PCV poster child. And I happened to feel like crap for most of that year. Let me explain. Any afternoon that I spent in my house reading, I ended up feeling guilty instead of relaxed. Every lunch extravaganza spent with the sitemate, I felt culpable rather than indulgent. Every opportunity given to travel outside of site, I felt reprehensible more than excited. Every 'American' moment I spent in country, I felt like I stole. Somehow, it seemed PST (Pre-Service Training) had instilled a fear in me more than a honed moral code.

To combat this ever-present self-reproach, I had decided to add more classes to my schedule at the Dar Chebab. I declined invitations to regional collaborations to be in-site as much as possible. I took four days vacation in a span of 16 months. And I ended up feeling pretty glass-half-empty by the time Thanksgiving rolled around.

It was as if I thought depriving myself of 'American' time was supposed to make me a better volunteer or something. PCVs can get it in their heads that the only way to be a good PCV is to integrate as efficiently as possible. And at some point or another, every PCV makes the mistake of confusing 'efficiently' with 'completely'. We become anxious. We get caught up over not having roughed-it enough or not continuously committing enough. We tend to lapse into brief periods of losing ourselves because we've submersed ourselves in Moroccan-ness beyond the call of duty; sacrificing a lot of our happiness along the way. Collectively, we need to chill the heck out.

Going home for the winter holidays was the single best thing I could have done for my service.

And my sanity.

It helped me realign my priorities in regards to why I'm here and why I want to continue doing the work that I'm doing. It helped me appreciate the short amount of time I have left here in Sedona-miz and to enjoy that time doing what makes me happy with the many people in my community I truly care about. It reassured me that I am, indeed, working my proverbial ass off and I do deserve a break every once in a while. I was reminded that even though I decided to give up my previous life to spend two and a half years here in North Africa, I am still entitled to having an actual life.

I (thankfully) came to realize that it's totally within reason to stay at home and read sometimes, I don't have to attend every tea or lunch invitation given -my community isn't going to 'tell on me' if I don't make it to every couscous Friday. I don't have to stay in-site just for the sake of staying in-site. If a better opportunity to collaborate or help train presents itself somewhere else, that just so happens to be outside of Sedona-miz, then so be it. I don't have to judge myself or be judged because I'm spending my next few holidays outside of the country for two of my closest friends' weddings, instead of staying in Morocco for them. I didn't come here to be a martyr. None of us did. We came here to learn. We came here to help. We came here to live. And that's exactly what I intend on doing for the duration of my time here.

In order to do our best work as PCVs, we need to better learn how to balance our time. We need to ration our American-ness more liberally into our now almost completely Moroccan lives. Without our own scope of mind, confidence in who we are, and fulfillment in our own lives, how are we supposed to help others find their way?

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Good Morning Starshine! The Earth Says Hello!

So I haven't written for a month and a half. About that.

After my November post, I had a week of mid-service medicals with the staj up in Rabat - Parasite free! - then headed back to site for a week. I then departed for my jaunt up and over the Atlantic for three weeks. While in America, I vowed to completely remove myself from all responsibility in Morocco, which happened to include this here blog, and become an absolute glutton. Mission more than accomplished as I've seemed to gain somewhere in the neighbourhood of 10-15 pounds. Life was wonderful, if not sluggish, but now I'm back and ready to story-tell. So, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their upright and locked position and here we goooooo.

While en route to America for the holidays - snuggled up in my plastic-wrapped, economy-class, Air-Canadian blankie - sugar plums, grande lattes, corn dogs, and bacon-related breakfasts danced in my head. The glory of these calorific products multiplied in tastiness exponentially with my expectations beginning to brim over with promise of parades, fireworks, and pure jubilation hitting the tongue with every bite. Turns out, my memory exaggerated. Just a little.

The following is a list of munchies that totally lived up to the hype. And those that, unfortunately, did not reach my unsurmountable expectations..

Those that more than made the grade:

- Corn Dogs. Okay folks, I'm just calling 'em as I see 'em. I know you're probably tempted to judge my corn-bread-coated-mystery-meat-on-a-stick pick here as it's not exactly haute cuisine, but seriously, it was freaking DELICIOUS.
- Pork Wonton Nachos. Shredded pig. Lotsa (technical measurement) cheese. On deep fried wonton skins. Um. Duh. Yes, please.
- Seafood. All. Of. It. It makes me really sad my little town only has sardines. One day a week. Of questionable quality.
- Berrrrrries! Blackberries, Blueberries, Strawberries, Rasberries. I had them like for every meal. On cereal, pancakes, salads, sauces, desserts. It was a berry-tastic occasion.
- A Baja Chicken Chalupa. This I had at 2am, post bar-hopping and pool-playing. I don't think it would have tasted as good sober, thus an exception.
- Bratwurst. Do I even need to justify?
- Movie popcorn. I don't know if Paula Dean called ahead to verify the quality and quantity of butter involved, but God bless her parents if she did. Glorious.
- Mushrooms. Corn. Asparagus.
- Cannolis. My god.

Those that failed to impress (aka: those my brain lied to me about for 16 months):

- Starbucks fancy-schamcy-half-calf-no-foam-double-stuffed-extra-hot-saucy-mcsaucy-caramel-toffee-crisp-whip-cream-bad-ass-mama-jamma-venti-whatevers. Seriously, their coffee is good, but like, I couldn't deal with anything bigger than a tall and with more sugar than whatever I put in it myself. It was gag-inducing. Which is astonishing, as I LOVED this shit before leaving for Morocco. Looks like I'm luckily back to buying a buck cup of coffee and not a $5 one.
- Most fast food. Del Taco Burritos? Meh. McDonald's Cheeseburger? Cardboard. Jack in the Box Chicken Sandwich? Stomach Ache. Any and all french fries? Greasy and way too salty. The stand alone exception was the In-n-out Double-Double. Mmmm. Well that and the aforementioned corn dog. God bless the corn dog.
- Red Bull. What the hell was I thinking drinking this stuff before?
- Bud Light. I repeat. What the hell?
- Pizza. Pretty much any take-out pizza. They were gross. All of them. Hard. Bland. Doughy. Greasy. Disgusting. It almost made me sad. But then I had a 'gourmet' one at a swanky Italian place my parents love so much and it restored my faith in the art of the pizza. You give me artichoke hearts, sundried tomatoes, and extra mozzarella on just about anything and I'll testify my faith.
- Cupcakes. Are we over them yet?

I could continue, but I digress. And I did get the new Anthony Bourdain book for Christmas (Medium Raw, go out and buy it), so I suppose I can blame him for my culinary (ha, a significant portion is fast food, not exactly culinary-ific) monologue.

I shall be back to work soon so shall have more Peace Corps related updates sooner than later, I'm sure. In the meantime, you might find me posting random (apologies if unwelcome) anecdotes from my time away. Otherwise, I'm happy to be home with Jeter!

Ps. Artichokes are back in season in Sedona-miz, yay!!

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