Back to my side of the Atlas

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Leaving Tingdad Cara and I were drained. I felt crabby and snapped at the first Moroccan who followed us. Usually I wait until they throw a few comments at us before I react but that morning I didn’t have one drop of tolerance left. It was one of those “you know you have been in Morocco too long when” moments. I actually looked around for rocks to throw at the guy. Kids here throw rocks a lot and it is one of the things we joke about when we talk about getting harassed. Maybe wanting to throw rocks means I have adapted, but I think it’s more along the lines of losing sanity.
The last day of training I went on an Elvis Costello binge and went through everybody’s computers and ipods listening to all the Costello that was available. Not sure what that means, but after days of counseling I find myself trying to analyze everything.
An important part of training was a lot of role plays in which we took turns being the volunteer with a problem. The thing is all volunteers have problems. I know I am generalizing and speaking for others, but that’s really what I think. We all have to deal with living in a very different culture very far from our friends and families. Which means that the majority of our role plays weren’t really role plays. We discussed problems that we are actually facing. It felt good to talk about it and I though it was great, but after several days of talking about problems it’s hard to see anything else. I started questioning my sanity. So feeling crabby when we left was probably a combination of emotional overload and withdrawal from American food and companionship.
As always, after seeing a group of other volunteers, it’s hard to say goodbye. You never know when, or even if, you’ll see them again. But the bus back to Cara’s town was nice and I had most of the day with her to relax and recover before heading back over the Atlas.
The bus ride home was mercifully uneventful and quick. I took a very early bus from Cara’s which went all the way over to Marrakech, so I didn’t have to wait around the bus station in Ouarzazat. I made it back to my town by early afternoon and had sometime to relax and recover from the trip before I had to start thinking about what I was going to teach the next day.

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Photos

Atlas Adobe
The views are just as breathtaking the second time.

Atlas Village
Odd how in Morocco you can be on a main road - the road from Marrakech to Ouarzazat is even part of the tourist trail - and still be so far out there.