The First Noel

Last weekend while contemplating death on the bus to Marrakech, my thoughts were thankfully interrupted by the realization that Christmas would be here soon. It wouldn't be here exactly, but it would be somewhere. Without the sensory reminders of Xmas (lights, music, advertisments) one tends to forget about the holiday altogether. Without the religion to back up where the commercial and decorative elements fail to impact, Christmas seemed to be a time at least to appreciate everything and everyone you appreciate, or would like to. But wait, is that too much like Thanksgiving? And why just the one "season" or day? We could make it a regular thing, yeah? Without all the fuss?

Perhaps that would be diluting the concentrated "fun"; tradition + nostalgia + anticipation seem to equal lifted spirits in many cases, and at least a "season" provies many with the opportunity (or, er... obligation?) to visit loved ones.

Enough self-indulgent ruminations on the meaning of Christmas as ruminated by Nathaniel Krause; let's get to the self-indulgent memoirs of life in Morocco as memoired by Nathaniel Krause.

So here, in the High Atlas mountains in the Islamic nation of Morocco, Africa, I spent Xmas Eve sipping hot tea in front of a humble but fancifully decorated fake tree with my good buddy and site mate Ami and her visiting friend from America, Stephanie. We listened to some wonderfully horrific music-- Crosby Croons the Christmas Classics or something, cooked a bunch of food, ate a bunch of food, opened presents, chatted with family back home (thanks for the calls and e-mails everyone). It was downright merry.

A great last few days, in fact-- something to combat the withering sense of purpose and feelings of uselessness common in a Volunteer's first few months of service.

I'm anxious to get out of homestay-- another month seems like an eternity, but I'm sure there will be unforseen benefits to the time spent here. Having a place to live until I find a house is one that jumps to mind. Speaking of which, I have baited some hooks around town in hopes of finding a place. People seems eager to help and for that I am grateful, but we never seem to actually go see houses. It's been difficult to judge how active to be in such a situation, but we'll see. I'm considering hiring a simsar, or person whom you pay to find you a house, in order to hopefully speed up the process. Another situation in which I have to remind myself to be patient; that things take much longer than I'm used to in order to "make progress". I do have a deadline, however, and I don't want to have to rush a lack of progress as January winds down.

That's about it for things here at the moment. Peace Corps staff drove something like eight hours last week to deliver me a sweet new mountain bike. Have a look:

I'm sure I will further camoflague myself into the society pedalling my shiny red TREK through town. If I only had some sort of bright blue helment that I'd be required, under threat of immediate expulsion from Peace Corps, to wear....ah yes, here it is!

Happy Holidays to everyone back home as well as to my fellow Volunteers. I wish you all the best, all the time.