.jpg)
Isn't she cute :)
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And a dancer..
On my 21st birthday celebration at Harpos.
Yep, she likes her duck umbrella.
Claire and I on Philanthropy day during Recruitment :)
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Claire Bear is 21.
I wanted to dedicate a post to my little sister, Claire, turning 21. I cannot believe how old she is and that I cannot be there to celebrate! We will celebrate quite nicely when I am back in the States I am sure. Here are some pictures for your entertainment.
.jpg)
Isn't she cute :)
.jpg)
And a dancer..
On my 21st birthday celebration at Harpos.
Yep, she likes her duck umbrella.
Claire and I on Philanthropy day during Recruitment :)
Isn't she cute :)
And a dancer..
On my 21st birthday celebration at Harpos.
Yep, she likes her duck umbrella.
Claire and I on Philanthropy day during Recruitment :)
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Yes, I acted a fool.
I am going to write this story, despite that fact that I indeed look like a fool during it, because I believe it is a story that needs to be told. The fun all started last night.
I was sitting in the kitchen watching my sister cook dinner, after an afternoon collecting all of the wheat that the women in the village had harvested. My brother, Moustapha, comes into the kitchen and tells me that my host uncle has letters from his “friends” in America that are in English and he cannot read them. He wants to know if I will read them and help him understand what they are saying. I am immediately daunted by this task, since after all I know slightly better than Kindergarten Tashlheet and translating letters sounds way out of my language league, but of course I agree.
About 30 minutes later my host uncle shows up with a shoebox size box full of “letters”. I then ask my host uncle if he has friends in America, and he says “no”. So then I start wondering, where are these letters coming from if he doesn’t have friends in America. I open the box and to my surprise and delight, it is an ENTIRE BOX full of junk mail. Yes, anywhere from 40-50 pieces of junk mail that were sent to my host uncle’s PO Box in southern Morocco, saved from 2005 to now. I immediately burst out into a fit of laughter. Of course everyone around me has no idea what is going on, so I tell them, “This is trash, all of this mail is just trash letters from America”. They still don’t understand.
This is where I start to look like a fool. In my defense, I have no prior knowledge about my uncle and his feelings (this was only the second time I had met him, the first time he yelled at my about George Bush for like 25 minutes), I also had no idea that Moroccans have no concept of junk mail. Americans are well aware of the concept of sales calls, junk mail and the constant solicitation that we receive every day for products, ect. In Morocco, they do not have these same problems. I suppose in Morocco they use the postal service for actual letters instead of just advertisements and solicitations.
All of you can empathize with my initial reaction of laughter. After all my uncle thought these were letters from his friends, but they were just junk mail. My question is why are American companies (one was based in KCMo) sending this mail to a Moroccan man who lives in a small village far away from the USD?
We then brought all of the mail into the living room, where there were about 7 of Moustapha’s friends and my uncle assembled eager to figure out what these letters said. Here is a synopsis of the letters. “If you mail us $30 and all of your personal information, including your Social Security number or Passport number, then we will mail you a new flat screen TV or $10,000.” All of the letters promised lots of money in exchange for a little money. This is the sort of stuff that American’s don’t even open, they just throw it away.
At this point, I had been trying to explain (in my limited language) that this was trash mail and not from his friends, for about 45 minutes, but no one understood. It was too late to call anyone I knew who could translate, so I tried to make a point by crumpling up one of the pieces of paper and throwing it towards the trash can. This was single handedly the stupidest cultural thing I have done since I got to Morocco.
My uncle immediately became extremely mad that I was treating his letters this way, walked over grabbed the rest of the mail and the crumbled up piece of paper and left the room. At this point, I didn’t know what to do, so I went upstairs and called Sami and Dave. First to remove myself from the very awkward situation and to tell the story to someone, in hope that it would help me calm down my laughter. After I got off the phone with them, I went back downstairs and started apologizing to my mother and my sister, they both told me it wasn’t a big deal and that I didn’t do anything wrong, but that was not the impression I had gotten.
I then start explaining to my mom in different words that these are just American companies who want information and money from people, even Moroccans. I told her that in America we get lots and lots of letters like that, and we just throw them away. I told her that there is no company in America that will just mail you $10,000 for no reason (one of the letters even promised $1.5 Million USD). She then started to catch on and understand, asking me many more questions about the companies and letters. I explained the best I could. She then told me that my Uncle had been mailing his information to these companies, despite the fact that he couldn’t read the letters. To my Uncle’s credit, he had NO idea what he was getting mailed. He had no concept of junk mail, or scams or any of the above. He assumed, rightfully so, that if he got a letter in his mailbox, it was a legitimate letter. The fact that he was sending his info back explains why he had so many letters. I am sure every time he sent something back, they mailed him even more stuff.
I had then asked my mom to call my host uncle and explain the situation and apologize for anything I did that I didn’t mean to do. She agreed. Today I called one of the people who works for PC and can translate more complex ideas than I can. She talked to my host mother and explained in greater detail the situation and the caution I send to the uncle about passing his information to American companies. Turns out my broken Tashlheet had come through and my mother indeed understood what I had told her the night before.
The moral of this story is that my cultural insensitivities had made me look like a fool in the end. I had failed to fully digest the situation before I reacted in laughter. In the end, it turned out fine. My uncle is not mad at me, my family thinks its hilarious and most importantly the point has been made that these letters were not from his friends, they were scams. Hopefully I have explained it well enough to prevent future sending of information to scam artists in the States.
I learned my lesson and taught something at the same time, accomplishing goals two and three of the Peace Corps Mission.
Love you all.
I was sitting in the kitchen watching my sister cook dinner, after an afternoon collecting all of the wheat that the women in the village had harvested. My brother, Moustapha, comes into the kitchen and tells me that my host uncle has letters from his “friends” in America that are in English and he cannot read them. He wants to know if I will read them and help him understand what they are saying. I am immediately daunted by this task, since after all I know slightly better than Kindergarten Tashlheet and translating letters sounds way out of my language league, but of course I agree.
About 30 minutes later my host uncle shows up with a shoebox size box full of “letters”. I then ask my host uncle if he has friends in America, and he says “no”. So then I start wondering, where are these letters coming from if he doesn’t have friends in America. I open the box and to my surprise and delight, it is an ENTIRE BOX full of junk mail. Yes, anywhere from 40-50 pieces of junk mail that were sent to my host uncle’s PO Box in southern Morocco, saved from 2005 to now. I immediately burst out into a fit of laughter. Of course everyone around me has no idea what is going on, so I tell them, “This is trash, all of this mail is just trash letters from America”. They still don’t understand.
This is where I start to look like a fool. In my defense, I have no prior knowledge about my uncle and his feelings (this was only the second time I had met him, the first time he yelled at my about George Bush for like 25 minutes), I also had no idea that Moroccans have no concept of junk mail. Americans are well aware of the concept of sales calls, junk mail and the constant solicitation that we receive every day for products, ect. In Morocco, they do not have these same problems. I suppose in Morocco they use the postal service for actual letters instead of just advertisements and solicitations.
All of you can empathize with my initial reaction of laughter. After all my uncle thought these were letters from his friends, but they were just junk mail. My question is why are American companies (one was based in KCMo) sending this mail to a Moroccan man who lives in a small village far away from the USD?
We then brought all of the mail into the living room, where there were about 7 of Moustapha’s friends and my uncle assembled eager to figure out what these letters said. Here is a synopsis of the letters. “If you mail us $30 and all of your personal information, including your Social Security number or Passport number, then we will mail you a new flat screen TV or $10,000.” All of the letters promised lots of money in exchange for a little money. This is the sort of stuff that American’s don’t even open, they just throw it away.
At this point, I had been trying to explain (in my limited language) that this was trash mail and not from his friends, for about 45 minutes, but no one understood. It was too late to call anyone I knew who could translate, so I tried to make a point by crumpling up one of the pieces of paper and throwing it towards the trash can. This was single handedly the stupidest cultural thing I have done since I got to Morocco.
My uncle immediately became extremely mad that I was treating his letters this way, walked over grabbed the rest of the mail and the crumbled up piece of paper and left the room. At this point, I didn’t know what to do, so I went upstairs and called Sami and Dave. First to remove myself from the very awkward situation and to tell the story to someone, in hope that it would help me calm down my laughter. After I got off the phone with them, I went back downstairs and started apologizing to my mother and my sister, they both told me it wasn’t a big deal and that I didn’t do anything wrong, but that was not the impression I had gotten.
I then start explaining to my mom in different words that these are just American companies who want information and money from people, even Moroccans. I told her that in America we get lots and lots of letters like that, and we just throw them away. I told her that there is no company in America that will just mail you $10,000 for no reason (one of the letters even promised $1.5 Million USD). She then started to catch on and understand, asking me many more questions about the companies and letters. I explained the best I could. She then told me that my Uncle had been mailing his information to these companies, despite the fact that he couldn’t read the letters. To my Uncle’s credit, he had NO idea what he was getting mailed. He had no concept of junk mail, or scams or any of the above. He assumed, rightfully so, that if he got a letter in his mailbox, it was a legitimate letter. The fact that he was sending his info back explains why he had so many letters. I am sure every time he sent something back, they mailed him even more stuff.
I had then asked my mom to call my host uncle and explain the situation and apologize for anything I did that I didn’t mean to do. She agreed. Today I called one of the people who works for PC and can translate more complex ideas than I can. She talked to my host mother and explained in greater detail the situation and the caution I send to the uncle about passing his information to American companies. Turns out my broken Tashlheet had come through and my mother indeed understood what I had told her the night before.
The moral of this story is that my cultural insensitivities had made me look like a fool in the end. I had failed to fully digest the situation before I reacted in laughter. In the end, it turned out fine. My uncle is not mad at me, my family thinks its hilarious and most importantly the point has been made that these letters were not from his friends, they were scams. Hopefully I have explained it well enough to prevent future sending of information to scam artists in the States.
I learned my lesson and taught something at the same time, accomplishing goals two and three of the Peace Corps Mission.
Love you all.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Some random photos.
My host sister from training and I at our celebration for the village.
Martin and Dave think they are cool with their new hats.
The Taxi we rented to take us to our site, yes its insane but not that uncommon. The green bag is mine.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Lots of trips.
So these first few weeks at post have actually flown by, mostly because of the shear number of trips I have taken since being at post. In my defense, I am not leaving for fun vacation trips, but work related stuff.
The trips all started a few weeks ago when the women at my Co-Op I am working with asked me if I was interested in going to Sidi Ifni with them. Of course, I said yes. We were supposed to leave on Wednesday but didnt end up starting our journey until early Thursday morning. There were 3 of us in total that went, and I was really unsure of what to expect. I knew it was a "sale" of some kind, but I just wasnt sure what it was all about.
I was pleasently suprised when I go there. Sidi Ifni is like a beach town that forgot it was next to the ocean. There is very little development right on the water and for the most part (despite some trash) the beach is in pretty good shape. The town has a very laid back atmosphere and isnt nearly as bustling as some of the other cities in Morocco I have visited. The dress is still pretty conservative, with women wearing full body scarfs, but intermixed with tourists in tee shirts and shorts. It is quite an interesting combination.
Turns out that this "sale" was actually a festival of sorts put on my the Provience of Sidi Ifni (which I live in) for some of the local women's cooperatives in the area. They payed for our hotel and provided us meals, it was sort of like grown women at summer camp where everyone speaks a different language than you. We spent our days in our tent selling our products to locals who could just stop by and browse around (quite a few tourists came too). The co-op I am working with sells homemade Cous Cous, Argan oil for cooking and cosmetics, lots of natural herbs, cook books, henna and my personal favorite Amalou. Amalous is pretty unique to this region and is made on these rock presses combining either peanuts or almonds, oil and sugar. It is served with bread and is absolutely one of my favorite parts of the region. Other co-ops at the festival sold Traditional Berber clothing, cheese made from goats milk, as well as many variations of our products. It was really cool to see all of the different women's organizations working together to create these quality products as income generation. All-in-all we spent four days there (not the origional two I was told) but I did meet lots of very motivated women and spent my days beach side, which was quite nice. I have even seen some of the women around Tiznit and it is nice to start building those connections to the community.
Next started my trip to the Gendarms. I had to go to the Gendarms to get a carte de sejour which is essentially permission for me to stay in Morocco past my 3 month mark. This turned into a 4 day adventure with many many trips to both Lochkess and Tiznit. It did end with a free ride back to my site and a free lunch with the local authorities. The good news is that I did get my receipt (or reecie picie...as the Gendarms call it, haha) and all is well in that realm. Great. That trip was not without its stresses but in the end its over, for this year at least.
The final trip in this three part series was to Agadir, where I am currently. Agadir is a beautiful city with lots of amenities. We had a meeting up here and decided to spend the weekend just enjoying a hot shower and some delicious food. I am certanly taking anyone who visits me to this great beach town. Destroyed in 1961 by a terrible earthquake, the country got a lot of foregin aid money (I am currently on JFK blvd if that helps you out) and they used it to desgin a city for tourism. This means there are wide streets with parking and sidewalks. Tons of little cafes and shops as well as just about any amenity that you could possibly need. The crowing jewel (in my personal opinion) is the Marjane in town. Marjane is essentially a Target/ Walmart type place crossed with a mall. They have the normal "Wal-Mart" section but also lots of little niche shops (sort of like a strip center in the States) but inside. You can get ANYTHING here. They sell lots of name brand items that I miss from America as well as different types of cheeses, household items, electronics, ect. That is a must-do whenever we come here and its nice for just a few hours to feel a sense of shopping familiarity. At Marjane you dont have to look from behind a counter and decide what you want, you can actually shop, and thats a good feeling.
The other big thing we have done on this trip is try out new restruants in the area. While they were a little pricey for our budget we finally got to eat some variety of food that feels more like home. Friday night we went to really the only Chinease place in town (we tried to find Mexican but NONE exist) and it was awesome. The food tasted good, the atmosphere was great and it was quite worth the adventure to get there. Last night (Saturday night) we went to an italian place called Mezzo Mezzo and it was awesome. Certainly not "Hill" italian food from St. Louis but good none the less. Wow, the food really made the trip.
I have really enjoyed these crazy days but I am looking forward to my time at home with my family this next week :) Now the house/ apartment hunting begins....
I love you all.
Sami and Dave came and visited Maria and I at our booth in Sidi Ifni.
The Governor of Sidi Ifni Prov. and myself in Sidi Ifni.
The festival.
The ocean :)
Me, on the rocks by my house.
My host sisters, some of their friends, Sami and I pretty close to my house.
The trips all started a few weeks ago when the women at my Co-Op I am working with asked me if I was interested in going to Sidi Ifni with them. Of course, I said yes. We were supposed to leave on Wednesday but didnt end up starting our journey until early Thursday morning. There were 3 of us in total that went, and I was really unsure of what to expect. I knew it was a "sale" of some kind, but I just wasnt sure what it was all about.
I was pleasently suprised when I go there. Sidi Ifni is like a beach town that forgot it was next to the ocean. There is very little development right on the water and for the most part (despite some trash) the beach is in pretty good shape. The town has a very laid back atmosphere and isnt nearly as bustling as some of the other cities in Morocco I have visited. The dress is still pretty conservative, with women wearing full body scarfs, but intermixed with tourists in tee shirts and shorts. It is quite an interesting combination.
Turns out that this "sale" was actually a festival of sorts put on my the Provience of Sidi Ifni (which I live in) for some of the local women's cooperatives in the area. They payed for our hotel and provided us meals, it was sort of like grown women at summer camp where everyone speaks a different language than you. We spent our days in our tent selling our products to locals who could just stop by and browse around (quite a few tourists came too). The co-op I am working with sells homemade Cous Cous, Argan oil for cooking and cosmetics, lots of natural herbs, cook books, henna and my personal favorite Amalou. Amalous is pretty unique to this region and is made on these rock presses combining either peanuts or almonds, oil and sugar. It is served with bread and is absolutely one of my favorite parts of the region. Other co-ops at the festival sold Traditional Berber clothing, cheese made from goats milk, as well as many variations of our products. It was really cool to see all of the different women's organizations working together to create these quality products as income generation. All-in-all we spent four days there (not the origional two I was told) but I did meet lots of very motivated women and spent my days beach side, which was quite nice. I have even seen some of the women around Tiznit and it is nice to start building those connections to the community.
Next started my trip to the Gendarms. I had to go to the Gendarms to get a carte de sejour which is essentially permission for me to stay in Morocco past my 3 month mark. This turned into a 4 day adventure with many many trips to both Lochkess and Tiznit. It did end with a free ride back to my site and a free lunch with the local authorities. The good news is that I did get my receipt (or reecie picie...as the Gendarms call it, haha) and all is well in that realm. Great. That trip was not without its stresses but in the end its over, for this year at least.
The final trip in this three part series was to Agadir, where I am currently. Agadir is a beautiful city with lots of amenities. We had a meeting up here and decided to spend the weekend just enjoying a hot shower and some delicious food. I am certanly taking anyone who visits me to this great beach town. Destroyed in 1961 by a terrible earthquake, the country got a lot of foregin aid money (I am currently on JFK blvd if that helps you out) and they used it to desgin a city for tourism. This means there are wide streets with parking and sidewalks. Tons of little cafes and shops as well as just about any amenity that you could possibly need. The crowing jewel (in my personal opinion) is the Marjane in town. Marjane is essentially a Target/ Walmart type place crossed with a mall. They have the normal "Wal-Mart" section but also lots of little niche shops (sort of like a strip center in the States) but inside. You can get ANYTHING here. They sell lots of name brand items that I miss from America as well as different types of cheeses, household items, electronics, ect. That is a must-do whenever we come here and its nice for just a few hours to feel a sense of shopping familiarity. At Marjane you dont have to look from behind a counter and decide what you want, you can actually shop, and thats a good feeling.
The other big thing we have done on this trip is try out new restruants in the area. While they were a little pricey for our budget we finally got to eat some variety of food that feels more like home. Friday night we went to really the only Chinease place in town (we tried to find Mexican but NONE exist) and it was awesome. The food tasted good, the atmosphere was great and it was quite worth the adventure to get there. Last night (Saturday night) we went to an italian place called Mezzo Mezzo and it was awesome. Certainly not "Hill" italian food from St. Louis but good none the less. Wow, the food really made the trip.
I have really enjoyed these crazy days but I am looking forward to my time at home with my family this next week :) Now the house/ apartment hunting begins....
I love you all.
Sami and Dave came and visited Maria and I at our booth in Sidi Ifni.
The Governor of Sidi Ifni Prov. and myself in Sidi Ifni.
The festival.
The ocean :)
Me, on the rocks by my house.
My host sisters, some of their friends, Sami and I pretty close to my house.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
A big week in America.
I would like to send a short shout out to my friends at home who are celebrating big things and I am unfortunately unable to be there to celebrate with them.
Graduating Undergrad:
Jesse Garwood (Mizzou)
Laura Cayce (Mizzou)
Carrie Barker (Mizzou, B.J. Magazine)
Max Reiss/ Heiman (Mizzou, B.J. Broadcast)
Michelle Aylesworth (American Univ)
Tiffany Butler (Spellman College, B.S.)
Brianna Kinney (Hollins Univ)
Jen Stuckel (Missouri State)
Meg O'Connell (Indiana Univ)
Analise Murphy (Mizzou)
Graduating Law School with a job:
Sabrina Guenter (Univ of Virginia)
Rented her first "big kid" place:
Danielle Hohmeier
Bought a car:
Danielle Lecompte
Got a job and graduated with Masters:
Megan Valli (Loyola Univ in Maryland, Masters in Montessori Education)
Kayla Smith (Mizzou, M. Accounting)
Christy Garofalo (Mizzou, M. Accounting)
Brady Bounds (Mizzou, M. Accounting)
Omer Farooq (Illinois Institute of Technology)
Going to the Sudan to work on water quality :) :
Natalie Rada
Got accepted into her Master's program:
Brittany Perrin (Masters in Public Affairs, Mizzou)
Getting Married in one month to the love of her life:
Whitney Schloss (soon to be Whitney Maus)
Moving to Moldova in a few weeks to start her Peace Corps service:
Lindsay Toler (Health volunteer)
Birthdays:
Jason Mehringer (5/16)
Claire Bear (5/31)
Martin Fredreckson (in Morocco :) 5/25)
Danny Stuckel (5/17)
I hope I didnt forget anyone, if I did, email me please.
I love you all. Congrats!
Graduating Undergrad:
Jesse Garwood (Mizzou)
Laura Cayce (Mizzou)
Carrie Barker (Mizzou, B.J. Magazine)
Max Reiss/ Heiman (Mizzou, B.J. Broadcast)
Michelle Aylesworth (American Univ)
Tiffany Butler (Spellman College, B.S.)
Brianna Kinney (Hollins Univ)
Jen Stuckel (Missouri State)
Meg O'Connell (Indiana Univ)
Analise Murphy (Mizzou)
Graduating Law School with a job:
Sabrina Guenter (Univ of Virginia)
Rented her first "big kid" place:
Danielle Hohmeier
Bought a car:
Danielle Lecompte
Got a job and graduated with Masters:
Megan Valli (Loyola Univ in Maryland, Masters in Montessori Education)
Kayla Smith (Mizzou, M. Accounting)
Christy Garofalo (Mizzou, M. Accounting)
Brady Bounds (Mizzou, M. Accounting)
Omer Farooq (Illinois Institute of Technology)
Going to the Sudan to work on water quality :) :
Natalie Rada
Got accepted into her Master's program:
Brittany Perrin (Masters in Public Affairs, Mizzou)
Getting Married in one month to the love of her life:
Whitney Schloss (soon to be Whitney Maus)
Moving to Moldova in a few weeks to start her Peace Corps service:
Lindsay Toler (Health volunteer)
Birthdays:
Jason Mehringer (5/16)
Claire Bear (5/31)
Martin Fredreckson (in Morocco :) 5/25)
Danny Stuckel (5/17)
I hope I didnt forget anyone, if I did, email me please.
I love you all. Congrats!
Napping...
In America (at least in my family) there was an inherint taboo about nap taking. This taboo was so strong in my house, that my sister Claire and I used to hide in the walk-in closet during “cleaning” Saturdays growing up, just so we could catch a nap. It is really only socially acceptable to nap from the birth to 1st grade, and after retirement. For the entirirty of your life where do you don’t fall into the category, you are expected to work endlessly thoroughout the day, no napping allowed. I have consulted with my fellow PC volunteers in Morocco, and their experiences have been similar in regards to the napping policy in the States.
In Morocco, this couldn’t be further from the truth, at least for the villages I have lived in. This trip to Sidi Ifni with the Argan Cooperative serves as a perfect example. Ever since the first day I have been in Africa, everyone is always asking if I am tired and want to take a nap. At first I was slightly offended, like do they really think I am that lazy that I need to nap all the time? Turns out it’s a pretty socially acceptable practice, and they just wanted me to know that napping is an option.
Yesterday, insteading of eating with the lunch with all of the women at the little festival, we headed to one of the ladies relative’s house for lunch. No surprise to anyone who has been in Morocco for any amount of time, but we ate a mound of Cous Cous for lunch. I ate as much as humanly possible and then was naturally feeling sleepy. In America we use coffee, soda, walks, music and anything else you can think of to counteract this feeling, in Morocco they just embrace it. All 8 women that were there were sleepy, so they grabbed some blankets and we all picked a ponge and took a little hour nap. It was like exactly what I needed to get moving again and it was a nice break from fighting it all the time.
Experiences like this have happened on numerous occasions and frankly, its one of the best parts about this new culture. Mind you, I love the food, the importance of personal relationships and the amount of time just hanging out, stress free, but frankly the napping is great. I know that when I return to America two years from now, this will not be an option any more, but for now, I will embrace this cultural norm with open arms and just face the harsh reality two years from now.
Alright well im off to eat lunch and take a nap.
Love you all.
In Morocco, this couldn’t be further from the truth, at least for the villages I have lived in. This trip to Sidi Ifni with the Argan Cooperative serves as a perfect example. Ever since the first day I have been in Africa, everyone is always asking if I am tired and want to take a nap. At first I was slightly offended, like do they really think I am that lazy that I need to nap all the time? Turns out it’s a pretty socially acceptable practice, and they just wanted me to know that napping is an option.
Yesterday, insteading of eating with the lunch with all of the women at the little festival, we headed to one of the ladies relative’s house for lunch. No surprise to anyone who has been in Morocco for any amount of time, but we ate a mound of Cous Cous for lunch. I ate as much as humanly possible and then was naturally feeling sleepy. In America we use coffee, soda, walks, music and anything else you can think of to counteract this feeling, in Morocco they just embrace it. All 8 women that were there were sleepy, so they grabbed some blankets and we all picked a ponge and took a little hour nap. It was like exactly what I needed to get moving again and it was a nice break from fighting it all the time.
Experiences like this have happened on numerous occasions and frankly, its one of the best parts about this new culture. Mind you, I love the food, the importance of personal relationships and the amount of time just hanging out, stress free, but frankly the napping is great. I know that when I return to America two years from now, this will not be an option any more, but for now, I will embrace this cultural norm with open arms and just face the harsh reality two years from now.
Alright well im off to eat lunch and take a nap.
Love you all.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Our Stage at Swearing In
Sorry I didnt post this earlier but this is our "class" photo from Swearing in on May 5th.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Marriage.... It's a big deal.
So I wanted to write a short post commenting on the concept of marriage in Morocco. So I havent been in Morocco for too long of a period of time, but this is one cultural concept I have caught onto pretty much right away. As soon as I could say and comprehend ANY phrase in Tashlheet my host mother started asking me when I was going to get married and have children. At first I laughed this off, but the comments persisted. There was a man in my training group, Martin, who happened to live on the same side of town as me. We used to walk to and from school together, simply out of convenience, but my mother (and apparently other women in the village) thought differently.
She used to ask me relentlessly about whether or not I was going to marry Martin and if I wasnt, was I interested in marrying a Moroccan. This continued for the entire time we were at our training site and frankly it turned into a joke in our minds, but im not so sure my family was joking.
This marriage situation continued even into my post. The second day I was at post, I made it my goal to meet with the Caid, hes some sort of important government official and I deemed it appropriate to introduce myself. My friend Maria and I went to the Caid's office and met with him briefly, but frankly he was a little annoyed with my lack of French but the purpose of going there was accomplished. He was a really nice guy and I think will be a great allie to me in the future. As soon as we left the Caid's office we hear "MARIA" "MARIA" coming from another government building, apparently he knew Maria. So we walked over there quickly and just as soon as he introduced himself, he started speaking English. He asked me all kinds of questions about what I was doing, where i was living, ect. About 10 minutes into the convo he started talking about how his wife was disceased and how he was looking to get married again. He said he thought I would be a good wife for him and literally asked me if I was interested in getting married. Thankfully Maria caught on to his english proposal, stepped in and hurried us out the door. That was only the first encounter of many to come. I have been proposed to by taxi drivers and people in the souk, even if the men are married, they always have a cousin or brother or son looking for a wife!
At first I was a little put off by this sort of forward talk about marriage, but when I sat down to think about it, it makes perfect sense. Many of the people who live in my region are born to get married. That is not saying they dont do other things too, but literally their lives "being" when they get married. Im sure they are just asking because they are curious as to why i am not. Most women in town my age are married, and I think they are just interested in what life is like not being married. All in all it has been quite an eye opening experience and I dont mind the marriage questions even one bit, for now anyway. One person at a time I explain that I have school to finish and places to travel that I want to do before I am married, maybe one day word will get around, but frankly I doubt it.
For the time being I just take it as flattery and move on, at least they are interested in the work that i am doing and asking questions. This is much much better than being ignored.
Love you all.
She used to ask me relentlessly about whether or not I was going to marry Martin and if I wasnt, was I interested in marrying a Moroccan. This continued for the entire time we were at our training site and frankly it turned into a joke in our minds, but im not so sure my family was joking.
This marriage situation continued even into my post. The second day I was at post, I made it my goal to meet with the Caid, hes some sort of important government official and I deemed it appropriate to introduce myself. My friend Maria and I went to the Caid's office and met with him briefly, but frankly he was a little annoyed with my lack of French but the purpose of going there was accomplished. He was a really nice guy and I think will be a great allie to me in the future. As soon as we left the Caid's office we hear "MARIA" "MARIA" coming from another government building, apparently he knew Maria. So we walked over there quickly and just as soon as he introduced himself, he started speaking English. He asked me all kinds of questions about what I was doing, where i was living, ect. About 10 minutes into the convo he started talking about how his wife was disceased and how he was looking to get married again. He said he thought I would be a good wife for him and literally asked me if I was interested in getting married. Thankfully Maria caught on to his english proposal, stepped in and hurried us out the door. That was only the first encounter of many to come. I have been proposed to by taxi drivers and people in the souk, even if the men are married, they always have a cousin or brother or son looking for a wife!
At first I was a little put off by this sort of forward talk about marriage, but when I sat down to think about it, it makes perfect sense. Many of the people who live in my region are born to get married. That is not saying they dont do other things too, but literally their lives "being" when they get married. Im sure they are just asking because they are curious as to why i am not. Most women in town my age are married, and I think they are just interested in what life is like not being married. All in all it has been quite an eye opening experience and I dont mind the marriage questions even one bit, for now anyway. One person at a time I explain that I have school to finish and places to travel that I want to do before I am married, maybe one day word will get around, but frankly I doubt it.
For the time being I just take it as flattery and move on, at least they are interested in the work that i am doing and asking questions. This is much much better than being ignored.
Love you all.
The "Real" Peace Corps Experience
The past two days have been what I would consider my first real “Peace Corps” experience. What I mean by this, is up until now, we have really been under the supervision and guidance of many host country nationals and PC staff who were guiding us in pretty much all aspects of life. Since we have sworn in a moved to our final posts, just about a week ago, we have been tackling head on all the “real world” problems that exist as a volunteer in Morocco. So far, I have had extremely smooth sailing. Sami, Dave and I rented ONE cab to take us from our training hub site, Ouarzazet, to our final sites, just south of Tiznit. It was about a 8-9 hour trip and was door to do service. Unlike other volunteers, I took all of my luggage with me in the cab and had all of it to look through the first night I was at post. This was a luxury most volunteers don’t experience.
My family is amazing, that has also made the transition much easier. There are three children, all between the ages of 17 and 22, so they are old enough to be independent and show me the “ropes” of the village. I have a host sister, Hadija, who is pretty much my guardian. She literally helps me do EVERYTHING.
Yesterday started this adventure. I needed to go to Lockess to meet with the Gendarmes to get my Carte De Sejour. Since I didn’t need a visa to come here, I basically need to get this card proving my identity in Morocco and so I don’t get deported. Getting this card is quite a process and I think I described in a previous post what my first trip was like, but to sum it up, its like visiting a very busy DMV where you don’t speak the same language. My second trip I was going at it alone, so that added an increased level of difficulty. I was really concerned about how I was going to get there, without just doing the easy thing and paying for a the whole cab so the guy would take me there. I decided it was time to try and conquer the bus. This bus is essentially a run down city type bus that runs from Tiznit to the outer dwwars (villages). Riding it is probably a fairly easy process, but I am easily intimidated by it and have been avoiding it at all costs for the entirety of my time here. My sister told me to stop be a wuss about it and just do it. She wrote out the instructions of what I needed to do in Arabic on a piece of paper, so worst case scenario, I could give it to a nice person and they would help me. This made me feel like a kindergarten kid who’s parents give the bus driver specific instructions of how to care for a child. Here was the rundown. I would catch the 10am bus number 21 from my site, to a place called Mird. It is really just a stop, a place with three buildings and a fork in the rode. Then I had to catch another bus, number 10, going in another direction, to Lockess. There were a couple of intimidating things, I didn’t know how much any of these buses cost, or who to pay for that matter. There isn’t like an official meter on the bus that you have to pay, or even pay the driver, its just a random guy you give your money to, and that is initmidating.
Here is what actually happened, Hadija and I ran up the mountain so I could catch the 10am bus, but it didn’t come. We then started scoping out the cab scene in the main part of town, (aka the souk). We basically found nothing. So Hadija did what we normally do, we just grabbed a seat. I never have any idea what we are waiting for, but I have gotten really good at just going with the flow. After about 10-15 minutes of , for God only knows what, the president of the cooperative, Msaidia, showed up in a car and told me to get in.
I want to describe this women for you, just because I feel like she is a character worth describing. Msaidia is nearly 6 feet tall and built very solid, with a very delicate and beautiful face. Sort of an imposing figure, I am constantly intimidated by her presence despite the fact that she is extremely kind and caring. She is a women who runs the show. Her presence demands attention and respect and even her children (she has 3) don’t mess around when she is there. I am not sure about her marital situation, I have never seen her husband, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have one. She is pretty much a Type A personality and I appreciate a strong women presence in my life.
Back to the story, Msaidia told me to get in the cab, so I did. The cab driver was nice, as usual. I have had nothing but extremely nice cab drivers the entire time I have been here, and I hope the pattern continues. Msaidia got out at Mird, the town I was supposed to catch the other bus at, but the cab driver drove me to Lockess, FOR FREE. This was the best part I guess. I did have about 20 minutes of somewhat awkward Tashl-eng-fren (a combo of Tashlheet, English and French) conversation but when we got there and I tried to pay, he said it was a favor to Msaidia. The cab driver took me directly to the door of the Gendarmes and even escorted me inside. When I got inside, all my “old friends” were there, aka the Gendarmes. They escorted me into the Chief’s office, ahead of the 40+ Moroccan men who had been waiting, for I'm sure an extended period of time. I am sure the men who have been waiting for hours did not appreciate a blonde American girl being escorted into the Chief’s office, with no waiting at all, but I guess that is one place where being different helps.
When I got to the office, all of the Gendarmes start cycling in and out of the office to “meet” me, which was pretty funny. They were asking lots of questions in broken English about my family, where I was living, what I was doing, whether or not I was married, and for that case, looking for a husband in Morocco, I could tell the Chief was feeling awkward, so he sent them away. I thought it was funny. I had spent many days preparing for this meeting, making photo copies, collecting papers, buying small photos of myself, ect, so I was really excited to get this process over with. To my surprise (NOT), haha they told me I had to go to the Police Station in Tiznit and meet with a guy at the police station to get the Carte. After some language confusion, a new Gendarme I had never met before came in, and he SPOKE ENGLISH. It was like a gift sent to me. He didn’t speak great English, but certainly enough for me to get my needs met and not have to fight the language barrier at the same time. He again reiterated that I had to go to Tiznit, because they didn’t do it at this Gendarmerie. I wasn’t really sure how I was going to get to Tiznit, especially since it was market day in Lockess so there were LOTS of Moroccan men who don’t mind awkwardly staring at the American walking around looking for a cab. I told the Gendarmes that since I had come all the way to them alone and they were sending me away again, they had to drive me. Of course, this didn’t work, but it was worth a shot. As compensation, the English speaking Gendarme walked me the market and put me in a cab, with explicit directions to the driver about where he needed to take me and how much it was going to cost. It was sort of cool to walk through the market with a Gendarme, it made me feel less awkward being surrounded by so many men.
The cab driver did as instructed, and dropped me off at the police station in downtown Tiznit. When I walked in the door, immediately a police officer helped me find the man I was looking for. When I got into this man’s office, he was yelling at someone on the phone in a not very pleasant tone of voice, and it was pretty much all down hill from there. The man at the police station told me that I had to do it in Lockess and that the Gendarmes were wrong. I then asked if anyone at the station spoke English and to my luck, no one did. I then called one of our trusty PC staff and they translated for me, indeed I did need to go back to the Gendarme station in Lockess all along.
In all reality, if this same scenario would have happened when I was in America, I would have been frustrated beyond belief and it would have definitely ruined my day. In morocco, that was not the case at all. I then had the day to enjoy Tiznit! Tiznit is a beautiful city with lots of things to do, places to shop and good places to eat. They even have an American style super market. Turns out that some of the Health volunteers were in town to meet up with Ministry of Health so I got to grab lunch with them, it was delicious. In another stroke of good luck, Sami and Dave were coming into town as well to spend the night. I didn’t really have any plans for the rest of the day, so I met up with a good friend of mine who’s a health volunteer and we drank coffee and hung out until Sami and Dave got into town. I finally headed back to my post about 7pm, since it doesn’t get dark until well after 9 now, I had a fun filled day of traveling and hanging out with my friends. All in all, it was a blessing in disguise and a good taste of some of the opportunities and challenges I will have to overcome in the next two years.
This was only day one of my lesson thought. For the past couple of days, the women’s cooperative has been talking about me coming with them to an event they are going to in Sidi Ifni. I initially said no, because we were supposed to have a meeting with the Department of Water and Forests in Tiznit, but then I realized this was not an opportunity I could pass up. It was really my first shot at learning about the cooperative and what they are all about. (In retrospect this was a great choice, since the meeting didn’t end up happening anyway.) So this morning I woke up extra early so I would have time to pack and clean up before I embarked on my three day all Tashlheet adventure with some of the women of the cooperative. I had been told many times to be at Maria’s (my friend and a lady in the cooperative) house at 11am sharp. We were going to grab lunch and then head out to Tiznit, to spend the night with some of her family members.
I called the Gendarmes and told them where I was going (they called 3 more times today just to check in, they really do care where I am going and what I am doing, which is nice and makes me feel safe) and then I was off to Maria’s house. When I got there, they were right in the middle of doing laundry and cooking, so I pitched in as best as I can. They have a washing machine of sorts, so it was cool to watch that in action as compared to the ones in the States that I am used to. We then just sat down and started watching TV. We at lunch about 3pm, which was a little later than I thought we would but about the time we normally eat every day. After that, I was starting to wonder about when we were leaving, but its much easier to just not ask questions and go with the flow. After lunch they told me it was nap time, a luxury not often taken advantage of in the states, even a little taboo in some cases, but something Moroccans consider completely acceptable and even encourage. I took a 2.5 hour nap, which was nice but really not needed, after all I had spent most of the day just sitting in front of the TV or playing with the girls, but oh well. At about 6pm we headed to the cooperative and packed up the stuff into boxes. At this point I was like, surely we are going now, but nope, we didn’t. Finally I asked Maria when we were leaving and very casually, she was like “tomorrow morning”. At this point I wasn’t even surprised and I had been suspecting this answer for quite some time. At around 8:30pm I headed back to my house and surprised my family with the fact that I hadn’t left (my sister Hadija was especially excited since this morning she said she would be really bored for 3 days without me ☺ ).
So the plan is that I am leaving tomorrow morning at 6am, but in reality its going to be more like 8am, but mashe mushkil (not a problem) because that is just how life is now. My new reality is that days exist around conversations and meals, instead of productivity and things to check off your To Do list. It’s a nice change of pace and certainly makes life quite enjoyable once you learn to just go with the flow.
All in all, events that could have been stressful and ruined my day, did not do that at all. They actually turned out quite nice, since I got to see some friends, eat some delicious American type food and watch the movie “A Knight’s Tale” all the way thought for the first time in years.
I will keep you posted on how my trip to Sidi Ifni goes. Miss you all and love you more.
My family is amazing, that has also made the transition much easier. There are three children, all between the ages of 17 and 22, so they are old enough to be independent and show me the “ropes” of the village. I have a host sister, Hadija, who is pretty much my guardian. She literally helps me do EVERYTHING.
Yesterday started this adventure. I needed to go to Lockess to meet with the Gendarmes to get my Carte De Sejour. Since I didn’t need a visa to come here, I basically need to get this card proving my identity in Morocco and so I don’t get deported. Getting this card is quite a process and I think I described in a previous post what my first trip was like, but to sum it up, its like visiting a very busy DMV where you don’t speak the same language. My second trip I was going at it alone, so that added an increased level of difficulty. I was really concerned about how I was going to get there, without just doing the easy thing and paying for a the whole cab so the guy would take me there. I decided it was time to try and conquer the bus. This bus is essentially a run down city type bus that runs from Tiznit to the outer dwwars (villages). Riding it is probably a fairly easy process, but I am easily intimidated by it and have been avoiding it at all costs for the entirety of my time here. My sister told me to stop be a wuss about it and just do it. She wrote out the instructions of what I needed to do in Arabic on a piece of paper, so worst case scenario, I could give it to a nice person and they would help me. This made me feel like a kindergarten kid who’s parents give the bus driver specific instructions of how to care for a child. Here was the rundown. I would catch the 10am bus number 21 from my site, to a place called Mird. It is really just a stop, a place with three buildings and a fork in the rode. Then I had to catch another bus, number 10, going in another direction, to Lockess. There were a couple of intimidating things, I didn’t know how much any of these buses cost, or who to pay for that matter. There isn’t like an official meter on the bus that you have to pay, or even pay the driver, its just a random guy you give your money to, and that is initmidating.
Here is what actually happened, Hadija and I ran up the mountain so I could catch the 10am bus, but it didn’t come. We then started scoping out the cab scene in the main part of town, (aka the souk). We basically found nothing. So Hadija did what we normally do, we just grabbed a seat. I never have any idea what we are waiting for, but I have gotten really good at just going with the flow. After about 10-15 minutes of , for God only knows what, the president of the cooperative, Msaidia, showed up in a car and told me to get in.
I want to describe this women for you, just because I feel like she is a character worth describing. Msaidia is nearly 6 feet tall and built very solid, with a very delicate and beautiful face. Sort of an imposing figure, I am constantly intimidated by her presence despite the fact that she is extremely kind and caring. She is a women who runs the show. Her presence demands attention and respect and even her children (she has 3) don’t mess around when she is there. I am not sure about her marital situation, I have never seen her husband, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have one. She is pretty much a Type A personality and I appreciate a strong women presence in my life.
Back to the story, Msaidia told me to get in the cab, so I did. The cab driver was nice, as usual. I have had nothing but extremely nice cab drivers the entire time I have been here, and I hope the pattern continues. Msaidia got out at Mird, the town I was supposed to catch the other bus at, but the cab driver drove me to Lockess, FOR FREE. This was the best part I guess. I did have about 20 minutes of somewhat awkward Tashl-eng-fren (a combo of Tashlheet, English and French) conversation but when we got there and I tried to pay, he said it was a favor to Msaidia. The cab driver took me directly to the door of the Gendarmes and even escorted me inside. When I got inside, all my “old friends” were there, aka the Gendarmes. They escorted me into the Chief’s office, ahead of the 40+ Moroccan men who had been waiting, for I'm sure an extended period of time. I am sure the men who have been waiting for hours did not appreciate a blonde American girl being escorted into the Chief’s office, with no waiting at all, but I guess that is one place where being different helps.
When I got to the office, all of the Gendarmes start cycling in and out of the office to “meet” me, which was pretty funny. They were asking lots of questions in broken English about my family, where I was living, what I was doing, whether or not I was married, and for that case, looking for a husband in Morocco, I could tell the Chief was feeling awkward, so he sent them away. I thought it was funny. I had spent many days preparing for this meeting, making photo copies, collecting papers, buying small photos of myself, ect, so I was really excited to get this process over with. To my surprise (NOT), haha they told me I had to go to the Police Station in Tiznit and meet with a guy at the police station to get the Carte. After some language confusion, a new Gendarme I had never met before came in, and he SPOKE ENGLISH. It was like a gift sent to me. He didn’t speak great English, but certainly enough for me to get my needs met and not have to fight the language barrier at the same time. He again reiterated that I had to go to Tiznit, because they didn’t do it at this Gendarmerie. I wasn’t really sure how I was going to get to Tiznit, especially since it was market day in Lockess so there were LOTS of Moroccan men who don’t mind awkwardly staring at the American walking around looking for a cab. I told the Gendarmes that since I had come all the way to them alone and they were sending me away again, they had to drive me. Of course, this didn’t work, but it was worth a shot. As compensation, the English speaking Gendarme walked me the market and put me in a cab, with explicit directions to the driver about where he needed to take me and how much it was going to cost. It was sort of cool to walk through the market with a Gendarme, it made me feel less awkward being surrounded by so many men.
The cab driver did as instructed, and dropped me off at the police station in downtown Tiznit. When I walked in the door, immediately a police officer helped me find the man I was looking for. When I got into this man’s office, he was yelling at someone on the phone in a not very pleasant tone of voice, and it was pretty much all down hill from there. The man at the police station told me that I had to do it in Lockess and that the Gendarmes were wrong. I then asked if anyone at the station spoke English and to my luck, no one did. I then called one of our trusty PC staff and they translated for me, indeed I did need to go back to the Gendarme station in Lockess all along.
In all reality, if this same scenario would have happened when I was in America, I would have been frustrated beyond belief and it would have definitely ruined my day. In morocco, that was not the case at all. I then had the day to enjoy Tiznit! Tiznit is a beautiful city with lots of things to do, places to shop and good places to eat. They even have an American style super market. Turns out that some of the Health volunteers were in town to meet up with Ministry of Health so I got to grab lunch with them, it was delicious. In another stroke of good luck, Sami and Dave were coming into town as well to spend the night. I didn’t really have any plans for the rest of the day, so I met up with a good friend of mine who’s a health volunteer and we drank coffee and hung out until Sami and Dave got into town. I finally headed back to my post about 7pm, since it doesn’t get dark until well after 9 now, I had a fun filled day of traveling and hanging out with my friends. All in all, it was a blessing in disguise and a good taste of some of the opportunities and challenges I will have to overcome in the next two years.
This was only day one of my lesson thought. For the past couple of days, the women’s cooperative has been talking about me coming with them to an event they are going to in Sidi Ifni. I initially said no, because we were supposed to have a meeting with the Department of Water and Forests in Tiznit, but then I realized this was not an opportunity I could pass up. It was really my first shot at learning about the cooperative and what they are all about. (In retrospect this was a great choice, since the meeting didn’t end up happening anyway.) So this morning I woke up extra early so I would have time to pack and clean up before I embarked on my three day all Tashlheet adventure with some of the women of the cooperative. I had been told many times to be at Maria’s (my friend and a lady in the cooperative) house at 11am sharp. We were going to grab lunch and then head out to Tiznit, to spend the night with some of her family members.
I called the Gendarmes and told them where I was going (they called 3 more times today just to check in, they really do care where I am going and what I am doing, which is nice and makes me feel safe) and then I was off to Maria’s house. When I got there, they were right in the middle of doing laundry and cooking, so I pitched in as best as I can. They have a washing machine of sorts, so it was cool to watch that in action as compared to the ones in the States that I am used to. We then just sat down and started watching TV. We at lunch about 3pm, which was a little later than I thought we would but about the time we normally eat every day. After that, I was starting to wonder about when we were leaving, but its much easier to just not ask questions and go with the flow. After lunch they told me it was nap time, a luxury not often taken advantage of in the states, even a little taboo in some cases, but something Moroccans consider completely acceptable and even encourage. I took a 2.5 hour nap, which was nice but really not needed, after all I had spent most of the day just sitting in front of the TV or playing with the girls, but oh well. At about 6pm we headed to the cooperative and packed up the stuff into boxes. At this point I was like, surely we are going now, but nope, we didn’t. Finally I asked Maria when we were leaving and very casually, she was like “tomorrow morning”. At this point I wasn’t even surprised and I had been suspecting this answer for quite some time. At around 8:30pm I headed back to my house and surprised my family with the fact that I hadn’t left (my sister Hadija was especially excited since this morning she said she would be really bored for 3 days without me ☺ ).
So the plan is that I am leaving tomorrow morning at 6am, but in reality its going to be more like 8am, but mashe mushkil (not a problem) because that is just how life is now. My new reality is that days exist around conversations and meals, instead of productivity and things to check off your To Do list. It’s a nice change of pace and certainly makes life quite enjoyable once you learn to just go with the flow.
All in all, events that could have been stressful and ruined my day, did not do that at all. They actually turned out quite nice, since I got to see some friends, eat some delicious American type food and watch the movie “A Knight’s Tale” all the way thought for the first time in years.
I will keep you posted on how my trip to Sidi Ifni goes. Miss you all and love you more.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Volunteerism, here were come.
About 3 hours ago our stage of 70 individuals from both the Health and Environment sectors took the oath of the Peace Corps and made the big transition from PC Trainee to PC Volunteer. We heard great speeches from the Governor of the Provence we are currently in, the U.S. Ambassador to Morocco and our Country Director. We also got short speeches from some fellow trainees in our target languages, which was cool.
After the ceremony, which took place in the nicest building with the nicest chairs I have sat on in Morocco, we had a little "cocktail" hour. They served tea, a milk smoothie and some Hawaii soda and then little cookies. It was a cool opportunity to get to talk to the Governor and the Ambassador as well as his wife. They were all so receptive and thankful for our service, and I was quite thankful they came to speak with us.
All in all it was quite a cool ceremony. I happen to love all things banquet, ceremony and cocktail hours so it was right up my alley. I also appreciated seeing everyone dressed up and showered.
We just got back from the Atlas Studios, we got to see some sweet movie sets and walk around some cool places, all for free so that made it better.
Tonight we had a Berber band come and play while we did some traditional dancing. It was quite the event.
Im going to post tomorrow, then the real adventure starts, so does the studying.
Also I forgot to mention that it was "America Day" in our provence (state) today but in America, it was "Mexico Day" aka Cinco de Mayo. haha.
The Ambassador to Morocco and myself.
The awesome governor of Ouarzazet Provence, Jancy and myself.
Jancy, Jesse and myself.
The Ambassador's wife and myself.
After the ceremony, which took place in the nicest building with the nicest chairs I have sat on in Morocco, we had a little "cocktail" hour. They served tea, a milk smoothie and some Hawaii soda and then little cookies. It was a cool opportunity to get to talk to the Governor and the Ambassador as well as his wife. They were all so receptive and thankful for our service, and I was quite thankful they came to speak with us.
All in all it was quite a cool ceremony. I happen to love all things banquet, ceremony and cocktail hours so it was right up my alley. I also appreciated seeing everyone dressed up and showered.
We just got back from the Atlas Studios, we got to see some sweet movie sets and walk around some cool places, all for free so that made it better.
Tonight we had a Berber band come and play while we did some traditional dancing. It was quite the event.
Im going to post tomorrow, then the real adventure starts, so does the studying.
Also I forgot to mention that it was "America Day" in our provence (state) today but in America, it was "Mexico Day" aka Cinco de Mayo. haha.
The Ambassador to Morocco and myself.
The awesome governor of Ouarzazet Provence, Jancy and myself.
Jancy, Jesse and myself.
The Ambassador's wife and myself.
The big day has come.
Hello all:
Tomorrow is the big day, we get to swear in. I will keep you posted and post some pictures afterwords but the day is finally here!
Thursday I am moving to my final post, inshalla!
Also, I forgot to follow up on the gift giving, basically it was AWESOME. I got my mom some new cups (with oranges on the side) and a kitchen strainer and a cool scarf, she cried. I got my host brothers a NEW, working soccer ball. They haven't had one in quite some time. I got my oldest host sister (she is 7) a coloring book in both French and Arabic and some markers (good ones, since they never get good anything) and my little host sister a pretty pink hat with a bow, she never takes it off. My host dad got a certificate from the Peace Corps and the pictures of his family my dad printed out in America and mailed to me.
There is no better feeling that watching people receive gift. In return for my gifts, my family got me another kilo of almonds. There is a very genuine and sweet story behind this. So my training village is the self proclaimed almond capitol of the area. I happen to like them a lot and they are quite expensive in the states, so I started asking everyone I knew where I could buy a kilo of almonds that are from my village, to support the local economy and all. After about a week of non-stop asking, my dad comes home with a bag. I was like "where did you get them?" He said "I had to walk to another village today to get some" which just made me laugh. Like my village is supposed to be the Almond capitol, i don't understand why I can't get Asfalo almonds. Either way i paid him and was grateful. Mind you, I have been eating this almonds for about a month now, and I haven't even gotten through a 1/2 kilo, so I decided to donate the other half to our party for our host families. In the mean time my mother had noticed I did not have anymore and went back to that same village and bought me some as a thank you gift. I thought it was the nicest gesture of all time, she knew I loved them and noticed i was out, so got them for me. Now I have another kilo of almonds on top of the ones I didn't finish in the first place to hold me over for quite some time.
i will update you all soon!
love you all.
Tomorrow is the big day, we get to swear in. I will keep you posted and post some pictures afterwords but the day is finally here!
Thursday I am moving to my final post, inshalla!
Also, I forgot to follow up on the gift giving, basically it was AWESOME. I got my mom some new cups (with oranges on the side) and a kitchen strainer and a cool scarf, she cried. I got my host brothers a NEW, working soccer ball. They haven't had one in quite some time. I got my oldest host sister (she is 7) a coloring book in both French and Arabic and some markers (good ones, since they never get good anything) and my little host sister a pretty pink hat with a bow, she never takes it off. My host dad got a certificate from the Peace Corps and the pictures of his family my dad printed out in America and mailed to me.
There is no better feeling that watching people receive gift. In return for my gifts, my family got me another kilo of almonds. There is a very genuine and sweet story behind this. So my training village is the self proclaimed almond capitol of the area. I happen to like them a lot and they are quite expensive in the states, so I started asking everyone I knew where I could buy a kilo of almonds that are from my village, to support the local economy and all. After about a week of non-stop asking, my dad comes home with a bag. I was like "where did you get them?" He said "I had to walk to another village today to get some" which just made me laugh. Like my village is supposed to be the Almond capitol, i don't understand why I can't get Asfalo almonds. Either way i paid him and was grateful. Mind you, I have been eating this almonds for about a month now, and I haven't even gotten through a 1/2 kilo, so I decided to donate the other half to our party for our host families. In the mean time my mother had noticed I did not have anymore and went back to that same village and bought me some as a thank you gift. I thought it was the nicest gesture of all time, she knew I loved them and noticed i was out, so got them for me. Now I have another kilo of almonds on top of the ones I didn't finish in the first place to hold me over for quite some time.
i will update you all soon!
love you all.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Life in the fast lane.
So it turns out that the apetities of 10 year old boys is pretty much universal. They like carbohydrates and sugar and despise any food with any sort of nutritional value. My brother Hamid has proven this theory time and time again in my traning host family’s home.
This week has been a big week for the relationship between me and my host family. I spent ten days away from them and I think we both realized how close we had become. I came back to the village last Saturday evening and was greeted with open arms. I didn’t realize the people of the village even knew my name, much less missed my absence. After all we spend 90% of our day in school and very little of it when we get home is spent outside the home. I was proven wrong.
All of my neighbors came outside to welcome me back to the village and ask me how my trip was. My host sister, Asma, came running out of the compound full speed to greet me with a hug. It is a good feeling to be missed, especially when you don’t expect it.
I didn’t realize that in such a short time we had collectively made an impact on each other’s lives. My family has taught me so many things about Morocco and family and life. I am eternally indebted to them. They have taught me what it is like to live on less but not miss out on life. They have shown me how to wash my clothes by hand and cook a delicious dinner from scratch. Most importantly they have shown me that different doesn’t mean bad. I am much different from them and them from me, but that has not played even a minor role in their treatement of me or inhibated their ability to welcome me with open arms and let me join their family. I can assure you it has made the transition much easier knowing I have a support base here in Morocco when my family and friends in the States cant be there.
So here is how the week went. On Saturday we got back in the evening time and I helped cook dinner, clean up, entertained the kids and brought back water from the well as usual. We ate dinner pretty late and we even had my host aunt over. I have only met her once, but she speaks a little English which is nice. She even wrote me a letter in script explaining what I have meant to their family and how they were going to miss me when I was gone. It was a really nice note. After dinner I went straight to bed, which turned out to be a bad idea. Whatever the factor was, I woke up at about 5am in extreme stomach pain. I ran to the bathroom a couple of times and about the 3rd time, my mother was standing outside the bathroom waiting for me. Mind you, my brother Hamid had been super sick the week I was gone, so sick they took him to a doctor in Ouarzazet. Im sure my mother was thinking that she was killing all of her children. I tried to explaint that I had pleanty of medicine and that I would be okay in a little bit, but she waitied outside my room until I fell asleep again.
On Sunday, my mother and I cooked rice mush, per my request to prevent another Saturday night inicident. On Monday, she made cous cous again. The same thing we ate the night I got sick, but as any great mother would, she made me a salad with tomatoes, onions and peppers so that I could eat things I like but not have to eat the cous cous. It was one of the nicest gestures of hospitality ever and again, just another reason why she is an angel. Last night, my sisters Asma and Hasna and I watched Apollo 13 in my room while the rest of the family napped, we even shared some granola bar, quite a big treat for these girls.
Today was sort of the culmination of it all. Amina, our home stay coordinator, came to our village and paid all of our families for feeding and housing us. When she got back to the school she told me that my family was the only family that mentioned to her that I had become a part of their family and they liked having me around. They told her they were really sad that I had to leave. Now mind you, I am sure everyone’s host families will miss them and everyone has played an important part in the lives of those they lived with, but I thought it was especially awesome that my host mother had made it a point to mention it to Amina. When Amina and our traning coordinator, Hoda, came to our site, they also brought some mail for me. One package that I got contained some packets of seasoning/ mix that my mom had sent from the States. When I got home, I asked my mom what we were having for dinner and she told me I could choose. I then asked if I could cook them an “American” dinner of sorts (with a Moroccan twist of course). My mom was happy to let me .
One of the packets I got was brown gravy mix. It happens to be my favorite brown gravy and I haven’t eaten it since February, which is a long time. I decided to cook mashed potatoes, gravy, peas and chicken. All my favorite things. After some improvising and lots of help from my mom, dinner was ready. As we set it on the table in the living room, all of the kids and my host dad gave it sort of a strange look, but dove right in. As I expected, my very picky host brother Hamid, did not like it at all and made it a point to make sure everyone at the table knew. My host mother was so embarrassed that she sent him out of the room to go sit by himself. I tried to explain to her that it was not a problem if he didn’t like it. Not everyone likes all kinds of food and that it didn’t offend me, but she was hearing nothing of the sorts. I am pretty sure that everyone else except little Amsa, didn’t necessarily like the food, but they made a point to compliment it thousands of times and wipe the plate clean. Asma on the other hand resorted to licking the pan I cooked the gravy in, so she could get every last bite.
It really meant a lot to me that my family was working so hard to not hurt my feelings, when frankly, I don’t like all the Moroccan food I eat. It just shows what amazing people they are, and what amazing adults the kids are going to grow up to be, even Hamid. It really isn’t Hamid’s fault he doesn’t like gravy and I have made that point many times, maybe one of these days they will believe me.
In other news, something hilarious happened today. For the past day or two my host mother has been wearing an outfit that is green with flowers but has little diagrams of atoms on it. It has the standard picture with the nuclus in the middle and the electrions whirling around the outside. Fatima has no clue what those little symbols mean and I find it hilarious that some clothing maker in Morocco is making outfits with atomic symbols on them. I have been trying to explain that they are related to science but its hard for a science nerd to explain to my 5th grade educated mother what atoms are, so I just tell her they are pretty and move on. Today I brought my computer into the kitchen so we could listen to some Indian tunes (the closest I have to Moroccan music) while we cooked. About an hour into the jam session, she looks at my computer and points out that the Genius sidebar on my ITunes has exactly the same atomic symbol as her outfit. I couldn’t believe that she noticed and we both laughed for a long time that it was the same. She told me that she was going to wear that outfit more often because it is cool, since Americans use the same symbol. It was a great story to tell and pretty awesome. While I look at the atomic symbol and think about chemical reactions and physics, my mom looks at it and thinks that it’s just a cool symbol since my computer has it too! Sometimes you don’t even expect to be surprised and amazing and then it happens, and boy is it awesome.
I am getting pretty sad thinking about having to leave my family on Sunday morning, but I know I will be back. When my American family visits, we will be sure to make a trip to my training village so they can meet my Moroccan family that has changed my life.
I did buy some pretty sweet gifts so I will let you know how the gift giving goes ☺
In other news, I passed my language test, so I will get to swear in :)
Martin and my host sister Asma.
Sami and Dave at McDonalds in Agadir. They dont go to McDonalds often in the states so it was a treat for them.
Me enjoying a delicious Diet Coke at McDonalds, WITH ICE!
The girls eating chips given to them by Sami and Dave. They loved them.
The beauty of Agadir.
This week has been a big week for the relationship between me and my host family. I spent ten days away from them and I think we both realized how close we had become. I came back to the village last Saturday evening and was greeted with open arms. I didn’t realize the people of the village even knew my name, much less missed my absence. After all we spend 90% of our day in school and very little of it when we get home is spent outside the home. I was proven wrong.
All of my neighbors came outside to welcome me back to the village and ask me how my trip was. My host sister, Asma, came running out of the compound full speed to greet me with a hug. It is a good feeling to be missed, especially when you don’t expect it.
I didn’t realize that in such a short time we had collectively made an impact on each other’s lives. My family has taught me so many things about Morocco and family and life. I am eternally indebted to them. They have taught me what it is like to live on less but not miss out on life. They have shown me how to wash my clothes by hand and cook a delicious dinner from scratch. Most importantly they have shown me that different doesn’t mean bad. I am much different from them and them from me, but that has not played even a minor role in their treatement of me or inhibated their ability to welcome me with open arms and let me join their family. I can assure you it has made the transition much easier knowing I have a support base here in Morocco when my family and friends in the States cant be there.
So here is how the week went. On Saturday we got back in the evening time and I helped cook dinner, clean up, entertained the kids and brought back water from the well as usual. We ate dinner pretty late and we even had my host aunt over. I have only met her once, but she speaks a little English which is nice. She even wrote me a letter in script explaining what I have meant to their family and how they were going to miss me when I was gone. It was a really nice note. After dinner I went straight to bed, which turned out to be a bad idea. Whatever the factor was, I woke up at about 5am in extreme stomach pain. I ran to the bathroom a couple of times and about the 3rd time, my mother was standing outside the bathroom waiting for me. Mind you, my brother Hamid had been super sick the week I was gone, so sick they took him to a doctor in Ouarzazet. Im sure my mother was thinking that she was killing all of her children. I tried to explaint that I had pleanty of medicine and that I would be okay in a little bit, but she waitied outside my room until I fell asleep again.
On Sunday, my mother and I cooked rice mush, per my request to prevent another Saturday night inicident. On Monday, she made cous cous again. The same thing we ate the night I got sick, but as any great mother would, she made me a salad with tomatoes, onions and peppers so that I could eat things I like but not have to eat the cous cous. It was one of the nicest gestures of hospitality ever and again, just another reason why she is an angel. Last night, my sisters Asma and Hasna and I watched Apollo 13 in my room while the rest of the family napped, we even shared some granola bar, quite a big treat for these girls.
Today was sort of the culmination of it all. Amina, our home stay coordinator, came to our village and paid all of our families for feeding and housing us. When she got back to the school she told me that my family was the only family that mentioned to her that I had become a part of their family and they liked having me around. They told her they were really sad that I had to leave. Now mind you, I am sure everyone’s host families will miss them and everyone has played an important part in the lives of those they lived with, but I thought it was especially awesome that my host mother had made it a point to mention it to Amina. When Amina and our traning coordinator, Hoda, came to our site, they also brought some mail for me. One package that I got contained some packets of seasoning/ mix that my mom had sent from the States. When I got home, I asked my mom what we were having for dinner and she told me I could choose. I then asked if I could cook them an “American” dinner of sorts (with a Moroccan twist of course). My mom was happy to let me .
One of the packets I got was brown gravy mix. It happens to be my favorite brown gravy and I haven’t eaten it since February, which is a long time. I decided to cook mashed potatoes, gravy, peas and chicken. All my favorite things. After some improvising and lots of help from my mom, dinner was ready. As we set it on the table in the living room, all of the kids and my host dad gave it sort of a strange look, but dove right in. As I expected, my very picky host brother Hamid, did not like it at all and made it a point to make sure everyone at the table knew. My host mother was so embarrassed that she sent him out of the room to go sit by himself. I tried to explain to her that it was not a problem if he didn’t like it. Not everyone likes all kinds of food and that it didn’t offend me, but she was hearing nothing of the sorts. I am pretty sure that everyone else except little Amsa, didn’t necessarily like the food, but they made a point to compliment it thousands of times and wipe the plate clean. Asma on the other hand resorted to licking the pan I cooked the gravy in, so she could get every last bite.
It really meant a lot to me that my family was working so hard to not hurt my feelings, when frankly, I don’t like all the Moroccan food I eat. It just shows what amazing people they are, and what amazing adults the kids are going to grow up to be, even Hamid. It really isn’t Hamid’s fault he doesn’t like gravy and I have made that point many times, maybe one of these days they will believe me.
In other news, something hilarious happened today. For the past day or two my host mother has been wearing an outfit that is green with flowers but has little diagrams of atoms on it. It has the standard picture with the nuclus in the middle and the electrions whirling around the outside. Fatima has no clue what those little symbols mean and I find it hilarious that some clothing maker in Morocco is making outfits with atomic symbols on them. I have been trying to explain that they are related to science but its hard for a science nerd to explain to my 5th grade educated mother what atoms are, so I just tell her they are pretty and move on. Today I brought my computer into the kitchen so we could listen to some Indian tunes (the closest I have to Moroccan music) while we cooked. About an hour into the jam session, she looks at my computer and points out that the Genius sidebar on my ITunes has exactly the same atomic symbol as her outfit. I couldn’t believe that she noticed and we both laughed for a long time that it was the same. She told me that she was going to wear that outfit more often because it is cool, since Americans use the same symbol. It was a great story to tell and pretty awesome. While I look at the atomic symbol and think about chemical reactions and physics, my mom looks at it and thinks that it’s just a cool symbol since my computer has it too! Sometimes you don’t even expect to be surprised and amazing and then it happens, and boy is it awesome.
I am getting pretty sad thinking about having to leave my family on Sunday morning, but I know I will be back. When my American family visits, we will be sure to make a trip to my training village so they can meet my Moroccan family that has changed my life.
I did buy some pretty sweet gifts so I will let you know how the gift giving goes ☺
In other news, I passed my language test, so I will get to swear in :)
Martin and my host sister Asma.
Sami and Dave at McDonalds in Agadir. They dont go to McDonalds often in the states so it was a treat for them.
Me enjoying a delicious Diet Coke at McDonalds, WITH ICE!
The girls eating chips given to them by Sami and Dave. They loved them.
The beauty of Agadir.
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