My flight is booked to America.

I will be leaving Casablanca, Morocco at 12:55am on April 5th. I have two layovers (Germany and Chicago), and will finally land in St. Louis at 1:50pm on April 5th.

I couldn't be more excited.

Less-than-two-months!

On Sunday, my site-mate and I made the two hour trek to our counterpart's house to celebrate the Prophet Mohammed's Birthday. With lots of delicious cakes and tajines, it was a firm reminder of how much I love celebrations here. We ate lots of cakes, cookies and delicious food and then we got a ride to the village where I recently finished the water tower project.

The people of the town were having a HUGE party, with lots of "out-of-town" residents coming in for the event. The women were dressed to impress in their jewelry, skirts and big white scarves. I felt sort of sad looking in my black jacket and kahkis compared to how dressed up the women were.

We danced, ate, and sang. I had a blast.

The women, nearly sixty of them, were so kind and funny. They even clapped for me when I came into the room. Overall, I am so proud of them and all of their hard work to get this project complete! They are the ones who benefit most from not having to haul water up the mountain, so I am happy for them that the project is done and that we could have a party.

I love Morocco. I love the food, the hospitality and the good times. The people of the village of IGanouin were so kind and helpful to me, treating me as one of their own. This party was a firm reminder of all of the wonderful things I will miss when I leave Morocco in just two short months.

Below are a few of the photos from the event. I forgot my real camera, so my bad Iphone photos will just have to do.

The ladies wanted to dress me up in their elaborate and very heavy jewelry. I had on six rings and that giant neck piece. It is all made locally and is quite beautiful.

The ladies and their mostly matching skirts. They are unique to this area and yes, those are puff balls.

It's sort of hard to see, but as a gift the women/men gave us three liter bottles of Argan Oil and three giant pieces of homemade bread. Delicious.

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!

My to-do list is about fifty items long and yet none of them can be checked off just yet. What an annoying and frustrating place to be in.

I am back from vacation, feeling excited and nervous about my last few months in Morocco. I have a lot to do here. I have a lot to do to prepare for coming home. Picking up my life, again, and starting from scratch seems daunting and nerve-wrecking, but I knew coming into this that one day it would end. Somedays that fact was the only thing that got me through.

So, for now, I wait.

Dr. Suess, in all his genius, wrote in Oh the Places You Will Go about the "bad" time, the waiting time. He warned us that waiting is not a good place to be, and it can only lead to less-than-good things. I have headed his warning, but my options are few. I must wait.

I am waiting for the rest of my law school decisions, financial aid packages and information. I am waiting to close my service, pack up my house and leave Morocco for good. I am waiting, and counting the days until I am home again, sleeping my parent's house, eating my mother's delicious food and speaking English all day. I am waiting to pick a future life path. SO. MUCH. WAITING.

For now I pass my days running and reading, planning for my last work-related event. I cook and clean, surf the internet and Skype friends. I daydream about the new IPhone I will buy and the snazzy new clothes I will wear. I get lost thinking about the good times ahead.

Our Close of Service Conference in Rabat is only four weeks away. While there is a lot to do, there is also very little. The ironies of my life are plentiful.

Only 72 days left in my service. Ten pounds in my weight loss journey. Six schools to hear back from. One more work event.

Life is winding down so for now I enjoy the waiting, the idleness, because America will not be so kind to me, I fear.

If Rome wasn't the most fun vacation I have ever had, I don't know what else is. Great company, great food and amazing sites, it was everything I wanted and more. Plus, as an added bonus, it wasn't freezing cold like I expected!

I thought I would give you a picture recap instead of writing out everything we did. Let's just say we saw a lot, ate a lot, drank a lot and even got to see the Pope up close and personal. Rome was a blast.

This was day one, we were heading towards the Colosseum and ready to see some sights. Left to right: Danielle (my best friend), Claire (my sister) and Socorra (my fellow Moroccan Peace Corps Volunteer).

We were just so excited to see it up close and personal.Myself, Claire and Danielle outside of the Colosseum.

This is the place where the early emperor's of Rome sat, so I was pretending to be the emperor too!

Our first real Italian meal, complete with an awesome bottle of wine and Danielle's happy face.

This is the only picture we got of the four of us inside the Colosseum. It was just as big and awesome as you would expect it to be.Inside St. Peter's Basilica, it's STUNNING. The most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

This was hands down the best meal we ate in Rome, and possibly the best thing I have ever eaten. It was a Roman-style pizza crust covered in olive oil and spices, then topped with fresh rocket, buffalo mozzarella and cherry tomatoes. YUMMY.

After we climbed 323 stairs to the top of St. Peter's Dome, this was our view. It was simply stunning to see all of Rome.Danielle and I on top of St. Peter's Dome.

This was the next level down, where we rested and shopped after our tough climb up to the top of the dome.

Hands down the best gelato ever, right outside Vatican City's walls. It was SO YUMMY despite it being SO COLD outside.

The inside of the Pantheon. They call that "pillar" of light the largest single pillar in the world. That hole is 30 ft in diameter and the building has been around 2,000 years.

The best cup of coffee, ever. I know I have been saying that a lot on this post, but this is no lie. I have never had coffee like this, and probably never will again. It was amazing.

This is our "no smiling" Moroccan style picture at dinner on the last night. Also, Danielle and I are rocking our new shirts we got at the Gap in Rome!

This is the view from St. Peter's Dome of Vatican City.

Danielle, Socorra and Claire making their wishes courtesy of the pennies Claire brought from America into the Trevi Fountain.

Claire and I in front of St. Peters Basilica, inside St. Peter's square.

This was our golden ticket, the one that got us into see the Pope!Yes, we went back the next day for the same gelato. It was that good.This is what happens when the wine is so good and there is a mirror in the elevator.

A few months back I posted an open-invite to everyone who reads this blog that they were welcome and encouraged to come visit me in Morocco. Thankfully, Claire and Danielle took me up on this offer.

The month of January has been good, to say the least. I am excited that 2012 is off to such a great start. After the finishing up of the project, and the transferring of money in early January, I began my mental and physical preparations for my sister, Claire and best friend, Danielle's arrival in Morocco!

They were here eight days, and we had a freaking blast! I think they would agree! Here is a recap of our trip.

Danielle and Claire arrived in the Marrakech airport! I was so excited to see them.

We spent the second day touring around Marrakech's markets (souks) and buying lots of fun scarves and gifts.

On day three we headed to Agadir and even got tour the newly painted Agadir Zoo.

The three of us standing in front of Atlantic Ocean in Agadir.

I just love this door to a mosque near the hotel we stay at in Agadir. It's so beautiful.

On the fourth day we took a trip out to the tiny villages which recently got running water thanks to a grant from USAID. We ended the evening with a traditional Moroccan dinner prepared by my counterpart's wife.

Claire and Danielle were the entertainment for the groups of women outside walking around. They just kept commenting on how beautiful Claire and Danielle were.

On Day six we headed up to Essaouira, a great beach town and spent the next days relaxing and eating Msmsns, a delicious Moroccan pastry.

Standing at the ramparts on the Atlantic Ocean in Essaouira.

Nina even came by and hung out with us!

On Day seven, Claire and Danielle got to ride camels. Claire was a little freaked out as the camel kneeled down!

The three of us and the camels.

Me and my camel friend.

The beautiful doors of Essaouira.

On day eight we headed to Rome. A post about the fun times we had in Rome will follow.

Only two-ish months left in Morocco!

From left to right: The President and Vice President of the Association Ikroma, Lahcen (our counterpart), the President of the Association Iganouin, myself and Sarah-Kate. We were celebrating the exchange of money and the official end of the water tower projects in the two villages!

The amazing selection of vegetables in Tiznit. I love all the colors and textures.

MY CARTE DE SEJOUR! Yes, it FINALLY came! After posting my crazy Gendarm story a few days ago, the card finally came and it's official, I am allowed to be here.

This morning I went to my favorite photo printing place in Tiznit to get some photos printed and some photos taken for the Gendarms to help speed up the process of my getting my identity card. The photographer told me I was looking particularly good and that I should take a picture in front of his new display. I obliged. This is the product. Happy new year to you too!

Yes, it's official; the water tower projects are complete! Sarah-Kate (my site-mate) and I went today and did some final wrap up things and photo shoot. The water towers work and both villages now have running water. I am proud of the work we have done and happy to see how excited to the men and women were to finally have access to water!

Here are some photos:

This is the tower for the village of Ikroma. It's tall and yellow :)

Sarah-Kate and the men/ children of Ikroma, excited about the running water in the foreground!

The women and kiddos, excited! Notice the crouching woman in the back right corner, there were 4-5 of them hiding in the background the entire time, not to mention the 20+ who were hiding behind me and the camera!

Myself, Lahcen and Sarah-Kate in front of the bright yellow water tower.

These are the men of the village of Iganouin, standing in front of their water tower. It's HUGE!

Have you ever tried to climb a latter in a long skirt, in a conservative Muslim society? I can assure you, it is hard but Lahcen (my counterpart) really wanted a picture of us on top of the water tower.

The picture Lahcen wanted. Lahcen, myself and the local leader of the association that funded the project.

Proof that the water works!!!!

Sarah-Kate and I in front of the water tower.

The ladies of Iganouin, excited about the running water!

Our cab driver, Sarah-Kate and Lahcen in front of the cab.

Yes, I am driving the cab, sort of...

Some days my life just seems so preposterous that I feel the need to document the insanity. Today is one of those days.

This morning I woke up in a great mood. Yesterday was a smashing success of a day; with the final word that my water tower project is complete, and a visit from our Peace Corps Regional Manager to collect all of the Peace Corps items (i.e. books, medical kit) that I don't want to haul the 13+ hours to Rabat, I count the day as a success.

Since I was in a good mood, I decided to don my best village skirt and venture forth to run some errands. The first stop on my list was the local Gendarmerie (my local Police station).

For weeks now I have been checking back every few days in anticipation of the arrival of my Carte de Sejour, the residency card that proves I have both reason and legality to stay here. Without it, I am forced to carry around a piece of paper, signed periodically by the Chief, that looks like what any Kindergarden kid in America could print out on their home computer. Needless to say, other police do not find this paper particularly useful, and the police at Customs in the airport actually laugh in my face when I hand it to them.

The hold-up on my paper is an enigma.

On April 17th, 2011, I ventured to my local police station, which at the time was about a two and a half hour trip away, to submit all the necessary papers and photos to re-apply for my card. Mind you, that process is absurd as well. The Gendarms want 7-10 copies of each paper we have (five in total), all certified by the local "notary" office and affixed with a 1-2dh stamp. That is 50dh ($6.25) worth of stamps, for copied pieces of paper, that will most likely get thrown away. They also need a 100dh ($12.50) stamp for God only knows what reason and 20 identical photos of me.... just in case they loose the first 19, I guess.

The process of submitting all the papers was complicated and annoying, but at least I finished it in time to head back to the States on vacation. I left the office that day with my official "receipt" that I had applied for a new card (the paper mentioned above).

When I got back from America, things moved pretty quickly in regards to my life. Within two months I was in a new village, a new home, and a new set of Gendarms. These new Gendarms, the ones in the village I currently live in, are leaps and bounds better than my first set. To begin with, none of them has asked me out on a date or invited me to come to their house and shower. That makes them awesome in my book. They also have photos of all of the deceased men and women from the last 40 years hanging on the wall, which I find entertaining and disturbing.

As soon as I got to my new village, in Mid-July, I approached the Gendarms about getting my information transfered to my new village, since the new Gendarms would be responsible for me from then on out. After much discussion and a little arguing between Gendarm stations, it was decided I needed to make the now three and a half hour trek to my old Gendarm station to pick up my "file" and deliver it to the new station.

Aggravated, I went. When I got there I found out that the old Gendarms hadn't even bothered to submit my paperwork for my card to the higher-ups, despite it sitting in a cabinet in their office for over three months. I filled out the papers, again, cursed under my breath and made it blatantly clear that I would not be returning, ever, so that if they needed anything else from me, they better do it then. That statement lead to some more papers being signed.

When I went to leave, I told them I needed my "file" to bring to my new Gendarms. They then told me that the file could only travel "officially" with another Gendarm to my new site, and that it would take 6 6 to 8 months for that file to arrive. Mind you, this was the main purpose of me making the trip in the first place, and 6 to 8 months for a file to travel 90km seems absurd.

Fast forward to my trip to Spain in August. I still have the paper "receipt"and the customs Police man at the airport in Marrakech does NOT want to let me out of Morocco, since I don't have an official card. He keeps accusing me, in Tashlheet, of forging the paper. I then explain to him that there is no chance in hell I would forge a paper simply to stay in Morocco when I have a US Passport and can travel pretty much anywhere I darn well please. After 45 minutes of arguing with the first guy, I demand a fluent English speaking Police man, and the Chief.

When he finally arrives, I have about 5 minutes before my flight is scheduled to take off. Panicking, I start making demands. I tell the Police man that he has two choices, either he stamps my passport and lets me get on this flight to Madrid, or he doesn't stamp it, and I just go anyway and he can deal with the problem when I get back from my vacation.

Needless to say, he stamped the passport, murmured some nasty words at me in Arabic and I ran to the plane, onto the tarmac and screamed at the stewardess to stop closing the door so I could board. We took off about 30 seconds after I got on the plane. I nearly missed my flight.

When I got back from Spain I then started the process to "push" the Gendarms along on getting my card, not wanting a repeat of the last country-leaving experience. My weekly visits have been happening since early September.

Then, three weeks ago, I get a phone call from the Chief Gendarm saying that my card is ready and is at the police station in Sidi Ifni, not in Tiznit, where it is supposed to be. He assures me that it is coming to my town the next day. Like a fool, I believed him and went back. Of course, no card.

This daily "come back tomorrow" statement has been happening for three weeks.

So this morning, I was feeling good, at least good enough to try again, praying that my card would finally be there, so I went. When I got there, of course it was no where to be found. The absurdity of this whole thing is not that despite turning in my paperwork in April, I still don't have my card (which is a laminated piece of pink paper, FYI), it is that in order to communicate with the Chief Gendarm, I have to go through a "translator".

Since my Chief only speaks Arabic and French, and I only speak English and Tashlheet, we communicate solely through another person. Sometimes it's a boy walking by on his way to school, sometimes it's another Gendarm that speaks about 10 words of English or today, for instance, it was a man they had recently arrested and was sitting in the little jail cell. The Gendarm speaks Arabic to the man in the cell, the man in the cell speaks Tashlheet to me, I speak English to myself, then I speak Tashlheet back to the man in the cell, and he speaks Arabic to my Chief. Today's "the card will be here tomorrow afternoon" conversation took nearly 15 minutes.

I find these absurdities amusing. It is just one more reality check of the insane reality I currently occupy. Language barriers, cultural barriers and mass confusion have become a part of my daily expectations of life, and frankly, I enjoy the challenge.

Like a fool, I am going to head back to the Gendarm station tomorrow, crossing my fingers and asking Allah to grant me good graces so I can finally get my little pink laminated piece of paper before Rome. Otherwise, we might have a repeat of the Spanish-fiasco only this time, with Claire and Danielle around I will make good on my threat and leave with the stamp or without, possibly never to return!

My fellow PCV friend Diana recently posted a blog post that expresses some points I have been thinking about in recent weeks.

"I’ve collected the following observations during my two weeks in Madrid:Vacations are important. This one allowed me to step away from the small immediate pieces and get a grasp on the bigger picture. As I told someone, Madrid reminded me of life in Los Angeles – but better. Growing up in Los Angeles, living outside of LA, living in Morocco…collectively, my life experiences allowed me to appreciate everything this city had to offer.Living in Morocco for (what will be) 2 years is incredible. I get caught up in the frustrations and forget this sometimes (e.g., last week) but I know that this opportunity has allowed me to grow into a more conscientious person. Priceless are the people, places and experiences I’ve been able to meet, see and partake in.Describing my life in Morocco sounds absurd to anyone who 1) is not a Peace Corps Volunteer serving in Morocco, 2) has not travelled to Morocco, and 3) is a guy who does not fall into categories 1 and 2 above. I don’t mean to offend anyone but the context to understand just isn’t there."

(Check her blog out at Diana's Blog).

Also, vacations aren't just important, they are imperative to our mental sanity. I would loose my mind if I couldn't escape the pressure once in a while.

My holiday cheer is in full effect with these decorations filling my room. I even got some Christmas lights from a volunteer who left, so my room feels "in the spirit" even if the outside world doesn't.

The tree I bought at the superstore last year! Complete with ornaments from my mom!

Merry Christmas to all. I am headed to a village outside of Essaouira to celebrate with some fellow PCVs. It should be a blast. And to all a good night.

As I was browsing Pinterest, which, by the way, I am hooked on, I came across this letter a mother wrote to her daughter who demanded to know if her mother was Santa Clause. I found the letter quite touching and a reminder of the magic of the season.

Dear Lucy,Thank you for your letter. You asked a very good question: “Are you Santa?”I know you’ve wanted the answer to this question for a long time, and I’ve had to give it careful thought to know just what to say.The answer is no. I am not Santa. There is no one Santa.I am the person who fills your stockings with presents, though. I also choose and wrap the presents under the tree, the same way my mom did for me, and the same way her mom did for her. (And yes, Daddy helps, too.)I imagine you will someday do this for your children, and I know you will love seeing them run down the stairs on Christmas morning. You will love seeing them sit under the tree, their small faces lit with Christmas lights.This won’t make you Santa, though.Santa is bigger than any person, and his work has gone on longer than any of us have lived. What he does is simple, but it is powerful. He teaches children how to have belief in something they can’t see or touch.It’s a big job, and it’s an important one. Throughout your life, you will need this capacity to believe: in yourself, in your friends, in your talents and in your family. You’ll also need to believe in things you can’t measure or even hold in your hand. Here, I am talking about love, that great power that will light your life from the inside out, even during its darkest, coldest moments.Santa is a teacher, and I have been his student, and now you know the secret of how he gets down all those chimneys on Christmas Eve: he has help from all the people whose hearts he’s filled with joy.With full hearts, people like Daddy and me take our turns helping Santa do a job that would otherwise be impossible.So, no. I am not Santa. Santa is love and magic and hope and happiness. I’m on his team, and now you are, too.I love you and I always will.Mama

I have been asking for my landlord to install the shower which was kindly donated to me by a leaving volunteer, Martin, since July.

Today he finally did it!

I could not be more excited. I can now take a DAILY hot shower.

I don't have to watch people "showering" during TV shows and get jealous anymore. Woop!

My bathroom with the newly installed shower!

My hot water heater!

In early October, Sarah-Kate and I started the process of building two water towers in neighboring villages just a few kilometers outside of the town's center. These two villages have to hike up and down this huge mountain everyday to fetch water from the well. Thanks to a lot of hard work from a lot of people in the villages and at the commune, the projects are only about three weeks away from completion.

The construction is going well and I am really excited about seeing the final product. In just three short weeks the people of IKroma and IGanouin will have running water for the first time ever!

Here are some photo updates!

All of the men working on building the water tower in Ikroma village. A view of part of the village with the beautiful mountains in the background.

Myself, Lahcen our counterpart and Sarah-Kate at the construction site.

Proof that the water works! The first step in providing running water to the town.The village of IKroma. The construction materials, piping and part of the village of IGanouin.

The men working on constructing the second water tower in the village of IGanouin.

The hand dug trenches to lay the water piping from the well, nearly 1km away.

This past month has been an emotional roller coaster. From so homesick I couldn't even look at a family photo without bursting into tears, to say happy and joyful I wanted to dance and sing in the streets, it seems as though each day will bring a new heightened and over-dramatized emotion.

I think the biggest thing driving this emotional ride has been the finally real and tangible thought of "going home". For years my fellow volunteers and I have been talking about what life will be like at "home", when we are finally back to America, the place we love. Some volunteers have been counting down since we got here.

Now, four months out, I can't understand why the thought of resuming life in America makes me want to throw up.

Will I be able to function? Will I be able to work a job? Will I be able to get back to the work needed for graduate/ law school? Will I be able to interact in social situations? Will I be the "weird" one? Will my life be as amazing and fulfilling as I remember? Will I be able to support myself financially? Will the stupid economy every recover? Will I remember how to find/ buy things? Can I contain myself with the plethora of outstanding food around? Will I have any people around? Will I be able to make new friends?

I don't know why the thought of going home seems so scary. After all, what could be scarier than moving to Morocco. knowing no one?

It seems ironic that I am twenty months into the hardest and scariest thing I have ever done. and yet the thought of returning home, the safest place I know of, seems frightening. I think for now it's just jitters and nerves. I know my fears will be unfounded.

I hear a lot of volunteers and read a lot of articles talking about how "coming home" is even more difficult than leaving. That finding fulfillment and joy in coming home is difficult. That scares me. Could it really be that hard? Will my adjustment be bad?

In my quest to see if there was more information out there to calm my frayed nerves I found the Peace Corps book they send to families of volunteers titled, "Peace Corps, A Few Minor Adjustments," which by the way, seems like the most ironic title possible. In there was a quote I particularly liked and one that might explain my anxiety better.

Most of us agree that although we knew the Peace Corps was go- ing to be hard, it is often hard in a different way than we expected. We all worried about adjusting to the bugs and the heat, but that’s the easy part. It’s more of a challenge to get used to dealing with a perplexing bureaucracy … or cultural barriers.

Maybe this is it, that the anxiety is rooted in the idea of American culture being somewhat different than I remember and that I will be less able to adapt.

I know this is just ranting for now but my with projects wrapping up, my sister and friend's visit. and the thought of looking for work next summer, my nerves are being tested. Thanks for bearing with me. Your support is KEY and appreciated.

Also, my hot shower should get installed tomorrow, God Willing (InShalla) after nearly five months of begging. Better late than never I guess, and just in time for the coldest season!

I love you all. Thanks for hanging in there.

My fellow volunteer friend Nina and I were talking this morning about how much more difficult round two of being away seems. We have done one Thanksgiving, one Christmas, one football season, two birthdays, two Easter's and frankly, it just doesn't seem fair to have to do it again. Keeping this factor in mind, the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving were more difficult than ideal. I was homesick and mostly annoyed that I was missing yet another holiday season; another Black Friday of shopping with my Mom, another day spent baking pies, another round of Christmas movies playing on T.V., it just didn't seem right. Then came Thanksgiving.

This year Erik, a volunteer down in Tata, volunteered to host us all for a Thanksgiving celebration. Tata is far. Far from life, civilization and far from even southern-most volunteers, but it's a unique place that was on my "must see" list before leaving Morocco. Luckily for me two volunteers from the Essaouira region, Nina and Adam, as well as my 10-km-away mate Kate, came to my place the day before so we could all travel together.

Tata's beauty is unlike anything else. There is such solitude and peace in the vast emptiness. The mountains seem to pop out of this barren landscape simply to add texture and depth to the nothingness.

We traveled the first day to a fellow volunteer, Alisa's, site where we took a beautiful walking tour of the lush green gardens amidst the desert, we cooked delicious stuffing and a pie, and ate just about every delicious thing in her refrigerator. The next day we caught an early bus to Tata city, where we could catch a cab to Erik's site in the middle of nowhere.

The feast itself was fantastic. The miracle of the day was that twenty four volunteers managed to get from their homes all over Morocco to Erik's place, without a hitch. I am also not exaggerating when I say he lives in the middle of nowhere. Each volunteer brought a dish (or two) and Erik bought a 44lb turkey for the event. We took pictures, played games, caught up on life and most importantly, ate like kings. The best part of the day was the extremely positive attitude filling Erik's cinder block house. When volunteers get together things tend to get negative, quickly. This holiday seemed like a celebration, like a group of friends just getting together to celebrate in the States. It felt so normal.

After the first round of food was consumed, most people were sprawled out on the floor recovering from their extended stomachs. Per my suggestion, we then went around the room and everyone shared what they were most thankful for. This is a holiday tradition at my house which was great to get to share with everyone else. It made the day.

Overall, we had a blast. It was exactly the fun and fellowship I needed to recover from those very homesick weeks. I only have about 20 weeks left here.... the time is flying. One month until Claire and Danielle's visit and our trip to Rome.

Also, I just got a scholarship award letter from UArkansas to my post box in Morocco so things are looking pretty rosy.

The group of us volunteers celebrating Thanksgiving.

Kate, Nina and Adam in my kitchen baking cookies the night before our trip to Tata.Myself, Ayanna, Eric and Nina at Erik's house. We were all wearing brown.Nina and I having too much fun.Adam, Alisa and Nina in Alisa's gardens/ fields near her house.The amazing plate of Thanksgiving food we had. It was perfect.Bjai and I celebrating.

The desert beauty of Tata.

A little pre-food hangout.

1/2 of our 44lb turkey.

This picture is the crowning glory, me and my pumpkin bread.

Today I found this great --frankly, perfect-- article to describe how I feel about Peace Corps on Huffington Post. I copied it below so check it out, but here is the link: Peace Corps and Failure. I want to thank Maya for her honest and accurate portrayal of Peace Corps life; it is exactly what I have been thinking and feeling for the last months. Volunteer life bursts with cultural faux pas, fruitless projects and second guesses. For two years, I felt like the joke was on me. Even on my best days in Senegal, the sudden scream of "toubab," a taunting word for foreigners, reminded me that my cheerfulness was jinxed, my presence perhaps unwelcome.In West Africa, I confronted the toubab version of myself, a self previously foreign to me that was lethargic, cynical and at home with failure.For a long time I hesitated to admit that I felt incompetent as a Peace Corps volunteer. I felt that if I expressed my suspicion that I was inept, it would confirm criticisms that the program itself is irresponsible and presumptuous. I signed up largely because I saw myself as a go-getter and I wanted a challenge. I have a childlike loyalty to getting things right; I lack a cleverness for bullshitting. Yet these traits, from which I had previously derived strength, became the source of my immense heartbreak.I did extra work in my demonstration garden only to find out later that agriculture agents resented me for it. I had lengthy, optimistic conversations with a village chief about starting a community garden only to discover that I misread his reaction and that he was, in fact, against the whole endeavor.When a project faltered, I wondered if I should blame the cultural difference or my language skills, my lack of expertise or my accidental impropriety. I never knew for sure.And yet, seeing my confidence unravel was helpful. Maybe everyone needs a period in their lives when they barely recognize themselves.The story that Peace Corps volunteers like to tell -- and Americans like to hear -- is one of urgent and awe-inspiring work. Americans like to feel that at least someone is out there fighting all those incomprehensible African problems.This narrative is too simplistic.As the Peace Corps celebrates its 50th anniversary, some still find it hard to put a finger on what exactly the program achieves. There are both quantifiable yields, like number of wells dug and trees planted, and unquantifiable gains, like the intimate bonds volunteers make with people all over the world.One benefit of the program that is never trumpeted (and likely never will be) is that it produces a group of young Americans who understand failure.Americans, especially the variety who join the Peace Corps, are raised to believe that hard work pays off. We come from a place where the phrase, "We'll meet tomorrow at 5," means, "We'll meet tomorrow at 5" -- where you put a stamp on an envelope and it gets delivered.
"Failure is not an option," according to the locker room poster likely brought to us by the same people who birthed "Impossible is Nothing." Americans are immature when it comes to honestly accepting failure and maybe that's why so many of us lack the emotional depth to make sense of it.We all have failures, yet we bury them in the folds of our pasts as curious gaps in our résumés and cryptic replies to direct questions. If we are unable to emerge triumphant, our failures eat away at us.My Senegalese comrades are less brittle. They admit freely that their lives are full of fiascoes, delays and disappointments.When I asked locals in Pulaar how work was going, I didn't often hear: "Oh, just fine!" Instead, the response was a more honest, "I'm trying, little by little." It seems to me that growing up with unpredictability has better equipped the Senegalese people to persevere in the face of real obstacles.The same barriers Senegalese people manage to climb over regularly ended some of my projects. When I tried obtaining a grant for a women's farm, the land rights had to first be legally transferred to the women themselves. While the paperwork lingered in a government office, I foolishly kept preparing for the project that would never be, blocking off months in my calendar that I would devote to it. Meanwhile, the women moved on, continuing their own, smaller version of the farm they wanted. They knew not to rest their hopes in government offices and the men who shuffle within them.I don't mean to give the impression that Peace Corps volunteers don't accomplish anything. We do a lot of the things other aid organizations do, but our version is less grandiose: We hold small-group trainings on childhood nutrition and organic pest control. We help small businesses grow, often through a series of one-on-one interactions. Our hyped-up expectations of success are often quashed--we learn quickly that smaller is better.I survived two years in the Peace Corps. My proudest accomplishment during my time in Senegal, one that can't be expressed on a résumé, is how much I grew up.I now know that no occupation, despite my generation's obsession with passion-following, is without compromise or disappointment. And I know that failure, despite its negative connotations, takes practice.

I found these great little posters on the Facebook page for the Missouri Bureau of Tourism, and I thought they were great. I love my home state and all it has to offer, much more than just hillbillies and red-necks. I cannot wait to eat some Toasted Ravioli and drink some delicious Budweisers in just five short months after my epic return home. Woo hoo.

The silence of town is what I find most ironic. Much like the nation wide silence that encompasses Christmas Day, Eid El-Kebir was no different; my booming and bustling metropolis, eerily quiet. Walking outside was like walking into a new town, a new place, so vacant and empty. It almost scared me.

Most Volunteers and Moroccans celebrate the holiday with their family and loved ones. Since my family is still living in my old town, I didn't think it would be wise for me to head back and visit my old skeletons. Sarah-Kate and her family were nice enough to extend to me an invitation to come and celebrate with them, and celebrate we did.

Sarah-Kate and I spent the day playing with the kiddos, all eight of them. We played games, used the computer, told jokes, ran around and most importantly, I got to hold and play with a five month old baby who fell asleep on my lap. Adorable.

The main event of the day was the eating of sheep/ goat kebabs. I partook, sort-of. Eating half of a kebab, I am happy that that kebab was my last one of my life.

Here are some of my IPhone photos of the day; sorry the quality isn't great.

The daughter watching her uncle clean the newly killed sheep that was hung from the tree.

Yes, it's what you think it is. The left one is the goat, the right one is the sheep. The middle thing is the layer of drying fat; ironically, the best part.

Sarah-Kate and her host sisters.

The most adorable and patient baby girl ever. Also, I am wearing my sweet new fake Ray Bans.Playing with the kiddos. They were crazy.

Yes, she's adorable.

Eid was a great day, I had a blast and am grateful I could share it with Sarah-Kate and her family.

In other news, I got some good news of my own yesterday. My first (of many, hopefully) acceptance "letters" came into my inbox. I was accepted to both Missouri and Arkansas Law. It seems so crazy. I have wanted to go to law school for as long as I can remember, so now that it is actually an option/ reality, I don't know what to do with myself. Since getting exciting news is sort-of anti-climactic on my own, I had a dance party in celebration!

This week has been going well and I am looking forward to the less-than-two-month away visit from Danielle and Claire. Also, how could I forget.... ROME.

ALSO, one last thing. If you are thinking "Wow, I haven't sent Cara anything in a while (or ever) but she is leaving so soon so I should send something now", please send me some coffee. I don't need anything else, I promise. But I need some coffee, sooner rather than later. I am not picky just pick up any old American bag and send it along. It will be much appreciated and loved.

Love you all.

On this rainy and cold November day, I am reminded of the reality of the coming months. After months and months of nearly unbearable heat and relentless sunshine, the coming season will be filled with puddles, rain, mud and most annoying--cold. I believe that everyone faces retro-grade amnesia during times of less-than-ideal life conditions. We block out just how terrible certain times in our lives were, but in this case, the memories of last winter --the weeks spent in my sleeping bag--are flooding back to my shivering body. While Southern Morocco doesn't experience cold the same way as other parts of Morocco, the lack of home insulation and central heating makes every five degree drop in temperature that much worse. My cinder blocks covered in concrete just don't do that well at keeping the chill out and the heat in as I would like. Where is some fiberglass insulation when you need it? At 66F, my house is chilly enough to need long pants, a sweatshirt and my American slippers (which are a life saver). Unfortunately this is only the begging of a long and rainy winter.

Despite the cold/ rain, today has been a productive day. I completed my Small Project's Assistance proposal, made all the goodies I need for this week's meals (i.e. applesauce, peanut butter, lentils, beans, barley, etc) and took a visit to the post office where I got a new IPod cord. Some very nice volunteer friends of mine offered to mail me an extra cord they had lying around, because in the past three weeks I have purchased three separate cords from three separate shops in an attempt to charge my Ipod and Iphone. Two failed within hours of plugging them in, and the third lasted a solid week even after it nearly lit my surge protector on fire, and tripped the breaker. Since I can't buy an Apple brand cord, I have had to settle for the Chinese knock-off versions, which are not serving me well at all.

The post office also had a great Halloween themed box from the lovely Kuhn clan complete with Halloween stickers I gave to the neighbor kids. The candy is always appreciated but I have been on a "let's eat better" kick lately so I divided up the boxes, in an attempt to prevent eating the entire thing (or all of them) at once.

I also made a trip to the local police and got my identity card receipt updated since I still don't have my official (aka laminated) card proving that I am allowed to be. Granted, I turned in all the necessary paperwork on April 17th. It has been over six months of waiting. Hopefully it comes before Rome, but that seems doubtful so I guess I will just pray it comes before my late-April departure.

Yes, it's cold. I don't like it, not one bit.

I also got to spend three days this week in Fez presenting some advice to the newest group of volunteers dealing with harassment. Along with two other volunteers, we covered types of harassment volunteers face, and best-practices to deal with this unwanted and undeserved attention. I have mentioned this before many in-a-blogpost but sexual harassment here in Morocco is terrible. From men constantly soliciting me for sex, to people knocking on my door at all hours of the night, it seemed for a while that I couldn't step out of my front door without wanting to assault every many I saw. Those days were particularly dark and difficult to deal with, so when I was approached by Peace Corps staff to help start a Harassment Working Group, I was ecstatic. Presenting this week was the best realization of just how far I have come. From angry, bitter, and in need of counseling, to someone with the necessary tools--both internal and external--to deal with, and thrive throughout my service.

I wasn't about to let the way getting harassed feels define my service, I thought I deserved more than that. The new volunteers are facing the same difficult circumstances I endured, possibly even worse, so my hope is that our training empowered them in some small way, enabling them to take back control of their service, and not let the way some men act define how the feel everyday. My hope would be that none of them spend days in their house, too afraid to venture outside, like I did early-on.

The other great thing about this training was that immediately after our session, the volunteers found out where their new communities, and homes, were going to be. They got their site placements. Some were so happy, others were crying out of fear. I was immediately taken back to April 2010 when we were in the same place, scared out of our minds, and unsure what to expect about this new place we would have to spend two years living in.

With no measuring stick, these volunteers just got a name and some numbers on a piece of paper. What they didn't know is how awesomely far they are going to go in the next months. From a name on a piece of paper to a community, a feeling of belonging, and the confidence that comes with doing something really difficult, like moving to a village all by yourself. I was so excited for them, their whole service, and their whole lives are ahead of them.

As I am finishing up things in my final six months, they are just beginning what will undoubtably be a life-changing and defining experience. I guess I hadn't realized just how far I had come, and how much I had changed until I saw them in the same place I was. They became my measuring stick, a way for me to see just how different things look just twenty short months after I was in that same place. I can hardly believe how far I have come, how far we all have come.

After talking out these revelations with our Country Director, Peggy, I realized that most volunteers don't realize just how much stuff they have overcome, how much strength they have, and how far they have come since they boarded that plane in America. Peace Corps changes people, it has certainly changed me. I know there is a lot of criticism out there about the Peace Corps, it's treatment of victims of violence, the real effectiveness of the development work, and how much of an impact the volunteers are actually making on a local level and I don't disagree. I think that there is great need for improvements, like in all organizations, but I know for a fact that Peace Corps does good both domestically and abroad. Communities who only know America from T.V. meet Americans, real people with real lives. They realize we are not the war-crazy, money hungry, sluts they thought we were but instead people with families and dreams, just like them. Most importantly, Peace Corps provides America with a citizenry that is educated in cultures and life-styles far different from the one they know. The people who go abroad as volunteers come back as better citizens for humanity, with more respect for differences and the confidence to take on really difficult challenges. This can only mean good things for America.

I guess this past week has just been one of those "come-to-Jesus" weeks, where my reality has finally caught up with me. Twenty-one months ago I was an American college graduate who loved bar-hopping and college football. I was defined by my university, my sorority, my lifestyle and my hometown. Twenty months later I am an American Peace Corps volunteer defined not by those things but by my native English language, my wearing of pants instead of skirts, and the fact that I am not slaughtering a whole sheep for the big holiday.

Things sure have changed for me, but definitely for the better. Hopefully when I get home in late April you will all agree I have changed for the better, and if not, we can cross that bridge when we get there.

Thanks for reading. I love you all. Thank you for your support, as always.

Happy almost- Eid El-Kebir (the Big Holiday).

The world bursts at the seams with people ready to tell you you’re not good enough. On occasion, some may be correct. But do not do their work for them. Seek any jobs; ask anyone out; pursue any goal. Don’t take it personally when they say “no”—they may not be smart enough to say “yes."~Keith Olbermann

I first saw this quote on a Starbucks cup during college, it has stayed with me all these years. The takeaway message: we are all good enough. Yes, you, even you, you are good enough.

When I started the process of applying for law and graduate school in April, I wrote an arbitrary date on my calendar, October 28th, and covered it with the words "ALL APPLICATIONS SUBMITTED". Today is indeed October 28th, a full seven months after writing that date down, and while my beloved St. Louis Cardinals are playing in Game 7 of the World Series, I am celebrating something of my own.

I am done with applications. I have to type this again just to prove how excited I am about it, I AM DONE, YES, DONE.

Eleven law school applications and one graduate application are submitted and complete, ready for review.

Now comes the hard part, the inevitable wait. Hopefully I hear some good (or bad, I guess) news by February/ March. For now, I wait, and work on other pressing stuff since I AM DONE.

Since no one is really around to celebrate my good news, I am having a dance party in honor of my accomplishment, please don't judge me.

"Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; but remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for."

I found this quote on Pinterest, my new addiction, (thanks Brittany) and thought it was quite fitting of my time here.

One of the craziest phenomenon I have witnessed while living here is the cycles of moods and feelings that Peace Corps Volunteers from my group go through. There is an infamous paper Peace Corps handed to us on one of our first days in country called "The Life-Cycle of a Volunteer". I think I have even quoted it in this blog a few times, but essentially the paper is a written and pictorial representation of the way most volunteers feel at any given time. This paper is dead on. Yes, dead on.

I could be one of those crazy physics principals which explains it-- because we observed the paper and understand it, our moods have changed because of it-- but frankly, I doubt it. It just seems that whenever I am feeling a certain way, my fellow 2nd year Environment and Health volunteers are feeling pretty much the exact same way. People who see themselves feeling more negatively than everyone us usually use that as a cue that it might be time for them to re-evaluate their options about living here.

This month is no different. Today, I read two blogs from two friends, both touched on the same point. Then I talked to two friends on the phone, same exact sentiment. We are finally happy here. We finally live here. We are not as anxious to leave or desperate to get out. We finally feel content.

I agree with this sentiment entirely and it's finally a good place to be. Eighteen months in, things are going smoothly. I speak enough of the language, understand enough of the customs/ cultures/ way of life and am less surprised by out-of-the ordinary things. The roller coaster of life here seems to be on one of those flat parts, where we are moving quickly but nothing is changing to suddenly.

I only have about six months left here, I am hoping to leaving mid-April so it's that strange mix of being anxious to leave but not quite ready to go.

Most of my fellow PCV's are applying for schools or looking for jobs. I am included in that bunch. With eight applications and only four more to go, I am on the downhill slope of that as well.

For those of you who have been asking, I will explain my grad/ law school situation a little better. The gist is that for as long as I can remember I have wanted to go to law school. When senior year came around and I should have been applying, I hedged and applied for the Peace Corps. Then when Peace Corps came around, I needed to confront this life-decision again, only this time with a little more perspective. Frankly, I am grateful I waited. In college I was too near sided, too focused on the present which involved parties, being President and class. I didn't have enough perspective to think long-term. Now, two years later, my life has changed dramatically for the better. I have a better idea of what I want and expect out of life.

Now that I have had the time to come to this epiphany, I have decided that what I should be doing is environmental policy. Whether that be at a local, state or national level I am not sure, but I know it's the right track. I have always loved environmental work and have a great passion for the science. I guess it's what I always thought I should be doing, without, in the past, being able turning the abstract concepts into the tangible.

I am applying to eleven law schools and one graduate program. Both are means to an end. I can do environmental work with either, just two paths leading similar ways. Frankly, I want the graduate program bad, really bad,` but I don't know where life is going to lead and I am just happy to be along for the ride.

Once the applications are submitted, I am just going to cross my fingers and pray someone, anyone accepts me so I can start this next phase of my life. If it doesn't work out, maybe it wasn't supposed to and I can do something else. Things work out the way they are supposed to.

I hope this clears up any confusion and believe me, you will be the first to know if/ when anyone accepts me, so don't worry about that.

In other news, my work project is coming along great. I am currently in the process of writing and submitting my proposal for funding to build the water tower. As it turns out, it is larger and more expensive than we originally thought so we are partnering with other NGO's (non-governmental organizations) to get the rest of the funding. The tower should start construction the middle of November, right after Eid El-Kebir (the biggest Islamic holiday). I am excited.

Alright well I am off to make some chickpea burgers, that is if the chickpeas ever finish cooking. Bye for now.

Oh yeah, only 2 ish months until Danielle and Claire get here and we go to Rome. My ticket is bought and I can't wait. I literally can't wait.

Oh man, life has been insane here recently. The last eight weeks have consisted of a trip to Spain, three trips to Rabat and three trips to Fez. Each trip is 12+ hours with the trip to Fez nearing 17 hours. I feel like I have been doing nothing but traveling.

Granted, it has been a blast. With lots of meetings, an English teaching training workshop, a concert from my dear friend Socorra and applications due, my life finally has a "to-do" list. I haven't written a to-do list in years.

Now I am back in my village for another week or so, then back to Fez for a training session I am hosting with the newest group of volunteers. My applications are nearing completion and will be done before Halloween :) Four down, eight to go.

My flight to Rome in January is booked, finally. Claire, Danielle and I are going to have a blast, I just know it.

My hometown redbirds (the St. Louis Cardinals) are in the World Series and I couldn't be more excited. Go Cards.

I know this is random, much like a brain fart but I wanted to give you an idea of where I am now, both mentally and physically.

Only about six months left, yes six months. Then it's back to bills, car payments, social obligations and school! I couldn't be more excited.

Socorra rocking out at her concert at Cafe Clock in Fez.

Our super-nice hotel where Sarah-Kate and I stayed in Essaouira with her family.

My delicious breakfast (and my new purple plate). Sweet potatoes are in season here, so I eat them as often as I can. Jancy Morgan also taught me to grow my own bean sprouts out of lentils.

Colin, Maggie, Mina, myself and Socorra at Socorra's concert at Cafe Clock in Fez.

My homemade black bean burger. So yummy. One of the benefits of internet access and too much time means that I can spend my day searching for new recipes. This burger was amazing!

Last Christmas I got this great day-by-day calendar from the Kuhn family and today provided an especially profound proverb. I thought I would share.

This weekend the University of Missouri (Mizzou) will celebrate the 100th anniversary of the invention of Homecoming so I have decided to decorate my blog in the distinct black and gold that defines and embodies my fair alma matter.

In 1911, Athletic Director Chester Brewer invited Missouri fans to "come home" for the game against our arch rival, Kansas (kU). Over 9,000 people attended the game and Homecoming was born.

For the last 100 years Mizzou has been celebrating Homecoming in style. With one of the largest blood drives in the nations, a huge parade, and house decorations which take months to prepare, Homecoming is the highlight of the school year for students and alumni alike.

This year will be no different.

I am sad, frankly devastated, I can't be at the 100th celebration. I am sure it is going to be a blast. I am expecting lots of pictures, so be prepared.

Every true son, so happy hearted, the sky's above us are blue. There's a spirit deep within us, Ole Missouri here's to YOU!

GO TIGERS.

This week Morocco has been featured as an 'Destination Adventure' travel destination. There are some great articles, great photos and even better quotes.

Here's my favorite:

"Whatever exotic dream I had of Morocco before I went was more than confirmed. It was way better than I ever expected, and by far the farthest thing from our life in the U.S. that I have ever visited."

Yes, Morocco is fun, beautiful, and tough. I love it.

I saw this really nice bus outside our hotel in Fez. Awesome, right? It reminded me of home.

Sarah-Kate and I have been working hard these past few weeks to get our water access projects started in two neighboring villages. We are collaborating with the commune and a local association to help fund and implement these projects. Building a water tower, installing many kilometers of piping and ensuring that all 18 houses in each village have a water tap are our primary objectives. After the project is complete in January we will collaborate with the local health clinic to provide health lessons to the women of the village! This is what is taking up nearly all my time recently but it's been fun, a lot of fun. The enthusiasm the villagers have is contagious.

This is the association in the village I will be working in. They are quite a fancy village with lots of nice houses. The men were super cooperative and the meeting went well, really well.

These are the women who will benefit most from this running water. As of now they have to hike about 1km down hill and the back up this HUGE hill everyday to reach this well. I can only imagine how many hours a day they carry water. Soon, they will just be able to turn the faucet.

Me and the ladies. I still can't believe they let us take this picture. The ladies are hilarious and we are going to have a blast, I just know it.

I spent the last five days enjoying the spledors and joys of Rabat as well as the company of many other Peace Corps Volutneers. One thing that seemed to be the theme of my consistent internal monologue lately is the reality of leaving. Being only eight (or possibly seven) months away from close-of-servicing (COS), the reality of life here is coming into focus.

Things I will miss about Morocco:

1. Amazing seasonal fresh fruits and vegitables

2. Freshly baked bread, all the time

3. Being able to travel anywhere without a car

4. The excitement people feel when I speak Tashlheet to them

5. Living alone in a relatively stress-free environment

6. Being able to travel around Europe when I need a break

7. Weekends in Agadir

8. Everyone welcoming you to their house for dinner, even if you just met them

9. Speaking Tashlheet, since I won't ever be able to do it again

10. Having ample time to read, study, think, run and cook

Things I will NOT miss:

1. Being harassed

2. The way some men look at me

3. Hours upon hours of un-airconditioned travel

4. Constantly having to ask "what?" when people talk to me

5. The constant anxiety I feel when I leave my house

6. Having to carry around my passport

This is just a summary of how I am feeling now, granted, these feelings change with the weeks but the reality is that Morocco has been really good to (for) me and I am grateful for that.

This morning Sarah-Kate and I dressed in our conservative best and headed over to the local health clinic to meet with the nurses. We had coordinated this meeting time yesterday with the local doctor, so we weren't coming in blindly.

A few months back, Sarah-Kate coordinated the teaching of these health lesssons by the nurses at the clinic for a tiny village she had helped to install running water in. The lessons were only supposed to be an hour long, covering topics like hand-washing, purifying water, breast-feeding and pre-natal care.

When we got to the clinic today, the nurse who was supposed to give the lessons bailed. She said that the timing was too late and she wanted to do it another day. Annoyed, Sarah-Kate and I headed back home, figuring we would try again tomorrow.

At 3:30pm, one of the men from the Commune (county-council) knocked on my door, ready to head to the village. After about 30 minutes of driving around, trying to get ahold of the doctor, Sarah-Kate and I decided to just teach the lessons ourselves. Mind you, I have never taught a health-lesson before but like most things in Morocco, I just went with it.

About 40 women came to our little lesson where we showed clips from a health video and attempted to understand what the women were saying. Most of the women were disappointed that the nurse didn't come, since she is the one with the medicine and technical knowledge but they seemed to enjoy hanging out with us. We drank some sodas (a big treat), ate cookies and chatted mostly, but I would say it was a success. The women were receptive and thankful.

This is just another example of how being a volunteer just means you learn to think on your feet. 95% of what I talk about, give lessons on or help out with I know nothing about. The reality is that having gone to school, I know how to research, ask questions and organize. These are the skills that are most valuable, well that and improvisation!

We should be having another lesson this Wednesday, InShalla, with one of the nurses. I am hoping it works out, just so the kind women of the village can ask their questions to someone who knows!

I don't feel that I often get a chance to explain how good things are here, how really good. This blog can easily become a place for venting but I wanted to use this post to explain that for the first time in what feels like a long time, things are really good.

My new site is working out great, I have made two trips to Rabat in the past month (meaning delicious food and amazing company), I have a pending Rabat/ Fez trip in the next week, I have been getting to run every day, the weather is cooler and my applications are going well. Now with my new and improved internet connection I have the opportunity to Skype/ chat with my friends and family, keeping me more connected into their lives than ever.

I only have about 7 months left in Morocco, whew. Where did the time go?

For now, I am working on submitting law/ graduate school applications and getting started on two running water projects in two smaller villages just a few kilometers away. Yesterday we had a four hour meeting with the associations and the women of the respective villages and I am feeling good about getting started. These poor women haul water up this mountain every day, needless to say they are getting excited about the idea of having running water.

On the downside this is my second fall away from home, which I don't like. I miss college football games, the leaves changing color and the brisk fall wind. The leaves on my background are my way to live vicariously through my own blog. This year is also Mizzou's 100th anniversary Homecoming. I don't even know how to explain how sad I am that I am going to miss it.

My sister and best friend are booking their tickets to Morocco this weekend. We are going to do Morocco and then off to Rome for a few days. Rome will be my last big vacation before the end of my service and I couldn't be more excited!

That is all for my random updates, thanks for reading! Love you all.

I have had many complaints for a long time and while I have aired my grievances with friends and family, now is finally the time to speak them here, for all of my followers to see.

I am done with the Bank of America. When I was a young and naive nineteen year old, I moved to DC for the summer and realized the local bank I had been using since my early teenaged years didn't offer any free ATM's in DC. Annoyed at the ATM fees, I opened a second account at the Bank of America. I have pretty much regretted that decision since ever since; but now, nearly five years later I am free of the Bank of America. I will never look back.

From crazy non-stop fees to terrible customer service, this bank has done nothing but cause me grief. For such a large bank, so big in fact the US government had to spend $97 billion dollars to bail them out (compared to the meager $350 million Peace Corps worldwide operates on), I cannot for the life of me understand why the simplest of accounts, a personal checking account, seems to be the most complicated. Every time I would call, visit a branch or attempt to get my questions answered I got so much hassle I forgot for a minute whether I was asking them to just check my balance or to relocate permanently to the North Pole.

There just never seemed to be a common thread, a link, between the people at the call-center, the bank branches and the ATM. For some reason, they all seem to operate on a different set of instructions.

After lots of frustration and confusion, I finally decided to close my accounts, all of them. I am now free of the endless $5 a month service charge to keep my savings account "open" and the yearly maintenance fee for the privilege of allowing Bank of America to hold my money.

I always thought that banks would want to be nice to their customers, thus encouraging more money, more investment in the bank so the bank could turn around and re-invest my money, making lots of interest off the back end. Bank of America seemed to miss this memo.

The good news is that I am now done. Free of the chains and fees and off to bank where real people answer the phone when you call the customer service line. Yes I said that correctly, ING Direct actually has people answer their phones on the first ring. Try that for a change.

If you are reading this and you are a happy Bank of America customer, I am glad you have had a better experience than I. But, if you are reading this and thinking that you have been wanting to move for a while, I suggest it, the freedom is liberating.

Thanks for being a part of my rant, I love you all so much more for it.

"It was a declaration of war by stateless actors bent on changing our way of life, who believed these horrible acts, these horrible acts of terror directed against innocents could buckle our knees, could bend our will, could begin to break us and break our resolve. But they did not know us. Instead, that same American instinct that send all of you into the breach between the fourth and fifth corridors galvanized a new generation of patriots, the 9/11 generation."

- Vice President Joe Biden on September 11th, 2011.

I can't believe it's been ten years.

After the fun and games in Spain, it's time to get back to work.

On the personal front, I am working on law school/ grad school applications and should hopefully be done with them pretty close to the middle of October. On a side note, I cannot imagine trying to apply from my old site, with no internet. The shear frequency of trips I would have had to take are hard to think about. Having internet is great. The applications are labor intensive but I am enjoying the structure and the thinking involved in completing them. It is just furthering my itch to get back to school.

On a more professional front, Sarah-Kate (my site mate) and I have been visiting sites, talking with community men (and women) and getting ready to start writing some grants for water access projects this fall. Sarah-Kate has already completed two running water projects in two small villages surrounding our town and now we are going to tag-team the next two, hopefully building a water tower and laying pipe so that the communities can have running water. There is also potential in a project for developing a septic system to help the community deal with waste water (right now they dump it into a dry creek bed). Sarah-Kate is hosting some health lessons with the women of the local clinic and I am hoping to get started on a women's empowerment workshop (similar to what I did in April) with some of the women in the cooperative here in town. There is certainly a lot of potential out there, a drastic change from my previous site. I will keep you posted as things progress.

Sarah-Kate and her team of local men working on building the water tower to provide running water to the small community.

Sarah-Kate talking with Lahcen and some other men of the small village to get started on another water access project this fall.

The men of the small village that are interested and willing to work to get running water access for their community.

We took a hike around some of the neighboring villages and I took this picture. It is pretty much exactly what southern Morocco is like, full of Argan trees, mosques and mountains.

Spain, Spain. What a wonderful place. In an effort to escape the unbelievably hot August Moroccan sun and the stressors of Ramadan, Dave's parents graciously granted us use of their time share just 15 miles away from Marbella in the south of Spain.

We started out our trip flying from Marrakech to Madrid. Unfortunately the Moroccan authorities were not nearly as excited about my trip as I was and were giving me too much hassle at the airport. With about 30 seconds to spare I broke down crying, started yelling at the guy in English and he finally stamped my passport. I barely made the flight. The doors were closing and I had to yell down from the ground to prevent that from happening before I was on board.

We spend two nights in Madrid and took a day trip to Toledo. Toledo was a beautiful city and we had a blast just walking around and looking at the amazing architecture.

From Madrid we went to Cordoba and spent another two nights there.

Another bus ride from Cordoba, we ended up in Malaga to meet Socorra and Colin after their ferry ride from Morocco.

The last week we spent lounging by the pool, using the free WiFi, playing put-put, going to the grocery store and sitting at a Pirate Bar by the beach. It was the exact recipe for relaxation. Beer, food, sunshine, water.

Needless to say I came back to Morocco refreshed and rejuvenated. I feel ready to take on the last eight months and then start the next phase of my life, wherever that may be.

Here is a photographic journey through our trip:

The most delicious apple pie.

We did a lot of this, sitting around a patio drinking beer/ Sangria and playing cards.

Mercado de San Miguel in downtown Madrid.

Felicie, Alex, Sami and I at the "Museum of Ham" in Madrid, where everything is a Euro.

A beautiful cathedral in Toledo.

Happiness, in the form of Sangria at Mercado de San Miguel.

Another beautiful church in Cordoba.

Playing a game of put-put at our resort outside Marbella.

This is mostly what we did, sit by the beach and drink San Miguels.

Viva Mijas! Mijas held a great concert we went to on the beach our last night in Spain.

Our ferry! There are numerous 18-wheelers and large trucks. Before the gate was even down the trucks were honking their horns just like in Morocco. I gave them the "really" hand gesture and the Moroccan men around us just burst out laughing.

Yes, the train in Morocco was blowing our mind (or wrinkling our brains). They refurbished some of the cars since the last time we took the train. Wow, they were so nice.

My cousin Danny and his long-time girlfriend Brittany just got married! I am bummed I couldn't be at the wedding but was so excited when I got this picture from my dad of their big day! Congrats to the new Stuckels.

Apparently, recently people have deemed my face worthy to be shown on the small screen and even in print! It sounds crazy, I know.

In April, the Tashlheet (local Berber) channel came and did a filming while I was living in my old village. They interviewed me in Tashlheet and in English, they filmed me "helping" the women make Argan oil and even dressed me up like a Berber bride to be paraded around on a horse. After asking and asking when it might air, everyone kept telling me "later, God Willing". Figuring it would be just a 5-6 minute showing during the news, I was sure my interview was going to get cut, seeing as how my Tashlheet isn't exactly at a "natives" level and that there would be a short clip of me making oil or dressed as a bride.

A few weeks ago I was walking through my new town when I heard a man yelling for me. Ignoring him, as usual, I proceeded to walk past him. He then starting yelling "I saw you on T.V. I saw you on T.V. You are the American who speaks Tashlheet." I immediately stopped and turned around. He then told me how he had seen my interview on the Tashlheet channel and how cool he thought it was that the "American that speaks Tashlheet" now lives in his village. He also told me that my Tashlheet was good (another check mark for my self-confidence).

A few days later a fellow PCV called me and told me her entire host family had seen me on the T.V. and they were so impressed that there were other Americans who could speak their language. I was quickly becoming famous, in rural southern Morocco.

Apparently everyone but me has seen this clip. I have scoured the internet with no luck. Since I don't have a T.V. and I couldn't even begin to guess what the Moroccan re-run schedule is, I might never get to see my silly self speaking Tashlheet on Moroccan T.V. Either way I am a local celebrity now, which is pretty cool.

If that wasn't enough, yesterday night (on my birthday, might I add) I got a Facebook message from a sorority sister telling me that my face was on the cover of our quarterly Kappa Delta magazine, The Angelos! I immediately went to the link and was SHOCKED to find my face plastered across the front cover!

Last fall there was a call in the magazine asking for stories about people who volunteer. I sent in my information and the editor, Judy, and I traded emails for a few months, outlining what life is like here. When she asked for pictures, I assumed they would be small and just accompany the paragraph or so article deep in the magazine. I was surprised to see my smiling self on the front cover and a LONG article inside the magazine detailing what life is like here. I guess if I would have known that the pictures might end up on the cover of a magazine, I might have chosen ones where I look more showered, more put-together. Alas, this is what I look like though, without running water or daily hot showers. So fellow Kappa Deltas, this is what it really looks like to be a Peace Corps Volunteer. It surely is much less glamorous than when I was an active in college.

Check out the magazine article at http://www.kappadelta.org/angelosmagazine

Sorry for the lack of posts, I have been on vacation.

Spain has been amazing, so wonderfuly great. I will post pictures and updates when I am back in Morocco but for now, I am going to hit the beach and drink some beers!

Adios.

This is the outside of my house, yes I realize it's purple!

The window in room. Windows are quite a luxury/ rarity in Moroccan architecture.

Yes friends, the time we have all be awaiting is finally here, Ramadan 2011. (We were pretty sure yesterday was going to be the big day, but it was a fake out, the real start is TODAY). It's a bigger and better version of Ramadan 2010, it's going to be hotter and take up more of the month of August than last year! I also have a much better idea of what I am in for.

Last year I posted next-to-nothing about Ramadan because, to be frank, I was not in a good place AT ALL. I was not feeling like my chipper self and I didn't want to share my misery with the rest of the world wide web. This year, it's day one and I am feeling good, so alas, I will post.

Ramadan is the holiest month in Islam. Consisting of 30 days of fasting, praying and abstaining from "bad" things (i.e. smoking). From sun-up to sun-down Muslims fast from all food and drink as a way to show their faith to God and also to begin to understand what life is like for those less fortunate than themselves. Ramadan is a month filled with prayer, reflection and fellowship with family. The breaking of the fast is the most exciting part of the day. After the call-to-prayer, Moroccans gather in large family/ community groups and break fast together with traditional foods. It lasts for many hours and is definitely the most 'active' time of day! Before the sun rises again (around 4 am) another meal is held and then Moroccans go back to sleep. The other key component to Ramadan is alms, or the giving of money/ food/ ect to those less fortunate.

While Ramadan is a holy month for Muslims and a time that is very important and special in their yearly calendar, it is not my holy month or holy time.

Part, well a BIG part of Peace Corps is learning to integrate into our communities. I decided early on that I would integrate, not assimilate, into my community. I came to Morocco as an America, who wanted to learn about Moroccan cultures, languages and religions and in return the people I interact with can learn a little bit about me and where I come from. This is the name of the game, cultural exchange. It's two thirds of our mission!

A lot of volunteers gripe about Ramadan and all the challenges associated with living in a culture where for an entire month, people aren't eating or drinking water during the hottest time of the year. I am also guilty of this, to an extent. The reality is that while I support and love Moroccan culture, this is one facet that is a little harder to swallow.

I dislike Ramdan the same way I dislike Christmas (FYI, I love Christmas). I love the idea, the fellowship, the sharing of food and gifts. I love the happy and excited feeling that comes in the weeks leading up. I don't like the heightened stress, the short tempers and how some people can seemingly be at their worst. This doesn't mean I don't like Ramadan or Christmas, because I do, frankly I love and appreciate both. There are just limitations. We have to take the good with the bad.

Being in Morocco and experiencing Ramadan is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that we in the Peace Corps get to do twice. I didn't fast last year and I am not planning on fasting this year either. Most people in the villages ask "Are you going to fast?" and to them, I usually make up some silly response to avoid flat out answering the question, "no". The reality is that most people I interact with have no concept of a place where people AREN'T fasting and that's okay. That's just their reality.

I choose not to fast because frankly, it's hard, it's hot and it is not a part of my religion and culture. I follow my Catholic/ Christian holidays, observe the sometimes silly rules of the church and do my part to follow my faith. I just see no immediate benefit for me to fast during this hot-as-heck month.

This post was not meant to discount those who choose to fast (either Muslim or not). Frankly, congrats to you all. It is a challenge I am not willing to accept!

This year a group of us have decided to beat the Ramadan challenges (i.e. heat) and head to Spain for some fun-in-the sun and Sangria. Just what the doctor ordered.

To all my American friends, I hope you are enjoying your heat wave, it's just a small taste of what life is like here in the Souss of Morocco, just minus the air conditioning.

Most things in life I have a pretty clear cut view on them. I either like them, don't like them or don't take the time to form an opinion. Running is one thing I cannot figure out. When I try and define how I feel about running, like/dislike are not strong enough adjectives, I have to move towards hate/love.

The entirety of my soccer career as a youngster, I hated running. My Mom always told me that hate was too strong a word but Mom, I am sorry, I hated running. I would have been a much better and more successful soccer player had I liked it just a little bit more.

When college started and I no longer had to run because someone else told me to, I started to enjoy it a little more. For a while I was a vigilant rec-center visitor and for a brief stint in South Carolina, a running-aholic. Running had started to grow on me.

After moving to Morocco and living in site for about 3 months I was having a tough time dealing with the many "don'ts" of life here.

Don't wear short sleeves.

Don't talk to men.

Don't smile too much.

Don't make eye contact.

Don't. Don't. Don't.

Since running was one of those don'ts (since it violated the going outside too much- don't and the making yourself too attractive to men-don't) I choose it as my personal form of rebellion. The first day I started running I got up at 6 am, put on more clothes than a person should to go outside in the desert in the summer and ran a path that leads to no where. By the time I got back, my cooperative women were at my front door up in arms. They told me I couldn't run, that it just wasn't allowed. Aggravated, I told them that I was American, not Moroccan and that in America we run, freely.

I guess the elders were consulted and something of a small town meeting happened with the women, resulting in "permission" to go. After that, I had a fan club. Women would wait for me and cheer after my runs. They would pat me on the back and say how they wish they could run too. It was pretty good for a while.

Then, a volunteer not too far from me got attacked on her daily run and that was it, I was done running. With no 911 to call and no people within shouting distance, my run just seemed too risky.

Jump forward to July 2011, I have a new site, a site-mate and a better attitude. Sarah-Kate is a runner (I am more a jogger/ walker) so we get up every morning and make an hour long run/walk towards the outer villages. It's envigorating.

So as of now, I like running, but I definitely don't love it.

So you wanna run in Morocco? Grab your clothes. Despite the 100+ temperatures near the end of our run, it's long sleeves, long pants and something to cover your butt (or at least most of it). This yoga jacket from Mizzou and Claire's old yoga pants are lifesavers.

This is my new house!

The living room.

My super nice bathroom which will soon have a shower, a HOT shower.

My hallway!

Yes, I have windows, real windows!

My bed!

My bedroom!

My hallway!

The other half of my kitchen.

My kitchen.

After a week long adventure with Tracy I came home to find my parent's amazing birthday present, a birthday box! Complete with all the best goodies and a new pair of yoga pants!

The AMAZING birthday box my family sent!

Sarah-Kate enjoying the chicken tacos we made thanks to the tortillas my family sent and the avocado we found in site! They were so YUMMY!

I recently listened to the newest This American Life podcast titled, Game Changer and thought that might be a great way to categorize my last month. Two different visits from three great friends, saying goodbye to one community and hello to another, moving everything I own in one tiny truck with only a broken mirror (yes, I realize that is not a good omen) and broken plate as well as booking our Ramadan adventure through Spain.

All in all I fell lucky that things are going well and look forward to the coming nine months, the end is drawing near.

Tracy is here now, enjoying the sites and sounds of Marrakech and tomorrow we are headed to the beautiful beach town of Essaouira. It will be a blast.

Sort of like a cross between a family reunion, a church picnic and a county festival, Ait Erkha's annual Moussum is an adventure, to say the least. Held over 3 days, it is a town (and commune) wide celebration of the lives of three Moroccan women who have attained saint-like status for their commitment to the Muslim faith and the extraordinary lives they lead. The most recent was buried shortly after my arrival here in May of 2010.

Family members, friends and fellow Moroccans travel into my tiny town by the thousands from places as far away as France and Rabat. Music, dancing and a large souk (market) are the cornerstones of the festival. My counterpart and her family are closely related to 2 of the women buried in town and they live in the house attached to the Zawid and serve as the watch-guards over the tomb. Hundreds of people each day flock to their house to meet with long lost family and friends, enjoy a glass of tea and eat. The eating is a little bit out of control. Sort of like Thanksgiving for hundreds, this year an entire camel was killed and eaten by these swarms of people in the form of Tajine and Cous Cous, two of Moroccans staple meals.

Last year this festival occurred when I was only 4 months into my journey in Morocco and only 2 months after arriving in my site. I remember it being overwhelming, to say the least, with lots of interested parties with lots of questions about who I was and what I was doing in this tiny town. I worked the cooperative booth, danced at the concerts and helped do dishes, all of which required little language, a necessity at the time.

Now, a year later, I can hardly believe it. It is a true marker and indicator of how far I have come in the past year and how much life has changed in such a seemingly short period of time. I no longer cringe at the thought of meeting (and greeting) large groups of women, no longer cry at the thought of having to try and understand everyone's Tashlheet and no longer have to spend the better part of days just waiting for things to happen. Life is so different here but yet so familiar.

This particular indicator has been so eye-opening because of the many people I met at this festival that have sought me out this year, the second time around. It seems like only yesterday I met them, talked to them and tried to figure out their relations to these women. Family trees are quite complicated in Morocco was people have very extended families and some men having many wives, I have a hard time keeping track.

The festival has come at a bitter-sweet time in the year. While last year it was sort of my introduction to the village, this year it serves as my exit from life here. As I embark on the next stage of my journey, in a new place, a new town, a new set of people, the comforting felling is quickly overrun with anxiety. I can vividly remember how difficult my initial integration was, from constantly meeting new people with difficult to remember names to attempting to understand what they are saying, doing it all over again seems slightly daunting.

The bright side is that this time around I am better prepared, much much better prepared. I know have the language, cultural know-how and the wear-with-all to handle integration round 2. I am positive that this time around it will be easier, or at least less anxiety ridden than last time.

As I sit outside my house, typing this blog entry, the sounds of the festival are radiating through the town, despite my significant distance from the source. Men, women and children are out and about, shopping, dancing and playing; quite the change from the normal scenery of men outside, women inside and kid's throwing rocks. This festival is the kind of Morocco I wish I could bring back home and share. It shows the love, the spirit and the culture of my neighbors and friends that so embodies them. The companionship, loyalty to their village and their culture, and the enjoyment they find in one another is what makes this community, and so many like it, so special. I think that is what gives it the "family" reunion feel. It's like everyone, from all over Morocco and the world can come back together, to their roots, to eat traditional food, sing traditional songs and speak in their native and cultural tongue. You can just feel the energy and frankly, it's invigorating.

I have a dear and very wise friend here in the Peace Corps who recently presented some alternative slogans for Peace Corps (currently slogan is Peace Corps: The Toughest Job You Will Every Love). My favorite is, Peace Corps: You have never been so conflicted about a job you're not sure you had.

I belly laugh every time I read this quote because of how true it is. Volunteers consistently find themselves conflicted about their "role" here. From trying to decide in what capacity they can actually help to locating viable counterparts and even deciding the true sustainability of projects, volunteers and constantly trying to figure out their role here. I think this is part of the experience. Part of learning and being is a constant quest trying to find out who you are and where you fit into the universe, Peace Corps is no different.

I have been thinking a lot about this recently with the decision to move sites. My community has been so welcoming and open to me and I feel like they were more worthy of the few projects I provided for them. If I could, I would buy my cooperative that car they need to sell their products all over Morocco, I would build a new women's center complete with TVs and computers and sewing machines, I would even open a brand new health center so sick children could have a Pediatrician to see. The reality is that I cannot do these things and that buy doing these things, my community would not greatly benifit in the long-term.

Peace Corp's development model of "sustainable" development is tough. The simple thing to do is buy, or build, the much harder thing to do is to teach someone how to buy or build their own things. This process is difficult and takes time. The sole purpose of volunteers going abroad for 2 years is that volunteers NEED that time to be able to get some sustainable projects done. Their community needs to trust them and care for them in-order for things to happen.

After thinking about my community and the things I have helped them with, I came to the realization that I cannot be of benefit to them or myself any longer. There are too many external factors that are inhibiting our combined success and by grinding away the next 10 months would only leave me discouraged and them disappointed.

As you can see, there is a lot of conflict in this "job" if that is indeed what it is. My day-to-day job is to do things like make friends, drink tea and throw out ideas. Most of the development work is do is in small groups and families, just 3 or 4 people at a time talking about hand washing, waste disposal and women's rights in Morocco. These impacts will certainly be the greatest but are indeed the most difficult to measure. I don't know too many other jobs where 2/3 of your job description is making friends, learning and sharing American culture. I feel lucky to have this job and this time to be able to live my life away from the hustle and bustle of American society. I know for a fact there is value in this type of work, this small-scale face to face work, it's just not a value that can be accurately displayed on a resume or reported on a spread-sheet.

I am certainly conflicted about the decision to leave but know that I can be of value to my new community as well. It's going to take work, hard work and a lot of day-to-day, face-to-face meetings to get on my feet, but I see promise and hope in a new beginning. I feel that leaving Ait Erkha is best for my community and myself and know that I made an impact, however small, on a few people's lives. It's not the "world peace" embodied on the Peace Corps banners, but it's something and that is certainly better than nothing at all. As we say in my region of Morocco "imik s imik", or little by little, changes will happen. Good things come to those who wait after-all, right?

Recently a good friend of mine and a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer, decided that he could best continue his service and commitment to others and himself by heading back to the States and embarking on the next phase of his life. Before he left we had a conversation that has stuck with me every since. He talked about how we as people have to make a commitment and uphold our duty to make our own communities better.

I have been thinking about this a lot recently and while I do get a lot of great feedback from friends, family and others about my commitment to move to Morocco and offer up whatever help I can through the Peace Corps, I think it's important to not to overlook the commitments million of people in America have taken to make their own communities better. While I am lucky enough to have been born into a family where I don't have to support a financial burden, take care of sick family members or one of the many thousands of other reasons people don't get to move as freely as I, I think that the every-day commitments people make back home should be just as celebrated.

My move is more dramatic, sure, and surely involves a more significant amount of TV show watching, I think the other work is important to and I wanted to make sure that point is noted.

Our communities are our responsibilities and one of things that makes America great and one of the reasons we have what we have is our commitment to each other and making our lives better. This includes parents volunteering at schools, riding your bike all the way across America to raise awareness for people with disabilities and participating in local Stream Team events to clean out local waterways. All ways that people volunteer their time and effort to make an organization or a community better should be noted and celebrated.

I was raised in a household where volunteering was part of the daily dialogue and it was something my parent's valued greatly but there are also a lot of sacrifices made in-order to be able to volunteer in the ways we want; I am grateful that I have those opportunities.

I find my greatest happiness when I am volunteering for a cause I care about and I know millions (if not hundreds of millions) people in America do too.

I wanted to take this time to personally thank and and all of you who volunteer, in whatever capacity to make your schools, your town, your family and your community better. American would not be the amazing place it would be without everyone's commitment to that and I think you deserve to be recognized.

Thank you for your hard work and keep it up, there is always someone and some cause that needs YOUR help!

This is just about everything I own, in a tiny truck.

So yes, I am moving. As for some background for my fellow Americans, when you sign on to Peace Corps, you commit to spending 24 months in a village assigned to you to work, integrate and learn about the community. On some rare (but seemingly more common) occasions, volunteers cannot complete their service in the village they were originally assigned. This is my case.

The background is that after 14 months in my village (16 in Morocco) some issues have started to arise. The gist is that what my village expects for development does not mash up with what myself or Peace Corps can provide. After a meeting with my new regional manager, my local counterpart and myself, we came to some realizations about my job and my service and after a lot of self-reflection and advice consulting, I decided it was better for me and my community if I tried my hand at a new place.

Luckily, Sarah-Kate, my fellow volunteer friend and stage mate had an opening at her site and welcomed me in. Her cooperation has been imperative in making this process as smooth as possible. Sarah-Kate used to have a site-mate, Megan, but she closed her service in May and the town had room for an extra volunteer. Lucky for me!

Now I have spent the better part of the last year learning about my community and forming friendships. I am sad to leave but happy to go, if that makes any sense at all. My community has been extremely welcoming, hospitable and wonderful to me. I am grateful to them for that and I feel lucky that I got to spent the last year as a part of them. My parting is not personal in any way, it's strictly business. I have found that my lack of ability to meet my community's development goals has caused some underlying tension that I can feel. It can make some encounters uncomfortable and would make the last 10 months of my service difficult, to say the least. I don't want to go and I especially don't want to leave the people I have grown so close with, but frankly, I just can't see myself being successful here and feeling good in the last months of my service. I plan on coming back to visit for major town events and I hope my community doesn't take the transition poorly and frankly, I doubt they will. I think things are going to go well.

As for my new home, as I already said, there is a health volunteer living there now who has done great work so far. I am excited for the prospect to collaborate with her on her projects as well as a few of my own. Sarah-Kate and myself found an amazing home in town as well. No more walking up a mountain to get vegetables, trash burning next to my house or people knocking on my door at all hours of the day. No more long weeks without seeing other Americans and wasted food from cooking too much. English speaking will happen every day!

The house is brand spanking new. I am REALLY excited to move in. In addition to not having to hike to get to market, it also has running water and internet, yes INTERNET. I am going to get to join the 20th/ 21st century and actually use the internet more than once a week. This means I will be expecting more Skype/ Google chat dates, more emails and overall, more interaction with the outside world! This is going to be great.

Now moving is not all fun and games, there will be some challenges, mostly having to integrate and learn about a whole new community of people. Community trust and involvement is key to success as a volunteer so in a way, I will be starting over again, with the help of Sarah-Kate of course.

Overall, I am excited, extremely excited. It will be a new start, a new chance for success and a new luxurious way of life for the last 10 months of my service, I think it's going to be good, real good.