Pantsville

It's been three days since our group of five arrived for Community-Based Training in this small Moroccan town. I'm not supposed to reveal the name of our location on a public forum such as this, so henceforth I will refer to it as Pantsville. Our purpose here is to experience life with everyday Moroccan families, undergo intense language training, locate and interview local artisans, and prepare a sample Community Action Plan-- preparing us for the real deal in late November.

Pantsville feels like a reclaimed ghost town; its dusty streets and chipped buildings turned golden under the midday sun, the distant plateaus and hazy mountains like mirages spanning across the skyline. Children kick worn soccer balls down alleyways and play with bits of wire or rocks left in the road. People shuffle here and there, in and out of doorways opening to the sidewalk, perhaps down to the nearest teleboutique or hanut.

When walking in public I feel as though I'm wearing a glowing purple lobster costume that blares circus music. At least you'd think I was, judging by the stares I receive. As I pass by, people giggle or whisper to each other; kids sometimes follow from a distance, occasionally offering a bonjour or an awkward hel-lo. Turning around and speaking Darija catches them completely off guard, as most "foreign-looking" people are assumed to speak French.

I live with a big family in a small house, through an unassuming blue metal door, one of many lining a little side street building. I have three host brothers whom for right now I'll call Karl, Frank, and Gary, as well as two host sisters I'll name Latifah and Pam. I have a host mother but no father. I've decided not to ask about him just yet. Also belonging to the family is a little guy, a toddler named Jamiroquai. From where or whom he came I'm not sure.

Karl's profession is something I've dubbed "freelance taxi driving". He owns a car-- something very rare around here-- and charges people for rides throughout the day. He's an enthusiastic guy and proud of his car, taking me for short rides to the end of the street and back. Latifah is about sixteen and has become my closest friend. After eight hours of language I come home in the evening to have l-ftar, or the Ramadan break-fast, and afterwards Latifah and I study for another hour or so, trading words in English and Darija. She takes an English class in school, so I'm able to communicate better with her than anyone else.

L-ftar is the big occasion of the day; the whole family gathers to eat around a table. No silverware or napkins, lots of olives, dates, bread, and hot tea. The main dish is referred to as a tajine, which is actually the vessel used in the cooking. The matriarch utters "Bismillah", the tajine's lid is lifted, and everyone digs in, using chunks of bread to scoop out portions. My host mother insists "kif kif" (eat! eat!) long after I've become full, and I usually lie back on the cushions in a daze as the table is cleared.

It seems natural that I should follow with a description of the bathroom. I'm not even sure it qualifies as a janitor's closet-- its actual location is the area underneath a staircase-- a grimy concrete room with no sink, faucet or shower-- just a pair of cement footsteps, a hole in the ground, and a tub of water for "flushing". Oh yeah, water only flows from the tap from 1-4 in the afternoon, so families are seen filling buckets from hoses in the alleyways during this time. I have devised a (clean) method for brushing my teeth, but I have yet to figure out how to bathe.

My family does not seem to sleep. They eat l-ftar, have dinner around 11-12 PM (by which point I've gone to bed), and have another meal before sunrise between 3 and 4 AM, the time for which is signified by people banging drums in the street, often directly outside of my window. The first time that happened I thought I was dying. Anyway, they are already up at 7:30 when I get up to prepare for the day's sessions.

So the other night after l-ftar we're lounging around being full, when I casually pull my chapstick out of my pocket and apply a bit to my lips. As I'm putting it away I look up to see the entire family gawking at me, half amused and half aghast. The moment passes awkwardly and I eventually head to my room for the night. The next day after the morning language session, I do the same thing and my LCF gives me a look:

In America, do you do this a lot?

Yeah, it's pretty common.

Do not do this in front of your family. It will make it look like you are wanting to be a woman.

I'm blending right in.

????? Ho!

After a long week in Azrou, we're heading to our CBT (Community-Based Training) sites tomorrow morning. The program manager placed us into groups yesterday, assigning us to specific dialects and cities/towns/villages. My group of five is heading to a small town/village about two hours away. I guess for security reasons we're not supposed to say where, specifically. *shrug* As of tomorrow evening I'll be living with my host family for a period of two weeks initially, and three weeks later after a short training break back in Azrou. While at our CBT sites we'll be meeting at the LCF's (language & culture facilitator's) house during the day for language sessions, venturing out as a group to interview local artisans and spending the rest of the time with the family. It's sort of a practice run for life at our permanent sites. My host family is a clan of eight, which seems huge to my contemporary American perception. It will be a great opportunity to develop the language skills I'll be needing; supposedly the families are very welcoming and eager to help. We're slowly being introduced to situations where the amenities are less than before, and speaking the language becomes more necessary. I'll continue to learn Darija (Moroccan Arabic), the language spoken throughout the majority of the country. Others were assigned to Tamazight, one of the Berber dialects. Berbers are roughly the Moroccan equivalent of American Indians; they were here first but now are sparsely located throughout the more remote areas of the country.

The last few days here have been more of the same-- language and technical sessions. A few of us have been running in the evenings before dinner; we head to the outskirts of town on a dirt road. Nothing like open skies, cool air, surrounding mountains, and three or four snarling dogs charging toward one to get that heart rate up. People don't generally keep animals as pets here; scraggly dogs and cats roam the streets in search of scraps, often joining together in the late hours to yowl and wail at the night. The trick is to pick up a rock (or pretend to, but #%*!@ that), which is exactly what I did when running the other day. It definitely gets the point across; they stopped almost immediately, choosing instead to bark from a distance.

Laundry in Morocco is done by hand. The rooftops, at least in Azrou, are the laundry areas. Clothes are soaked in a big bucket with detergent, scrubbed clean against themselves, and hung to dry. I did mine for the first time yesterday, and though it was "neat" I can't say I'm a fan just yet. I think when I have more time (we'll eventually have a LOT of it) it has potential for a cathartic experience.

In our new town we'll only have running water for three hours a day. Planning ahead seems key. Supposedly there is a cyber cafe, so I'll keep up contact online when I have the chance. I hope everyone back home is doing well; I think of you often.

Study, Study, Study

Perhaps some of you are curious as to what I'm doing here aside from strolling through markets and climbing around the outskirts of town... this supposed "training" you've heard mention of... a ruse, perhaps?

Sadly (but not really) not. Things are in full swing here at the PCT "compound". We're undergoing marathon sessions each day, and in the evenings bury our noses in books and notes. They are beginning to get more specific about how we will go about doing our jobs, discussing methods of assessing a group of artisan's needs, resources, and schedule-- community mapping. We discuss gender roles, norms of Moroccan culture, health and safety issues, transportation, ways to integrate and gain acceptance in one's community, and skill transference. More vaccinations. More language. Current Moroccan PCVs have stopped by to give little talks, hang out and answer questions, which is great-- such a good source of information for us-- the real deal.

My address is the same as before:

Nathaniel Krause, Trainee
s/c Corps de la Paix
2 Rue Abou Marouane Essaadi
Rabat, 10100, MOROCCO

That isn't where I live, but it's where the mail goes in order to get to us. They request that nobody send packages (not that anyone was planning on it) just yet. My phone number is 011 212 58 16 03 74. That should be all you'll need to dial to reach me. I won't be offended if nobody wants to call; I'm sure it's not cheap. If you do, keep in mind that I'm five hours ahead, and usually am in bed by 11 at the latest. In the meantime I'm buying calling cards and slowly making the rounds. Also, my Skype name is "nathanielkrause", and I try to be logged on around 4:30-5:30pm your time, though I'm not always there. It's free for all so.... see you there?

I've Been to the Mountaintop

Azrou

We certainly aren't "slumming it" yet, to say the least.

Azrou is a beautiful city nestled in a valley surrounded by mountains of the Middle Atlas. It is a completely different environment here from Rabat-- breezy, slower placed, and you can't beat that view.


We're staying in what I believe is some sort of ritzy hostel; we share rooms and bathrooms, but are still spoiled crazy with delicious meals three times a day, and the building itself has that exotic Moroccan vibe. After arriving last night we settled in and went walking through the town, into the markets and around the mosque. It's very modern, with cell phone shops and internet cafes everywhere. One thing I've noticed so far about Morocco is that the ancient and modern coexist in the same environment in business and in dress, and attitude.

Having been introduced to our LCFs (Language and Culture Facilitators), we began training today with two language sessions. We work in small groups at a fast pace, adding to the vocabulary, practicing dialoge, adding vocabulary, practicing dialogue etc., etc. We're learning Darija, which is the most commonly used dialect. After some time here, we will be broken down into smaller groups and be assigned one of three different dialects. I've spent most of my off time tonight studying minus a quick trip to the Maroc Telcom shop to buy a cell phone. So.....if anyone wants to call, just remember, it's free for me! I'd post my number now but I left it in my room, and I'm sitting in the sitting room listening to M'Barek, one of the LCFs, play some sort of lute. He's really rockin' it....everyone is clapping in rhythm and singing, and I can't help but bob my head. I suppose the best way to describe it would be "fast-paced belly-dancing music".

I attempted to buy a towel tonight while we were out on the town (no towels here, it seems), forcing myself to interact and put my language abilities to the test. It's expected that we do a lot of self-directed learning, one of the forms of which is interacting with local Moroccans. It's important to have a sense of humor about it because you're going to have to do it sooner or later, and you're probably going to look and sound stupid the first twenty or thirty times. Which I did. That towel was too expensive anyway. I did get some delicious dates, though.

Tomorrow is actually a self-directed learning day, meaning that there are no scheduled sessions. One of the LCFs is taking us hiking in the morning up and around one of the mountains, which should be pretty great. I'm off to get some sleep...layla saida.

PS- check out the Photobucket (look for the Azrou link on the left) for some pics.

Médina

Last night after the day's sessions ended we were allowed to venture out of the hotel and onto the streets of Rabat. A small group of us went into the Médina-- the old part of the city-- to the souk (open market), comprised of ever-narrowing alleyways packed with vendors of food, clothing, electronics, and various media...tarps laid out on the street covered in piles of shoes, dvds and jewelry...unrecognizable fruits and foods being cooked in pans of hot oil just inches away from passers-by. The alleys are complex and seemingly infinite; one in our position would be wise to avoid exploring too deeply, as we were advised. The shops were in the process of closing as dusk approached, their owners heading home for the nightly meal. I bought a bag of almonds with my newly obtained Dirhams (or "D's" as we sometimes call them). After dinner we went back for a bit to see the lights, smells, and newly invogorated people as everything reopened. This picture isn't mine, as it isn't recommended that we have our cameras out in public, but I found this one online:

I learned yesterday that our hotel is under heavy protection by order of the King for the purpose our safety. Apparently, at our final sites, each of us will have a gendarme (government military police officer) responsible for keeping an eye on us.

Tonight is our last night in Rabat. Tomorrow morning we'll ride by bus to Azrou and settle in for something like eight days before going to CBT (Community Based Training) in villages just outside of Azrou, living with our host families. I'm looking forward to getting out of the city and seeing the mountains of the Middle Atlas. It's still a big-ish city, but looks quite different, as seen in this photo of some random guy. Should be good. Also, they have monkeys.

Rabat

So much to write about. Let's see if I can fit it all in during this lunch break. I apologize for the lack of specifics, but there is very little free time. I'm sure once I'm out at my final sight months from now, I'll have more time than I know what to do with and I can write more.

The plane ride over was surreal. Flying in a metal tube across the Atlantic to Africa. You step in from New York and step out in Morocco. The time changes, meal schedules and lighting completely screw with your mind. They feed everyone dinner, turn out the lights, and three hours later turn them back on and give you breakfast before the sun comes up and you land. We arrived at eight something in the morning and had a full day of traveling, meetings and lectures, all with almost no sleep.

Well, we are here in Rabat, the capital of Morocco, meeting for 3 days of pre-pre-service training before heading to Azrou where we will stay in yet another hotel before eventually being assigned to host families.

It's Ramadan now, meaning most Moroccans don't eat or drink during daylight hours. This is a little weird for us, because while they fast, those belonging to the hotel kitchen staff are busy presenting us with sprawling, delicious meals three times a day, plus snack times in between. I take every opportunity to have some of the famed hot sweet mint tea; it is quite tasty. I'd tell you more about the food, but I don't know what any of it is aside from the basic ingredient-- things like fish, lamb, potatoes, beans, curry, rice. I've got two years to learn about the food. I'll be sure to pass along some tasty recipes.

This morning they gave us the extra vaccinations; I needed one for rabies. The staff members take turns giving presentations on health and safety with some basic language lessons thrown in. Lots of paperwork and handouts. Those in charge are approachable, lighthearted and knowledgable, and I'm confident that they will prepare us well. Yesterday we were restricted to the hotel; today we are allowed to venture out. We have some Dirhams (the currency) and can go wandering after the day's presentations are over. The American Ambassador to Morocco came by and spoke this morning. It was a big deal-- bodyguards in the corners of the room, entourage of shiny black vehicles speeding up and then away, disappearing down the mazes of streets. It was nice of him to stop by. I'm looking forward to hitting the streets later, us trying our hardest to be inconspicuous and failing miserably, mangling the little language we "know", and possibly offending many.

The hotel is pretty swanky. It's interesting trying to figure out little things such as light "switches" which are more like buttons, the locations of which aren't necessarily indicative of what room or fixture they might seemingly control. My favorite part is the balcony off of the top floor that runs the length of the building, overlooking the Palais du Royale. There is a mosque at the palace where a muezzin calls prayers from a minnaret five times a day. This morning I woke up sometime before sunrise and listened in the dark as his voice echoed spookily off of the buildings and into the still room. Gave me the chills and prompted the reminder, "Hey, I'm in Morocco."

MAROC

Well that's what they call it here. We arrived safe and sound (and completely exhausted) in Maroc as the sun was rising this morning. I have much to write about, but for the time being, check out the Photobucket link to the right for a few pictures of the Casablanca Airport, the scenery from the bus ride to Rabat, and the view from our hotel balcony.

Big Philly Style

I'm sitting at JFK International, amid a sea of luggage, waiting for the check-in counter to open. We left Philadelphia at 11 this morning by charter bus, driving through Manhattan and Queens on our way to the airport. It's 3:25 PM; our flight departs at 8-something this evening. But I'm getting ahead of myself here.

The past two days were spent in a Sheraton in Philadelphia with fifty-eight other Peace Corps Trainees. The majority of the "staging" involved us gathered in a ballroom, listening to the coordinators going over the agenda for the following few days. Also discussed were ways to cope with anxieties, dealing with unwanted attention in country, Peace Corps rules, etc.etc....everything you'd think would be involved with moving overseas.

Meeting my fellow Trainees has been wonderful-- such a relief from the previous days' uneasiness. Everyone's "in the same boat", or in this case, the same hotel. Actually right now it's the same airport. It's amazing how quickly we've bonded, it really feels like a kind of family. The staging coordinators did an exceptional job of preparing us, and by the end of our last session Sunday night, everyone was pretty pumped up to go. I'm proud to be a part of this group and the Peace Corps in general.

The stereotype of the Peace Corps Volunteer as the hippy loser with no direction looking for a free ride across the world seems completely inadequate, at least in this group. In fact I feel a bit out of my league here-- many of the people here have graduate degrees, tons of experience, and are exceedingly bright. Good company.

That's it for the moment; going to relax a bit and read while we wait. The next time I write I'll truly be doing it "from the cold land with the hot sun".











Also, enjoy this picture of the instructional sign inside the bus lavatory.

Gloomy Chicago

Ugh, what a day to leave. It was an early start this morning, waking to a 5:30 AM alarm and dreary skies, finally having to face the day I thought I'd always just talk about. It was really tough to say goodbye. I sat silently panicking in my train seat as the midwestern towns flashed by, having suddenly realized the reality of my situation. Two years seems like such an eternity right now. I found myself thinking things such as, "I'm really tired right now; it'll be nice when this is over and I can go home and lie down."

*twinge of panic*

The queasiness has subsided for the moment, however, as I sit typing this in my hotel room at O'Hare International. There's a giant flatscreen TV in here. I haven't tried it out yet but man, it looks impressive. A lot of feelings turned on full blast and sort of stirred up today-- one minute it's exhilarating, the next is a wave of almost unbearable homesickness. I've only been gone eight and a half hours!

So this afternoon/evening I'm going to walk my route to the terminal (don't want to get lost tomorrow), look for some food, maybe explore around the hotel a bit, go over the agenda for tomorrow, relax, and hopefully get to sleep early tonight. It's another 5 AM wakeup call tomorrow as I head to the magic land they call............PHILADELPHIA!!