Friday Funday

After a whirlwind week at the Medical Clinic, (which I will post about shortly, no doubt) I decided to dedicate this Friday to cleaning house and listening to some sweet tunes of my choosing. Ask any PCV and they'll attest to the amount of cell-phone amplified Moroccan music I was forced to listen to during a 50 hour work week at the Dar Chebab...

Anywho, I thought I'd share with you all my musical obsessions of late. So, stay tuned... HA.

First at bat - 'Stack Shot Billy' by The Black Keys

Okay, so, these dudes kind of rock my world. While I'm fully aware they've put out three (badass) albums since Rubber Factory back in 2004, there's something about the grittiness of this record I can't get over. I can literally feel when my insides sync in with the beat of this track in particular. I remember the first time I saw these guys, back in '03, when the opened for John Mayer... Yeah, you read that right. John... Mayer. I didn't get the connection either, but I totally came away from that concert blown away by the opening act and pretty much forgetting anything having to do with headliner. (Yes, I'm avoiding your questions on why I went to a Mayer concert in the first place... I was 16.) I know I'm not the first nor last to express their adoration of this duo - seeing as they won a freaking GRAMMY this year ya'll - but hotdamn, they move me.

'Goodbye England' - Laura Marling

I. Need. To. Be. Her. She is out of control talented. I've been obsessed with I Speak Because I Can for over almost a year now. It's one of those rare and complete story-telling albums. It's fantastic. The fact it came out of a girl who was, what, 19 at the time? Boggles my mind. She writes with such experience and grace, it's the complete package. For those of you who are into Joni Mitchell, Mumford & Sons, Noah and the Whale, etc, this is for you. I have such a girl-crush on her. Perfection.

Okay, and 'Rambling Man'. Just enjoy.

'Gasoline Alley' - Rod Stewart

I, along with every other woman in history, have had an old-man crush on Rod Stewart for sometime now. There is just something about his voice in combination with this short (and not normally) a capella diddy that pulls at a girl's heartstrings. My crush-age has recently been reignited due to the newest season of American Idol (yes I'm admitting this to the public). I'm sending some serious vibes to that Paul McDonald kid. You hear that, Paul? Mrhaba to Morocco anyyyyyytime.

'Maggie Mae' - Paul McDonald (Rod Stewart tune)

'Not Fade Away' - Jack White (Buddy Holly tune)

Apparently, our friend Jack made a surprise stop at SXSW the other day. I saw this clip and died a little inside. The first musical I ever saw was Buddy - The Buddy Holly Story at the Strand Theatre in London's West End back when I was 14. I loved him. I was obviously born some 50 years too late. However, having one of my favourite musicians of all time covering this classic made me happy. Gah, why I am I in Morocco and not touring around the US attending various music festivals again? The Coachella line up made me tear up, SXSW is making me anxious, Bonnaroo is just going to full on make me bawl.

Fasters of the world... Unite!

This morning I got out of bed this morning thinking... mmm roast chicken sounds divine for lunch today (my brain works like that, sadly). I hadn't had any poultry in site for about a month now. So, after some morning chai tea and strawberries for breakfast, I made my way into town in order to buy a chicken for the day's feasting.

As I was walking along the road, among several sbah-al-khairs (good mornings) from neighbourhood children, I reached my half-way point - the mosque at the end of my road. The Friday prayers had already begun - they last about three hours in my neck of the woods - and I happily enjoyed the melodic chanting as I continued my way down the road towards my chicken guy.

That is, until I stopped dead in my tracks and realized - Hey, dumbass, it's a Friday. During Lent. No chicken for you.

So, I rerouted my trajectory and made my way towards the fish guy instead. The half kilo of fish is now comfortably resting in my fridge for roasted consumption this afternoon.

Ironic that an Islamic prayer call can remind me of a Catholic fast, n'est-ce pas?

So, yeah, about that. We've been over the fact that I don't really subscribe to any particular religion, but I'm a respecter of all, yes? And any probing religious questions I receive here in site are usually answered with the crowd-pleasing line of, 'I know there's something out there, I just don't know if his name is Jesus, Allah, Buddha, etc...' Which, is more or less what I actually think.

Thus, I figure if I went to bat for Islam during Ramadan this past year, I should follow suit and play my cards right this Lent. Doesn't hurt to appease all possible deities, am I right? Plus, I grew up with Lent as a prominent fixture in my household. My Dad even respects the no-eating-meat-on-Fridays thing for the entirety of the year. Living at home at as a kid, I was all about the Fish Fridays, as this usually meant a family dinner at a nice beach-side seafood restaurant was involved. Well, that or the infrequent (and disappointing) Mickey D's fish sandwich... shudder.

Moral of the story is, in addition to the no-meat Fridays for the next 40-odd days, I'll also be putting a hold on all baked goods. This includes cookies, cakes, breads, the works. I figure, in addition to offering up a sacrifice to any of the aforementioned gods, it'll have me looking good for an Easter Sunday wedding in London next month. Win-win!

Quick Work Update

Today marks the first day in 18 months I actually called out of work due to sickness. (And by call I obviously mean awkwardly text my Mudir in Arabic with English characters and numbers.) In sum - I'm a baby. I rarely get sick, so when I do I totally succumb to my snotty nose and hacking cough. Which is way attractive, I'm aware. Also, I blame the entire thing upon fellow volunteer, Nina. The girl is usually quite lovely company, except it appears her phlegm seems to have gotten me sick in the first place. Though, I suppose,that's neither here, nor there. Since I'll be spending the next few hours cuddled up in bed with a cup of newly sent Chai Tea (thanks mom!) and my purring, portable heater, I figured I'd shoot you all an update from good old Sedona-miz.

Work here is pretty standard. English Classes have been reduced to Tuesday through Thursday from 4-8 in the Dar Chebab here in town. I used to work there everyday last year with multiple clubs and classes, but as I am now on my third Mudir, things are... ahem, different. Thus, myself and programming staff have decided that my commitment there is fulfilled with three days of solid teaching and I tend to look outside this particular location and find more successful and stimulating work elsewhere. Though, we still conduct the occasional themed day events and week-long projects on a regular basis. Examples of the former being a Road Safety Day, Theatre and Music Events, and a celebration of International Women's Day this past month. An example of the latter being a Free Health Clinic being set-up at the Dar Chebab that will run for five days starting this Sunday.

Dar Chebab

Youth in Dar Chebab during Theatre event

Road Safety Day

In addition to Dar Chebab commitments, I now go to a nearby village on Saturdays in order to work with my close friend & volunteer, Felicie, at her Women's Association. We work together tutoring girls in English for a few hours in the afternoon, and she also recently began tutoring young girls in French for the hour prior (which I'm also sneakily getting something out of...). Funnily enough, since her village doesn't have a high school, the girls we tutor travel daily to my town in order to finish their Baccalaureate education. So, technically, I'm still helping 'my community' by commuting to hers every Saturday. It's a particularly win-win situation as we get to spend our Saturday mornings hiking around the lake in her site, so it's a pleasant way to start the day and the weekend.

In the midst of a hike with the lake in the background

Felicie and Hadoc at the start of our lake-side jaunt.

In theory, I spend the next day, Sundays, with Sedona-miz's youth soccer league. However, the last couple of weeks have been an issue due to poor Moroccan bureaucracy. Essentially, we have been waiting on a piece of paper to be authorized in order to give us permission to use the school grounds for practice and tournaments without the school staff or director being present. This wasn't an issue last year, and wasn't an issue at the beginning of this season, but - as things go in Morocco - it became an issue when someone up the ranks was momentarily inconvenienced over a door-locking issue. Insha'allah, things will be remedied again by next Sunday and the season will continue according to plan.

Stretching before game time on primary school grounds

Practice and drills

Group of girls that participated in last year's 7 month season

In a few weeks time, all Youth Development volunteers here in Morocco will be conducting Spring Camps across the country. The Ministry of Youth and Sports are holding double the amount of camps this year than they did last year, to which your natural reaction should be something along the lines of: 'Wow! Looks like things are really progressing! They must be reaching so many more children!' Yeah, totally, right? Until you realize that they have doubled the amount of camps, but not the man-power. Since these camps are 'English-Immersion' style camps, they require a certain amount of volunteers to both conduct classes and coordinate the camps for the week in question. Only, the ratio went from around 1:10 last year to about 1:40 this year quicker than you can say 'Holy chaos, Batman!' There's no possible way these camps are going to run as efficiently as they may (or may not have) run last year. Also, the camp I signed-up to coordinate, may or may not be cancelled. Due to... drum roll please... Moroccan bureaucracy! And the truth of it is, I probably won't find out for certain until the week before the start date. Yay!

All in all, though, I'm content with the work I'm doing and with the momentum I have going. At this point in the game, with just about eight months left (holy crap!), the point isn't to be beginning new projects. It's a matter of successfully maintaining and completing those that you have already set up. This rings especially true within my particular sector, as the Youth Centre starts closing-up shop in June and won't re-open until late September, leaving me with... three to four more months of a solid, routine work schedule. My extra time is honestly being filled with GRE vocab-cards, re-working my CV, and contemplating job options for when I get back. 'Tis the season for beginning to think post-Peace Corps! Crazy.

Flat Tires and Mountain Passes. Fun!

Okay, so over the last few months, my Papa (or Grandfather for those of you playing at home), has been sending me compilations... er, presentations... glorified chain emails if you will, of a few natural slash man-made phenomena. Essentially, pictures & descriptions of some really cool shit. More specifically - some really cool shit in Norway. (He is Norwegian after all.) I'll give you some highlights (before moving on to my point. Of which I assure you, there is one):

Preikestolen - aka Preacher's Pulpit or Pulpit Rock

Preikestolen is located in Forsand, Ryfylke, Norway, a mere 1982 feet about ground. The cliff is 82 feet by 82 feet wide and would most certainly make me crap my pants. Not unlike this next Norwegian, picturesque delight...

Atlanterhavsveien - aka The Atlantic Road

This stretch of five miles took almost six years to build. There are eight bridges in just under eight kilometers which lies over a stretch of ocean that is known to be hurricane-prone. I can already picture my mother uncontrollably crying and pissing her pants simultaneously.

Which leads me to my aforementioned promise of a point. My trip over the Tishka Pass this past weekend.

I've written of this delightful trek before, as the Tishka connects Marrakech and Ouarzazate, cutting through some of the highest points of the Atlas mountains. With an infinite number of vomit-inducing switchbacks, the beautiful landscape is a suitable compliment the guardrail-less cliff edges. Under normal circumstances, enduring this five hour bus journey without puking your guts out or peeing your pants in fear is an accomplishment in itself.

This past Tuesday, however, a wrench was indeed thrown into this already brazen challenge: popping a flat tire on a CTM bus while turning corner on one of these already intimidating switchbacks. (FYI: I will not be disclosing the state of my underpants at this time.) Luckily, our masterfully skilled driver managed to swing the bus into the general direction intended and we slowly bumbled our way downhill towards the nearest village to find a safe place to park and change the tire. Though a village was in sight, this seemed to take over an hour. Once at said village, it took another two and a half hours to change the humongous wheel - with rather questionable equipment and aging manpower to boot. Alhamdulilah, after an excruciatingly long, cold, mountain-side wait, we were off again and safely made it to Marrakech just over two hours later (and just under four hours late).

However, as the tire burst and I was sent slamming into the passenger-side window, I wasn't sure where I'd rather be: plummeting over the Tishka into a neighbouring Berber village? Or cascading over the edge of the Atlanterhavsveien into the chilly North Atlantic?

Lose, lose I suppose.

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.

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?

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!!