The Sun Is Setting On My Peace Corps Service

I'm getting so close to the end of my Peace Corps service that when I do a lot of things now, it's the last time that I'm going to do them here in Morocco.  Today I went to the city that's near my town, making the last round-trip journey during my Peace Corps service to that city.

Very early this morning, here in Morocco, we shifted our clocks one hour back, so that we're once again on "old time," as folks here sometimes put it, or in the time zone of GMT (Greenwich Mean Time).  However, not everyone alters their schedule to conform to the time change.  So, just to be safe, I showed up at the bus station as if the time change hadn't occurred.  Sure enough, the bus was there at the bus station as if the time change hadn't happened.  I was glad that I got up an hour early to catch the bus!

When I got to the city, I made my way to a cafe I've frequented there in that city.  I was enjoying the glorious day, the brilliant blue sky and the temperate weather as I savored a "nuss-nuss," (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "half-half"), which, in the context of going to a cafe, is a cup filled half with coffee and half with milk.  Moroccan coffee tends to be pretty strong, so usually I order a nuss-nuss, rather than follow my practice in the US of ordering a cup filled mostly with coffee and a little milk.  Even so, a nuss-nuss often still gives me a minor case of the jitters!

As I was sitting outside, basking in the sunshine and enjoying my hot beverage, I saw a girl, perhaps in her late teens, ride a bicycle around the roundabout, her head covered in a hijab, that is, a headscarf.  Upon seeing her exercise her freedom of movement, I was reminded of the words of a young friend of mine, another Moroccan teenage girl.  While traveling outside Morocco, she had recently met Muslim girls from other nations and realized that she and other Moroccan girls enjoy freedoms which Muslim girls in certain other countries don't have.  I was glad to hear my friend's thoughts, her realizations about her life and the world.  I was happy that her realm of experience had been widened such that she had altered her perceptions of herself, her life, other girls, and the world around her.  Observing the Moroccan girl on the bicycle this morning, I once again began to wonder how I'm going to process my cultural observations from Morocco once I'm back in the US and have the changed perspective of being back in the states.

After my visit to the cafe, there in the city I attended Bible study with some of my Christian expat friends who live here in Morocco.  I've been so thankful to God for the fellowship and spiritual community I've shared with them, getting to worship God and celebrate His blessings with them.  I certainly didn't expect to live in a location here in Morocco where I would be able to commune regularly with other Christians, so I've been very grateful for their presence, care, warmth and support of me in my Christian faith.  After Bible study, we had a lovely outdoor barbeque, with grilled chicken and sausages, potato casserole, cake and cookies, among other delicious food.  I felt better after getting to say goodbye to my Christian brothers and sisters there, as well as to some fellow PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) who were there in the city today.  I feel like I get more of a proper sense of closure, putting me more at ease, when, in person and with sufficient time, I get to properly say goodbye to people. And, in this particular context of completing my Peace Corps service, when I get to say proper goodbyes, I feel like I'm appropriately preparing to leave this country where I have lived for two years.

On the bus ride back here to the town where I live here in the Sahara, I consciously looked at this town as we approached it, realizing that surely it was the last time I would view it from that location and angle during my Peace Corps service, and, quite probably, for the last time at all.  Returning here to town so late in the day, admiring the sun setting on the mountains near this town, I considered an analogy of the scope of the sun today to my Peace Corps service.  As the sun set today, so the sun is setting on my Peace Corps service.

Mixing US Culture And Host Country Culture

Among the many culinary creations I enjoy are jelly doughnuts.  I've been looking forward to having some when I get back to the states.

In the meantime, while I've been living here in Morocco, from time to time I enjoy "shfinj," which are Moroccan fried doughnuts.  I've been glad that one shop here in the town where I live in the Sahara sells shfinj.

I'd been thinking for a while of buying not only shfinj again, but also some strawberry jelly and making some shfinj into jelly doughnuts.  Accordingly, yesterday some of us at the dar shebab (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth center"), where I do most of my volunteering as a PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer), went and got some shfinj, strawberry jelly and granulated sugar.  Although the shfinj they sell here in town have holes in the middle, we cut open the sides and stuffed them with strawberry jelly.  Then we sprinkled some granulated sugar on top of them.

I explained to the dar shebab moudir (Darija for "director") and some of the kids there that some of the doughnuts in the US resemble the creations we were eating.  Thus we took a little bit of the culture here in Morocco, added in some elements used in similar cultural offerings in the US, and had a bit of cross-cultural exchange--in the form of some tasty treats!

Losing Fluency In English Redux

My COS (Completion Of Service, or Close Of Service) date is two weeks from today.  Consequently, I've been working on transitioning out of my service.  I've been preparing to leave the town where I've been living here in the Sahara for the better part of two years.  I've been looking ahead to the adjustments I'll be making once I finish my Peace Corps service.

Of course I'll be adjusting to life after Morocco as a result of how I've been living here in Morocco.  While I've lived here in Morocco, I've gotten used to operating in certain ways.  For one thing, I've been speaking English less than I did in the states.  It is true that many people here in Morocco know enough English that a good deal of the time, people speak with me in English, and, consequently, I speak with them in English.  Nevertheless, much of the time I'm speaking Darija, that is, Moroccan Arabic, or French.  Thus I've been speaking less English than I did in the states.

As a result of speaking English less often, PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) sometimes stumble when they try to speak English.  Yesterday I had exactly such trouble, as I was on my way back from this cyber, when I crossed paths with one of the students who often comes to the dar shebab (Darija for "youth center"), where I've done most of my volunteering as a PCV here in Morocco.

He asked me, "You was in the cyber?"

I corrected him, "You were in the cyber."

He posed his question rephrased, "You were in the cyber?"

I replied, "I was in the cyber," but then I immediately doubted whether I had correctly conjugated the verb "to be"!  Hopefully I'm not going to have trouble speaking English once I'm back in the US!

A Bus Ride In Morocco

Recently on my way back to the town where I live here in the Sahara, I was trying to catch a bus south from Marrakech. I went to the CTM bus station, but found that both of the CTM buses out of Marrakech which would be headed down here were already full. I walked to the SupraTours bus station, but soon learned that the SupraTours bus south to the Sahara was also full. Accordingly, I went to the main bus station there in Marrakech, where I was able to get on a bus back south. At the main bus station, one catches buses less fancy than CTM buses and SupraTours buses. The buses are older and generally less comfortable. PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) refer to these buses as "souq buses," because the driver will let you off wherever you like; thus you can take these buses to the souq, or the farmer's market, whereas CTM buses and SupraTours buses generally won't make special stops for you such as at the farmer's market. 

Once I'd gotten my bus ticket, I found my bus and boarded it. When I ride buses here in Morocco, if I can, I always sit in the row furthest back. On the route I travel south from Marrakech back to the town where I live here in the Sahara, the buses go through the High Atlas mountains, and over the Tichka Pass. The buses make many turns on this curvy route. Consequently many people get motion sickness and become nauseous and end up vomiting. Given that I both don't get motion sickness, and given that I also don't want anyone sitting behind me potentially vomiting on me, I always sit in the row furthest back if there's an empty seat there for me. Thus on this particular day, I was sitting all the way in the back of the bus. Admittedly the spot where I was sitting didn't look that comfortable. Thus the Moroccan man sitting across the aisle from me asked me if I was sitting in a good seat. I replied in Darija, that is, in Moroccan Arabic, that it wasn't a good seat, but that I was a little insane. One is always likely to elicit a laugh if one insinuates that one is crazy. Accordingly, the man laughed, and, as people here do when they think that someone has made a good joke, he shook my hand.

Soon after we had this laugh, we were visited by some folks on the bus who did not end up traveling with us. Moroccans who are not traveling walk onto these less fancy buses and peddle different things, most commonly bottles of water, snacks, shoes and jewelry. Moroccans also walk onto the buses asking for alms. After I'd boarded this bus, there was quite a while until we were going to leave. Thus multiple people boarded the bus trying to sell their various items.

At one point the Moroccan man sitting across the aisle from me was surrounded by four kids, seemingly about eight to twelve years old. They were trying to sell him different things, which I believe included water and gum. Noting the little gathering around him, I suggested to him in Darija, "It's a little market here on the bus." Later, after the kids had left, I joked with him that if someone has to go shopping, he or she doesn't have to go to a hanoot, which is Darija for "grocery store." Rather, all someone has to do is board a souq bus and sit there for a little while before it leaves, and someone can do all of his or her shopping there on the bus. Of course, I exaggerate. One can't buy anything and everything from the folks who board trying to peddle their goods. For example, after my comment that being aboard a souq bus just before it leaves is like being at the market, that fellow sitting across the aisle from me noted that no one had come aboard the bus trying to sell vegetables.

And indeed, people are limited in how many different types of things they can sell on the buses partly due to time constraints. After a while, we were off on our way south from Marrakech and on to the High Atlas mountains. When we were passing through some of the highest spots on that road, I was pleased to yet again spot a waterfall, despite it being so long since the winter, thus with presumably less melting snow to feed a waterfall. Thus I was happy that day not only to get in some good laughs, sharing some humor with one of my fellow passengers, but I was also glad to get to enjoy some natural beauty on my way back south to the Sahara.

COS (Completion of Service) Conference

This week I was in Rabat for my COS (Completion Of Service, or Close Of Service) Conference. Although my COS date, when I'll return to Peace Corps Headquarters in Rabat to officially stop being a PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer), won't be until next month, Peace Corps holds the COS Conference a little bit before PCVs actually close their service. At the COS Conference, Peace Corps helps PCVs prepare to complete their service.

During the COS Conference this week, Peace Corps held sessions on a variety of topics. We've got tasks to do in multiple areas, and we're processing and reflecting on our experiences in various ways, so this week Peace Corps helped us to get these tasks done and to consider our time here.

Near the beginning of the COS Conference, Peace Corps held a session on medical concerns, during which they gave us an overview of the medical attention we would receive during the COS Conference. During that session, medical staff instructed us about the medical samples we would have to provide during the COS Conference. They also reminded us how our COS physical examinations and dental cleanings would be done, which also occurred this week. They looked ahead and explained how we'll be able to receive medical care once we stop being PCVs, that is, once we're RPCVs (Returned Peace Corps Volunteers).

During another session, Peace Corps staff gave us printed copies of our aspiration statements, which we had authored before coming here to Morocco. In our aspiration statements, we had written about professional attributes we had planned to use, and the aspirations we had hoped to fulfill, during our Peace Corps service. In these statements, we had also described strategies we had had about working effectively with Moroccans, and strategies for adapting to a new culture. In the aspiration statements, we had also noted skills and knowledge we had hoped to gain during PST (Pre-Service Training). In these statements, we had imagined how our Peace Corps service would influence our personal and professional goals. In re-reading our aspiration statements, we reflected on whence we had come and what we had hoped to do during our Peace Corps service, and where we had arrived through our cultural odyssey here in Morocco, what we had done along the way, and how we got to this point in our service. We considered our accomplishments over the last couple of years in light of what we had hoped to do while here in Morocco.

Peace Corps staff also ran a session on readjusting to life in the US. Some of the staff working for Peace Corps in Morocco have lived for extensive periods, as in a dozen years, in the US. Thus they've been readjusting to life here in Morocco after living in the US for so long. During the session on readjustment, Peace Corps staff shared their experiences, including their frustration they've felt here in Morocco, as they try to readjust to life here in Morocco.

During another session, Peace Corps staff had us PCVs discuss questions which RPCVs are commonly asked once they've finished their Peace Corps service and have moved back to the US. It seems that once RPCVs arrive back in the US, they experience frustration when asked certain types of questions, particularly those which generalize or are otherwise insensitive, so Peace Corps staff tries to prepare PCVs for such questions.

A panel of a half dozen RPCVs spoke to us during one session. Some of them served here in Morocco, but most of them served as PCVs in other countries. They served as PCVs at various points in the past, one as recently as within the last year, and others more than fifteen years ago. They spoke to us about readjusting to life in the US. They also shared their thoughts on what to do after Peace Corps service, which included thoughts on job hunting as well as on graduate school.

We also had a session on services which Peace Corps provides to RPCVs, including once they're back in the US. We learned about help which Peace Corps provides in finding jobs. We also got some pointers on how to describe our Peace Corps service on our resumes.

Peace Corps staff gave us some guidance on writing the DOS (Description Of Service) which every PCV must write about himself or herself. In the DOS, a PCV describes when he or she arrived in his or her country of service, the training he or she received there, where he or she lived during his or her service, and the work he or she did as a PCV in his or her country of service. The DOS goes on file with Peace Corps and is the official record of the PCV's service. Each of us had time during the week of the COS Conference to write a DOS. Thus by the time the COS Conference had ended, each of us was able to e-mail a final draft of our DOS to Peace Corps staff here, who will review it before signing it and making it official.

Peace Corps staff also administered LPIs (Language Proficiency Interviews) during the COS Conference. That is, they tested our proficiency in whatever language we've been speaking for the last two years, whether it has been Darija, which is Moroccan Arabic, or whether it has been one of the Berber languages, which, for PCVs here in Morocco, is either Tashelheit or Tamazight.

During an administrative session, Peace Corps staff listed the numerous tasks we should be sure to complete before our COS dates. They reviewed how we will have to close our bank accounts. They added that we should inform the post office and the gendarmes, who are our local law enforcement officers, as well as our local government officials in the towns in which we live, of our impending departures.

Peace Corps staff also held a session on safety and security matters. We were asked why we thought they were addressing safety and security at this late stage of our service. Perhaps some of us thought that we've been here so long that there's no need for us to discuss safety and security concerns. But I agree with Peace Corps staff that we needed such a session precisely because many of us may have become lax and careless about safety and security here. We've been here so long that we think that we know how things work here. It's possible that at this point, some PCVs have stopped being vigilant and alert, and are thus more at risk to become crime victims. Or if some PCVs have become more and more frustrated over the course of their service, they might lash out against someone and escalate a tense or otherwise dangerous situation, thereby increasing a risk of harm to themselves. Hence I felt that the time was well-spent talking about safety and security concerns.

The Ambassador to Morocco and his spouse visited us during our COS Conference. I was struck by how they spent most of their time with us in asking us questions about Morocco. They wanted to know what we had observed, what we had learned during our Peace Corps service here. I was very impressed that, despite the Ambassador's position of significant stature and authority, that he and his spouse acted with much notable humility in asking us questions, since, in doing so, they showed that they felt that they had something to learn from us.

We also had a session in which we were able to provide programming feedback. Thus, those of us PCVs completing our service in the next couple of months, being Youth Development PCVs and Small Business Development PCVs, provided feedback to Peace Corps staff about how Peace Corps has run its Youth Development and Small Business Development volunteering programs for PCVs. We offered suggestions on how various programming operations could be improved.

Each of us also had a chance to speak with the Country Director of the Peace Corps here in Morocco. During these individual exit interviews, which provided ample time to speak with her, she asked us how we feel about our Peace Corps service as we prepare to COS. She inquired about challenges and successes we've faced here. I was glad not only that she asked us for our feedback, but that she seemed to respond appropriately to different types of feedback. I felt that she was honestly listening and that she would deal appropriately with various matters.

I left the COS Conference feeling fairly well-prepared for what lies ahead in certain ways. I feel well-equipped to handle administrative tasks and other matters I have to handle in the days ahead.

As the week progressed, I was feeling a bit anxious, since there was much to get done in an effort to get things squared away as instructed. As I got more done, I became a bit calmer.

However, I also realized that I was feeling a good deal of separation anxiety this week. Many of us PCVs who are about to complete our service here acknowledged to each other that some of us probably won't ever see each other again. We're all going to actually officially stop being PCVs on different dates, so we won't all be at Peace Corps Headquarters here in Morocco for the last time at the same time. As the time neared for me to leave Rabat, I got to say goodbye to my fellow PCVs. In just getting to say goodbye, I felt better. In saying our farewells, I felt that we had one last chance to connect, that is, to say proper goodbyes, which seemed to help.

And as I move forward, I'm facing a great deal of uncertainty about what is going to come next. While I've been looking forward to discerning what's going to happen next in my life, I'm more curious, eager, and hungry to know, more than concerned. Multiple times while I've been here in Morocco, including this summer, I've revisited Matthew 6:34, with its guidance "Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own." Therefore, I've been increasingly endeavoring to go forward in the faith I have that God is guiding me toward the next steps in my life. As I take each step, the next one subsequently will become clear to me. Thus I feel that I've also been internalizing what I heard a while ago: do not be concerned about tomorrow; God is already there.

Explaining My Beliefs

As I mentioned in my last blog entry, a couple of days ago, my friend and fellow PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) Samantha came here to the town where I live to pick up some things which I've been trying to unload. After she had collected what she was inheriting from me, I walked with her to the bus station.

After she had gotten on the bus, a man started speaking with me in Darija, that is, Moroccan Arabic. He asked me if I was taking the bus too. After I told him I wasn't going to be taking the bus, we started talking about traveling in Morocco. He asked me where I've been in Morocco. I said I'd been to Agadir and Sidi Ifni. I didn't get to mention anywhere else. When I said I'd been to Sidi Ifni, he said he's from there, and the topic of conversation shifted to that town.

After that, he asked me if I had fasted during Ramadan. I told him that I wasn't fasting during Ramadan. He asked me if I'm Muslim. I told him that I'm not Muslim, that I'm Christian. He asked me if I'm going to become Muslim. I told him that I'm not going to become Muslim because it's so important to me to try to live as Jesus lived. He replied that Jesus is in Islam. I then explained that Jesus' place in Islam isn't the same as it is in Christianity. I explained that Islam states that Jesus didn't die on the cross, whereas Christianity relates how Jesus did die on the cross. We didn't have more time to take the conversation further than that, because he was getting on the bus, which was about to leave.

However, it's pretty clear to me that here is a major difference between Islam and Christianity. After all, if someone merely says he's willing to die for you, but doesn't actually die for you, that's clearly, significantly different than if that person actually does die for you.

Buy Local

After summer camp, I came back to the town where I live down here in the Sahara. For part of my return trip, I traveled with some friends, Chadwick, Tirzah and Emily, who are some fellow PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers), on a bus. At one point the bus made a pit stop for about an hour. My friends and I figured that we might as well eat while we were there. After we'd eaten our meal there, I wanted to get something sweet for dessert, so I bought some cold milk at a hanoot (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "small grocery store"), then walked to another hanoot to buy something sweet. Upon arriving at the second hanoot, I saw some large chocolate bars on the counter. I didn't recognize the brand name, so I picked up one of them, and saw on the back of it that it had been made in Morocco.

I'd been wanting to have some of this particular kind of Moroccan chocolate, but hadn't been seeing it while I'd been shopping over the last couple of years here. So I grabbed the bar of Moroccan chocolate so I could buy it. The man sitting at the back of the hanoot saw me pick up the large bar of Moroccan chocolate. He picked up a large bar of the Spanish chocolate which I see so often here in Morocco and brought it to me. It looks very similar to the Moroccan chocolate bar; both are big bars in red packages with white lettering. Consequently I could see how, from the other side of the hanoot, he might think that I wanted to buy a bar of the Spanish chocolate. But once he'd gotten to the counter, it struck me how he didn't comment that I should indeed buy the Moroccan chocolate. Since he's Moroccan, I would've expected him to urge me to buy the Moroccan product.

Summer Camp 2012 Part Two

For the last ten days or so, I worked at a summer camp in northern Morocco. Moroccan kids ended their school year in June, so they've been going to camps to learn English and do extracurricular activities, sometimes in their own towns, and sometimes far from where they live. At this particular summer camp where I was, the vast majority of the kids did not live in the area where the camp was held. The kids who attended this summer camp, who were in their early and intermediate teenage years, traveled from various parts of Morocco to attend this particular Summer Camp. They stayed overnight at the camp for the full duration of the camp, roughly ten days.

At this specific Summer Camp location, we were both north of the town where I live in the Sahara, and we were on the coast, so it wasn't hot at our Summer Camp location. I was glad that I was rarely sweating during this Summer Camp, given how hot it has been in the town where I live in the Sahara. In addition to it not being as hot as it has been where I live in the Sahara, I was also happy whenever we got a cool ocean breeze there at camp.

At this specific Summer Camp, we were working in a city. Taxis run on and near the street on which the camp was located, and grocery stores are within a block.

The Moroccan Ministry of Youth and Sport runs this particular Summer Camp, just like it runs Spring Camp. PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) help to conduct activities at Summer Camp, just like at Spring Camp. PCVs serving in various regions of Morocco worked at this particular Summer Camp. As PCVs, we slept at the same facility as the campers. However, we slept in a different building from the campers.

On the day that our Summer Camp started, I was one of the PCVs conducting LPIs (language proficiency interviews) in English of the campers who were arriving at camp that day. I began to interview some campers who, I quickly learned, did not know much English.

Once we had the results of the LPIs, the two PCVs (one first-year PCV and a second-year PCV) who were coordinating our activities as PCVs at the camp, divided up the students into six levels of English classes according to their ability to speak English. About half of us PCVs then taught English for the next six days of camp.

During the time slot for English class on the last full day of the camp, we PCVs held an English Olympiad in which the campers participated. We PCVs ran stations at which we quizzed campers on what had been taught during the English classes.

During all of this Summer Camp, we operated under an altered schedule because all of the days of this camp fell during Ramadan. Many campers and Moroccan staff were fasting, so that they were not eating or drinking between sunrise and sunset. As a result, we started our days at camp during Ramadan at around 12 noon. Breakfast and lunch were not served.

After teaching the students English from 12:30 p.m. to 2:00 p.m., the campers had time to read in the library. We PCVs listened to the campers as they told us about the books they had read.

In addition to teaching English, as PCVs, we were also trying to monitor and direct the campers' behavior by assigning them to five different teams named after foreign countries. We assigned the campers to Teams Australia, Brazil, Brunei, Czech Republic, Djibouti, and Indonesia. Campers lost and won points for their teams based on whether they behaved well or poorly. Campers lost points for their team if they threw trash on the ground, fought with each other, and otherwise disruptively behaved. Campers won points for their teams if they picked up trash, correctly answered questions in class, read a book and summarized it for us, and otherwise constructively behaved. Campers had one such opportunity to earn points in the afternoon, during library time, when they sat and read books in the library and then summarized them for us, sometimes orally, and sometimes in writing; sometimes in Arabic, and sometimes in English.

In the afternoons, after library time, we PCVs met with the campers assigned to their country teams. We educated them a little about the countries after which their teams were named. We also ran arts and crafts projects during this team time in the afternoons. We made masks with the campers one day during team time. On another day, we made pinatas with the campers during team time.

In the late afternoon, Moroccan staff ran activities for the kids. Sometimes they ran sports activities with the kids. On another day, they took the campers swimming. On another day, they took the kids to the nearby beach, which is on the Atlantic coast. I was very impressed with the Moroccan staff at this camp, who worked with great attention to the proper behavior of the campers.

At around 7:30pm, when those fasting broke fast, all of us ate together in the dining room at the facility where we were all staying. This meal, "ftur," in Darija, consisted of harira, which is a Moroccan soup containing chickpeas and lentils and noodles, dates, "helwa shbakiya," which is Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for a specific Moroccan sweet served during Ramadan, hard-boiled eggs, orange juice, tea, coffee, milk, bread and jam.

After ftur, about half of us PCVs ran clubs for the campers. I ran a creative writing club for some of the campers who speak at a more advanced level of English. While I was calling it a creative writing club, it probably should have been called a critical thinking club, since I was primarily trying to get the campers in this club to analyze and think critically about different scenarios.

Partly I got the kids in this club to imagine, compare and evaluate different explanations for the same event. For example, on the first day on which this club met, I mentioned to these campers the idea of an apple falling and hitting someone on the head. I asked why the apple might have fallen from the tree. Then I suggested a few different explanations. It fell out of the tree because the branch broke since it's old. His sister threw it at him. He threw it in the air and didn't catch it. A bird broke the apple off of the tree. I gave them another theoretical scenario and suggested more potential explanations. Then I gave them a third scenario but told them to think of, and write about, possible explanations for what had happened in the hypothetical situation.

Later during the week I had the kids in this club consider hypothetical situations which led them to consider how they should treat others. We talked about how youths perceive and should treat their peers who are different from them. We also addressed a variety of other questions, including the importance of listening to others.

After club time, we PCVs and the Moroccan staff ran late evening activities for the campers. One night, the kids competed in a trivia competition. On another night, we PCVs ran Halloween-themed activities for the kids, including a haunted house, face painting, and pin-the-nose-on-the-pumpkin. On a couple of other nights, the kids performed in talent shows. Typically the kids danced and sang in the talent shows.

A little after midnight, we ate a meal just before turning in for the night which closely resembles what one eats for lunch here in Morocco, namely a variety of cold vegetables, including cucumber, beets, and carrots, and a stew of either beef or chicken with some bread, with a piece of fruit for dessert. When the kitchen staff served us this midnight meal, they also gave us bags containing yogurt, cookies, and fruit, all of which was for those fasting to eat just before dawn.

I feel that I should state here that I am not fasting during Ramadan because I don't want people to think I'm Muslim. I don't want people to think I'm considering becoming a Muslim. And I don't want to implicitly encourage others to be Muslim; if I were to fast during Ramadan, probably at least some, if not all, people would think that I'm Muslim, and that I want others to be Muslim. I do not want any of these things to happen, for many reasons.

Among these reasons is one which was expressed to the founder of Islam by one of his wives. He claimed to have had a revelation that one could marry two wives, after which he married a second wife; he then claimed to have had a revelation that one could marry a third wife, after which he married a third wife; then he claimed to have had a revelation that one could marry a fourth wife, after which he married a fourth wife. One of his wives thus criticized him for conveniently delivering prophecies by which he benefited.

The founder of Islam also looked at his adopted son's wife; his adopted son then divorced his wife; the founder of Islam then married his adopted son's former wife. I'm extremely disinclined to follow the suggestions of the founder of Islam for these reasons and for many other reasons. Although as a Christian I believe in God, for the reasons above as well as for other reasons, I don't want people to think I'm Muslim, I don't want people to think I'm considering becoming Muslim, and I don't want to implicitly encourage others to become Muslim. For these reasons, I am not fasting during Ramadan.

Freedom From Things

I'm scheduled to finish my Peace Corps service in October, so I've been trying to pass on all of the things in my apartment, the vast majority of which I inherited from previous PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers). David, the new PCV who lives here in town, and Ariana, the new PCV who lives a half dozen kilometers south of me, have already taken everything they want from my apartment. They took a lot, but a fair amount is left. Since I'm eager to unload this stuff, I was excited yesterday when a PCV who lives about 70 kilometers, and at least an hour south of me, arrived to take away more things!

I've been repeatedly noting that I don't miss things that people have taken. Consequently, I want to give away more things as soon as possible. I don't want a lot of things dragging me down.

After my fellow PCV left with a load of things yesterday, I went into the kitchen and went to grab the cinnamon jar to use some cinnamon on a snack. I discovered that many ants had infiltrated into the jar! While I'd latched the lid shut, I hadn't noticed that the lid hadn't evenly met the mouth of the jar, leaving an entranceway for the ants. Then I thought, "Well, I've been wanting to get rid of more and more things. Now I'm going to throw out this cinnamon, too!" I realized that the loss of the cinnamon in fact could be a gain: the gain of more freedom, freedom from another thing, which could enable me to live a simpler lifestyle.

A little later I went out to run some errands. I noticed that the folks at a shop here in town were making "shfinj" (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "fried doughnuts") as they sometimes do. I picked up a couple of doughnuts for a dirham, about the equivalent of 12 or 13 cents. I brought them home and enjoyed them after I'd sprinkled some granulated sugar on them. It occurred to me that I didn't need the cinnamon. I still had the sugar. Even if I hadn't had the sugar, I could have eaten the doughnuts plain, and they still would've been a great treat.

Don't Forget To Have Fun!

One day recently I was at my favorite bakery here in town down here in the Sahara. After I had gotten my bread for the day, I crossed paths with the baker's son, whom I've taught English at the dar shebab (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth center"), where I've done most of my volunteering as a Youth Development PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) here in Morocco.

He told me that he was headed on a trip to visit some relatives in another region of Morocco. I told him to have fun. He asked me what "fun" is! I explained "fun" to him by way of some examples. I told him that if you laugh with someone, you have fun with that person. I gave him some other similar examples, and he said that he had understood.

After we had parted ways, I thought about how apparently I hadn't previously taught him what the word "fun" meant. I couldn't believe that I hadn't taught him that word! And then I pondered a little more. I considered that it was more important that, in addition to teaching him English, I had tried to have fun with him; I had attempted to show him what I considered to be "fun," laughing with him, and having a good time with him over the last year and a half.

As I continued to meditate on explaining a concept, as opposed to knowing it because one feels it, I remembered that one can know many sensations, which is different from explaining them. I then recalled how Thomas à Kempis, in one of my favorite books, "The Imitation of Christ," muses, "I would rather feel compunction than be able to define it." It makes me think that how we live our lives is more important than what we say. And it has also made me think that I hope that I've taught here in Morocco through the way I've acted, perhaps hopefully moreso than in what I've said.

Summer In The Sahara

Down here in the town where I live in the Sahara, the summer is in full swing. I haven't been here for a significant part of it, since I was traveling, and then I was off working in cooler, coastal climates. Given that I've used up all of my vacation time, and that I didn't set up any work outside of town for right now, I'm here in town for the time being.

The dar shebab (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth center") is closed for part of the summer, so I'm currently working very little. I've been spending much of my copious free time reading, which I've been enjoying. I'm currently reading, among other volumes, an anthology of Christian poetry which includes works by Sir Walter Raleigh, William Blake, Longfellow, Tennyson, Christina Rossetti, Emily Dickinson, T.S. Eliot and Edna St. Vincent Millay.

It helps to have something sedentary to occupy one's time. I've found that I don't have to move around a lot to start sweating in this heat! Even if I stay relatively still, nevertheless I start sweating, but at least I avoid sweating for a little while!

It's remarkable what a difference not many degrees can make. In the last week or so, at one point it was 98° Fahrenheit in my apartment. I was sweating profusely in such heat. In the summer, but especially in the highest temperatures, I've been utilizing my fridge and freezer a lot, letting water almost freeze and then drinking it. But in the last few days, the temperature has been inexplicably dropping. This morning it dipped below 91° in my apartment, and it's often been 93°. Even though the temperatures are still in the nineties, I'm finding the heat to be much less oppressive!

It's All In The Smile

Today here in town where I live down here in the Sahara, I ran into one of the kids who regularly comes to the dar shebab (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth center"), where I've done most of my volunteering as a Youth Development PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) here in Morocco. I stopped and shook his hand and spoke with him for a bit. I asked him how he's been, since I haven't seen him for a while, not for a few weeks, since I hadn't seen him since I got back from my two week long stay in Rabat. He's been well.

In addition to the custom of shaking someone's hand when you stop to speak with them, there's also the custom here in Morocco of shaking hands with the other people present. So I shook hands with the two men who had been standing there speaking with the boy. The boy told me that one of them is his father. I'd seen his father numerous times working in the post office. While he'd been working, I'd never seen him smile. Today when the boy introduced his father, his father smiled. Instantly I saw the resemblance. Not so much a physical resemblance, but a similar mirthfulness. Suddenly I saw the resemblance because they have the same smile!

Are You Moroccan?

Moroccans don't expect foreigners to speak Darija, that is, Moroccan Arabic. I speak basic Darija. In the town where I live here in the Sahara, people know that I live here, and many of them have spoken with me, so they're not surprised when I speak Darija with them. When I travel, though, Moroccans are often surprised when I speak Darija.

Sometimes while I've been up in northern Morocco, while I've been wearing my turban, I've spoken Darija, and it seems to have confused a few Moroccans. Apparently seeing me in the turban, and hearing me speak Darija, they've been thrown off by these phenomena which they don't expect from someone who looks like me, and they've asked me if I'm Moroccan.

I've thought that it's been a silly question to ask me in particular. I've never been told that my physical features look Moroccan. I figure that the people who ask me if I'm Moroccan are thrown off because I'm speaking Darija, and because I'm wearing the turban. After all, I've never been asked if I'm Moroccan when I'm only speaking Darija or when I'm only wearing the turban!

Summer Camp 2012 Part One

For the last couple of weeks, I was in northern Morocco working at a summer camp.  Moroccan kids have been out of school since June, so some of them have been attending camps all over Morocco to learn more English and to engage in various extracurricular activities.  At this particular camp where I was, the youths ranged in age from 11 to 17.  The kids who attended this camp live in, and thus traveled to this camp from, various locations in Morocco.

While it was a camp, it was located in a city.  Taxis run regularly on the street where the camp was held.  Hanoots (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "grocery stores") are within a block of where the camp was held.  So, the camp was held in an urban area.

The camps are run by the Moroccan Ministry of Youth and Sports.  As PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) we help to conduct activities at the camps.  In addition to me, there were three other PCVs working at the camp: Cassandra, Rachel and Josh.  All of them are also Youth Development PCVs.  They're all in their first year of their Peace Corps service.  We all traveled to this summer camp from the different towns where we live in various parts of Morocco. For the duration of the camp, we slept in our own room, in the same building in which the youths were sleeping.

At Camp, the kids wake up between 7am and 8am.  We, the PCVs, the kids and the Moroccan staff, ate breakfast together at the camp a little after 8am.  Typically it's tea and coffee, milk, croissants, some bread, either baguettes and/or the usual round, flat Moroccan bread, perhaps accompanied by butter and apricot jam.

For a couple of hours in the morning, the kids attend English class. At this camp, two PCVs taught beginner level English classes. I taught an intermediate level English class. Another PCV taught a more advanced level English class.

Not only did I know that I would be teaching an intermediate level English class, but since three of us PCVs interviewed the campers on the first day of camp to assess their English speaking abilities, I had a sense of what the students in my class both knew, and also found confusing, in the English language. I was entering the classroom aware that I could help by clarifying when to use the simple present verb tense and when to use the present continuous verb tense. So, I was helping them to determine when to say "I swim" and when to say "I am swimming."

While teaching English during this summer camp, I encountered difficulties in teaching which I usually face while teaching here in Morocco. Often there are students who aren't particularly focused on the lesson and who don't seem motivated to learn. During this summer camp, I decided to move such sluggish students so that they were no longer sitting next to each other, but instead were sitting between bright, motivated students. It seemed to help. The previously lethargic and uninterested students started taking more notes and following along more than they had been.

After English class, in the early afternoon, we PCVs, the kids and the Moroccan staff ate lunch together.  For lunch, we often ate salad, followed by a tajine, which is somewhat like a Moroccan stew.

After lunch, there was free time.  Some of the kids used the time to nap.

In the late afternoon, sometimes we PCVs ran activities for the kids.  One day a couple of the other PCVs taught yoga to the kids. On the 4th of July, a couple of the other PCVs made chocolate chip cookies, which were delicious! The kids seemed to enjoy them too. On the 4th of July, I led a discussion with the kids about the 4th of July, why and how US citizens celebrate it as a holiday, and how the USA declared its independence on July 4. From there I explained that the 13 stripes on the US flag represent the 13 original states, and that the 50 stars represent the current 50 states. The other PCVs and I then explained where we come from in the USA, pointing out our geographical origins on a map of the USA which one of us PCVs had made. He'd also made a map of Morocco. We had each of the campers come to the front of the room and say where he or she is from, and write his or her name and city on the map. We left the maps taped up to help campers get to know each other and us, and to implicitly reinforce the cross-cultural exchange we had been trying to promote.

In the late afternoon, the kids also participated in activities run by some of the Moroccan staff running the camp.  Typically the Moroccan staff ran activities involving song and dance for the kids.

After these late afternoon and early evening activities, we, the PCVs, the kids and the Moroccan staff, ate dinner together.  For dinner, first we always ate harira, which is a type of Moroccan soup which contains chickpeas, and sometimes also lentils, among other things.  Sometimes after the harira, we ate spaghetti covered with powdered sugar and ground nuts, or meatballs in a red pasta sauce with some bread.  On some nights after dinner, we ate yogurt for dessert.  On other nights, we ate fruit, such as muskmelon, for dessert.

On the final night of the camp, some of the youths performed in a talent show. Some of them sang or danced.  Others acted in a skit, which they performed in Darija.

When the kids were leaving the camp, some of them were crying. I noticed that one girl, who had seemed to be uninterested in English class and other activities, was crying when the time had come to leave. I noted to one of my fellow PCVs that it seemed counterintuitive that she was crying because camp was over, after it hadn't seemed like she had enjoyed the camp. Then it occurred to me that perhaps she was sad because previously she had been unhappy due to a lack of connections and emotional closeness in her life. Perhaps she found such nourishment at the camp, and was sad because she was leaving what she had been craving and had finally found.

Drink Tea

One afternoon this week when I was at the dar shebab (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth center"), where I've done most of my volunteering as a Youth Development PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) here in Morocco, some of the local dar shebab moudirs ("directors") were sitting talking with each other and with me. Often when Moroccans are socializing, they serve tea. Accordingly, this one day this week, when the moudirs of the local dar shebabs were catching up with each other, the moudir, of this particular dar shebab where we were, broke out the tea.

After the moudirs and I had started drinking tea, a very young girl, perhaps four years old, meekly walked into the dar shebab and over to the table where we were enjoying our tea. Greeting her in the usual welcoming, inclusive Moroccan way, they offered her some tea. She humbly refused, but they insisted that she have some tea. She then accepted the small glass of tea. The moudirs then resumed their conversation.

Given that I still don't understand the vast majority of any conversation of any significant length which occurs in Darija, I was, during this particular conversation, as is usually the case, present merely and primarily in the status of a cultural observer rather than a full participant in the conversation. During exchanges, slightly removed, I note interesting and humorous occurrences.

Having lived here in Morocco for the better part of two years, I'm familiar with a good deal of the cultural norms here. In particular, when a guest isn't drinking the beverage or eating the food that has been served, the host tells him or her to eat or drink.

Having this background knowledge, having observed such hospitality, and having been directed to eat and drink again and again by Moroccan hosts, I was amused by the young girl's directive to one of the moudirs who had stopped drinking his tea. Most likely, having watched Moroccan adults urge their guests to keep eating and drinking, she had learned to tell someone who had stopped drinking his or her beverage to resume drinking it. I thought it was adorable how she told the moudir who had stopped drinking his tea, "Shurrib atay," meaning "Drink tea."

I Don't Have A Lot Of Money

I think I've finally gotten used to Moroccans figuring that I have a lot of money. Certainly there are other non-Moroccans, including citizens of the USA, here in Morocco who spend more money than I do on my relatively meager budget as a PCV.

Last week, after I left my friend's apartment in a town near Marrakech, I briefly visited the mountain town of Imlil. From Imlil, ambitious hikers launch their attempts at climbing Mount Toubkal, which, at over 13,000 feet, is the highest peak not only in Morocco but in all of North Africa.

As a sidebar, for those of you who know me fairly well, and know that I love to hike, to answer the question which might have just arisen in your minds, no, I didn't hike to the top of Mount Toubkal. I hadn't been doing training hikes to prepare for a multi-day hike involving such distance and elevation gain. Furthermore, I wouldn't have been able to buy enough food to provide the energy necessary to complete such a strenuous hike.

But I still wanted to get a bit closer to the mountains. I've enjoyed fantastic views of the High Atlas mountains many times whilst on the bus from Ouarzazate to Marrakech, especially in the vicinity of the Tichka Pass. I've been grateful that I can enjoy repeatedly such sweeping panoramic views here in Morocco.

So after leaving my friend's apartment about an hour from Marrakech, I took a taxi down to Imlil. I found a restaurant there in Imlil where I got a scrambled egg sandwich for 10 dirhams. Soon after I ate lunch, I headed back to the grand taxi stand to catch a taxi back to Marrakech. Insofar as I arrived back at the taxi stand during lunchtime, I had to wait for a taxi to Marrakech to fill up. During lunchtime, fewer people are taking taxis since they're at home eating. As I was sitting at the taxi stand, waiting for five other people to show up to fill a taxi with me, the taxi driver told me I could pay for all six spots to Marrakech and ride just with him to Marrakech. Other taxi drivers in other locations here in Morocco have also suggested that option to me when I've been waiting for a taxi to fill up. I imagine that other folks from the USA visiting Morocco have probably bought out the other seats in taxis. I suspect that that's why grand taxi drivers suggest the idea to me as I wait for a taxi to fill up. I suppose I often have the money to do so. However, I don't have a lot of money to spare. So it would strain my resources to pay for all six seats and ride the taxi with just the driver, so I don't do it.

Another instance during my recent travels when a Moroccan has seemed to think that I've got a lot of money to burn: I spent some time last week in the town of Sidi Ifni, on the Atlantic coast. It's a quiet beach town, much of which is set up high on some cliffs. Being on the coast, it was usually cool, which was a welcome respite from the heat in the town in which I live down in the Sahara. A mool-hanoot (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "grocery storekeeper") in Sidi Ifni as much as acknowledged the pleasant difference in climate soon after he started asking me some basic questions about myself. I told him that I've lived here in Morocco since September 2010, but that I live several hours south of Marrakech, in the Sahara. He opined that the climate is much nicer and more hospitable in Sidi Ifni than in Ouarzazate. He then suggested that I consider renting an apartment in Sidi Ifni rather than staying in a hotel in Sidi Ifni. He told me thst I could rent an apartment in Sidi Ifni for 2000 dirhams per month. I calmly told him that I didn't have that much money. Again, there probably have been other foreigners who have spent a lot more in Sidi Ifni than I did. So I understand why he may have thought I could afford to pay that much to rent an apartment.

And another instance on this most recent trip when I thought that a Moroccan may have figured that I had a lot to spend: on my way north from Sidi Ifni, the bus on which I was traveling stopped in the town of Tiznit to drop off and pick up passengers. It either made a second stop in Tiznit, or a stop just north of Tiznit, at a gas station which had a plaza with a couple of restaurants. Normally I don't get out and eat lunch at such places where the bus stops. When I was just in Tiznit, though, we were stopped in the middle of the lunch hour. I also knew I wasn't going to get another chance to eat lunch until I arrived in the city of Agadir. So I got off the bus to check out the lunch options.

I was pleasantly surprised to see that I could buy a quarter kilogram of grilled ground meat for a scant 8 dirhams. Immediately I ordered the quarter kilo of meat. After I'd ordered it, I thought about how I'd need some carbohydrates along with the bread to avoid digestive difficulties. When the waiter brought my grilled meat, I asked him if I could have some bread with the meat. He brought me a small round loaf of bread. I asked him how much for the bread; he made a motion with his hand which I took to mean that it was complimentary with the grilled meat. When lunch places here serve bread with lunch, it's typically for no charge. In any event, the waiter didn't tell me any number in response to my question. I used the bread as a pita, filling it with the grilled meat, onions, tomatoes and parsley I'd been served.

When I'd finished eating, and went to pay, the cashier asked me what I'd had. I told him I'd ordered a quarter kilo of meat. He asked another restaurant worker, who told him I'd had a sandwich. The cashier told me it was 30 dirhams. Not pointing out how the sandwiches ran only up to 20 dirhams, I pointed to where the menu said that a quarter kilo of meat was 8 dirhams. He told me I'd had a sandwich, and then told me I had to pay 24 dirhams. I explained how I ordered a quarter kilo of meat, then asked the waiter how much the bread was, and how he had seemed to say that the bread was included with the meal I'd ordered. I left the 8 dirhams on the counter and walked back to the bus.

I certainly can imagine how the cashier could have had a similar conversation with a Moroccan who could order a quarter kilo of meat, ask for bread, make a sandwich with it, be seen eating a sandwich, and then be told that he'd had a sandwich, and be quoted the price for a sandwich. However, I suspect that I was being treated differently than Moroccans, because the cashier told me I had to pay prices for sandwiches which weren't on the menu.

I can understand being perceived as having more money than many Moroccans. I'm less accepting of being quoted prices more than Moroccans are given. I've come to the conclusion that perceptions are one thing; often it's reasonable to have certain perceptions. What people do with those perceptions is another story, and often reflect the values of the people with those perceptions.

How Low Can You Go?

As I'd mentioned in my last blog entry, yesterday I took the bus north from Ouarzazate up toward Marrakech. I didn't go to Marrakech yesterday, but instead visited a friend who's a fellow PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) who lives close to Marrakech. Once I'd arrived in my friend's town, we went food shopping. Later, at my friend's house, my friend made a delicious scramble, which included, among other things, various peppers, onions and tomatoes, for dinner. We also enjoyed some fresh apricots and plums.

I was happy to stay overnight at my friend's apartment. This morning, we both went to Marrakech, but parted ways once we got to the city. My friend had some business to do, and I was heading off to visit another friend who's also a PCV.

Before I left the city, I stopped to grab lunch at a hanoot (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "grocery store"), which, in this particular case, was much smaller than a corner store. Like many hanoots here in Morocco, it was the size of a food stand. I saw that the store owner had various small round loaves of bread, and I saw that he had some eggs, so I asked him if I could have an egg sandwich. It turned out that he had some hard-boiled eggs, so he made me an egg sandwich. After I ate the egg sandwich, I decided to have dessert there, since some of the offerings in the glass deli case looked promising. I got a dessert which seemed to have the soft texture of cake, with some light chocolate frosting on the inside, all covered in a kind of soft milk chocolate shell. I enjoyed it with a small carton of cold milk. The sandwich and the dessert were tasty.

However, I found something else more notable than how delicious the food was. Previously I'd paid as low as two and a half dirhams for a small egg sandwich. I'd already thought that that price was very low, and couldn't see how I'd ever pay less than 2.5 dirhams for an egg sandwich. Today I paid 2.10 dirhams for the egg sandwich, which means it cost the equivalent of 26 cents. I paid 6 dirhams for the dessert and the milk, which is equivalent to about 75 cents. So I paid the equivalent of about one dollar for my lunch today.

People often think that they need a certain amount of money to live their lives. Indeed, people often think that they need a lot of money to live their lives. You don't need a lot of money. And once you've realized that you don't have to devote your life to accumulating money, you're faced with the question "Now that you don't have to do anything, what are you going to do with the rest of your life?"

Spelling Bee Morocco 2012

Yesterday and today other PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) and I volunteered at regional spelling bees down here in southern Morocco. Over the last few months, schools and dar chebabs (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth centers") held spelling bees. Later, citywide spelling bees were held in those same cities and towns.

The top spellers, who are high school students, from those previous competitions came here to the city of Ouarzazate for the regional spelling bees this weekend. They competed in a spelling bee yesterday in which teams of three students each competed against each other. A team of three girls won the team spelling bee yesterday. Today another spelling bee was held, in which individual students competed against each other. Today one girl won first place, another girl won second place, and a boy won third place.

I was glad to see girls winning most of the top places in the regional spelling bees this weekend after they made it here. Today when we were gathered for the solo bee, one of the Moroccan teachers thanked parents who let their daughters come to participate in the regional spelling bees here in Ouarzazate this weekend. Some of the girls' parents had been hesitant about giving permission for their daughters to attend the regional spelling bees here this weekend.

I can't help but suspect that many of those reticent parents didn't grasp the full scope of constructive impact that these spelling bees could potentially have. And yet in giving or withholding their permission for their daughters to attend, the parents held the key to the doorway of not only opportunity but also development for their daughters. To the extent that, in their reluctance, they refused to grant permission for their daughters to attend and participate in the spelling bees, they correspondingly hampered their daughters' development.

All of the students, but especially the girls who competed, stood to benefit in so many ways above and beyond becoming more proficient in English. In the team spelling bees, the students were practicing teamwork. In both of the bees, they were developing public speaking skills. In gradually becoming more comfortable while speaking in front of an audience, they were probably developing confidence. They may have raised their self-esteem by succeeding at spelling words in these contests. These youths, who are especially studious, and particularly the girls among them, might not have other opportunities through which they can derive these benefits.

Here in Morocco, athletic students, especially boys, seem to have many opportunities to exhibit, practice and develop their talents. As is often the case in many countries, and which also seems to be the case here in Morocco, studious kids, bookworms, seem to have fewer chances to compete in public events. And here in Morocco, I've seen fewer competitions--of any kind, athletic, academic or otherwise--in which girls compete.

I hope that we helped these studious youths--especially the girls, who can find it even harder to speak up--to become more bold and assertive in expressing themselves. I hope that they gained some skill in collaborating with each other as teammates this weekend. If they have been developing these qualities and skills through these activities, they will be improving their standing and their station in life so much more than by simply learning more English.

Traveling As A PCV In Morocco

I still have a couple of weeks of vacation time left. Given that I'm nearing the end of my Peace Corps service, I've got to use my vacation time now, if I'm going to use it. Therefore, I've been traveling this week. At the beginning of the week, I visited a friend, Bill, who lives north of my town. He showed me around his town. Since he's a PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) who works in small business development, he was introducing me to women who have been learning how to make shoes, weave rugs and baskets, and make keftans (long Moroccan women's robes) and handkerchiefs. In addition to giving me the tour of his town, he also hosted me in his apartment until the next day. I was grateful for his hospitality and generosity. Since it's been getting hot, I especially appreciated how he served another PCV and me cold watermelon and green cantaloupe.

Later in the week, I was happy to visit a Franciscan monastery. I managed to make it there for a service at 7:15 a.m. It was all in French, so I understood very little of it. I'd previously attended masses in French here in Morocco, but for some reason I seemed to encounter a particular difficulty which I don't recall experiencing on prior occasions. I found singing hymns in French more difficult than I'd expected. Later I considered that when singing in English, I'm not only reading the words, I'm also looking to see if the notes go up or down in the songs. Then I realized that when trying to sing in French, I'm struggling with words I don't know in French as an added element on top of trying to read and seeing whether the notes go up or down. But I was glad to be worshipping God with other Christians, since I don't get to do so with other Christians much here.

After the service, I spoke with the expatriate Franciscan monks and nuns who live in the monastery. They were very warm and friendly. I told them that I've benefited considerably from having a lot of time to read while living here. Consequently I've devoted much time to opening the door for God, to trying to place myself before God, so as to be receptive to what God is saying to me. I often think of Revelation 3:20 as a reminder to approach my relationship with God in this way. I was grateful to these monks and nuns for their implicit support of me and other Christians in our walk of faith and path in trying to emulate Jesus.

A couple of the elderly nuns were especially sweet, continuing to clasp my hand as they spoke with me. As I spoke with one of them, I was finding it difficult to speak in French, since I've been infrequently speaking French. She told me to speak in Darija, which was much easier!

After not too long, I was parting ways with the monks and nuns. As I was saying goodbye to them, one of the elderly nuns called me "Xuya," which is Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "my brother," as she next further noted that we're all brothers and sisters.

After I bid adieu to the monks and nuns, I caught a bus so I could continue further north on my journey. I was happy to be able to take a bus with the CTM bus company. CTM buses are nicer, and newer, than most other buses here in Morocco. In addition to also being more reliable than a lot of other buses, they're also air-conditioned, unlike many other buses here in Morocco. As I traveled north, I enjoyed more beautiful scenery, including green meadows giving way to hills covered with evergreen trees. In this area of Morocco, snow covers the ground in winter. But this month, there was no snow on the ground there, unlike when I traveled the same route on my way to PPST (Post-Pre-Service Training) back in February 2011.

This time as I approached Azrou, although I didn't see any snow, in addition to the green meadows, I also saw purple and yellow flowers. At one point, the bus slowed down since sheep were running into the road. Their shepherd, protective of his sheep, got them back off of the road. I saw other flocks of sheep later before arriving in Azrou.

Once I arrived in Azrou, I caught another bus to the town of Ifrane. I'd heard that Ifrane seemed different from the rest of Morocco. The French built Ifrane in the 1930s. Thus it has architecture different from rest of Morocco, namely houses with pointed roofs. However, I must admit that I was disappointed once I arrived in Ifrane, given how people had told me that Ifrane was very different. It didn't seem significantly different from the rest of Morocco. Ifrane is also known for its gardens, some of which are quite pleasant and pretty, with trimmed grass and flower beds with purple, lavender, orange and yellow flowers.

After visiting Ifrane, next I headed to the city of Meknes, where I stayed for the night. In the morning, I headed further north, to the ancient Roman ruins at the site of Volubilis, or Oualili in Arabic. Volubilis is still being excavated, but there's much interesting already to see there. A massive arch, built by local residents out of gratitude for being exempt from taxes, still stands there. The ancient baths remain. I was most impressed by the mosaics. In addition to enjoying the skill of the artists, I marvelled at how well they've endured against the elements for nearly two millenia.

After exploring at Volubilis, I continued north up here to Chefchaouen. I'd been wanting to come to Chefchaouen for a while, and I'm glad I finally did. I'd heard that a planned visit to Chefchaouen of a few days often easily turns into a stay of a week or more, since it has such a mellow, relaxed atmosphere, which I'm now glad to be feeling myself. I've also been appreciating the scenic beauty here. Chefchaouen is nestled at the foot of the Rif mountains. Its medina, that is, the old part of the city, is whitewashed and also covered in various shades of blue. I also tend to especially enjoy a medina when its streets slope more steeply, as they do here.

I'm thankful to be a PCV here in Morocco. There's so much to do and see here, and, more importantly, I'm grateful to be having mutually supportive relationships and interactions with such warm and generous people here, which is, after all, why I came here in the first place.

Taking Pride In His Heritage

Last week I was playing blackjack with some kids at the dar shebab (Darija, or Moroccan Arabic, for "youth center"), where I spend most of my time volunteering as a Youth Development PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) here in Morocco. Thinking about how Moroccans so enjoy drinking tea, and how we weren't drinking tea as we were playing "21," and how I've heard some Moroccans facetiously call their tea "whiskey Berbere," I suggested, "We need some whiskey Berbere!"

One of the boys playing the game retorted, "We are not Berber! We are Amazigh!" There's not only one Berber tribe; there are multiple kinds of Berbers, including those who are Amazigh. So it seemed to me that this boy was taking pride in his particular strain of Berber heritage. Also, more recently I learned why he may have such a strong sense of pride instilled in him: Amazigh means "free man."