Advertisement
Published: April 5th 2013
Edit Blog Post
When you spend a lot of time with people, even the altruistic people deciding to be volunteers for the Peace Corps, you realize that people are just people. There are the go-getters, the geeks, the talkers, and shy people. There are cliques and loners. There are people so passionate about various causes that you can ruffle their feathers without even meaning to – but each means well in his or her own fashion. There is a never ending stream of opinions, but obvious respect for most. That being said as simply an observation, we have made some really good friends here, the kind you hang on to forever. But, as is the Peace Corps way, we have now said our farewells to them as we all disperse to our various locations. The apron strings have been cut and we will be on our own for the next two years. Luckily, there will be times for reunions and activities that include of all of us, reunions and activities that include some of us and reunions that include us with our past host family, inshallah. We salute our newly sworn in fellow PCVs (no longer PCTs) and wish them our heartfelt luck.
Backing up for a moment, on March 23, we left Ain Cheggag and the security and love of our host family. It was a tearful goodbye for all (except of course, Clay). We have been spoiled and cared for by them. Our “mama” knows our favorite dishes and drinks and as a last hoorah, she fixed them all (it doesn’t hurt that she is an awesome cook)! It was also to be our last time with a Western toilet for a while. We would only have a few more days with our language and cultural advisor, Fatima, who we grew to love and respect (only25 years old, but worldly and confident for a Moroccan female or ANY female for that matter!). She would no longer be available to translate for us or guide us in this very foreign culture. But, into a taxi we all went, to Fes, and then we met up with the rest of the 95 PCT’s to board our buses to Rabat and back to the Oscar, but this time, we ALL viewed the Oscar in a much different light. Thankfully, it had undergone some renovation and it was really improved. We had hot showers and
a very comfy bed. But, after four days, ten group information sessions and some fraternization time with our friends, we were ready for “graduation.” The swearing in ceremony took place at the Peace Corps headquarters in Rabat. The place is really nice and the ceremony was graciously attended by the ambassador and his wife (soon to depart Morocco) who both made heartfelt and encouraging remarks. Many of the PCVs were adorned in Moroccan dress which they had purchased or were given for the occasion; Clay wore the attire he had bought in Ifrane. The karma at the ceremony was aglow with pride in country and purpose. We got lapel pins, some snacks and fresh fruit juice, along with some money for transportation to our final destination. But most of all, we received the new title of Peace Corps Volunteer!!!
Thursday morning we finished packing and set off for Ksar. Let us just say that it is an extreme understatement that we are tired of lugging around heavy bags with everything we own, as well as packing and repacking them. Clay is stuck with the heaviest load, but Ann is packing a painful amount for her frame to carry as
well. This scenario puts a weighty damper on any husband/wife relationship and there were a few sessions of snapping at one another. The situation only worsened when we were trying to get our stuff into the taxi, out of the taxi, and into the train station. We got to the station at 10:30 and the train was scheduled to leave at 10:47. We felt just a little time pressure, but Clay managed to purchase our tickets and we found our way to the platform by 10:35. Our friends, Jake and Adele, were kind enough to carry some of our luggage to the platform for us! THANKS GUYS!!!
When the train arrived (surprisingly on time!), we knew we had little time to get everything on quickly. Again, we are carrying over 200lbs of luggage!!! In fact, everything deteriorated pretty quickly, resulting in a ridiculous comedy of errors. We got on the train at the complete opposite end than our seats (nothing on the outside of the train is marked and someone said that you never know where your seat will be). Heaving the luggage on was one feat, but the luggage was too wide to go down the corridors without
pain and complete awkwardness, not to mention the stares from other travelers. We could not find our compartment at first, because they weren’t numbered. There were people trying to get by us in the corridors and they were rightfully impatient about our progress and pace. The doors separating the cars would not open without significant effort and the little buttons that normally open them were not working. NONE OF THEM!!! Finally, a conductor took pity on us and led us to our car and seats. We were “sweat buckets” by then but oh so happy to be in the right spot. Getting ourselves and bags into the compartment (which was shared with 3 others) and up into the overhead was another feat. Finally, we sat down, to take a load off. It was one of the best feelings EVER!!! Unfortunately, just when we thought we might have calmed down enough to speak 2 words to each other, they announced (in French) that we had to get off the train and get on another train. Really?!!?!??!?!?
Getting off the first train and on to the second was no better experience, except that we got on closer to our seats. About
10 minutes into the trip, we finally apologized to each other for being jerks and decided to enjoy the journey. But, the train had a slow start and some unexpected stops. In our two months in Morocco, we have learned at least one thing - - you can’t hurry anything or get upset about the time things take, or you will go crazy. We ended up about 2 hours behind schedule, but mashi muskil (no problem). The ride took us through an area that was unexpected. After leaving Rabat and the city area, we travelled through greenery galore. It was easy to see why Morocco exports so many fruits and vegetables. The land and scenery were absolutely beautiful. We are lucky enough to be going to live in the north of Morocco, where things can grow (as opposed to the desert – south Morocco).
As we travelled, we talked about what things might be like in Ksar, but of course, we could only speculate. We discussed the fact that we did feel as if our Darija was good enough to “jump head first into the deep end of the pool” and that difficulties would lie ahead. We smooched and
made our pact to laugh as much as possible when we again faced certain, upcoming adversity. Ksar, ready or not, here we come… Inshallah!!! Choo-choo.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.063s; Tpl: 0.015s; cc: 10; qc: 25; dbt: 0.0374s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb
ck
non-member comment
read