Today is my two-year anniversary of my arrival here in Morocco. I arrived in Morocco as a PCT (Peace Corps Trainee) on September 15, 2010. My COS (Completion Of Service, or Close Of Service) date is less than a month away. Thus I am in the twilight of my Peace Corps service. People have been asking me how I feel about my Peace Corps service, now that it is about to end. I feel pretty good.
When I started applying to the Peace Corps, initially in 2008, at that point already for at least a dozen years I'd already wanted to be in the Peace Corps. I wanted to live in a foreign country, and more specifically in Africa. I'd always envisioned my Peace Corps service being in the Sahara. I'd been wanting to live somewhere where I'd be speaking a foreign language. I'd already been wanting to teach for well over a dozen years. And it had long been important to me to help impoverished persons, as the Bible instructs. Thus, I supposed that teaching English classes in the Peace Corps would be a fine way to do all of these things.
Indeed, I've enjoyed teaching English, and I've enjoyed doing the other work I've done here in Morocco as a PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer). While teaching, I've mostly taught English, though I've also taught lessons about geography, health and the environment during my service. During the process of teaching here, I've learned how to teach better, learning for which I have been grateful.
I've come to see how, just as the Peace Corps encourages PCVs to conceptualize, teaching English can be a vehicle, a means, to other, more significant, ends. I've taught English as a means of addressing gender issues and as a way of leading youths to develop further their logical reasoning and critical thinking abilities.
While teaching English, I've sought to catalyze boys to consider their responsibility to respect the human rights of girls and women. I've tried to spur them to evaluate how they may support women and girls and promote their human rights by the seemingly mundane choices they make in what seem to be their everyday, routine lives. As I've taught English, I've sought to empower girls by encouraging them in the classroom. I've had them consider their own perceptions of themselves, and I've suggested to boys that they be more conscious of how they perceive girls.
I've introduced logical reasoning and critical thinking elements into English lessons to suggest to youths that they might want to question their own assumptions. I've tried to help them to be more objective. I've hoped that perhaps they've expanded their minds. I've hoped that in taking these reasoning approaches, they've realized things about themselves and their world.
In addition to this work I've done, I've made new friends. I've established connections here, both with Moroccans and with other PCVs, which I value.
However, I can't help but think that I might have benefited more than the students and others I've taught and tutored here. I feel that I have gained enormously during my time here in terms of my own personal journey.
On a relatively superficial level, I have indeed been living in a foreign country, and more specifically in Africa, and even more specifically in the Sahara, as I had wanted to do for so long. I've admired some beautiful landscape in this country, and while I've been here in town, I've often enjoyed taking walks in a calm, serene palmerie, the massive grove of palm trees which stretches through this town where I've been living.
But more deeply, while I've lived here in Morocco, I have enjoyed a simple lifestyle. I haven't missed the money and property I had back in the states. Indeed, as I've neared my COS date, and have come to shed more and more property, I've been yearning to jettison more and more physical possessions from my life.
I've greatly enjoyed the solitude I've had here. I've used it to read the entire Bible and re-read a significant portion of it. I've used my free time, with its peace and quiet, to pray and meditate, and to study the Word of God.
I've been very grateful to God for the spiritual community I've experienced with other expat Christians here in Morocco. I've cherished the opportunities I've had to worship God and celebrate God's many blessings with them. I've come to appreciate much more the ability to go to church, since, while I've been living here in Morocco, I've not always been in a location here where there is a church.
As a PCV, I've been grateful for the camaraderie and support I've experienced with and from my fellow PCVs. I've also been glad to live in this community where I've been living here in the Sahara. I've felt satisfaction and fulfillment in serving the community here, teaching and doing other work while I've lived here.
While serving here, I've often felt challenged by this culture. I haven't felt like my personality meshes well with Moroccan culture. Indeed, I've often thought that, in placing me here, the Peace Corps was doing something akin to trying to mix oil and water. However, in experiencing the challenges I've encountered here, I've realized that such difficulties present opportunities to grow and to learn, not just about another culture and the people who are native to it, but also to learn about oneself.
I've experienced the most emotionally challenging period in my life during my Peace Corps service, largely as I struggled to deal with culture shock and adjusted to life in a culture significantly different than in the culture in which I had been accustomed to living previously during all of my life. In grappling with these circumstances, I've been reminded of how Francis Collins, in his book "The Language Of God: A Scientist Presents Evidence For Belief," muses, "Hard though it is to accept, a complete absence of suffering may not be in the best interest of our spiritual growth." Indeed, one would do well to ponder the question, Do we learn more from a comfortable situation, or from trying circumstances?
Ultimately such metamorphosis, painful and unpleasant though it has often been, due to its attendant growth and learning, has been one of the more profound reasons why I have valued my time here so much. Learning, growing, becoming more than one had been, while serving and giving to others, this is part of the meaning of life.
Thus when circumstances not only seem less than ideal, when not only do we not get what we desire, but events are additionally incredibly trying and stressful, and seem to stretch us to our limits, something better, something more, something deeply and wonderfully transformative lies waiting for us on the other side, as described in Hebrews 11:39-40:
These were all commended for their faith,
yet none of them received what had been promised,
since God had planned something better for us
so that only together with us would they be made perfect.
Showing posts with label culture shock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label culture shock. Show all posts
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Monday, May 28, 2012
Conquering Your Fear, Not Letting It Control You
Last week 110 PCTs (Peace Corps Trainees) swore in and became PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) here in Morocco. All of the brand new PCVs have been traveling to, and arriving in, their sites over the last several days. Last night, I thought about how remarkable all of these new PCVs are. In choosing to live the lives they're living, they're so brave, bold, and audacious, in pursuing their vision of a world shaped by love rather than by fear.
I've told them that as they feel unhinged, as they cope with emotions perhaps on a scale which they've never before felt, as they adjust to a markedly different culture, as they adapt to so much that's foreign, they'll view their situation objectively if they remind themselves that most, if not all, people would feel fear while confronting such challenges. I've told them to remember that in the choice they made to enter the Peace Corps, they've chosen to conquer their fear.
Most, if not all, PCVs, soon after swearing in as PCVs, freak out to a degree they've never before experienced. If you're a new PCV, you're pushing yourself into new territory, and it's scary because it's unfamiliar. As you freak out, and conquer your fear, remind yourself that many people never do what you're doing. What you're doing is remarkable.
In the context of being deposited into towns where you don't know people, where you're struggling to express yourselves and understand what's happening around you, reconsider what's normal and what's amazing. Every day you're choosing to live ridiculously unfamiliar, insanely uncomfortable lives. When you just walk down the street, in the context of feeling such culture shock, you're doing something which, for many people, is unbelievable, unfathomable, unimaginable, unattainable. Think I'm saying something untrue, falsely flattering, exaggerated? It's accurate, considering that many people let their fear prevent them from ever even trying it, even once in their lives. And you're actually doing it.
I've told them that as they feel unhinged, as they cope with emotions perhaps on a scale which they've never before felt, as they adjust to a markedly different culture, as they adapt to so much that's foreign, they'll view their situation objectively if they remind themselves that most, if not all, people would feel fear while confronting such challenges. I've told them to remember that in the choice they made to enter the Peace Corps, they've chosen to conquer their fear.
Most, if not all, PCVs, soon after swearing in as PCVs, freak out to a degree they've never before experienced. If you're a new PCV, you're pushing yourself into new territory, and it's scary because it's unfamiliar. As you freak out, and conquer your fear, remind yourself that many people never do what you're doing. What you're doing is remarkable.
In the context of being deposited into towns where you don't know people, where you're struggling to express yourselves and understand what's happening around you, reconsider what's normal and what's amazing. Every day you're choosing to live ridiculously unfamiliar, insanely uncomfortable lives. When you just walk down the street, in the context of feeling such culture shock, you're doing something which, for many people, is unbelievable, unfathomable, unimaginable, unattainable. Think I'm saying something untrue, falsely flattering, exaggerated? It's accurate, considering that many people let their fear prevent them from ever even trying it, even once in their lives. And you're actually doing it.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
I Know Why I Am Here
During recent weeks, other PCVs, who arrived here in Morocco about three months ago, have been having a rough time. They haven't had much time to adjust to life here in Morocco yet, and thus are still experiencing culture shock. Since their PST (Pre-Service Training) ended last month, many of them are no longer seeing other PCVs everyday. Thus, they're facing many of the challenges attendant to adjusting to life in a foreign country, but without the face-to-face support of new friends they've made in the PCV community.
Having lived here in Morocco, and thus in a foreign country, for over a year now, I figure that I might be able to help; I certainly hope that my words are helping! I've been sharing tips, including coping strategies, with them, partly as laid out in my August 2011 blog entry entitled "Tips for PCVs and PCTs."
And while I didn't especially need the reminder, nevertheless I appreciate how, in being presented with the opportunities to help other PCVs, I am being reminded of why I am here: to help others. In helping other PCVs, I am reminded of how I am here to help Moroccans, especially impoverished Moroccans, and even more specifically, to help them better themselves. To help them learn and develop themselves so that they may better face life's challenges. And I am happy to be helping them, as in doing so I have the opportunity to give back some of the tremendous amount of help I have received from countless others throughout my life.
Having lived here in Morocco, and thus in a foreign country, for over a year now, I figure that I might be able to help; I certainly hope that my words are helping! I've been sharing tips, including coping strategies, with them, partly as laid out in my August 2011 blog entry entitled "Tips for PCVs and PCTs."
And while I didn't especially need the reminder, nevertheless I appreciate how, in being presented with the opportunities to help other PCVs, I am being reminded of why I am here: to help others. In helping other PCVs, I am reminded of how I am here to help Moroccans, especially impoverished Moroccans, and even more specifically, to help them better themselves. To help them learn and develop themselves so that they may better face life's challenges. And I am happy to be helping them, as in doing so I have the opportunity to give back some of the tremendous amount of help I have received from countless others throughout my life.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Funkytown, Or, A Sort of Mid-Service Crisis
For most of September, and a good part of October, I was in a funk, a trough to which I returned more than once; I was going through a series of rough patches during this period. I was feeling down, a bit challenged.
When Peace Corps Volunteers (PCVs) are about midway through their Peace Corps service, they often go through what has been called a "mid-service crisis." Midway through, PCVs ask themselves whether they're really making a difference, sometimes doubt the effectiveness of the Peace Corps, bemoan their lack of progress in learning a new language, and just generally question whether they should be in their host country at all.
I don't think that I really experienced what I would call a mid-service crisis. I asked myself some questions similar to the ones I've described here. But in the last couple of months, I never posed questions as fundamental about my Peace Corps service as some of the more serious ones I've listed here. Nor did I feel as low as I suspect some other PCVs have when they were about halfway through their service.
Nevertheless, I don't discount the possibility that I was feeling low because I'm nearly halfway through my service as a PCV. Speaking recently with my immediate family members on the phone, my sister-in-law reminded me that it's natural and common to question, re-evaluate and re-assess one's position when halfway through any particular endeavor. From doing so, one can benefit from the insight and perspective one potentially gains by devoting one's time and attention to where one came from, currently is, and is heading. I can't claim to have any particular insights from reflecting on my recent trough. However, it's at least my intention right now to re-evaluate my service as a PCV. At this point, I am now more than halfway through my time in Morocco (combining my PST, or Pre-Service Training, with my service as a PCV). I am now also nearly halfway through my service as a PCV.
So, to get more specific about how I've felt from time to time in the last month and a half... among other things, I've been challenged by dealing with a lack of work. For the entire summer, except for the ten days or so that I was at Summer Camp, I've had little, if any, work to do. The Dar Chebab, or youth center, where I do most of my volunteering, was closed for much of the summer. Since it re-opened, little by little, more kids have started coming to the Dar Chebab. I've gradually been starting to work more and more.
I've also felt resigned to understanding Darija, and speaking in Darija, at the level I had reached earlier this year, in the Spring. At that point, more than a few months ago, I hit a plateau in learning Darija, which is Moroccan Arabic, and which is the language I speak the most here in Morocco. After progressing in learning Darija for at least half of a year, I felt like I was no longer improving in my ability to speak and understand Darija.
At times I've felt homesick for family and friends in the USA, and just the life and culture there. I miss my family and friends there. And the culture in the USA is the one to which I am the most accustomed.
Given that I'm most comfortable in the culture of the USA, at times I feel challenged here in Morocco. While I've learned how to live here, and have adjusted to life here, it's still a foreign culture to me. I've learned about it, and can explain it, but I haven't adopted it as my own. I still am very much a citizen of the USA living in Morocco. Consequently, sometimes the cultural differences here are still prominent to me. It's as if, at times, I feel a later stage version of culture shock. Perhaps shock is no longer the most appropriate word, but to the extent that that word is no longer entirely evocative, I believe it is largely due to simply having been exposed to this foreign culture for as long as I have been living in it. That, having lived here as long as I have, the cultural differences are no longer surprising, or shocking, but only because they're no longer novel. The attendant challenges, of coping and adjustment, are still present.
Yes, if you think that I am implying that I feel in some ways that I have not entirely adjusted to the culture here, then, yes, you are correctly interpreting what I am trying to say. I think that perhaps it is still reasonable to still be adjusting to the culture here. But I also think that I in particular feel especially challenged in living here due to my particular makeup, approach to life, philosophy, religion, faith and values. I generally favor freedom and latitude over restriction; debate over silence; inquiry over static acceptance and failure to question; activity over passivity. I attended a college which helped me to further develop these values and this approach to life; which keenly tried to encourage its students to engage in critical thinking; and which strongly supported respecting others' rights, which certainly included buoying and improving the status of women. In addition to all of these facets of my intellectual makeup, I feel most challenged here in terms of my spirituality, given the relative lack of exchange between religions, paucity of debate and little diversity within any particular conversation about religion here. And I face these spiritual challenges in the context of being Christian in a country which is more than 98 percent Muslim.
You might think that I have been describing many things descriptive of my entire time here in Morocco. I think it's true, that in the last month and half, I have been feeling emotions which I have always felt here in Morocco. To a certain extent, in my mid-service crisis, if it deserves to be called that, I have been continuing to grapple with challenges I have always felt here.
In a way, I think that maybe in the last month and a half, I have been assessing how I have been dealing with these challenges. I've been evaluating how I cope.
I've gained some fortitude from knowing that at this point, I feel relatively stable in my service. I know how to cope well. I did experience a series of rough patches in the last month and a half. Yet, at no point during this period did I sink anywhere nearly as low as I did during my first few months living here in my town, from late November last year to mid-March this year. I think that I've fared as well as I have because of the advice I've received, and my own advice (mostly contained in my August 2011 blog post entitled "Tips for PCVs and PCTs,") which I myself have tried to follow. Recently when I was feeling down, I identified how I was feeling. I thought, "I'm feeling homesick." Next I thought, "It's reasonable for me to feel homesick. I am far away from many people I love. I miss them. It's completely natural for me to feel this way." Immediately I felt drastically better. Knowing that I can competently cope, I then feel empowered to take action in other areas, such as my work.
I've also maintained a sense of direction and purpose by reminding myself while I'm here. I remember very often that I'm trying to do what God wants me to do, namely, help others, and, more specifically, help impoverished people, and, even more specifically, help them better themselves.
In keeping in touch with my faith, and reminding myself what my values are, I've been taking my own advice, remembering what I've learned. And I've also been remembering what others have taught me. You might think I am making a very obvious point here. However, I've seen numerous PCVs sinking low because they succumb to various forms of tunnel vision, of pessimism, of failing to consult, listen to, and learn from others (and at times I have suffered from this malady as well). So remember what you have learned, and ask for help when you need it. After all, the Peace Corps is all about learning from others.
When Peace Corps Volunteers (PCVs) are about midway through their Peace Corps service, they often go through what has been called a "mid-service crisis." Midway through, PCVs ask themselves whether they're really making a difference, sometimes doubt the effectiveness of the Peace Corps, bemoan their lack of progress in learning a new language, and just generally question whether they should be in their host country at all.
I don't think that I really experienced what I would call a mid-service crisis. I asked myself some questions similar to the ones I've described here. But in the last couple of months, I never posed questions as fundamental about my Peace Corps service as some of the more serious ones I've listed here. Nor did I feel as low as I suspect some other PCVs have when they were about halfway through their service.
Nevertheless, I don't discount the possibility that I was feeling low because I'm nearly halfway through my service as a PCV. Speaking recently with my immediate family members on the phone, my sister-in-law reminded me that it's natural and common to question, re-evaluate and re-assess one's position when halfway through any particular endeavor. From doing so, one can benefit from the insight and perspective one potentially gains by devoting one's time and attention to where one came from, currently is, and is heading. I can't claim to have any particular insights from reflecting on my recent trough. However, it's at least my intention right now to re-evaluate my service as a PCV. At this point, I am now more than halfway through my time in Morocco (combining my PST, or Pre-Service Training, with my service as a PCV). I am now also nearly halfway through my service as a PCV.
So, to get more specific about how I've felt from time to time in the last month and a half... among other things, I've been challenged by dealing with a lack of work. For the entire summer, except for the ten days or so that I was at Summer Camp, I've had little, if any, work to do. The Dar Chebab, or youth center, where I do most of my volunteering, was closed for much of the summer. Since it re-opened, little by little, more kids have started coming to the Dar Chebab. I've gradually been starting to work more and more.
I've also felt resigned to understanding Darija, and speaking in Darija, at the level I had reached earlier this year, in the Spring. At that point, more than a few months ago, I hit a plateau in learning Darija, which is Moroccan Arabic, and which is the language I speak the most here in Morocco. After progressing in learning Darija for at least half of a year, I felt like I was no longer improving in my ability to speak and understand Darija.
At times I've felt homesick for family and friends in the USA, and just the life and culture there. I miss my family and friends there. And the culture in the USA is the one to which I am the most accustomed.
Given that I'm most comfortable in the culture of the USA, at times I feel challenged here in Morocco. While I've learned how to live here, and have adjusted to life here, it's still a foreign culture to me. I've learned about it, and can explain it, but I haven't adopted it as my own. I still am very much a citizen of the USA living in Morocco. Consequently, sometimes the cultural differences here are still prominent to me. It's as if, at times, I feel a later stage version of culture shock. Perhaps shock is no longer the most appropriate word, but to the extent that that word is no longer entirely evocative, I believe it is largely due to simply having been exposed to this foreign culture for as long as I have been living in it. That, having lived here as long as I have, the cultural differences are no longer surprising, or shocking, but only because they're no longer novel. The attendant challenges, of coping and adjustment, are still present.
Yes, if you think that I am implying that I feel in some ways that I have not entirely adjusted to the culture here, then, yes, you are correctly interpreting what I am trying to say. I think that perhaps it is still reasonable to still be adjusting to the culture here. But I also think that I in particular feel especially challenged in living here due to my particular makeup, approach to life, philosophy, religion, faith and values. I generally favor freedom and latitude over restriction; debate over silence; inquiry over static acceptance and failure to question; activity over passivity. I attended a college which helped me to further develop these values and this approach to life; which keenly tried to encourage its students to engage in critical thinking; and which strongly supported respecting others' rights, which certainly included buoying and improving the status of women. In addition to all of these facets of my intellectual makeup, I feel most challenged here in terms of my spirituality, given the relative lack of exchange between religions, paucity of debate and little diversity within any particular conversation about religion here. And I face these spiritual challenges in the context of being Christian in a country which is more than 98 percent Muslim.
You might think that I have been describing many things descriptive of my entire time here in Morocco. I think it's true, that in the last month and half, I have been feeling emotions which I have always felt here in Morocco. To a certain extent, in my mid-service crisis, if it deserves to be called that, I have been continuing to grapple with challenges I have always felt here.
In a way, I think that maybe in the last month and a half, I have been assessing how I have been dealing with these challenges. I've been evaluating how I cope.
I've gained some fortitude from knowing that at this point, I feel relatively stable in my service. I know how to cope well. I did experience a series of rough patches in the last month and a half. Yet, at no point during this period did I sink anywhere nearly as low as I did during my first few months living here in my town, from late November last year to mid-March this year. I think that I've fared as well as I have because of the advice I've received, and my own advice (mostly contained in my August 2011 blog post entitled "Tips for PCVs and PCTs,") which I myself have tried to follow. Recently when I was feeling down, I identified how I was feeling. I thought, "I'm feeling homesick." Next I thought, "It's reasonable for me to feel homesick. I am far away from many people I love. I miss them. It's completely natural for me to feel this way." Immediately I felt drastically better. Knowing that I can competently cope, I then feel empowered to take action in other areas, such as my work.
I've also maintained a sense of direction and purpose by reminding myself while I'm here. I remember very often that I'm trying to do what God wants me to do, namely, help others, and, more specifically, help impoverished people, and, even more specifically, help them better themselves.
In keeping in touch with my faith, and reminding myself what my values are, I've been taking my own advice, remembering what I've learned. And I've also been remembering what others have taught me. You might think I am making a very obvious point here. However, I've seen numerous PCVs sinking low because they succumb to various forms of tunnel vision, of pessimism, of failing to consult, listen to, and learn from others (and at times I have suffered from this malady as well). So remember what you have learned, and ask for help when you need it. After all, the Peace Corps is all about learning from others.
Monday, July 18, 2011
First Visit Back to the USA
So, in the last couple of weeks I made my first visit back to the USA since I started to live in Morocco in September last year. It was a lot of fun!
To take things in order: the morning I left my town, I showed up to the office of one of the bus companies here in my town and found out that the early bus out of my town was going to be full. I always go to the bus company office the day before I catch a bus to buy my ticket for the bus I'm going to catch the next day. But the day before I left my town to head to the USA, the bus company office was closed both times that I went to it that day. So that morning that I was leaving my town, after finding out that the bus was going to be full, I headed to the grand taxi stand in my town. Given that there are multiple ways of leaving my town, I wasn't concerned about making it to the airport in Marrakech for my flight the next day. Nevertheless, as I was waiting for a taxi to fill up, I appreciated how I saw a truck drive by with a large sticker on its windshield that said, "Don't Worry."
In fact, once I got out of a taxi at a stop about an hour from my town, I managed to get on the bus I had been told was full when I had still been in my town. Apparently the bus was only full until that stop where I got on the bus. I was thankful to be on a bus and not crammed into a grand taxi during most of the ride to Marrakech.
Later that day, I arrived in Marrakech, which provided the context of the blog entry immediately preceding this current one. I was glad to be on my trip!
Early the next morning, I checked out of my hotel and began walking toward the nearest petit taxi stand there in Marrakech. Before I got to the taxi stand, a middle-aged guy approached me and asked me if I wanted a taxi. I replied in Arabic, "Yeah, but it's going to be expensive." He replied in French, "No, seventy." I had heard from another PCV that a taxi driver in Marrakech had told him it cost 100 dirhams to get to the airport. Further, after dusk and before dawn, taxi drivers in Morocco charge one-and-a-half times the regular fare for any particular taxi ride. So, when this driver told me it would only cost 70 dirhams, I figured I was being charged less than the usual price, and took him up on his offer. On the way to the airport, I was thinking all of this, especially in light of how some taxi drivers in Marrakech clearly had tried to overcharge me on previous visits to that city. So after I paid him, when I was getting out of the taxi, I told him in French that he was an honest man, and told him in Arabic, "God be with you."
I was very glad that my flight from Marrakech to Casablanca, and my flight from Casablanca to Brussels, Belgium both went without incident. I happily ate some delicious food in Brussels, stayed overnight there, and the next day continued my journey to the USA. Finally, after one grand taxi, one bus, two petit taxis, one train, four trams, one metro, five planes, and one car ride, I arrived at my parents' home in the USA, 72 hours after I left my apartment in the Sahara.
I was very happy to spend time with my folks, and also with my sister, who was also visiting them at the same time. In addition to enjoying their company, I also was very happy to eat food I can't eat, or at the very least, can't easily come by, in Morocco. My mom made some delicious lasagna. I loved having bacon for breakfast (remember that Morocco, being a Muslim country, does not have a lot of pork, bacon and ham in it, except in cities, and more likely in the larger ones, and even then, it's not ubiquitous).
Another stark difference of which I was very conscious: though I hadn't forgotten, nevertheless, on my visit back to the USA, I was very conscious of how women are not covered up like women are in my town here in the Sahara. As I visited restaurants and shops, and walked around on sidewalks in the USA, I was repeatedly struck by how women in the USA often wear clothing which shows all of their arms up to the tops of their shoulders, their legs well above their knees, and, from time to time, exposes their midriffs. I was taking this all in in contrast to the women in my town here in the Sahara, who are covered sometimes literally from head to toe (that is, everything except their faces and their hands). If they're not that covered up, then they are only exposing below their ankles, even now, during the hottest part of the year, here in the Sahara. If a woman is exposing herself any more than that in my town, it is rare (unless she is visiting this town from a larger city and/or is a tourist).
I suppose that I was struck on my recent visit back to the USA by how relatively uncovered women in the USA are, even though in my everyday life in Morocco, I have been very conscious of how covered rural Moroccan women are, because throughout my life, I've been used to women dressing as they like. In other words, I was raised under certain customs, and those are still the ones to which I am most easily accustomed. Which brings me to a larger observation I had during my trip back to the USA. As I was processing my thoughts about what it was like being back in the USA, often out loud, in conversations with my parents and sister, finally my mom paraphrased my many observations, and said, "So, being here feels normal." And I said yes, that it just felt normal being back in the USA. I wasn't experiencing reverse culture shock, since I must say that I don't feel Moroccan. While I've adjusted to life in Morocco, I still feel like a citizen of the USA living in Morocco. So while it wasn't a gigantic relief to be spending time in the USA, it just felt good because it felt natural.
That is to say, I haven't adopted the customs of Morocco as my own. While I feel like I've adjusted to living in Morocco, I don't think of it as my own culture. When I got back to the USA, having been constantly faced with rural Moroccan women so covered up, it was a major change to see women so relatively uncovered, as I have for most of my life. I felt like I was returning to a culture which felt more natural for me, and for that reason, among others, I was enjoying my visit.
After a good visit with my folks and my sister at my folks' place, I flew to New York, where I again met up with my sister. When we had our first lunch there, I had such a good pastrami on rye sandwich. The pastrami melted in my mouth! At that meal, I also had some of the best cheesecake I had ever had.
I continued onward and then spent time with more of my extended family. The next day, a relative threw a barbeque where I got to spend time with a good number of my relatives. It was great to see them. They had a lot of questions for me about my life in Morocco and in my town, and about my work. At that barbeque, I loved eating a variety of things I don't get to eat here in Morocco, among them pulled pork.
The following day, I attended the wedding of a friend of mine to his sweetheart. I see their wedding as reflecting another difference between culture in the USA and Moroccan culture. My friend is Jewish, and his wife is Christian. By contrast, over 98 percent of Moroccans are Muslim. And on top of that, many of the relatively small number of Moroccans who are not Muslim are not that recognizable.
At the wedding, as throughout my visit back to the USA, people were asking me a lot of questions about Morocco and my life here. So of course I was talking a lot about life here.
On the rest of my trip, I was happy that I had the chance to see other friends. Among them, I met up with a mentor of mine, who had also been a teacher of mine years ago, and who had been a PCV himself before me. While we had previously spoken about our Peace Corps experiences, we spoke more over brunch about being PCVs. He told me that when he was a PCV, he left his town twice in one year, since it was so isolated, and since there were so few transportation options. While I have many times thanked God for the many blessings which have been bestowed on me, including during my time as a PCV, I became even more grateful for my current living situation once he told me how isolated his village was. I was also thankful and appreciative of his guidance and support.
It was great to get to see my friends while I was back. I feel recharged after spending time with them and receiving their encouragement. And, I was happy that, during the last couple of days of my visit in the USA, I shared great food with them, including more bacon, ice cream, and cupcakes, among other tasty morsels.
Once I split off from my friends and started heading for the airport, though, I was looking forward to getting back here. As I was on the way to JFK, I was thinking that since I wasn't going to get to see any more of my family or friends, and since I wasn't going to visit anywhere else in the USA or do anything else there, I just wanted to get back to Morocco. To get the long trip back done.
After I landed on the last of my three flights back from the USA, and was about to exit the airport in Marrakech, I decided to utilize the information desk at the airport. As I approached the desk, I saw a few Moroccan girls huddled together in conversation. I asked them in Arabic where I could catch the bus. They directed me to where I would find it, expressing surprise and smiling as they commented that I was speaking Arabic.
Having gotten the tip from a second-year PCV to take the bus from the Marrakech airport into the city of Marrakech, rather than being charged more for a taxi, I was happy to only pay 20 dirhams to take the bus to my hotel. And, it didn't even take significantly longer than a taxi would have taken.
The next day, I woke up late, exhausted from so many days of traveling over the previous two weeks. I caught a morning bus back down here to my town. Traveling through the High Atlas mountains, I was again surprised and pleased that in the summer month of July, with no snow visible on the mountains, I saw waterfalls flowing down some of the mountains.
I arrived back in my town late that afternoon, exhausted, but happy to have spent time in the USA with my family and friends, including at the wedding of one of my best friends.
To take things in order: the morning I left my town, I showed up to the office of one of the bus companies here in my town and found out that the early bus out of my town was going to be full. I always go to the bus company office the day before I catch a bus to buy my ticket for the bus I'm going to catch the next day. But the day before I left my town to head to the USA, the bus company office was closed both times that I went to it that day. So that morning that I was leaving my town, after finding out that the bus was going to be full, I headed to the grand taxi stand in my town. Given that there are multiple ways of leaving my town, I wasn't concerned about making it to the airport in Marrakech for my flight the next day. Nevertheless, as I was waiting for a taxi to fill up, I appreciated how I saw a truck drive by with a large sticker on its windshield that said, "Don't Worry."
In fact, once I got out of a taxi at a stop about an hour from my town, I managed to get on the bus I had been told was full when I had still been in my town. Apparently the bus was only full until that stop where I got on the bus. I was thankful to be on a bus and not crammed into a grand taxi during most of the ride to Marrakech.
Later that day, I arrived in Marrakech, which provided the context of the blog entry immediately preceding this current one. I was glad to be on my trip!
Early the next morning, I checked out of my hotel and began walking toward the nearest petit taxi stand there in Marrakech. Before I got to the taxi stand, a middle-aged guy approached me and asked me if I wanted a taxi. I replied in Arabic, "Yeah, but it's going to be expensive." He replied in French, "No, seventy." I had heard from another PCV that a taxi driver in Marrakech had told him it cost 100 dirhams to get to the airport. Further, after dusk and before dawn, taxi drivers in Morocco charge one-and-a-half times the regular fare for any particular taxi ride. So, when this driver told me it would only cost 70 dirhams, I figured I was being charged less than the usual price, and took him up on his offer. On the way to the airport, I was thinking all of this, especially in light of how some taxi drivers in Marrakech clearly had tried to overcharge me on previous visits to that city. So after I paid him, when I was getting out of the taxi, I told him in French that he was an honest man, and told him in Arabic, "God be with you."
I was very glad that my flight from Marrakech to Casablanca, and my flight from Casablanca to Brussels, Belgium both went without incident. I happily ate some delicious food in Brussels, stayed overnight there, and the next day continued my journey to the USA. Finally, after one grand taxi, one bus, two petit taxis, one train, four trams, one metro, five planes, and one car ride, I arrived at my parents' home in the USA, 72 hours after I left my apartment in the Sahara.
I was very happy to spend time with my folks, and also with my sister, who was also visiting them at the same time. In addition to enjoying their company, I also was very happy to eat food I can't eat, or at the very least, can't easily come by, in Morocco. My mom made some delicious lasagna. I loved having bacon for breakfast (remember that Morocco, being a Muslim country, does not have a lot of pork, bacon and ham in it, except in cities, and more likely in the larger ones, and even then, it's not ubiquitous).
Another stark difference of which I was very conscious: though I hadn't forgotten, nevertheless, on my visit back to the USA, I was very conscious of how women are not covered up like women are in my town here in the Sahara. As I visited restaurants and shops, and walked around on sidewalks in the USA, I was repeatedly struck by how women in the USA often wear clothing which shows all of their arms up to the tops of their shoulders, their legs well above their knees, and, from time to time, exposes their midriffs. I was taking this all in in contrast to the women in my town here in the Sahara, who are covered sometimes literally from head to toe (that is, everything except their faces and their hands). If they're not that covered up, then they are only exposing below their ankles, even now, during the hottest part of the year, here in the Sahara. If a woman is exposing herself any more than that in my town, it is rare (unless she is visiting this town from a larger city and/or is a tourist).
I suppose that I was struck on my recent visit back to the USA by how relatively uncovered women in the USA are, even though in my everyday life in Morocco, I have been very conscious of how covered rural Moroccan women are, because throughout my life, I've been used to women dressing as they like. In other words, I was raised under certain customs, and those are still the ones to which I am most easily accustomed. Which brings me to a larger observation I had during my trip back to the USA. As I was processing my thoughts about what it was like being back in the USA, often out loud, in conversations with my parents and sister, finally my mom paraphrased my many observations, and said, "So, being here feels normal." And I said yes, that it just felt normal being back in the USA. I wasn't experiencing reverse culture shock, since I must say that I don't feel Moroccan. While I've adjusted to life in Morocco, I still feel like a citizen of the USA living in Morocco. So while it wasn't a gigantic relief to be spending time in the USA, it just felt good because it felt natural.
That is to say, I haven't adopted the customs of Morocco as my own. While I feel like I've adjusted to living in Morocco, I don't think of it as my own culture. When I got back to the USA, having been constantly faced with rural Moroccan women so covered up, it was a major change to see women so relatively uncovered, as I have for most of my life. I felt like I was returning to a culture which felt more natural for me, and for that reason, among others, I was enjoying my visit.
After a good visit with my folks and my sister at my folks' place, I flew to New York, where I again met up with my sister. When we had our first lunch there, I had such a good pastrami on rye sandwich. The pastrami melted in my mouth! At that meal, I also had some of the best cheesecake I had ever had.
I continued onward and then spent time with more of my extended family. The next day, a relative threw a barbeque where I got to spend time with a good number of my relatives. It was great to see them. They had a lot of questions for me about my life in Morocco and in my town, and about my work. At that barbeque, I loved eating a variety of things I don't get to eat here in Morocco, among them pulled pork.
The following day, I attended the wedding of a friend of mine to his sweetheart. I see their wedding as reflecting another difference between culture in the USA and Moroccan culture. My friend is Jewish, and his wife is Christian. By contrast, over 98 percent of Moroccans are Muslim. And on top of that, many of the relatively small number of Moroccans who are not Muslim are not that recognizable.
At the wedding, as throughout my visit back to the USA, people were asking me a lot of questions about Morocco and my life here. So of course I was talking a lot about life here.
On the rest of my trip, I was happy that I had the chance to see other friends. Among them, I met up with a mentor of mine, who had also been a teacher of mine years ago, and who had been a PCV himself before me. While we had previously spoken about our Peace Corps experiences, we spoke more over brunch about being PCVs. He told me that when he was a PCV, he left his town twice in one year, since it was so isolated, and since there were so few transportation options. While I have many times thanked God for the many blessings which have been bestowed on me, including during my time as a PCV, I became even more grateful for my current living situation once he told me how isolated his village was. I was also thankful and appreciative of his guidance and support.
It was great to get to see my friends while I was back. I feel recharged after spending time with them and receiving their encouragement. And, I was happy that, during the last couple of days of my visit in the USA, I shared great food with them, including more bacon, ice cream, and cupcakes, among other tasty morsels.
Once I split off from my friends and started heading for the airport, though, I was looking forward to getting back here. As I was on the way to JFK, I was thinking that since I wasn't going to get to see any more of my family or friends, and since I wasn't going to visit anywhere else in the USA or do anything else there, I just wanted to get back to Morocco. To get the long trip back done.
After I landed on the last of my three flights back from the USA, and was about to exit the airport in Marrakech, I decided to utilize the information desk at the airport. As I approached the desk, I saw a few Moroccan girls huddled together in conversation. I asked them in Arabic where I could catch the bus. They directed me to where I would find it, expressing surprise and smiling as they commented that I was speaking Arabic.
Having gotten the tip from a second-year PCV to take the bus from the Marrakech airport into the city of Marrakech, rather than being charged more for a taxi, I was happy to only pay 20 dirhams to take the bus to my hotel. And, it didn't even take significantly longer than a taxi would have taken.
The next day, I woke up late, exhausted from so many days of traveling over the previous two weeks. I caught a morning bus back down here to my town. Traveling through the High Atlas mountains, I was again surprised and pleased that in the summer month of July, with no snow visible on the mountains, I saw waterfalls flowing down some of the mountains.
I arrived back in my town late that afternoon, exhausted, but happy to have spent time in the USA with my family and friends, including at the wedding of one of my best friends.
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