A Marvelous Day

I had a marvelous day today. This morning, I got up early and read the Bible. Then I headed out from the hotel room in Casablanca where I stayed last night. I caught a petit taxi to the Catholic monastery, where I attended Mass at 9:00 a.m. Mexican nuns live in the monastery. Thus, the nun who read one of the Scripture readings spoke in Spanish. However, the parishioner who read the other of the first two Scripture readings spoke in French. The priest spoke in French, so most of the Mass was in French.

Before the Mass had begun, I had been feeling a bit unsettled. Thus I appreciated the nuns' prayers before Mass. By the time Mass had started, I was feeling calmer, more at peace, and more focused on being in the chapel.

After Mass ended, I took a petit taxi to Cathedral Notre Dame de Lourdes for the 11:00 a.m. Mass there. When I arrived, I saw tourists with cameras exiting the church and getting back onto tour buses. Upon entering the church grounds, I discovered a grotto honoring the Virgin Mary. Once I got a better look at the cathedral, I realized that it was quite tall. Yet only upon entering the cathedral did I learn that this cathedral houses an amazing set of stained-glass windows. On both sides of the cathedral is stained glass, continuously stretching, uninterrupted, from the rear of the cathedral all the way to its front, depicting God, angels and believers. Above these scenes depicted on the stained glass, many long thin shafts of stained glass stretched up to the high ceiling. It was certainly fine and beautiful artwork.

In addition to the magnificent stained glass, I once again enjoyed the song during Mass today. I enjoyed how, in the absence of a choir at the cathedral, before Mass had begun, a young woman was leading all of the congregants in practicing the song of the day. It made the experience of attending Mass seem even more communal than it normally already feels. I get so much support and nourishment out of attending Mass, especially here in Morocco, where I am not in the physical presence of other Christians on a regular basis. I'm grateful for the presence of other Christians, who share my faith and encourage me in it. I have much for which I am thankful, and that certainly includes them.

Moroccan Independence Day

Today, November 18, is Moroccan Independence Day. Before it gained its independence, Morocco had a long history of invasion, occupation and colonization, including by the Phoenicians, Romans, Greeks, Spanish and French. Arabs came to Morocco in the 7th century and stayed with the indigenous Berber population.

Under the Treaty of Fes in 1912, Morocco became a protectorate of France. Under that treaty, Spain took control of areas in northern Morocco. Also under the treaty, in theory Morocco retained its sovereignty, but in reality the French and the Spanish were exploiting it pursuant to the terms of the treaty. In 1956, after rising violence in Morocco accompanying discontent over colonial rule, Morocco gained its independence from France and Spain.

Because of the holiday, the post office and city hall are closed. Students also have the day off from school today.

The Big Game

A couple of nights ago, I headed to the barber shop of a Moroccan friend of mine. (No, he doesn't cut my hair, as I do that myself with my electric razor at home). He's a friendly, sociable and welcoming guy, so I go to his shop from time to time to socialize and practice my Arabic. This particular Wednesday night when I headed there, I knew that a big soccer match was going to be played, and that he would be watching it in his shop.

On Wednesdays and Saturdays this time of the year, many Moroccan men and boys watch soccer matches (remember that here they call it "football," not "soccer"). I have found it most interesting how Moroccan men and boys in my town are so engrossed in matches between the two teams which were playing on Wednesday, which were Barcelona and Real Madrid. That's right, these are Spanish soccer teams, which is why I find it so intriguing that Moroccan men and boys enjoy watching these teams so much. It's not like there aren't Moroccan soccer teams.

In fact, when I arrived at the barber shop, my friend the barber had his flat screen TV tuned to a game between teams from Fes and Agadir, two Moroccan cities. He might have detected a look of puzzlement and concern on my face, since he said to me, "We'll turn on the game between Barsa and Madrid in a few minutes." It hadn't yet started. And sure enough, once the players on Barsa and Madrid were doing the coin toss to see which team got the ball first, my friend did not change the channel until halftime. He only switched back to the game between Fes and Agadir once the game between Barsa and Madrid had reached halftime.

So, many Moroccan men and boys here in town seem to be more excited about Barsa and Madrid than they seem to be interested in Moroccan soccer teams. It's expected that someone is rooting for either Barsa or Madrid. Before the game started, my friend the barber asked me if I liked Barsa or Madrid. When I responded that I didn't like either, he responded, "Maymkansh," which is Darija for "impossible," which made me smile, knowing the excitement over these teams.

When Madrid got possession of the ball at certain points, I was struck by, and enjoyed, how some of the Moroccans in the room were encouragingly saying, "Seer. Seer." It reminded me of how American men and boys, watching sports games, cheer the same word in English, "Go! Go!" even when they are not in the stadium.

When the first 45-minute half ended, and halftime arrived, neither team had scored. When the second half ended, still neither team had scored.

In the end, during extra time, Madrid finally scored a goal. Madrid won 1-0. I must admit, that although there was cheering in the room when Madrid scored that goal, it was not as loud or as raucous as I had expected it to be.

Once the game had ended, monada (Darija for "soda") was broken out in celebration, and shared liberally, in the typical Moroccan fashion of generosity and hospitality. I finally left my friend's shop at 11 p.m. As on that night, if one sees a good number of men and boys out at 11 p.m., it's most likely because a soccer match has been played that evening.

Spring Camp 2011

Last week, I was very far north in Morocco for Spring Camp, which ran for most of the week. Moroccan kids have the week off from school, so they go to camps all over Morocco to learn more English and to engage in various extracurricular activities. At this particular camp where I was, most of the kids were in their late teenage years. The vast majority of kids who attended this camp came from the city in which this camp was held, or from the immediately surrounding area.

While it was a camp, it was located in a small city. Taxis run regularly on the street where the camp was held. Grocery stores and cafes 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 we help to conduct activities at the camps. In addition to me, there was another YD (Youth Development) PCV at the camp. He's in his second year of his Peace Corps service. He coordinated PCV activities at the camp. There was also a SBD (Small Business Development) PCV, who's in his second year of Peace Corps service, at the camp. There was also an Environment PCV, who is in her first year of Peace Corps service, at the camp. We all traveled from our own separate respective towns further south in Morocco to work at this camp in northern Morocco.

At Spring Camp, the kids wake up between 7am and 8am. Breakfast is served at the camp a little after 8am. Typically it's tea and coffee, milk, with some bread, perhaps accompanied by butter, apricot jam, olive oil, and cheese.

For about an hour and a half in the morning, the kids attend English class. In my camp, there were three different levels of English classes. The PCV coordinating the camp, who is in his second year of Peace Corps service, assigned me to teach the beginners' class. I found it a little challenging to teach this class because some of these kids knew almost no English, whereas others knew more English. I employed the tactic of teaching the basics while simultaneously throwing in words and phrases closely related to the topic at hand which even the more knowledgeable students would not have been likely to know. For example, one day I was teaching the students how to tell the time in English. While I taught them how to say "7:30," I told them also of the phrase "half past." Similarly, while I was teaching them the phrase "Good morning," I explained to them that sometimes they might hear people just say "Morning" when they mean "Good morning."

After English class, the kids played sports for an hour or so. One day the other PCVs and I played soccer with the kids, which was fun.

In the early afternoon, we PCVs and the kids ate lunch together. For lunch, we often ate salad, followed by a tajine, which is like a Moroccan stew. Usually when we eat tajine here in Morocco, we eat it out of one big communal tajine bowl or very large dish. We rip pieces of bread and use the pieces of bread to dip into the tajine sauce, and to grab vegetables or meat from the communal dish. From time to time, French fries rest on top of meat in a tajine. We use bread to pick fries off the top of the tajine as well.

After lunch, there is a little bit of time, anywhere from a half hour to two hours, to nap. We had more time to nap if lunch started earlier; if lunch started later, then we had less time to nap.

In the middle of the afternoon into the late afternoon, we PCVs ran clubs for the kids. One of the other PCVs ran a club involving leadership and team building activities. Another PCV ran a dance club. I ran an Environment club. So, I taught the kids some basic concepts about the environment, and why it's important to protect the environment. I taught them, and tested them on, basic vocabulary relating to the environment. Then they made posters representing why we should respect the environment. Near the end of club time each day, some of the kids did short presentations in which they explained why we have to take care of the environment.

In the late afternoon, the kids also participated in activities run by some of the Moroccan staff running the camp. For example, one day the kids went on a treasure hunt on the grounds of the camp.

On another day, some guest musicians came to the camp and performed for us. Soon after the musicians started performing, most of the kids got up and started dancing and clapping in time to the music.

After these late afternoon and early evening activities, we, the PCVs and the kids, ate dinner together. For dinner, first we always ate harira, which is a type of Moroccan soup which contains chickpeas, among other things. Sometimes after the harira, we ate Spanish omelettes (keep in mind that this camp was so far north in Morocco, and therefore so close to Spain, that particular aspects of Spanish culture are present in that area). On another night, for dinner after harira, we ate angel hair pasta which was sprinkled with powdered sugar and cinnamon. Sometimes after dinner, we ate yogurt for dessert.

In addition to these activities I've already mentioned, we PCVs also spent time just sitting and talking with the kids about various topics, including the USA. At one point, I was explaining to some of the kids that not everyone in the USA sounds similar when they speak. Given my appreciation of the various accents people in the USA have when speaking, I was enjoying explaining and describing and demonstrating some of the accents of people in the USA. At another point, I was showing them my passports, and explaining to them places and events in US history. While we were looking at a drawing of Mount Rushmore that's on one of the pages of my passport, I was explaining where in the US it is, and which US presidents are represented there. While we were looking at other pages of my passport, I was explaining to them that July 4 is Independence Day in the USA.

One night after dinner, the other PCVs and I held a trivia contest for the kids. We wrote questions in the categories of US culture and Moroccan culture. We also wrote questions testing them on what they had learned in the English classes we taught them. We additionally wrote questions testing them on what we had taught them during the clubs we held for them.

For example, we asked them, "Which country was the first to recognize the US?" We were surprised that both teams got the question wrong, given that the answer was Morocco. Also, neither team correctly guessed the number of stars on the American flag. However, they both knew that the Mississippi River is the longest river in the USA. We also asked them from which country the current US president's father came; one of the teams knew that he was Kenyan.

The kids were fiercely competitive. I so enjoyed watching the kids at that trivia competition, largely because they were so excited about it. When we announced which team won the contest, the winning team erupted into loud, raucous cheering. I felt bad for the kids who didn't win. They looked so dejected.

The last night of the camp, and the following morning, the kids shed many tears. I too was sad at the impending farewells. Yet I also felt encouraged. As with certain kids in my town down south, I love seeing, teaching and speaking with kids who are motivated to learn and who apply themselves.

But at this camp, I was even more pleased, because of conversations I had with some youths there. This one especially motivated youth, who is perhaps 18 years old, told me that he sees kids who are addicted to hard drugs. He added that he also sees others who aren't. He went on, "I teach them a little English, a little Arabic, a little French. And that makes me feel good." I replied to him, "Yes, it feels good to help others." I continued, saying roughly, "I think that this is part of the meaning of life: to help others." I didn't expect to have a conversation like this at camp, but was so pleased that I did.

I had been looking forward to Spring Camp. I had been expecting to enjoy Spring Camp. I just didn't expect to enjoy Spring Camp as much as I did. I'm looking forward to Summer Camp.

Revisiting old friends, visiting new places

At the end of last week, I started traveling north. Since three weeks had passed since the big storm here in Morocco, thus giving the high elevation snow ample time to melt, I didn't expect the bus ride through the High Atlas mountains to be more spectacular than usual. However, I was thrilled to spot five waterfalls created by snow that was still melting. I also enjoyed the sight of dozens of goats walking toward us on the other side of the road, obediently staying on their side of the road under the skilled care of a shepherd as we continued further north through the mountains.

In Marrakech, I doubted the accuracy of one of those screens outside a bank which claimed that it was 42 degrees Celsius, which would've meant it was 107 degrees Fahrenheit. I continued north and I visited Casablanca for the first time. While there, I slaked my thirst at the bar named Petit Poucet, where Saint-Exupery used to relax between runs delivering mail across the Sahara.

The next morning, I caught a train and headed further north. Later that day, I had much fun visiting old friends in the community where I trained as a PCT (Peace Corps Trainee) during my first couple of months in Morocco. When I first saw this one boy, who's a wonderful friend of mine, for the first time again in months, he literally jumped through the air into my arms. I was joyous spending time with my friends there.

The next morning, I continued even further north, since I am up here this week for work activities as a PCV. Yesterday I spotted a cafe high on a hillside and made a mental note to return to check it out. After exploring the older part of the city, known as "the medina," I was exiting the medina on an old brick staircase which led me through the middle of what I thought was another hillside cafe with remarkable views of the Rif mountains. I continued on to the newer part of the city, where I finally ate a meatball sandwich, and walked across the street to eat a delectable eclair and another delicious dessert at a patisserie. I then continued back to my lodging for the night.

Today some other PCVs and I met with some Moroccans to discuss logistics of activities we'll be doing here later this week. Toward the end of the day, I headed back out and came to this hillside cafe, with its amazing views. Once I was sitting here enjoying some fresh squeezed orange juice, I realized that the cafe in which I was, and still am, sitting, is both the one I spotted from below as well as the one through which I walked when exiting the medina. It is very pleasant here. I have been very much enjoying the views of the Rif mountains from this spot.

In the last couple of days, I've also been enjoying seeing a different region of Morocco. Given that this city is so far north in Morocco, many people speak Spanish here. Also, cultural norms are different this far north than they are in southern Morocco where I live. Thus far since I've been here, I've seen couples sitting on benches openly displaying affection towards each other, which would definitely be "hshuma" (considered shameful) in the region in which I live.

Also, there have been women sitting here in this cafe. In my town, as in many small towns in Morocco, you don't see women in cafes. So this is another change which is noticeable as one travels to different parts of Morocco.

So it's interesting to see a new part of Morocco, and see what changes, whether it be cultural norms, or the landscape, or the weather. Right now it is getting noticeably hotter in the town where I live way down in the Sahara Desert. But here in this northern city, it is quite cool, with a constant breeze and the sea air, the Mediterranean Sea being a scant dozen miles away. The environment is most definitely different here. One sees, in the contrast between where I live, areas through which I have passed on this trip, and where I am as I type this post, some of the meteorological diversity of Morocco. In my town where I live, I have considered retreating inside a cafe when winds were blowing a lot of sand and dust at me. Up here, there are most definitely different weather concerns. While it was barely sprinkling on and off in the early afternoon here, by the early evening, it had started raining slightly more, so I migrated inside the cafe, where I still have been enjoying views of the mountains as dusk has been falling.

In addition to admiring and loving the scenery, I was also amused when this young Moroccan woman ran inside here, squealing and waving her arms. She rushed into the bathroom. Once she had emerged, and breathed a sigh of relief, I asked her in Darija, "Kulshi mzyan deba?" which means, "Is everything good now?" She affirmed that all was well. It turned out that she had had a close encounter with an insect.