Contrasts and Constants

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This is already my second weekend overnight out of site this month, which means I have to stay in Kelaa the rest of May. We are allowed to spend the night out of our site two weekends each month, as long as we tell Peace Corps where we will be in advance. I spent last weekend with Marie in M'rirt, just north of Khenifra, where she wanted to visit a farm belonging to a French woman who hosts tourists in a sort of dude ranch sort of operation.

This weekend I was invited to the home of the volunteer in Afourer, Em. It is a typical volunteer get-together in that we tried to out do each other in the kitchen and make food that at least reminds us of American food. There is also a Fullbright scholar with us who funded a fair amount of the meal and made the best potato salad I have had outside of Idaho. She had real dill mailed from the US and that made all the difference. Fullbrights get a larger stipend than PCVs, and those I have run into are very generous with volunteers. We all talk about how some day we hope to be in a position to treat other PCVs to the luxuries only tourists can afford.

I took a grand taxi from Kelaa up the road towards Beni Mellal squished in the back with three large men and got out at the turn off to Afourer. The sign said six kilometers. The road sloped up to the town which is nestled in the beginnings of the Atlas foothills. It was one in the afternoon and was predicted to be over a 100F. Luckily I only walked about thirty meters before an empty grand taxi pulled up beside me. Em had said we were meeting in the hotel in Afourer. I was surprised Afourer was big enough to even have a hotel, but when I asked the driver he took me right to it.

It was not just a hotel. It was a luxurious 4star palace with a giant swimming pool and a bar. Just out side the gate I feel uncomfortable wearing anything as revealing as a t-shirt and would never admit to drinking alcohol. Inside the hotel we lay around in swim suits and I actually drank a beer. Morocco: the land of contrasts.

It being Mother's Day I was also treated to a phone call from Mom. I like having my folks call on Sundays because since it's my day off and I'm usually traveling, I'm almost always in a really good mood. Of all the days of the week, Sunday is usually the most cheerful. Though sometimes when I'm feeling down I want the support from home, I also want my parents to hear me when I'm happy. Having that connection to home is also easier when I'm in a good mood, otherwise I just get homesick when we hang up and the contrast between my surroundings and imagining my folks' home is just too much.

However, Morocco is very consistent in dishing up surprised. After leaving the hotel to walk up through town to Em's house, we stopped by her Dar Chebab to see if we could borrow the movie projector. We ended up also borrowing a grill made out of a hubcap and taking a bag of charcoal. Continuing our walk up the hill to the house we were passed by five men pushing a cart of watermelons up towards the market. I hadn't yet had a watermelon here, and though i should have waited to buy it until they got to the top of the hill, they said they'd lower the price to take a few kilos off thier cart. So I ended up adding a large watermelon to the load we were lugging up the hill. Apparently Morocco didn't think we'd had enough surprises that day and a man who works at the Dar chebab happened by in a small, but empty, car. He stopped and offered us a lift to Em's house, so we piled in grand taxi style with four in the back and two in the front passenger seat.

Back at the house I hauled the hubcap up to the roof and got to play with fire for the first time in months. It didn't take long to get the charcoal going, and the others were still busy making mojitos, so by default I ended up grilling a couple chickens. At least they were already cut up and marinated, because I think I have only cooked chicken once before in my life and didn't really have any idea what I was doing. It was one of those Peace Corps moments though, when the improbable seems so normal: a recovering-vegetarian BBQing chicken on a hubcap.

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