Last week, as I was continuing my journey north in Morocco, I went back to the town where I lived in 2010 during PST (Pre-Service Training) in my first two months in Morocco. My host brother, in whose home I lived back then, met me at the taxi stand when I arrived in town last week. We retired to his house for a healthy lunch of a tajine of lima beans, peas and beef, which we ate, as usual, out of a communal dish by grabbing morsels of food with small pieces of bread.
As I spent time in their house again that afternoon, I reflected on how far I've come since I first arrived in Morocco. In light of how I'm more adjusted now to life here, I recalled how rough those first couple of months were. Consequently, with the benefit not only of hindsight, but also of a good deal of time, I have come to appreciate even more, and be all the more grateful for, how warm, welcoming, caring, generous and concerned my original host mother and host brother were during my first couple of months here in Morocco.
In addition to visiting them, I also wanted to visit other families there in town who are also wonderful. While it was still lunchtime, I headed to the home of another family who hosted another PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) at the same time as me back in 2010. I wanted to catch their son, a real character who always hams it up when greeting people, before he returned to school after having lunch at home, as Moroccan youths typically do between 12 p.m. and 2 p.m. I arrived at their house while it was still lunchtime. Accordingly, within a few minutes of sitting down, the father in that household was sitting at a table with me, and we were enjoying a large plate of turkey. He kept ripping off large pieces of turkey and putting them in front of me. When it came time for dessert, I ate a banana. As usual, the Moroccan host told me to have another piece of fruit, so I then ate an orange. Then he noted how I had just eaten lunch, and, gesturing to the next part of the living room, he told me that I was welcome to take a nap there. After eating a second full lunch, a nap sounded good to me. He removed some of the large, heavy, embroidered cushions from the no-back sofa continuously lining all of the walls of the living room. He also set me up with a blanket before heading off for his own nap. As I lay there with a surely full stomach, warm underneath a heavy blanket, I heard the heavy rainfall assaulting the roof, thankful not only that I was warm, dry and comfortable, but grateful even moreso for the warmth, generosity and hospitality of so many giving and considerate people.
As I spent time in their house again that afternoon, I reflected on how far I've come since I first arrived in Morocco. In light of how I'm more adjusted now to life here, I recalled how rough those first couple of months were. Consequently, with the benefit not only of hindsight, but also of a good deal of time, I have come to appreciate even more, and be all the more grateful for, how warm, welcoming, caring, generous and concerned my original host mother and host brother were during my first couple of months here in Morocco.
In addition to visiting them, I also wanted to visit other families there in town who are also wonderful. While it was still lunchtime, I headed to the home of another family who hosted another PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) at the same time as me back in 2010. I wanted to catch their son, a real character who always hams it up when greeting people, before he returned to school after having lunch at home, as Moroccan youths typically do between 12 p.m. and 2 p.m. I arrived at their house while it was still lunchtime. Accordingly, within a few minutes of sitting down, the father in that household was sitting at a table with me, and we were enjoying a large plate of turkey. He kept ripping off large pieces of turkey and putting them in front of me. When it came time for dessert, I ate a banana. As usual, the Moroccan host told me to have another piece of fruit, so I then ate an orange. Then he noted how I had just eaten lunch, and, gesturing to the next part of the living room, he told me that I was welcome to take a nap there. After eating a second full lunch, a nap sounded good to me. He removed some of the large, heavy, embroidered cushions from the no-back sofa continuously lining all of the walls of the living room. He also set me up with a blanket before heading off for his own nap. As I lay there with a surely full stomach, warm underneath a heavy blanket, I heard the heavy rainfall assaulting the roof, thankful not only that I was warm, dry and comfortable, but grateful even moreso for the warmth, generosity and hospitality of so many giving and considerate people.
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