After a short month in Ireland I have now returned to my family’s happy home in Snohomish. Departing for Morocco now seems closer than ever as I begin to unpack my bags and organize everything I own in preparation for … Continue reading →

Me and some of the village children on their way to school...notice the random firewood by their feet...each child is required to bring one log for the fire each day. Hi there! This post was written last month, but was awaiting pictures to accompany it...

Last Friday, was meant to be the day for project 'Occupy the Caid's office'. And so, Moses, Max, Sanyog and Patrick all came to Tounfite to give me a hand in 'occupying' the Caid's office. When I went for my morning run, it became apparent that things probably were not going to go as planned that afternoon. The King had other plans for Tounfite on Friday the 13th of January...

The town was in a frenzy. Everywhere I turned, there were masses of people running while pushing wheelbarrows. You see, the King knew cold weather was on its way and so he very kindly sent 6 large trucks (think 18-wheelers/lorries) full of blankets, vegetable oil, beans, lentils and various other non-perishable goods to the people of Tounfite.

Every news station and their camera crew were present, along with about 200 military personnel to help control the crowds of people awaiting their handout from the King. There were three different locations scattered throughout the town, so the entire town was in chaos. I'm not quite sure how the people handing out the items managed to keep track of which family had received what, but I know they didn't do an ace job of it as on my morning run the next day there was a large crowd of about 100 women chanting outside the Caid's office. They were protesting because they didn't receive their fair share of the handouts.

Needless to say, when the boys and I went to the Caid's office that afternoon, we had a very hard time 'occupying' it, as it was locked with the Caid nowhere in sight. I gave my letter to his male secretary and informed him that I would be back next week to follow-up. (Update to come soon...)

This past Monday, I decided to pay Moses a visit up the mountain in Agoudim. I've been up a few times and it really is a gorgeous village. Although the King's blanket/dry goods handout should have been a clue that angry weather was on its way, I didn't really consider just how angry it might be...and after 18-inches of snow that evening, I was indeed stuck on the mountain. It wasn't too bad though, as Moses has a really lovely host family who wanted me to stay for the entire week.

Sadly, on Tuesday with 18-inches of fresh snow and no sun to be seen, an old man from the village passed away. After lunch, we joined the funeral procession to the graveyard where the Koran was read and he was laid to rest. On our snowy walk back up to the village, a group of women insisted that I join them for a 'Naming Ceremony'. In case you don't remember what that is here is a recap from a previous blog entry:

According to Islam, when a baby is born it isn’t named until the 7th day. On the 7th day, the family kills a sheep and declares the child’s name. If the family can afford to they have a celebration in their home on that day, the celebration consists of friends and family gathering at the house for tea, sweets, eating the sheep, music, drums and dancing.

I was hesitant to accept their invitation as I had already had breakfast and lunch and I knew that if I attended I would have to eat my way through another two course luncheon...but, I couldn't say no to their smiling faces. And what better way to cheer up from the sad loss of life, than to celebrate the birth of a new one. And so eat I did...

By the end of the night I was ready to pop, as the day before we had already accepted an invitation to dinner at Moses' best friend's house. That ended up being another (delicious) two course dinner, which I literally had to force myself to eat. Eat. Eat. Eat. Nom. Nom. Nom.

I made it back home yesterday and was greeted by an alley piled high with mounds of snow, which had been cleared of the roof's. As always, the picture doesn't really do it justice.

Tounfite is a slushy mess during the day, which means an icy mess after sunset. Which also means a muddy mess is to come once it all melts in a week or two. It's extremely cold both indoors and outdoors and I must say I can't wait to be in Marrakech next week, enjoying some warmer weather :)

More to come soon...promise!

Love,

Miriam x

Moses, Me & Yusef

Yusef, Mina (Moses' Host Mom) & Me

The Importance of Talking to Strangers

I'm on a very good schedule where I wake up at about 8am every morning. These past three days have been warm so I've tried to get outside. This morning I decided to hike up Trek Oujda (Road towards Oujda) which is seriously uphill and a bit rocky and mountainous. On the way I zoomed past a mother and her little girl. After reaching a certain point I decided it was time to turn around and head back down so I could get home and make lunch. Well, when I was going back down I passed this same woman and her daughter again, and this time they stopped me and INSISTED I come to their house.

So I followed her as she took a path off Trek Oujda toward the abandoned magnesium mine. The French found magnesium in the area in the 1940s, and mined it for about 10 years before Morocco starting insisting on independence (won in 1956). While the French were in the area they built large homes for the French men who oversaw the mining. Now in these homes are Moroccan families who are generally squatters. Don't take this to mean that these are temporary, shabby homes. These families have lived in these houses for a couple of generations now and take care of them. I think the government just turns a blind eye to it.

This woman who took me home, her husband, and her four daughters (between 3 and 13 years old) all live in one of these houses. When we got to the outside, I couldn't believe what I was looking at. It was a large white house whose front door was reached by a colonial, round, front porch, with sets of stairs on both sides. Large windows with shutters were all around. When we stepped inside, I thought I was stepping into some kind of time warp- if you can imagine a French, kitschy home, untouched since the 1940s in terms of construction. It was one story but had very high ceilings, very beautifully detailed tile floors but NOT typical Moroccan tiles, which run up the wall. The bathroom had a BATH TUB of blue porcelain, with matching toilet and bidet. The bedrooms were large with small fire places (never seen fire places in Morocco- most have indoor coal-burning ovens, if anything) set with white bricks and a mantle. The kitchen had white tile counter tops and the lights had old stainless steel fixtures. (It's rare to see light fixtures at all) Besides cracks in the walls, the house looked like it had been maintained and had a very "lived in" feel.

As I arrived, the daughters were so excited to see a visitor and they followed me around and introduced themselves nervously. As customary, a pot of tea was put on for me, although really it was close to lunchtime. I told her I already had a lunch appointment but the truth was I didn't really want to eat their food because it looked like they didn't have much to spare. While the tea was heating up, they gave me a tour of their backyard. The fact that they even have a backyard is interesting. In Morocco, most houses are more like ground level apartment complexes, with neighbors on all sides, sharing your walls. But not in "Petit France d l'Mine Manganese"! Their backyard has areas enclosed by chickenwire that have chickens, rabbits, pigeons, turkeys, a dog, and ducks. The section for the ducks even has a little concrete, built-in pool where they can swim. They also are growing cabbage, potatoes, and pommegranates. They have three home-made bee hives (although they bought the bees).

After tea, I left along with two of her daughters who were on their way to the elementary school that is closest to them. (25 minute walk or so.) As we were walking, other children were walking towards the road from out in the desert so I asked the older daughter (11) if those were children who live in tents. (meaning nomads, but I can never remember the word for nomad.) And she said that they were. Then we passed a government building. I asked what they do there and she said that it's a place for the nomads to come and hang out laundry, receive some public assistance like money and food. It's also a health clinic and just general nomadic support. I didn't know such a place existed. She called it the Khiriya.

I got their phone numbers and so I may go visit them again. Walking up to the old mine is a bit of a trek but it'd be nice to walk up and be able to have tea somewhere. I love the Moroccan culture of just GRABBING a clear foreigner and "welcoming" her by bringing her into your home and giving her tea and offering her everything you have- mi casa es tu casa is an understatement in Morocco as to the level of hospitality and generosity here.

This is a satellite photo where my site is at bottom center, and the mine is directly north of it, center, its latitude being even with the word "Photo" on the right and the "+" on the left.

This is the mine up close. The quadrant of houses at the bottom of the photo is what I refer to in this blog. That big "road" running through the mine is a train track that used to take the magnesium up north toward Oujda. They say it doesn't work any more but this family I was with told me there are still people working in it.

And in case you were wondering what surrounds my site....

There is a size scale in the corner left of each of these photos.

Dartmouth and the Peace Corps: 50 Years of Partnership

Created by Jim Brown, senior lecturer in the Department of Film and Media Studies, this documentary chronicles the relationship between Dartmouth and the Peace Corps over the past fifty years. Through stories of their service, returned volunteers from each decade reflect on what their experiences have meant to them personally and for their careers. The film features interviews with Dartmouth alumni, including Charles Dey '52, who was instrumental in bringing the Peace Corps to campus as associate dean in 1961 and served himself as volunteer coordinator in the Phillipines in 1962, as well as distinguised Dartmouth professor Dr. John Rassias, creator of the Rassias method of language teaching. From: Dartmouth Views: 37 0 ratings Time: 48:56 More in Education

Clothing- 3 – Pairs of shoes – Bring shoes that can take a beating and keep going – my dress shoes are now molded and will never be worn again – my Keen’s how ever are still going strong and … Continue reading →

The big news of month four was that I moved into my own apartment and I’m now living on my own. I lived with two different host families during my first three and a half months in Morocco: two months during training and then a month and a half once I arrived at my final site. Both families were wonderful and I understand why Peace Corps has volunteers live with host families. I learned more about Moroccan culture sitting in my host family’s living room than I ever could in a classroom, and being forced to use Darija every time I wanted to communicate did wonders for my language skills. My host family in Kalaa was invaluable my first few weeks in my site. They led my around town, took me to the store and my work and the hamam, and introduced me to their friends and neighbors. I would have never been able to find or furnish my apartment without them. However, by the end of December, I was getting increasingly ready to move out. I was ready to not have a curfew, to be to be able to do what I wanted without asking permission first, to eat something that wasn’t tagine and to be able to set my own schedule. I was ready to be an adult again.

The lack of a schedule was particularly difficult, especially once I got to my final site and no longer had the schedule of CBT to structure my ever-waking moment. Life with my host family was structured around the meals, but I never knew when those would be. Lunch was served sometime between noon and three, but I could never figure out a schedule. Whenever I asked, I was told “soon,” which could mean hours, and if I tried to skip lunch, my host mother would get upset, so I ended up sending all afternoon waiting around for lunch, regardless of what I wanted or needed to do that day. I was sick for most of December, and I lost my appetite and slept a lot. I would get home from work at 8:00 and go straight to bed without dinner, only to be woken up by my host mother barging into my room and waking me up to ask how I felt and if I was tired. I know they were acting out of kindness, but yeah, by January 1st, I was ready to have my own place.

I spent my first night at my new apartment on New Years Day. My apartment was almost entirely empty; all I had was a mattress on the floor and a loaf of bread to eat, and the loaf of bread was gift from my host family, but as soon as I finished hauling over my things and had shut the door behind my host family and was finally alone in my new home, I felt the tension that had been building up for the last few months start to melt away. Over the next week, I picked up a bed, another mattress (long story), a dresser, a bedside table, a stove and some cooking supplies. My place is still pretty bare, but it’s mine and I’m slowing filling it up.

I was worried that moving into my own place would mean that I would be cut off from the community. As frustrating as living with a family was, my host family was a great way to meet people and be an active part in my community, especially since Kalaa is big enough that I’ll never know everyone. Plus, I have a tendency to be an introvert, and spent the last few weeks with my host family thinking longingly about locking myself in my apartment and refusing to talk to anyone for at least a day. I occasionally have to get dressed before leaving for work at 6:00 because it’s the first time I’ve left the apartment that day, but I’m doing okay. I live in the building next to my host family, which means I see them every day, and I still live near everyone they introduced me to in the neighborhood. I stop by my host family’s house after work at least once a week, and go over for lunch of Couscous Fridays. My downstairs neighbors have taken it upon themselves to make sure I’m fed, and I’m invited over for tea or dinner a couple of time a week. Apparently, they’ve heard that I can’t make bread, which clearly means that I can’t cook. I’ve also had a few invitations for dinner from my students at the Dar Šabab, so I’m still being social.

I started travelling around Morocco during month four. During PST, I didn’t have enough time for a decent night’s sleep, much less to do any sightseeing, and we were encouraged to stay in our sites for the first few months of service. I spent Thanksgiving at site, but Christmas is more important, and I celebrated by going to Marrakesh with my sitemates and some other volunteers from my staj. It was my first trip to Marrakesh, which is an hour and a half south of Kalaa, and I loved it. We stayed in the medina, just off the main square, and it was a riot of people and performers and back alleys full of tiny stalls selling everything under the sun. It reminded me of Seoul, especially the warrens of Namdaemun or behind the main strip Gangnam, only with less neon. (Most of my comparisons to Korea end with “only with less neon.” This restaurant reminds me of one in Seoul, only with less neon. Trash pickup in Morocco reminds me of trash pickup in Korea, only with less neon. There’s a lot of neon in that country.)

Then, two weeks later, I spent the weekend with my stajmates Carrie and Bethany in their site, Boujad. It was my first time travelling alone in Morocco, and my first time taking the bus. There are a couple of different types of busses in Morocco. There’s CTM and Supratour, bus lines similar to Greyhound or Megabus in the US. They’re more expensive, but the busses are nicer, the routes are more direct and you’re guaranteed a seat. Then there are the small intercity busses, which are called kar by Moroccans (no possibility for confusion there) and souq busses by PCVs. They’re smaller and less comfortable – more like a school bus – and they take longer because they stop at every little village or random pile of rocks by the highway where someone wants off. They are, however, cheaper, and run more frequently.

My plan was to take Supratour to Beni-Mellal, a large city near Bejaad, and meet Bethany there. I knew there was a Supratour station in Kalaa, Bethany knew where the Supratour station was in Beni-Mellal and I could look up the bus schedule online. Plus, I’d stories from other volunteers of standing for hours among vomiting children and livestock on souq busses, and Supratour wasn’t that much more expensive. Of course, like many things in Morocco, finding the bus station took a committee and many, many more hours than something as simple as finding a bus station should.

First, I asked Hanan, one of my host sisters, if there was a Supratour station in Kalaa. It took Hanan a while to figure out what I was saying, because I say Supratour like an American and I should be saying like the French, but she confirmed that there was a station and even gave me vague directions. Then, during Couscous Friday, I asked the rest host family if they knew where the Supratour station was, but they did not. In fact, they weren’t even sure that there was a Surpatour station in Kalaa. On Saturday, the day before I was suppose to leave, I asked some of my students at the Dar Šabab if THEY knew where the Supratour station was, and finally found a friend of my friend Hayat who was in the drama club and not even one of my students and knew where the station was. The only problem was the station was on the edge of town.

HAYAT: You can’t walk there! It’s too far.

CAIT: I don’t even know where it is yet.

MUSTAFA: It’s very far away. It’s too dangerous to walk there. And you need to buy your ticket in advance.

CAIT: Still don’t even know where the station is, so kinda a moot point.

MUSTAFA: The station might still be open.

HAYAT: I will drive you there now! We can buy your ticket.

CAIT: Hurray! Someone’s going to tell me where the station is.

I stopped to tell the mudir (director) that I was leaving, and Hayat told him about my trip.

MUDIR: You’re going to travel alone?

CAIT: That’s the plan.

MUDIR: You can’t do that. It’s too dangerous.

CAIT: Right, this is Morocco and doing anything alone, including walking next door, is considered to dangerous. Thank you, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine.

HAYAT: He’s right. It could be dangerous.

CAIT: Okay, potentially dangerous travel would be that time my tuk-tuk was waved down a deserted dirt path by Cambodian soldiers carrying machine guns at 4:30 in the morning. Taking a major bus line and being met by a friend at the bus station in a country where I can speak the language isn’t dangerous.

EVRYONE: You can’t speak Darija.

CAIT: This ENTIRE CONVERSATION has been in Darija. I know my Darija isn’t pretty, but it’s more than sufficient to buy a bus ticket. Plus, I’ve only been studying for four months. I think I’m doing pretty good.

MUDIR: It’s dangerous. My brother-in-law is going to Beni-Mellal tomorrow. He will drive you.

CAIT: Really, that’s not necessary. So close to finding out where the bus station is.

MUDIR: I’ll call him now.

Luckily, the brother-in-law was at the mosque praying, and I was able to convince Hayat that, no really, the bus was the better option. The bus station was closed, but Hayat drove me back the next morning to help me buy my ticket. According to the website, the Supratour bus to Beni-Mellal left at 11:00, but when we showed up at 10:30, the ticket seller was shouting “Beni-Mellal, Beni-Mellal!”

“Why yes,” I said. Hayat bargained for my ticket, told the bus driver exactly where I was going and to make sure that I got off at the right stop, and made me promise that I was being met in Beni-Mellal and would call if I had any problems. After the drama of finding the bus, the ride itself was uneventful through some truly gorgeous countryside. I had two seats to myself, and there were no chickens or vomit anywhere to be seen, although I did see a group of camels being herded down the highway It was only when I arrived in Beni-Mellal at a completely different bus station than I thought I would that I realized that after all that trouble to find the Supratour station, I had ended up taking a souq bus. Oh, Morocco.

The rest of my trip was also fun. I more or less tagged along as Bethany and Carrie went about their normal weekend. We split a roast chicken and bottle of wine for dinner and stopped by what Bethany has dubbed the sugar carts, wheeled carts full of sugary pastries from a local bakery, for desert. Breakfast was miliwi, fried bread, slathered with cheese in their courtyard, then we went to the hamam for our weekly bath and to their tutor, Lamia’s, house for a lesson. I sat in on the lesson, taking notes, and answering the occasional question. At the end of the lesson, we were talking about regional dialects, and I mentioned that even though Kalaa was only about 100 km south of Boujad, I could tell a distinct difference between the way people speak, much to Lamia’s confusion.

LAMIA: Where?

CAIT: Kalaa Sraghna. Big town on the road between Beni-Mellal and Marrakesh.

LAMIA: You’ve been to Kalaa Sraghna.

CAIT: Why yes I have.

LAMIA: … Why?

CAIT: I live there.

LAMIA: … Why?

CAIT: We don’t really get a choice. Peace Corp throws darts with our names on them at a map of Morocco and we go where our dart lands.

LAMIA: Peace Corps?

CAIT: I’m in the same organization as Bethany and Carrie. That’s why I live in Kalaa.

LAMIA: Oh, I thought you were visiting from America.

CAIT: Nope, just up for the weekend.

LAMIA: That explains why you know Darija.

CAIT: Yeah…

Bejaad has a large medina, the old walled part of the city, and Bethany and Carrie live in the middle of it. Their neighborhood is cool – full of history and traditional and the potential to make a wrong turn and get hopelessly lost forever. It was great to see Bethany and Carrie, and now that I know where the bus station is (I walked home, and it is neither dangerous nor that far), I’ll keep traveling!

Top:Bright teal ovens stacked in front of one of the stuff shops in town; Middle: The day after Christmas at the Madrasa Ben Youssef in Marrakesh (left); Cranes nesting in the minaret of one of the mosques in the Boujad medina (right); Bottom: Hanging lanterns in the Marrakesh souq.

I am a believer. I believe in the Seattle Mariners, endorphins, handwritten notes, and taco trucks. Today I’m going to elaborate on taco trucks. The essence of the taco truck is simple. You drive, walk, scooter, or skateboard up, are … Continue reading →

This morning, this email was sent to those who donated to the glasses project and included their email address: “Dear Friends, “If you’re receiving this email, it’s because you recently gave to the United States Peace Corps Partnership Program Grant to support my “glasses project,” titled “Eyewear for Moroccan Youth,” and I wanted to write [...]

I wanted to quickly update on the status of the Eyejusters glasses project that I posed about in January. Recently, the volunteers in charge of administering it found out that it was funded, and the list of donors indicated that some people who read this blog were involved. First of all, thank you so much! [...]

It’s been a while coming…. like, a since-may-supposed-to-be-done-in-September-while coming, but Allah has smiled upon us all and the community center project is officially FINISHED! Yesterday was the zrda, or traditional opening ceremony for a building, hosted by the mens’ association from my village, and this means that the Nedi (community center) is now officially available [...]

I have spent most of the last few days settling into my new apartment. Its very different from my last little home. Im on the 10th floor of a giant apartment building in a complex of three buildings with our own pool basketball court and park in a neighborhood of giant apartment complexes and shopping malls. The shopping mall is Palladium and it has everything from Gap and Banana Republic

The Grand Bazaar is amazing. It was established in 1453 by Mehmet II and the architecture is almost my favorite part. It is one giant building the size of several city blocks surrounded by a medieval wall with 15 gates as far as I can tell. The gates are all numbered and my favorite area was around gate 12. It is a quiet area but compared with the rest of the bazaar anything would be. There

London is an amazing city. I wasnt sure what to expect since it was more of a social visit than a touristic one. I have two weeks of vacation for the end of first semester and decided to do a LondonFrance trip even though January isnt really the best time to be a tourist in London. At least the plane tickets were cheap. I really didnt have any agenda or list of sites I wanted to see. I

I'm rebooting this newspaper & the twitter account tied with it. Please stay tuned & thank you for your patience.

~M.E. Scott

In lieu of a recipe post, I thought I’d share with you what and where I ate today for brunch! Truth is, my eats have been completely uninspired this week. I’m hoping to remedy that soon with a tomato soup … Continue reading →

Hello dear friends!

I'm writing you all because I need bodies! Live of course, to work on! I'm a ways into the massage therapy program at LHAA and it's going very well, but I need more practice! I have worked on some of you, others we've made halfway plans. . . Well I have a practical at the end of the month and would love to book up my free time with massages so that I might gain more confidence and skills for this important "evaluation" of sorts. As with any skill, practice makes progress, and evaluation or not I need practice!

I know many of you have felt uncomfortable about accepting free massage and want to compensate me in some way, and I must assure you, it's for my own good! Giving me an hour of your time means the world to me at this young stage in my massage career. In exchange I hope to give your body some relief and relaxation from your own busy lives. Fitting in as much practice as I can now will make the time when I am, inchallah, a licensed massage therapist, I will be ready as ever. And gladly, at that point, accepting payment or barter.

Though I despise my current day job, I do have a decent schedule affording me Friday-Sunday off. I am also available Mondays after 3pm and in a pinch, can do a massages Tuesdays or Wednesdays between 3 and 5. I have my own "massage office" set up in one of the extra rooms in our house and will treat you as if you were a client in a proper clinic. Please pass this on and tell your friends as it is important for me to practice on strangers as much as dear friends and schedule an appointment with me!

Thank you so much,

missing you all,

Bri

The cooking starts 2-3 days before, 50+ chickens

The tent connects to the houseThe setup

Flowers

Prepping Chickens

Me in my jilaba, scarf on my head and coal on my eyes

Offering before the wedding

Bride waits under a vale

Start with feet Henna

Then hand Henna

The guests

I love dancing

Bride and Groom

The bride is lifted

Then the groom

More dancing

Children are the last to eat and get the leftovers

Hired helpI left my house relatively early in order to attend my host sisters wedding. Along the way I was met by a woman and her daughter from the Association so we walked together. A day wedding is more unusual in Morocco and I was thankful. Like all the other weddings I have been to, it was a three day event. Family and friends (some travel from great distances) to visit and stay overnight all together in one or two big rooms. I was looking forward to seeing my sister and many other families and friends I know in the village, but not looking forward the loud monotonous live music, hair bobbing in every direction, excessive food eating, being nudged to dance when I don't want to and sitting watching for hours on end while drinking water out of a cup that gets passed around the room where everyone else has been drinking from. As prior days have been cold, this day was sunny but exceptionally cold. I wasn't able to help out with the dishes cause the water was too cold and my hands frozen. I enjoyed myself and hope that the next year in Morocco, I won't have to attend as many weddings, I think attending about 8 traditional weddings is plenty. This time, just in case, I was fully prepared; earplugs, pillow, heavy socks, warm hat, gloves, slippers, toiletry kit, meds, cell phone with flash light, camera battery fully charged, camera charger, mp3 player, backpack, toe warmers and a little money. It's a lot of work to prepare when you aren't sure what the accommodations will be and you are expected to participate. Luckily, I was able to make it home before dark to have a relaxing evening and sleep in my very own bed. Amen.

In my considerable daydreaming, I never imagined that an English television network would come to our little town. But they did. Jenny Morris , the “Giggling Gourmet” celebrity chef from South Africa is starring in several segments on Moroccan food for the Food Network EMEA (Europe, Middle East and Africa). One of the segments is on the making and cooking of couscous, a staple Moroccan food. Thanks to our connection with Gail of Fes Food, Cooperative Eljawda , a couscous and bread cooperative in Ribat El Kheir, was chosen for the filming. I think I was more excited than the women, possibly because they have never seen the show and don’t realize how widely distributed it is.

First, the co-op women were filmed making couscous from scratch—rolling, rubbing, and sieving, through three different sized baskets to produce progressively smaller uniform grains. This is an arduous process that is rarely done today outside of rural North Africa. Most couscous is now made by machine. Since it takes days to dry, the following cooking segment was filmed with couscous already dried. Jenny then set up on the ridge trail overlooking the valley to do her cooking segment where she made a sweet couscous dish (using my cloves!). We were extremely lucky to have a bright sunny day for the filming, and the snowcapped mountains made a dramatic backdrop. The co-op women were then brought in to taste the finished product. I missed this part since it had already gone dark and the final filming was done inside a house, so I will have to wait to see their reaction on (someone’s) TV.

A week later the film crew was back to do a segment on traditional olive oil pressing with the large stone horse-driven grinder. Jenny then made a salad with the olive oil in a dressing which Habib, the mill owner, and Doug were filmed tasting. I had to be away at a craft fair so I also missed this segment and will have to wait to see it. Who knows what will make it through the editing process and actually appear on the Food Network, but the film crew has promised us a DVD of the show.The actual filming was a rather tedious process with many stops and starts and redos. Mostly we had to sit and wait and watch since our work of dealing with the logistics and with the local bureaucracy had already been done.

I've been holding off blogging about this. But now there's no better time. To keep this nice and simple and straightforward I'm inviting you all to the launch of Jackson's new website, Jacksonopolis.

What is Jacksonopolis? It is an online source for positive news and media about Jackson contributed to and organized by the community.

When is the launch party? Monday, February 6th, 2012 6-10pm.

Where? The Hub 1825 Spring Arbor Rd, Jackson, MI 49203 (in front of Spring Arbor Rd. Pollys)

Why come to the party? Come to learn about and celebrate this new site. Learn about all the sections that will be included in the site, mingle with community members, and meet those who make the site possible. Have some food, score some free Jacksonopolis swag, and find out what it would be like to contribute to the site.

Still unsure? Check out Jacksonopolis' facebook page for more info or the Jacksonopolis blog for more information.

If you can, please help sponsor one of my close friends and cancer survivor (Stage 3 Hodgkin’s Lymphoma) Mike Snider, who is running a marathon to raise money for cancer treatment. CLICK HERE to help out and to get more information!. Thank you very much! -Nick

Heritage to be proud of. If I could wake up to this every day for the rest of my life, I’d never be sad again. Catholic Schools’ finest, and my best friend. Bucket list item: Completed. We’ll be back for … Continue reading →

Folks, you know me. When I travel, it's not always about climbing the highest mountain or taking a photo by the iconic landmarks that are associated with various cities and countries. For me, traveling is about indulging every single one of my five senses in the culture, the environment, and most importantly, the food. To me, the food is a reflection of a culture's creativity, resourcefulness, history, and tradition. Great recipes sometimes develop by accident, but sometimes they're created as a result of a fortuitous meeting between different peoples with different traditions. Sometimes out of the clash something absolutely magical emerges. While the kings, revolutionaries, military generals, and other leaders argue about who gets what territory, the townsfolk are chowing down on a new hybrid concoction of ingredients that restores sanity in the moment of strife. I truly believe food is that powerful.

Now, just recently, I had the fortune of eating an absolutely marvelous Moroccan dish called bastilla. Before I set foot in Morocco for the first in over a year, I had written down a list of must-eat Moroccan dishes and bastilla was in my top 5--yes, I had well over 10 things that I had to both devour and savor. I arrived in Meknes after a short stint in Chefchaouen and on December 31st before the end of the 2011, I saw, met, and most definitely enjoyed a moment of transcendence as I slowly crunched and gave each morsel the 40 chews that it deserved.

So what is this amazing platter and what makes it so special? Christine Benlafquih in About.com goes on to describe it as such: "[It's] a light, crispy warqa pastry shell conceals savory saffron chicken, spicy omelet stuffing, and crunchy topping of fried almonds sweetened and flavored with orange flower water. A garnish of powdered sugar and cinnamon adds to the fabulous blend of flavors."

What is this warqa that conceals such goodness withing? CliffordAWright.com explains:

The pie is surrounded by a very thin pastry leaf called warqa (which means "leaf"), the top of which is sprinkled with powdered sugar and a lattice-work of ground cinnamon. Warqa pastry begins as a spongy dough that is tapped or slapped against a hot convex sheet of pounded metal, a kind of pan called a tubsil set over a hot charcoal brazier, in a series of overlapping concentric circles to form a large film of pastry. This collection of leaves, now forming a whole thin sheet, is carefully but quickly peeled off the metal and set side.

So how did this amazing dish come about? According to CliffordAWright, the etymology of the dish's name may have several different origins. When I first heard bastilla on a trip in Morocco's shamal, I thought it was referring to the Spanish word pasteles or pastries. It could very well be that the dish, like many words that are part of the Spanish language and Moroccan Arabic dialect, is a product of a blend of several cultures including the Jewish cohort, which co-existed together sharing their culinary know-how. There's also a possibility that a similar sounding word was in use in Berber dialects for their chicken with saffron combos.

The history books tell us that the dish or some derivative of it was eaten by both the rulers of the Berber dynasties and even Spain's King Phillip II. The dish somehow disappeared from the Spanish diet perhaps due to the expulsion of the Jews and Muslims, but the Hispano-Jew and Hispano-Muslims who crossed over the Strait of Gilbratar or went further into the Mediterranean took the recipes with them and adapted the dish to the available ingredients in their new homes. Since historically it was a dish for royalty, even in contemporary Morocco the dish has kept its luster as it is generally served only during special occasions. The dish emerged in some shape or form in other parts of the Mediterranean even as far as Turkey as noted by Claudia Roden who munched on pasteles made by some Turkish Jews.

I like to think that as empires, dynasties, and nations quarreld about the politics, taxes, and territorial boundaries, Berber Muslims, Jews, Christians were probably enjoying a nice plate of bastilla. CliffordAWright goes on to say, "Contemporary Moroccan cuisine is essentially an Arab and Hispano-Muslim cuisine set upon the foundation of an older and simpler Berber sustenance diet, with outside influences from sub-Saharan West Africa and colonial-era France." Seems like the best tasting things in life come about when people meet and share recipes.

As such, if you're reading this blog, it's just as if we had stumbled upon one another. I've been fortunate to have had Moroccan bastilla, but there's no reason wherever you may be why you can't munch on this delicious cultural mélangé and its wholesome goodness. Good luck and enjoy!

February 3, 2012 Take a minute to imagine that your childhood went a little like this… You start out your life with your parents speaking only English to you, and to anyone for that matter. Because that’s the only language they know. They never really went to school. You get a decent start on English, [...]

A sea of water was no where to be found. A sea of hands was there instead. No religious teachings were being said but music listeners seems to be receiving religious messages.

At my first ever trance show with Above & Beyond this is what I saw. Eagerly waiting on the floor at Necto in Ann Arbor I couldn't believe I was there to see the three member electronic group from England.

The crowed started off small but grew and grew. An opening act of yet another one of my favorite electronic artists Kenneth Thomas started by about 11pm. By midnight two of the three members of Above & Beyond were above us beginning to move our spirits with their moving beats.

From start to finish I had an amazing and memorable time. I barely stopped dancing once. The music flowed through my veins just as natural as my blood and I couldn't take my eyes of the group whose music nourished me through lonely times in Morocco.

Paavo Siljamäki, the Finnish member of the group was like an entertainer of sorts I had never seen before. It only takes on person to DJ at a time so between switching with his partner Jono Grant he grooved with a spirit that made it clear trance music was his life. With a constant smile and jolly blissful demeanor he helped the music feel like a liquid does of pure happiness.

We never heard a word from either of the men but Paavo showed us messages he would type on his Mac that let us know we were all on the same page. He said things like thank you Ann Arbor and one that I couldn't agree with more, "life is made up of small moments like these."

Being at Above & Beyond's show was like being in a class where you understand all the material. It was finally being able to feel all the feelings I feel for trance in a supercharged room where I was not alone. Above & Beyond blends dynamic and soothing beats with passionate lyrics to achieve a result that is euphoric for me.

If you want to take a listen I'll leave you with my current favorite.

On multiple occasions now, I’ve had volunteers say to me that they are amazed as they come to the end of their Peace Corps service at how good they are at reading people.  Or, I’ll be standing around with a female volunteer, and some guy starts talking to us, and she just gives me this [...]

I have had a serious case of the ‘mean reds’ lately. Note: If that reference is lost on you, go watch Breakfast at Tiffanys and then report back to me. My ticket for leaving the valley of the ‘mean reds?’ … Continue reading →

A very timely article from NPR. This is essentially why there is such an emphasis on Youth Development in Peace Corps Morocco. In Morocco, Unemployment Can Be A Full-Time Job “I have a degree, a master’s degree in English, and I’m here … idle without a job, without dignity, without anything,” protester Abdul Rahim Momneh [...]

Yesterday, while walking to my car, I absentmindedly pulled out my phone to check my email. I expected Change.org petitions, blog updates, notes from my internship - the usual. Except this time, right at the top, in what seemed to me like huge red block letters, popping out of the screen and ringing bells and whistles (but surely were not doing anything of the kind) were the sender: EMA/Morocco and subject line: Peace Corps Morocco.

I'll be honest: Although my first thought was that it would be an email about staging, my only-a-micro-second-later second thought was that it was going to be a notice of our program being cancelled. The subject line was so simple, and as a result so cryptic, at least to the anxious brain.

If you have an iphone, you know that sometimes, though rarely and apparently only when it senses your anxiety about something, the mail application takes eons to load a single message. The cutesy circular version of the Microsoft hourglass spins and spins, taunting you with the information hidden behind it. I may or may not have stopped walking and gasped audibly when I saw the email. I also may or may not have then shaken the phone and yelled at bit at it when it wouldn't load the message.

FINALLY, after my phone had had its fun and several people were staring, I was able to read the email. It was from the Morocco Country Desk, giving us the first pieces of information about staging! Whew! The email said a lot, but it was basically some updates about our online Welcome Book, a request for resumes and aspiration statements from those who still hadn't sent them (mine are long since turned in!), and - this is the fun part - some questionnaires about training for us to fill out!

- Language questionnaire: For our first two months of training, we will be spending a lot of time in intensive language classes, mostly learning Darija (Moroccan Arabic). In order to split us up effectively into our smaller language learning groups, they want to know some information about our past language learning experiences, what types of learners we are (visual, audio, etc), and any experience we might have with Arabic.

- Homestay questionnaire: During training, we will also be living with a Moroccan host family! This questionnaire is meant to help our future host families get to know us a bit, and it looks fun - it asks about our background, hobbies, and preferences, and will be given to our host families (translated into Arabic) before we arrive! Awesome!

As Glinda said, "It's always best to start at the beginning!"This is certainly the start of a beginning, the beginning of an adventure.

Hold onto your hats!

My sitemate Lucia and I went to Marrakesh on Tuesday, because I now live a life where I make day trips to Marrakesh. (My life is awesome!) We visited the American Language Center to check out what resources they have, then ate lunch at Pizza Hut and wandered around the high end shops in the Ville Nouvelle, looking at shoes that cost more than my monthly rent. Before we headed back to Kalaa, we walked over to Jemaa el-Fnaa to take a look at the hotel I ate at on my last trip to Marrakesh.

It was beautiful. The building was covered in tiles and carved wood. There were saqiya (public fountains) along the walls and in the courtyard was a pool surrounded by palm trees and lounge chairs, open to the bright blue sky and overlooked by a traditional mashrabiya (wooden lattice screened balcony). Up on the roof, we walked past a second pool and started out at the nearby Koutoubia Mosque glowing in the sunlight and the snow capped Atlas Mountains in the distance.

It was posh and swanky and other words not normally associate with the Peace Corps, and as I was standing on the roof, listening to French children splash in the pool, I thought You know self, you haven’t bathed in a week. Your hair is basically one giant grease slick AND, what more, you don’t even care anymore. The bathrooms at the hotel were covered in rose petals. My bathroom at site has a hole, two spots for my feet, a faucet, a bucket and that giant cockroach I murderated that morning.

I’m not complaining, not really. I have electricity and running water that works at least 90% of the time and I usually have Internet in my house. Even the cockroach wasn’t that bad. At least I was wearing pants when I saw him. I was expecting a lot more hardships when I joined the Peace Corps and I love my site and my home. But that’s the thing about Posh Corps: it’s less about your amenities at site and more about the amenities you have in your country. There are some very nice, very westernized places in Morocco that an easy day trip from my home, and I keep showing up there unwashed.

Jamma El-Fna famous square at nightMarrakech Mosques

Prep meeting for vendors

Walking to the Fair

Setting up

Jewelry vendors

Vendors from Taouma

Argan Oil

Argan Oil

Beautiful rugs

All hand crafted

Off the square outside medina

Pastry cart

Tajine and bread plates

Daggers

Sweet little guy for sale

How I look traveling

Afriqia Hotel

Traditional cup of mint tea on the square

Spending time with friends

Jilaba Iron Press

Someones sewing machine being repaired

Fresh coconut, yum...

Horse and carriage on square

Medina is always packed

Love these candle tins

Welcome booth

Love the matching jilabas

Booth Tents

Posing with a few vendors and volunteers

Reminds me of a post card

My room at Hotel Afriqia

In Gueliz outside square

Tea pots everywhere

Recycled rubber items made from tires It all started when I caught a taxi to Kech to join up with volunteers to work the Marche Moroc on Jamaa El-Fna Friday-Monday. I sat next to a guy that had just escaped from 'Bouya Omar', a mental institution 4 kilometers from my house. He was telling the others in the taxi his story and he didn't know I spoke or could understand Arabic. He said he had "no money and just came from Prague" to see his family in Rabat where he was trying to go to explain his story to them as his dad put him in this institution as he had a prior drug problem. As he spoke very good English with a heavy British accent, somehow I believed him. He said he would "explain everything on the way to Kech" which was about an hour ride. Eagar with anticipation and awareness, holding my bad close, I listened in detail and asked lots of questions. How did you escape I asked? He said he "used big rocks to cut the chains loose that attached his feet to the wall" and proceeded to show me the blood burned area around his feet. How did you get money to get a taxi fair to Marrakech I asked? He said he told his story and everyone helped. One aspect of Muslim culture I love. Will the police look for you? "Yes", he proclaimed "but the system is corrupt and no-one will know where I am, they don't care" he says, "it's all about money and the government knows about Bouya Omar but they don't care" he says. "They don't feed the mental patients but a handful of rice and a small square of bread only one or two times a day. I couldn't stay there" he said, "I don't like it one bit, it's not right to treat people like animals, or that way." He told me it was great I was learning Arabic and the culture, I told him I am a volunteer with Peace Corps and I want to help out. He knew about Peace Corps and said this experience would change my life forever and it's honorable work. We chatted until we reached the taxi drop off. He never asked me for money or my number. He gave me his contact info for his family and wished me luck. He said he just wanted to straighten out the mishap and live a simple life but that it is hard in Morocco to get ahead even when you are educated and need a job as there is a lack of work. The taxi driver and other passengers gave him money before we got out. I reached into my bad and gave him a few oranges and yogurt which he declined. I finally made it after the city bus arrived to the festival then to the hotel to check in. The weekend was eventful and fun to be with volunteers, the woman from many associations making hand made items. But most of all, I reflected on the beginning of this journey as a reminder of the interesting people I continue to meet in Morocco and the struggles they face.

Beauty routines. Most women have them, ranging from the laborious to the cut and dry. We engage in these routines as a way to accentuate various facets of our beauty. Habits like applying make up or perfume, shaving, waxing, plucking, … Continue reading →

Scene: Walking down Mohammed V Avenue with a friend during a day trip to Marrakech.

Me: *saying something of no particular importance*

Friend: *saying something of no particular importance*

Me: (thinking to myself: why does that man have such a funny look on his face?)

*look down*

(thinking to myself: holy s***, is that his penis?)

Holy s*** , I think that weird guy his showing us his penis!

Friend: What?!

Me: Holy s*** I think that guy is jerking off to us.

Friend: What?! Why would he be doing something like that?

Me: I don't know, but it is a strange thing to be doing during the middle of the day on a main road like this don't you think?

Friend: Yes it is.

*both turn around to see the guy is looking at us with his penis hanging out*

Me: I don't understand? Why would he do that? I mean look at it, it is a really sad penis, if I were him I wouldn't be showing that to too many people, it is just so sad.

Friend: I agree.

Me: You know, in my 27 years of life I have never seen anything as crazy as that, and I am from New Jersey, so you know, that is saying a lot.

Friend: Yes it is.

Me: Actually, I did see a guy once take a poop in Lafayette Park in D.C. and then get arrested, but I think he was on drugs. This however, it just doesn't make any sense.

Friend: No it doesn't.

*both start to laugh, man is embarrassed that we are laughing at his sad penis, and we spend the rest of the walk to the Grand Taxi stand making fun of him and his sad, sad penis*

The End.

Justin and I have only been teaching for a month, and now with our students' winter break comes a 2-week vacation. If the pace of life in Morocco is wrong, I don't want to be right!!

We are happy to have the break, though - It's been an adjustment jumping into the role of a teacher. Each night, we scramble to review the lessons from that day and to adjust and create new lesson plans based on the students' progress. We are teaching 7 different kinds of classes: Beginner Adult, Beginner Kids, Beginner High Schooler (Moroccans study English in high school), High School English Exam prep (high schoolers here take a major exam at the end of their last year - like an SAT on steroids - and English is a big part of it), Intermediate, Homework Help, and Advanced Speaking. While some of those classes have similar lesson plans, we have to adjust the content and nature of the lesson for each audience, and of course, make sure we know how to say it in Moroccan Arabic! Needless to say, it's been a little nuts but our students are all very patient and respectful and we are learning just as much (if not more) than they are!

Other than catching up on lesson plans, I'm trying to spend more time working on new recipes in the kitchen - recent successes have been falafel, tortillas, lentil chili, and cornbread (all fully from scratch!). I'm planning soon to put up a page on the blog detailing my cooking extravaganzas, so keep an eye out for that.

And next week, we will travel to Mehdiya (northeast of Rabat, just on the coast) for a week of training with the Peace Corps - we'll be reviewing the things that we have learned in the few months in our community, and beginning to talk about future projects that we may want to implement. I'm looking forward to the chance to step back and think a bit more about my goals for the upcoming two years, and a change of scenery for a few days will be nice too!

Those are all the updates for now! Enjoy the below photos, from a recent excursion to the nearby countryside with our Moroccan friends (notice the essentials for any Moroccan picnic - tea (a lot), bread (even more), and don't forget your drums, or a device that can double as a drum). And Justin and I spent an afternoon being tourists in Rabat last week, which was a fun change!

our friends leading us into the countryside..

you can't see it, but at least 3 drums are being carried along! Surprisingly the area was full of people. We found out that people were trying to hunt

wild boars (not to eat, just to kill). Didn't know that they had them in Morocco, and enjoyed

watching people spending the whole afternoon running back and forth after these guys. Important Moroccan picnic items: Don't forget your tea glasses, your teapot,

your tajine pot, 10 loaves of bread, and a pound or so of sugar :) Tajine success! Pretty impressive for cooking over a fire... beats my Girl Scout days! Justin and I pose in the countryside And the last important element of the Moroccan picnic is

the drum - any object that you can beat on will do! Justin and I touring Rabat - this is the door to the Kasbah.

I love having the guy in the photo to get a sense of how big it is! Inside the Kasbah. To me it looks like pictures I've seen of Santorini in Greece! the water! Justin looks out in the direction of New York (we think) :)

Despite the "waiting", time is actually progressing pretty quickly. Here are some life updates.

- Yesterday I was accepted to the Lewis and Clark School of Law in Portland, Oregon. Lewis and Clark has one of the best and most prestigious environmental law programs in the U.S. and has been my dream since I was just a wee-child interested in environmental law and policy. Frankly, I am just so happy they accepted me. I am still freaking out. Thanks to their kind acceptance of me, my Mom and I are flying to Portland exactly two days after I land in America from Morocco to do a school visit before the deposit deadline! This also means I get to see my newly-engaged and beautiful friend Brittany in Oregon. She has kindly volunteered to be our chauffeur around Portland! I am really looking forward to the trip, even though it's going to be a chaotic week. We are going to visit Indiana about 12 hours after we land from Portland!

- I recently got rid of my first bags of "stuff"! It seems like just a few days ago I was major-ly stressing about packing for Morocco and now, two years later, I am getting rid of ALL of my stuff. The thought of clearing out my fully stocked house has been stressing me out for a long time. I have accumulated a lot of stuff in two years, and I have to get rid of it ALL before I can board that plane to the good ole US of A. The good news is that my local counterpart Lahcen, and his family, were eager to take some clothes, blankets and trinkets off my hands. Despite me giving them three giant bags full of stuff, they still offered to take more as the time comes! I also got final word from my Host Mother in my original site that she wants my furniture and whatever is left before I leave for my host sister's pending marriage. The end of March I just have to call my truck-guy, Huessin, and he will take the rest of my stuff off my hands for me. At least I know all of my old stuff will be both appreciated and put to good use. I plan on coming back to America with a few souvenirs for myself, my computer, my Kindle and the clothes on my back, saa-fi (that's all).

- Our final work-related wrap up meeting happens this Thursday. I requested a small grant ($150) from the Mid-Missouri Returned Peace Corps Volunteers Association a few months ago to hold a "wrap-up" and sustainability meeting for all of the villages who have recently gotten running water thanks to Peace Corps. My site mate worked with three villages before I arrived and we worked on two together, totaling five new communities with running water. This meeting will focus on making sure the projects stay working and the bills get paid. I am hoping it will be a way to get people together and network making problem solving easier in the future, after we are gone. There will be certificates handed out, fancy cookies eaten and even some expensive juice. It should be fun and most importantly, symbolizes my last official work-event with Peace Corps.

- The person in charge of booking my flight home contacted me today, meaning it's really happening. A flight is getting booked. I will be in America no later than April 6th, 2012. My life-long dream of doing the Peace Corps will finally be completed!

- My coming home party date has officially been set. On Friday, April 13th all are welcome to my house in St. Louis to come and celebrate my glorious return to America. We will have good food and delicious drinks on hand! I am really looking forward to seeing everyone! If you want to come and didn't get my e-mail invite, shoot me an email at carastuckel@gmail.com

- I am on day seven of Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred and let me tell you, it's kicking my butt.

This is how I look after every-single-workout. I am a hot mess.

I will update again after our wrap-up and celebration party on Thursday!

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

- Mark Twain

"So much better to travel than to arrive."- Margaret Atwood

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness,

and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts."- Mark Twain

“Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends.” - Maya Angelou

"Leave your doubt at the door,

Or don't you take another step."- The Crane Wives

It's be awhile. A loooong while.

But I'm back. And truthfully urban. A trek getting here!

Back live, with love and living to tell.

Come back real soon. (Like this weekend.)

Well, let's start off in the bedroom. This is where the magic happens. No really, things disappear in here all the time and I'm the only one here. (Notice the poor man's wallpaper: maps!)

Welcome to the salon! This is where I will entertain my countless guests as I invite them to my plastic table. (also doubles as an jazzercize room, coming soon!)

Now we come to the kitchen. Something funny happened with the camera here and it appears as if the dishes are dirty. That is merely an optical confusion, I always clean my dishes immediately after using them, just as any single man living alone tends to do. Pay no attention to the rust on that stove top, the guy told me it just gives it more of that authentic taste.

As you can see I almost mustered a smile showing my teeth here for you all, almost, which means I'm obviously in good spirits right? Of course that's right, morale is high and I even decided to shave for the first time in a month as you can see here so I am getting some things done.

So teaching four days a week here I am starting to feel a lot more settled in, I really enjoy my students, even the one who swore that Hollywood was the capital of the United States even when I said that was not the case. Who's got two thumbs and is enjoying their life? This guy!

I am officially the worst blog updater in the world, and I apologize for that. If you’re looking for short but semi regular updates of my life, you could try here. Actual update, well I am really happy, I Love my Life, I Love my House, I Love all of Baknou. I’m getting tutored in [...]

Oh, the weather outside is frightful. But the lfurno, in all its blazing glory, is delightful. First it was the frozen toothbrush. Then went the pipes. Walu rubini g lbit lma, Hašakum! (No running water in the bathroom, pardon my impoliteness!) And still no running water in the bathroom (as of print), after about five days – must be the open exposure/vulnerability to the wind, as the running water in the kitchen returned after a day. On the night of the 16th, the atfl [snow] came again, all in one fell swoop.









I could barely open my front door, as there was a good 40+ cm (~16in) of snow pushed up against the door in droves.



The temperature inside my bedroom upon waking up the other day. However, after an initial frustratingly steep learning curve in starting the wood-burning stove with just paper and cardboard, I have now come to relish in its aforementioned blazing glory. Starting a fire from scratch isn’t such a chore now, and I can maintain my bedroom pretty comfortably at around 76° F (24° C), hitting a record 84° F for a few minutes. I’ve also been treated to some ifssi from a neighbor, a low-growing thorny scrub brush used as a fire starter and one of the only forms of vegetation that still grows on the mountainside, being inedible to the grazing sheep and goats as well as able to survive the lack of precipitation. With ifssi, starting a fire is now as easy as snap, crackle, and pop. Over the last several weeks, women could be (and can still be) seen walking donkeys laden with huge tied bundles of the scrub brush on their hide backs.



The ifssi and firewood, hand-chopped by yours truly.





For the first time, I find myself muttering, “Man, it’s hot!” and being forced to undress down to just a T-shirt (unspeakable!).



A couple days after the storm. About a week earlier, I went with some friends to a cave nearby my village:









The waterfall.









So I had my friend Mustapha take a picture of me. I smiled and made what I feel is a natural pose. He would have none of this, instructing me to kneel into what might be considered a Moroccan photo pose, as I’ve seen this over and over when shown pictures from Moroccans…



Hakak, nk amġribi! [There you go, I’m Moroccan!]



There’s vegetation for you, I suppose. To continue on the outdoor trekking streak, I also went for a small hike up to an old French fortress in my souq [market] town, an hour north by public Transit.















Souq. Merchants put down a tarp and sell fruit, vegetables, tea, oil, dates, peanuts, metal utensils, and such.



For most PCVs, my souq town would be considered pretty undeveloped, as it offers no ATM for money withdrawal, no cyber café for internet access, and no Dar Chebab (youth center) for structured, ready-to-go work opportunities with high school youth. But for me, it offers a veritable panoply of cement, sand, cereal yogurt, strawberry jam, chicken, bread, and spaghetti for the taking!



The road from my village to souq. Much of it is new; the paved road through my village has been in place for one year. Before it was all piste – dirt road.





A glimpse of the town where I go for internet access about twice a month…and cheese! - a little over three hours away by Transit (pictured above is a rather nice one; these are crammed with up to 20 people...or eight people, but with five cows - two formidable bulls and three calves). Notice the utterly decadent tiling, fanciful window awnings and metal dressings, as well as the paved road wide enough to fit more than one vehicle! (In the countryside, most paved roads are about the width of 1.5 vehicles, meaning whenever two vehicles cross each other, one, the other – or both, on occasion – have to swerve off to the shoulder to avoid crushing each other’s side view mirror. It’s great fun!

After an unfortunate lull in cooking output, partly due to laziness and partly due to the 40°F kitchen, I’ve resumed my culinary efforts in stride. Recently I’ve discovered the secret to getting really “plump” fat bread – adding a pot of steaming water underneath the flame in the oven while baking the bread. It makes the product into more of a fat bread than a pseudo-croissant. The resultant consistency is perfect for eating tajines by hand with bread, as is the observed custom at all Moroccan dinner tables (which is itself an acquired skill, especially to do so relatively cleanly, not letting your whole hand devolve into an oily, greasy mess). I’m also pleased to report that I’ve now taught English successfully three times in a row at my local association’s building! It’s been almost three months in the running, but it looks like I may have an audience of 6-8 men that are motivated and will keep with it, inshallah. Before my first session at 3pm, I went to the center of town around 2 o’clock and tried to recruit some people to come – people with whom I had spoken before about my teaching English. Their responses were mostly, “inshallah”, which made me somewhat pessimistic that anyone would show, or alternatively that only two people would show and would then not want to come again, with such a small audience. So it was with great and warm surprise that around 3:05pm, three guys showed up to the association. Over the next fifteen minutes or so, four more guys strolled in, making a total of seven men for my first English lesson! The next week, despite two of the original men being out of town, I had eight men show up, both on the second and third class. I guess word is slowly spreading that “Bassou Mirikani” is teaching English, as I find myself greeting new students at each new lesson. I think I may have also found a new student in the form of the local nurse, who speaks Arabic and French fluently, but wants to speak English really well one day, inshallah. The third lesson I held a lmunafasa [competition], dividing the audience into 2 groups and having a pseudo-Jeopardy game, asking a total of 31 questions like, “What is the opposite of small?”, “How do you say, ‘Manis tddud?’ in English?” (Answer: Where are you going), and “Name four answers to ‘How are you?’”, which was a big hit. I gave the winning team some Lifesavers and Jolly Ranchers. There was even expressed interest in extending my English lessons another day – for a total of three days a week, two hours per lesson. For now, I will teach twice a week, and see how things progress over the coming weeks. But things are looking upwards, workwise. There might be a bathroom installation project in the works, and I found someone in my souq town who is fluent in English and might be a possible tutor, to improve my Tamazight and help with translation – particularly as I need/want to start prepare some health lessons before I begin teaching at my local elementary school. Well…that’s all folks. Thanks for reading. Always love to hear back from family, friends, and readers!

What’s real lately… is that I’m leaving for Morocco in less than two months. As my friend put it last night, “I feel like you’ve just been talking about it, I can’t believe that you’re actually going to leave.” Ain’t … Continue reading →

This Thursday I lost my last and final grandparent. Follow me as I take you through a little tour of the grandparents of Alex Cash.

Ruth Jean Cash-She loved Euchre. She could remember every card played in each trick. Something that didn't get passed on to her granddaughter. She mothered three lovely kids, one being my dad, and was a faithful member of St. Mary's Catholic Church. I remember her taking me to Loomis Park as a child. Once she and my Grandma Sarah worked together against my parents to get my a haircut. They both agreed my hair was getting a little out of whack. She had a great sense of humor and was the life of the party.

Thomas Cash Sr.-My grandpa was a private eye. Yes a trench coat and fedora wearing private eye. I can't think of anything much cooler than that. I was told that he was one of the most handsome men in his day, something he surely passed onto my dad. Tom died when he was just 51 so he was long gone before I was alive. I don't know much about this mysterious man, but that's what he is to me, a mystery. I enjoy hearing every piece of his story unfold.

Sarah Jane Lefere-It wasn't possible to meet Sarah and not love her. That being said I loved the way she would tell people to "oh shut up". She wouldn't put up with any bull shit. She made me strong and she pushed me along. To her I was SB. Spoiled Brat. I think most of that was her fault!

Mickey Lefere Sr.-Mickey didn't stay alive long enough for me to meet him either. I didn't know him but I know he was such a brave man. He lived his life with depression and despite his challenges he bravely went to work each day at Lefere Forge to supported all eight of his kids. He was known for eating chocolate candy bars and washing them down the Coca Cola, sometimes resulting in some heavy backwash.

I had this whole super exciting, positive post planned about how I got a site change and about how amazing my Christmas vacation in Spain was, and then this morning I fainted, busted my lip, chipped a tooth, and got up close and personal with my bathroom floor. Oh, Morocco you are a hard country to love.

Anyway, I'm fine. Angry about my tooth, but it was the wonky one so not too angry. Slightly fascinated by the size of my lip, it's HUGE. And headed to see the Peace Corps doctors tomorrow to find out why exactly I so gracefully faceplanted into the floor for no apparent reason. On the bright side I get a free trip to Rabat (land of hot showers, decent food, and internet) and maybe even some free time to squeeze in a visit to Fes to see a good friend studying there. Things could be worse.

So onto the site change and Christmas vacation. Since the last time I posted I went to our In-Service Training (IST or middle of service training) in Mehdia (a small beach town nearish to Rabat). While I was there I spoke to my regional manager about how I'd been feeling the last few months and we decided I should switch sites. That means I'll soon be moving off my mountain (kind of sad I can't say my mountain anymore) and closer to civilization. I'll be in a smallish town about 20 minutes outside of Tiznit and whole heck of a lot closer to the beach. :) And I just settled everything with my house this week! This house is amazing and kind of Posh Corps. But I think I'll have a much better quality of life there and I'm excited to finally start some work too. Pictures will be posted soon. As for Spain, it was a bit of a whirlwind. Let's just say there was much wine (a little bit of whiskey because I make bad choices), MUCH bacon and ham, boys whose sexuality was very hard to determine, and many hilarious experiences with wonderful friends.

And that's been life for the past few months. Busted lip and all, I still have a feeling things are looking up.

Success is not an entitlement. You have to earn it, every day. Case and point: Cooking with a pressure cooker. You don’t know how to cook with a pressure cooker unless you first learn how to use one. I was intimidated/mystified by mine for over a year. Finally, I took the plunge and did it: I [...]

A chunk of Mars was found in Tata!

"Rare and expensive fragments of a Mars meteorite fell from the sky in July over Morocco, a team of international scientists confirmed on Wednesday. A fireball in the sky was observed in a remote region of southern Morocco by nomads who tracked down fragments of the seven kilogram (15 pound) meteorite, marking only the fifth time in history that a Mars rock has been seen falling to Earth. A team of eight experts with the Meteoritical Society analyzed the pieces and determined that they are authentic chunks of the red planet, said Carl Agee, part of the team and curator at the University of New Mexico. "This discovery is tremendously important because of the quality of the sample," Agee told AFP. The Moroccans who found the fragments quickly sold them to dealers, and museums scrambled to purchase them at a range of $500 to $1,000 dollars per gram, said Agee, whose museum now possesses a 108 gram piece. The price for meteorites ranges from 10 to 20 times the price of gold. "Some of these meteorites have atmospheric gas trapped inside glassy material. When they are heated and released in the laboratory and measured it's identical to the Mars atmosphere that all the Mars probes have measured," said Agee. "All planets, like Venus, Mars and Earth, they have very different atmospheres," he added. "It's like a fingerprint." The meteorite was named Tissint, and its discovery was documented in the Meteoritical Society's latest bulletin issued January 17. "At about 2:00 am local time on July 18, 2011, a bright fireball was observed by several people in the region of the Oued Draa valley, east of Tata, Morocco," it said. "One eyewitness, Mr Aznid Lhou, reported that it was at first yellow in color, and then turned green illuminating all the area before it appeared to split into two parts. Two sonic booms were heard over the valley." By October, "nomads began to find very fresh, fusion-crusted stones in a remote area" about 50 kilometers (30 miles) east-southeast of Tata. Agee said such Mars meteorite events only happen about once every 50 years, with the last such event in 1962 in Nigeria. Of about 100 Mars meteorites currently in Earth collections, only five have been seen to fall. The first known meteorite from Mars was found in France in 1815, a specimen called Chassigny that Agee described as "probably one of the most expensive meteorites in the world." Pieces of Mars are believed to have broken loose at some time in history when a massive meteor crashed into the surface of the red planet, sending chunks hurtling through space. Some of the debris has moved fast enough to escape the gravitational pull of Mars and eventually fall to Earth. Agee said scientists will examine the Moroccan meteorite for radioactive signatures left by cosmic rays, signaling how long its journey has been, possibly thousands or millions of years."__________

The following video is in Darija, but is still pretty cool. And you can see the rocky, dry landscape that I live in.

My host family saw this on the news and proceeded to bring me some regular rocks they found to ask if they were worth any money... I told them probably not. I wonder how many people are going to start bringing me rocks now?

Protest Culture and A Different Look at the Egyptian Revolution On January 25th, 2011 a revolution began in Egypt. Exactly one year later, people gathered for one of the largest protests to ever see Tahrir Square. The picture above was taken at 4 pm Egyptian time (about 9 am in NYC, 8 am in Milwaukee, and 6 am in LA). Around this same time, these images were ablaze in the media across the world. People had been gathering since midnight, and finally at 4 pm, when they had their highest capacity, the world was struck with these powerful images of change. We see images like this throughout the world every so often, and they always tend to stir controversy. Most recently in America with the Occupy movement and across many Muslim countries with demands to change corrupt government and workers rights. And although not everyone may agree with these protests, gatherings, chantings, and people holding signs with bold and powerful statements, everyone at least feels the immense energy they generate. To see such a large group of people gathered together for a cause that’s important to them leaves even the most unbelieving of unbelievers a little bit touched.  While this protest a few days ago in Egypt may not have really struck a chord for people in the US, people here watched their television screens all. This poses a lot of questions… will other Middle Eastern and Northern African countries follow in their lead? Will these protests have a snowball effect, and if so, Morocco is sure to be close to the top of the line. Especially for PCVs, this could mean civil unrest, consolidation, or possibly evacuation — which would suck. There’s no eloquent way to say that being evacuated from the Peace Corps would just suck.  There were hourly updates on the protest, and it became clear as the day went on that it wasn’t just an homage to the beginning of the revolution, taking place exactly a year ago to the day. These citizens were reigniting what they felt had been lost over the last year. They were stating that while they’ve come a long way, they are not satisfied with their change.. they want more.. more rights, more freedoms, and penalties to all government officials that have ordered the revolutions leaders to be harmed or killed.  Social media has helped this cause in so many ways… many of the updates on the news were coming from people facebooking or tweeting inside the square. There was another twitter, however, offering a not so revolution-friendly account of the days events. I said before that most of the world was finding out about this protest around 4 pm Egyptian time, my twitter however started blowing up at about midnight exactly.  I’ve recently discovered, thanks to a Peace Corps newsletter, a social media tool developed by an American in Egypt called Harass Map. Harass Map encourages women in Egypt to call, text, facebook, email, or tweet any harassment activity to this website with as many or as few details as they feel comfortable, and the website consolidates the information and puts it on a map so the people of Egypt can have a visual description of all the different harassment cases in their country (from cat-calling to rape). I helps women to know that it’s OK to speak out about this type of behavior, especially because they’ve been forced to silence it for so long. Sometimes, when there is a particularly heinous crime, Harass Map will re-tweet or anonymously tweet the issue to warn women about different areas in different cities or different  establishments where they could potentially be in danger. On January 25th, there were hudred of “re-tweets” from Harass Map, beginning at midnight and continuing throughout the day of sexual assault in Tahrir Square during the protest. And these weren’t just cat-calls and hisses, these were extreme cases of groping and in some cases, groups of men targeting a single women and trying to drag her away or force her somewhere, hoping to get lost in the chaos of the crowd.  This is disturbing on two fronts. The first being that the people in the square were fighting for change. They wanted their country to grow, to be to prosper and enter into a righteous and un-corrupt state. But clearly, these passions only apply when it’s convenient. They want higher pay checks! Freedom of speech! Less government interaction with their personal media! But they don’t want anyone interfering when their trying to abuse their women. Is that change? Do that paint a picture of a country you would be proud to be apart of? I hope not.  The second thing I question is how many men in the crowd were actually there in support of the revolution, and how many were there to attempt assault? Clearly hundreds of men heard wind of the gathering and flocked for this purpose only. They say thousands of people were there. So while it may not be a small percentage, it is a percentage.  I think it’s outstanding that Egypt has a media tool like this, and I hope it expands to other countries around this side of the world soon… and every country eventually. Although countries like Egypt and Morocco may be difficult to live in as a woman because of these circumstances, we all know it happens everywhere, in every country, even the ones like America where we think it’s absent. And doesn’t that make you think twice about all the protests? In the Middle East or the Americas, whether it’s in Tahrir Square or on Wall Street… does it make them a little harder to stand behind?

Hamdullilah (Thanks be to God)! It's January and that means we have been rushing around in a flurry of activity preparing for the camp. In the last two months, El Jallali Abdelaaziz (my counterpart) and I have been having meetings everyday, crossing our 't's and dotting our 'i's for this three day camp.

This is a picture of me, my site-mate and my counterpart (Seated in front of the computer).

Let's go over a checklist of all the things me and my counterpart have been doing.We've been talking to all the women who are: going to be counselors for the camp.I've been coordinating between all the Peace Corps Volunteer girls who want to be joint counselors activity leaders.We've been arranging spaces for all of us (that is a total of 85 people all told. I know the camp is for 50 girls, but that is plus 14 Peace Corps Volunteers, 3 kitchen people, 8 Moroccan Women Counselors, and a few members from the association that I work with.)We've sent out faxes and called local tv stations to get media to cover the camp.Gathered the permission slips of 50 girls and acquired the permission from their fathers (No small feat for girls from very small, conservative villages.Printed 100's of pages for girl empowerment workshopsFinalized and handed out the order slips for the food for the camp (this seemed to take the most time out of everything else).This is the majority of last week's activities. But let's also quickly preview the program for the camp:

This weekend on Saturday the 28th, all the Moroccan and American volunteers will meet before the camp so that they can become acquainted with each other and do a general introduction of activities, rules, and expectations of the camp.

Sunday, the 29th, is the beginning of the camp! The campers come at 10am, and then it's introductions, the outline of the camp, lunch, and then the workshops begin. The workshops on the first day cover a range of topics like women's rights, a personality test, and a guest speaker from an organization against violence. We're also showcasing the Moroccan and Peace Corps Volunteer film called, 'You Can Dream,' which interviews empowered Moroccan women who are working.

Monday the 30th, is more of the same, but with a woman doctor and a midwife from the area who are going to talk about their experiences. There will also be workshops on health and a henna workshop!

Tuesday the 31st is actually a really fun day. We're having workshops on dancing and on how to make natural makeup. We're also having a party and an award ceremony for all the girls. My counterpart has also asked the children he works with to do a dance for the older girls. And then after that, the girls will return home. I think this camp is going to absolutely swimmingly. I am really excited and am keeping my fingers crossed.

T-town is really pulling this camp off and I'm so proud to say that this project is not just a dream but an actual working experience for all the participants involved.

Wish me luck!

This week I've had a few mishaps. I won't photograph them because maybe I'm the only one that will really notice them. Too bad Big Sarah can't help me fix my mistakes.

After week 2 I've completed 10 inches. It's getting easier. I realized that I don't have enough of the yarn that I originally bought to finish the job. I bought it at Big Lots very cheaply for $1 per ball. It's really good yarn, easy to work with. Even though I got a smart bargain I wasn't so smart in buying the right amount. Since it's Big Lots they get new things every week. When I went back to check for some more yarn, it was gone.

Now I'm left to come up with a solution. I might put a stripe of another color down the middle. Or maybe at the top. Stay tuned to see what I come up with.

Because so many frozen yogurt places have Fruity Pebbles available, I couldn’t resist picking up some fruity goodness from the grocery store. To my surprise, it’s gluten-free and full of 11 essential vitamins and minerals! Perfect for a gluten-free lifestyle?  

20+ months of PC/Morocco later… I :heart: COS emails! COS email #4: Dear Volunteers, Hope this email finds you all well! I am emailing to remind you please that, when you come for the COS conference, you need to return the mosquito net, if not or barely used, the smoke detector, and all the meds. [...]

Entrepreneurs should be serial monogamists; do one thing at a time until you make sufficient progress and then move on. – Bing Gordon Lesson of the moment: Learning when to say when. Or perhaps it’s knowing when to say when.