After traveling around the country with a visiting friend, I returned a few days ago to my village in Morocco to find that in the mere span of a week, the cool spring days we had been having before I left had disappeared. The temperatures had gone from temperate all the way to the almost intolerable heat we didn’t have last year until later in the season. With the early onset of summer, my roommate told me, had also come the dreaded onslaught of flying critters invading our rooftop terrace apartment. Last year we had these horrid flying-cockroach-like things. This year, apparently, we were getting grasshoppers.

“Is it bad luck to kill grasshoppers?” he asked. “Because I think I killed about three.”

I didn’t know, so I looked it up. All I found was a survey of the symbolic significance of grasshoppers in various societies throughout history. In China, they are a symbol of good cheer, good luck, abundance and virtue. In Ancient Greece, they signified nobility. In many other societies, they represented honor and respect. In answer to someone’s question about whether to kill a grasshopper, one respondent advised that a grasshopper is more like a messenger. They are merely telling you there is something in your life where you need to leap forward. He said, “Trust your inner voice. What works for you probably won’t always be what works for everyone else.”

So it’s more like a spiritual thing, I thought absently, unconsciously reassured, and moved on with the rest of my day. As it came time to go to bed, and it still being 84 degrees in my room, I stripped down to the bare minimum, opened the window and lay down on my bed uncovered.

Unaware that the motif from earlier in the day was to become recurring, and thinking that staying cool was the biggest challenge that lay ahead, I was startled when I heard something flop into my room. I leaped out of bed, turned on the light, and found a little brown grasshopper-like critter clinging to the side of my nightstand, dazed but determined. For myself, my heart was racing but I was just as determined. Confident I would be the victor, I was nevertheless unsure how this would come about. I made several ineffectual attempts that only succeeded in knocking him further away from me, between the nightstand and the wall. But fortunately, of his own accord, he reemerged and made himself available for capture. As he was standing on the wall, as only insects can do, my brain kicked in and overcame my reactive instincts, and I used my change dish and a piece of paper to restore him to his rightful outdoor home.

Satisfied from my relatively easy victory, though still a bit shaken, I then shut my window, wedging it in with just a crack to bring in some air. But just as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard another flop. The intrepidness of my opponent was becoming apparent, as was the thinness of my defenses. The dance began again. I realized I wouldn’t be able to have the window open at all, so I sealed it off completely before lying down again presumably for the last time.

As I was lying there sweltering, though almost asleep, I heard to my horror, for the third time, that dreaded flop. We had left our terrace door open, and the little bastard had come in from under my bedroom door. So, after sending him on his way using my time-worn method, I sealed off the space under my door and settled in, finally confident, to a peaceful night’s sleep in my own sweat.

But as I lay there, my mind began working in a new direction, disturbing my well-earned peace yet again. Man, why are there so many of them? I thought. Three in the course of a half an hour… And so high off the ground? (We’re on the third floor.) Doesn’t their name GRASShoppers kind of indicate a limited vertical range? And then it occurred to me: These aren’t grasshoppers, Larissa. This is North Africa. We are very close to where the Bible happened, and we all know what happened in the Bible. PLAGUES OF LOCUSTS. These are locusts, and this is a plague.

Oh man, it’s going to be a long summer.

So even though they are only 8 dirhams per square meter, or approximately a dollar, nothing has yet inspired me to buy screens for my windows. Until now.

It's starting to feel like the days fall into weeks and weekends now, rather than just in a continuous flow of days, one never the same as the next. With my regular teaching schedule, every night of the week except Tuesday, my week is taking shape. Working nights frees up my days for other work, such as working on project proposals and strategies, attending meetings, reading and planning lesson plans, and studying language. It is good to feel productive.

One of the advantages of working hard for five days in a row is that sometimes I really want to treat myself on my two days off. So this past weekend, feeling like I haven't seen the ocean nearly enough (even though I live only a mere 17 miles away), I decided, with my two nearby volunteer friends, to take a picnic lunch and bike to the beach. It was a lovely ride through idyllic countryside, and then an exhilarating down-hill coast to the expansive sandy delta spreading out below with the ocean beyond. We had the beach, both the serene bay and the thunderous surf, to ourselves. We walked along the beach and took pictures, befriended a dog who politely requested a share of our lunch, and just lay on the beach and took naps in the sun.

There is nothing like the night's sleep after the workout of a 20km bike ride! And I was in a perfect position to enjoy my regular Sunday tradition that has started to evolve. I've started going to the hammam on Sunday with a family I'm close to. I go over to their house for couscous around lunch, and then we all head over to the hammam around 4:30, where they teach me all the different rituals, and help scrub my back. :-) We sit in the hot steam, scrubbing and lathering ourselves, repeatedly, and basking in hot water. Then we head back to their house, sink into the couch and watch TV as we eat cookies and drink tea, completely and utterly relaxed from our spa day.

So after a perfectly reinvigorating weekend, I'm ready for another productive week!

So I today I am beginning my journey to London, where I'm spending 2 weeks for Christmas and New Years with very dear old friends! I woke up at 9:30, finished packing and ate breakfast (bread and honey) and headed down to the Gendarmes (police) station. We're required to tell them when we leave the region, and also I needed to pick up my carte du sejour - my official Moroccan registration card, the equivalent to a Green Card!! - which had finally arrived. We've been waiting for this since June! Then he had one of the other gendarmes drive me to the taxi stand! I was so grateful I told him "Llayerhem waladeen" which means "may God bless your parents". I ended up getting the bus rather than a taxi, so that saved me 5Ds. When I got to Essaouira, I left my bag at the bus station baggage consignment area, and went Christmas shopping. ... (I can't tell you what I got in case you are one of the people on my list!)

I stopped at the sandwich shop my sitemate and I have started getting sandwiches from before we travel and got the chicken sandwich with everything on it. Not really sure what "everything" consists of. I usually have it eaten before I even realize what is happening. But other than the baked chicken, there are olives, beets, tomatoes, onions, some yogurt sauce and some hot sauce. Maybe rice sometimes. It tastes completely different every time I get it (it has been three different people making it the three times I've gone so far) but it is always surprisingly good! And it comes with fries (though they are admittedly a bit soggy). All for only 10 Ds (approximately $1.10). On my way to the bus there was a cart selling the biggest reddest most juicy looking strawberries I had ever seen. So I bought one of the medium sized crates for 15Ds (approximately $1.90). A bit of a splurge, but I felt I needed something of a reward for the long travel day ahead. I got to the bus station, got my bag out of consignment, bought my ticket, and headed out to the bus lot. As I followed the voices calling, "Marrakch!!" and approached the bus, it was pulling out. They grabbed my bags and slid them into the compartment as I passed them the baggage fee, and I jumped on. They keep the doors open for both the luggage compartment and the passenger area, and pull out of the station really slowly, because half the passengers get on as it's pulling out. Perfect timing!

I happily ate my lunch and strawberries as we drove, while listening to music and reading "The People's History of the United States" by Howard Zinn. He inspires the revolutionary in me. I read 20 pages during the bus ride (it's a 688 page book and I have been making great progress - only have 268 pages to go). Got to Kech, got a taxi and made sure he wasn't going to overcharge me (by asking how much it was going to be before getting in) and then he took me to Jam3 Ifna (the main square in Marrakech with the flame throwers and the snake charmers and the monkey men). This is where the "Peace Corps" hotel is (not officially a Peace Corps hotel, but we all regularly stay there and we have an understanding with the proprietor).

He said there weren't any single rooms left (at the rate of 50 Ds) but he would let me have a double for the discounted rate of 70Ds (instead of 100) so I sighed and decided it was worth 20Ds extra to not have to lug my bags around and find another hotel that DID have a single room. So here I am happily lying on my bed eating strawberries and waiting for my hunger to build so I can go out and get the chef salad at that one cafe I went to last time. I have to find out how far it is to the airport so I know how early to start out tomorrow, but it shouldn't be too bad either way because my flight is at 12:10. Tonight is all about charging my ipod and loading up movies (just downloaded some software to convert .avi files to .mp4 files so I can put Casino Royale on my ipod - WHAT UP!) in case the journey starts to drag tomorrow.

This is the first time I've left the country since I got here over 9 months ago. This life I lead here in Morocco, which I have come to regard with a certain sense of familiarity, half the time seems normal and the other half of the time I can't believe this is my life, and shake my head at the wonderous miracles, or ridiculous frustrations I encounter. So who knows what kinds of insights I'll gain while I'm away from it for a bit! I feel peaceful, happy and expansive. But mostly, I know that as the plane gets closer and closer to landing in London, I will be nothing but excited. I can't wait to see my friends!!

Everyone kept saying wait till October. Work will pick up in October. And they were right. After four months of integrating and building relationships, setting up our apartment and figuring out the basics of living here, learning the language, doing some Peace Corps-related traveling, and reading as much as I could about development work - not to mention enduring the month of Ramadan - the fall weather is bringing renewed vigor in work.

I am lucky in that I am placed with a very proactive group of association members who already have a long list of things they want me to do. I haven't had to go out and look for, or create, work for myself at all. So I'm grateful for this. The month started with several weekly meetings about projects, meeting with the beneficiaries of the project to hammer out details, and then working on project proposals which I then submitted to the association. Although the pressure can sometimes feel overwhelming, I wouldn't have it any other way. I'd much rather be stressed than bored!

I am working with three associations: Association Ahadan, Association Noor, and Association Green Valley. Ahadan and Noor are focused primarily on women's development, whereas Green Valley does general development with an environmental focus. I have been asked by Association Ahadan to do lots of teaching work: to teach English and Health to the high-school-age girls living at the student house (out-of-town students who come to the high school in Talmest), to do a Health Club for the elementary aged students at one of the elementary schools in the town, and to teach dance/exercise to the local women three nights a week. In addition, I want to do health workshops for the broader community, and in neighboring Sidi Abdel Jalil where there are several brothels, on sexual and reproductive health.

I was approached yesterday by a high school student asking for English tutoring to help her prepare for her Baccalaureate exam, so I am thinking I will hold a Bac study group once or twice a week for those who want to attend. I am supposed to be helping teach English at the high school, as well as have a Health Club that I think will have a Public Health focus, and will work with my sitemate's Environmental Club on things like trash and water projects, as soon as the new principal comes and we can get it going.

The associations have also asked me to do some business development work: they want to help empower the women financially through argan oil production and sales, in particular to do market research to find markets abroad for the women to sell their products. In addition, I also want to do some NGO development work with all three associations - in particular workshops on things such as the laws that apply to NGOs and small businesses and how to navigate the bureaucracy to apply for available government funding, to enable the associations to function better in striving towards their goals. Of course, the thrust of all of my work should be in equipping them to carry on better after I leave than before I came. I'm not here to take over for them.

So there is no shortage of work and I'll be spending a good part of my time writing lesson plans - a new but engaging challenge for me! And of course a big obstacle in this endeavor is language. Teaching, in particular, is heavy on communication. So my first reaction is to freak out, conclude I can't possibly do this, and retreat into my shell. However, then I have to pull myself out again and remind myself that there ARE ways. First, the association has assured me that one of the members will always be there with me in the sessions to assist with language (and perhaps helping to maintain order in the classroom). Secondly, I am surrounded by people who can translate for me. So I can write my lesson for the day, and send it off to be translated, and then use it as a guide during the class to give me the words to use to communicate concepts to the kids, as well as to learn new words myself.

And third, I have FINALLY - after 4 months of searching - found a tutor myself, so perhaps I actually might learn this language and be able to do some of this communication myself. The tutor used to work with Peace Corps about ten years ago as a language trainer, so understands where we are coming from. He speaks English quite well - he has a degree in English Literature from a Moroccan university - and is very smart and energetic. I'm so grateful to have found him. And now just need to continue to integrate daily study time into my schedule...

I'll keep you posted as I begin each new project so you can follow me in my efforts and hopefully encourage me and give me strength to keep putting my best forward. I really do hope to empower the people of Talmest - especially the women and girls - to find the best in them, to open their eyes to their own capacity to rise above mindsets that are destructive to their own gifts. I hope we can all come to greater understanding that the humanity within us all is more important than the different cultural or gendered manifestations of it. I want to help everyone find greater freedom to more really and truly fully live their lives.

And in so doing, find it myself.

The day I was to meet my first host family was one of the most nerve-wracking days of my life. After five days of a whirlwind of staying in hotels, being fed three meals a day, going to trainings in everything from preventing diarrhea to rudimentary Arabic, and bus rides through Morocco, it was time for the real thing. We left from our hotel in Ouarzazate and headed east into the desert, to a small village 45 minutes away. As I sat in the transit watching the desert pass by the window, I felt the landscape was as foreign and unknown as what lay ahead.

Right before the suq town of Skoura, we veered off onto a barely passable dirt road heading towards the village of Oulad L’Arbiya. After about 15 minutes of jostling about, we turned up to the village, which was essentially just a row of low dirt buildings lining the road. We drove through the long narrow town, curving around at the end, driving through a mud gate, and pulling up at the school, which was an unfinished house on the outside of town.

The rest was in somewhat of a haze. We were ushered into the main room of the schoolhouse. Long and narrow, with windows on two sides, it was decorated and furnished in typical Moroccan style. Carpets covered three quarters of the floor, and pillows lined three walls.

Some families had already gathered in the room. Women and children sat against the pillows smiling but probably as nervous as we were. We were told to sit with them so we all awkwardly took off our shoes and found spots on the carpet. Our LCF (Language and Cultural Facilitator) was reading off the names of trainees and the corresponding names of their families. Greetings, hugs and nervous laughing would then ensue.

My heart dropped to my feet when my name was called. I was introduced to Suquena, who turned out to be the second oldest daughter of my host family. She was cordial and seemed surprisingly calm about it all, whereas I felt about as self-possessed as a dolphin on a mountain path. I came to learn that although this was the first time I had ever done anything like this, she, at the tender age of 18, had done it twice before since her family had already hosted two volunteers.

After we all had tea and cookies, we all took our luggage and dispersed with our host families. I did not understand anything Suquena was saying to me but we communicated somehow. I followed her home, which was a short walk down the road behind the school. The road marked the furthest reaches of the town and beyond it, the desert. Reddish rocky terrain, dotted sparsely with rugged shrubs, stretched out as far as the eye could see. To the northwest was a majestic snow-covered mountain range. The houses on the other side of the road were the same color, made from the same reddish soil. Mud houses. I was going to live in a mud house!

We passed two of these houses before veering off the road onto a path leading between a pit and the mud wall of their house. We rounded the corner into the main yard, where laundry was drying in the wind. It was a serene spot with a lush garden stretching the length of the main yard.

She brought me into the house and gave me a tour. It seemed quite large once you got inside. There were two large salons, one of which doubled as the parent’s bedroom, a family room, three additional bedrooms, a kitchen, a courtyard off which was the bathroom and a storage room, which also held a mud pen where they kept their 12 sheep, and a storage room off the kitchen.

As I walked through the mud hallways, which were so low and rough-hewn I had to duck through doorways, I laughed out loud at the wonder of it all. I was going to live in a mud house!

They showed me to my room, which was decidedly non-mud-like. I registered this with a mixture of relief and disappointment, as well as awe at the grand and generous hospitality that they would give clearly the best room in the house to a stranger who was coming to live with them for two months.

This would only be the first taste of a smorgasbord of hospitality I would experience over the next two months. I had survived the hardest part – meeting the family. Now the adventure of living here with them could begin!

I have been in Morocco now for four months and three and a half weeks. In some ways the time has flown by – or stood still – because it's hard to believe it has been almost five months. But in other ways it feels like it has been a lifetime because it's hard to remember a time before the crazy new life I'm leading didn't feel normal. Though it wasn't until this past week, I think, that I really hit equilibrium. Meaning, I feel I have finally reached a level of normalcy in my consciousness and awareness of my surroundings. The feeling of being constantly overwhelmed has finally ebbed. My mind and soul are finally feeling comfortable – and at home - enough to be rooted and to start to reach beyond to build new dreams and plans for my life and work here. It's a good feeling.

Of course, being physically in my own home has had a lot to do with that. My roommate and I fell in love with a little apartment with a rooftop terrace and on July 2nd, moved in. We then celebrated our independence along with that of the American people two days later - in proper style with Mexican food! :-)

Since then, we have made good progress in furnishing and equipping the apartment for living, though at the same time adjusting to a different standard of living. We bought a brand new refrigerator, but our stove is simply a propane tank sitting on the floor, called a Butagaz, with a burner on top. We have basic dishes, a pot and pan, and silverware, though nothing to put them in so they merely sit stacked on the counter near the sink. Our sofa consists of three foam mattresses lining the wall. But we have a wonderful Moroccan rug and custom-made table in the living room.

Our bedrooms are slowly being made our own. I have a mattress with colorful bedding, an aluminum and cloth armoire that holds all my clothes neatly, and a bookshelf that holds the rest of my stuff. I am waiting for the custom-made platform bed for my mattress as well as nightstand to get the rest of my stuff off the floor and complete my bedroom. The colorful rug and wall-hangings, map of Morocco and a map of Africa, make the space feel like mine.

The outdoor area, the big rooftop terrace that is all our own, is the centerpiece of the apartment. We found a little rubber blow-up pool at Marjane. You can stretch out and be fully immersed in water so it really helps to stave off the summer heat in the absence of air conditioning. With the table and four chairs positioned in the alcove by the window, it is really our second living room. Or first, really. It's a great place, especially after it cools off a bit in the evenings, to sit and eat, play scrabble, or just visit while watching the stars overhead.

Feeling at home in my community is another story so I’ll save that for another entry. For the time being, however, having a place to call home gives me the mental space – not to mention the time I haven’t had up till now – to write. So I will take this newfound opportunity to fill you in on my time here so far, focusing on the most important or common aspects of my experience. In that spirit, the next few blog entries will be catch-up entries. Enjoy and thanks for reading!

There is a town just across the river with no water, and about a 15-minute walk away from my town of Talmest, called Zaouia Abdel Jaleel. It is apparently a big tourist attraction, yet upon seeing it for the first time, I was at a loss as to why. It's a compact village of whitewashed block buildings and stone walksways that slope down a steep hill to the river bed. It is in a scenic spot, with the mountain sloping up beyond it and a high river-bank covered with trees on the other side. But it's just a small dirty village, and the river only sometimes has water in it, mostly dirty and stagnant when it does, and the rest of it is continually littered with trash. So what is it about this place that draws tourists from as far away as Casablanca and holds them there for weeks at a time? When I questioned a young friend of mine who spends as much of his time there as possible, he said it is the home of the tomb of a famous Muslim saint. And in the summer, he says, the river is a draw. Families come to visit the tomb, hang out by the river, and just relax. He said sometimes people stay for an entire summer. The disproportionate number of hotels in this town is testament to the truth of what he says, though I still found his answer vastly unsatisfying.

This town also seems to hold endless appeal for not just tourists but also for people who live just across the way in Talmest. The people of my town - particularly the men, both young and old - never miss an opportunity to go to Zaouia, as it is called, in the afternoon and then stay till the wee hours of the morning. The last few times I accepted an invitation to go with them, I began to see what it is that they actually do there, and the last time, finally gained an insight into what makes Zaouia tick, so to speak. It has a lively festive atmosphere almost all the time. During the day, families sit down by the river, where there are booths set up that sell food and trinkets, and their kids splash in the approximately four-inches of water. There is an entire closed market winding up the maze-like alleyways which sells all the standard tourist fare usually sold only in big cities. Across the river, on the raised embankment, people gather to play drums and sing and dance, or just sit in the grass and enjoy the music and the breeze coming from the mountain. But things really pick up as the sun goes down. The men gather at cafes, and the women hang out in the common areas of their hotel. Men play billiards, fussball and arcades, or congregate on street corners for hours on end. The women run around bare-armed and bare-headed, as if they were in Casablanca or Rabat rather than a small country village. Men and women skirt around the narrow streets together, sometimes hand in hand (which is scandalous pretty much anywhere in rural Morocco).

Yet as I came to learn, public-handholding is just the tip of the Scandalousness Iceberg. Among the hotels here there are some specifically for unmarried couples who want to enjoy a bit of unmarried bliss. Generally in Morocco, it is illegal for hotels to rent a room to a Muslim man and woman who aren't married. You will be asked to provide your marriage certificate upon check-in. So Zaouia provides a sort of refuge for the non-legitimate yet romantically inclined couples. But the main draw in Zaouia, my young friend finally disclosed to me, is the brothels. The tiny hamlet sports anywhere between 2 and 6 houses of ill repute. He could not confirm the exact number because he himself is not a client. He says he does not visit the brothels, and I believe him, but he does not seem uncomfortable with their presence either. No one does. Men, women or children. The brothels are not tucked away in a secluded area. One of the "famous" ones, for example, is right at the center of town at one of the main intersections. I sat across from it with my companions, actually, for several hours as we sat and enjoyed the people watching, as the children laughingly danced by, the women in head scarves rushed by with food to cook for dinner, the police literally looking the other way, and no one seemed to give it a second thought as if it were just any other friendly neighborhood gathering place.

So this obscure little village about an hour from the biggest town somehow manages to provide a sanctuary both for those seeking to honor a saint and for those who have long-since strayed from the path of sainthood. Yet the more pious visitors do not seem to be a wet blanket for the sinners, nor do the sinners seem to offend those seeking more G-rated pleasures. Maybe because they are all just simply seeking pleasure, each in their own way, there is more that unites than divides them. The overwhelming spirit of Zaouia is strikingly and unnervingly wholesome and innocent, a collective celebration. A freeness, unburdened by shame. My young friend sums it up succinctly, double-meaning intact: "People are like animals here. They don't worry about the future. They don't think about themselves. They just enjoy the moment."

I have been in Morocco now for one month! It's not so much that I have been neglecting my blog as I have been throwing all my energy into my new life here. Plus, the internet availability has been a bit sketchy. But enough prologue; time to fill you in.

When I stepped off the plane in Morocco in the early morning of March 16, 2011, I stepped foot on the continent of Africa for the first time in my life. We were met by a warm rain which somehow made it more magical. We were told that guests who arrive when it's raining will bring good things. From that moment, we were scooped up by the Peace Corps, ushered through the diplomatic line at the airport - which gave me a thrill - and onto busses where they gave us bags of yogurt, fruit and candy bars for the journey.

We sped through the Moroccan landscape, watching as it changed from flat and green, to flat and brown, to brown and rocky, to rocky and mountainous. I was dazzled by our hotel in Marrakech - sprawling lawns, villas and a sparkling pool that made me drool. It was too cool yet to swim in it, but sitting by it and soaking up the rays – plus being fed three sumptuous meals a day – made me feel that Peace Corps is the life!

Though unfortunately, we had only limited time to enjoy it. We spent hours every day in trainings for safety, security and some basic language.

Three days later we all took the recommended Dramamine and got back on the bus for the three hour ride through the mountains. I was shocked and touched to find that we had a royal police escort with a siren the entire 4 hour trip. To me, this spoke volumes about the incredible hospitality of Moroccans. The cop on the motorcycle made all the other cars pull over when we passed. Even on narrow mountain passes!

The bus swayed quite liberally, and often there were no railings. I was sitting right in the front and had several mini panic attacks that were purely traffic-related.

I was struck by the dramatic change in the landscape - we had desert to green rolling meadows to rugged mountains and back to desert again. All in a mere 204 kilometers (or 126 miles).

Upon our arrival in Ouarzazate we were greeted by the sprawling grounds of the Atlas Studios: the biggest movie studio in the world. It includes a replica of Jerusalem, and was the site for the filming of Lawrence of Arabia, Kingdom of Heaven and Babel. Our hotel was on the main square in Ouarzazate, and from the roof, you could see the charming desert medina stretching out before you.

I was enchanted, running on adrenaline, and started to realize for the first time I was in Morocco! But we were most excited to learn that we had more internet access in this hotel so we could be in contact with friends and family from home.

We spent the day in sessions, being familiarized with everything from Peace Corps policies to how to avoid committing faux pas with your family to how to use the Turkish toilet. Last but not least, we learned our assigned language - either the Berber dialects Tashelheit or Tamazight, or Arabic - and our assigned training community. I was assigned to learn Arabic! And being sent to a small town called Oulad L’Arbiya about 45 minutes away from Ouarzazate. It was right on an oasis and the primary oasis was pottery. I thought it sounded lovely! We met our LCF (Language and Cultural Facilitator) Mohammed who would be going to our village with us, teaching us language and culture for 8 hours a day, and just generally holding our hands through the cultural integration process.

Immediately after learning our languages, we had our first lesson. The thing that struck me about Arabic was how difficult and harsh the sounds are. There are about four different kinds of throat growls you have to produce at different levels. And if you get it wrong, you just said a different word. And it might be like “penis” or “gambling”. So no pressure at all.

The rest of the time just went by in a blur. I was on a high for the next day or so and enjoyed a bit of relaxation and basking before ... dun dun dun!... it was time to meet our host families! Ulp!

It is officially ten days before I leave!!! It has been a long journey - starting on November 12th when I received my invitation to serve in Morocco for the Peace Corps - and I honestly wasn't sure if I'd make it. But it looks like "it" - this ellusive, theoretical, mystical and epic journey to (what may as well be) Mars in just a few short days time - actually might happen! Though my to-do list still manages to keep growing - albeit more slowly than before - the number of things I have crossed off of it boggles my mind. I am generously and humbly listing them for you below.

Note: I tell you these things not to complain about everything I had to do. Not in the LEAST. Despite being overwhelmed by it all, I am filled with tremendous gratitude and awe at the miracles it took to get me here, and wish to honor the mountain I have climbed as a testament to the commitment I have for this journey I and the love and joy I feel for it. Please read between the lines to see the emotional roller coasters that followed - both the sinking dread and the indescribable elation when an obstacle - sometimes just a very small one - was overcome. Some of the items have been condensed (I have omitted the gory details to protect your delicate sensibilities). Find below my wholly inadequate list which woefully understates the whole rigamarole! :-D

1. Interviewed four management companies

2. Selected a management company

3. Advertised apartment on various websites

4. Showed apartment to potential tenants

5. Corresponded with tenants

6. Found a perfect tenant

7. Found a perfect new home for my cat

8. Painted bedroom (with the help of five fabulous friends)

9. Hosted going away party (with 21 fabulous friends)

10. Acquired boxes and packed up all of my personal possessions

11. Rented car and drove to Michigan through an ice storm with a Ford-Focus-full of my most precious possessions (including my drugged cat)

12. Drafted power of attorney form (with a little help from The Internets)

13. Selected a person to act as my POA

14. Arranged for Verizon (with the help of the National Peace Corps Association - http://www.peacecorpsconnect.org/2010/12/ncpa-to-phone-companies-parity-for-pcvs/) to waive my early termination fee for my Blackberry (which would have been $350!)

15. Listed, sold and shipped over $300 worth of my stuff on Amazon.com

16. Donated an entire carload of stuff to Goodwill

17. Acquired French language materials and spent many hours studing French

18. Made doctor and dentist visits and sumbitted final medical forms to Peace Corps

19. Attended a weekend Peer Counseling Training Workshop at the Whitman Walker Clinic

20. Volunteered at an Inclusive Security Conference

21. Went to DC office of Regulatory Affairs to obtain a copy of my Landlord license

22. Visited with as many people as possible (including trips to Jackson, Quantico, and NYC)

23. FINALLY finished my Turkey scrapbook

24. Filed taxes

25. Arranged my financial affairs (ok this is really items 25 through 100, but we don't need to bore you).

26. Found a place to stay post condo-move-out pre-Peace-Corps-departure

27. With the help of a faithful friend and two reluctant cabbies moved myself and the rest of my stuff (which was more than I thought (what can I say, I have rabbits - my stuff multiplied!)) across town to the home of another faithful friend and up three flights of stairs to my new temporary abode.

28. Dealt with a few move in/maintenance issues for my tenant

29. Shopped for and ordered items for Peace Corps

30. Worked full time and saved as much money as possible!!!

And yay for the members of Facebook's Peace Corps Morocco March 2011 group so I didn't have to go through all this alone!

On Monday December 13th, about a month after my original invitation, the NGO Development program I had been invited to in Morocco was cancelled. I was given the option to switch to another program in Morocco or go to another country to do NGO Development. After a week of deliberation, I decided to stick with Morocco and be a Health Educator and Community Development volunteer. I was a little disappointed about not being in NGO Development, but it wasn't strong enough to pull me somewhere else. I wasn’t exactly sure why, but Morocco was calling me and I just had to answer.

After adjusting to the idea of this slightly different work, I am now more motivated than ever. I am building my knowledge to empower myself by studying about Morocco, its economics, culture and religion and learning its languages, and devouring materials about the principles and practices of development - in particular Peace Corps' An NGO Training Guide for Peace Corps Volunteers. I’m delighted to discover that the work development actually entails at the ground level is something I'm excited about and feel I’ll be well suited to. I can't wait to find ways to use the knowledge I'm acquiring and the skills I'll gain in pre-service training (PST), and by applying any natural capacity I discover I have for the work, to pursue what I'm most passionate about: empowering my new community to strengthen themselves from the inside out.

Essentially, the primary challenges all the Volunteers will face, and the primary skills we'll all be learning, will be communicating with and understanding a country’s people and their needs, and figuring out how to ultimately meet those needs within their cultural context. It is this process of empowerment, after all, not a particular field, sector or job description, that is the real work of the Peace Corps. And it is exactly why I wanted to join in the first place.

So after 2 years of applying, interviewing, fulfilling a seemingly endless series of medical requirements, and months and months of waiting, on Thursday November 18th, 2010, I received my invitation from the Peace Corps to work in NGO Development in Morocco!! This was my first choice country and I am humbled - truly in awe - and immensely grateful to have been granted my dearest wish for this coveted spot.

I've been assigned to a rural location in the Tensift region of Morocco where I won't necessarily have running water, electricity or internet. I will be working to improve and sustain the quality of services local NGOs (Non-Governmental Organizations) and CBAs (Community Based Associations) provide to their constituents and communities. I will act as a catalyst of a capacity building process by working directly with the organizations to assess their profile and design and co-facilitate training programs.

Although this is different from anything I have ever done, I believe I can use my problem solving skills and ability to connect with people of many different backgrounds and cultural belief systems to work to create change and build international peace. This is especially important today at a time of heightened tension between Islam and Christianity on a global scale. By working together to build a better world, based on mutual respect and friendship, we can and we will find our common ground!

I can't wait to become a part of this!

In some senses, for me the unfamiliar is familiar. By the time I started college in 1994, I had lived in 15 homes in 6 states and one foreign country. At the age of 8 while living in Saudi Arabia, I knew my parents could be executed for hosting Mass in our home. At 10, I was making friends 7,000 miles away in Minnesota. At 12, fascinated locals on the streets of Bangkok would touch my white-blond hair as I passed. At 17, I was adjusting to the language and customs of my host family while on an immersion exchange in Germany. In my life, place had become both a driving force and a blurry backdrop.

So when I moved to DC for law school and decided to put down roots, I was in unfamiliar territory. Not only was it my first experience with geographic permanency, it was my first time living in a city, fully supporting myself economically, and trying to make it in a new and uncertain career. I quickly found that the skills I had relied upon to deal with perpetual upheaval growing up – keeping a journal every night to remain in touch with myself, nurturing my passion for ballet, copious correspondence with cousins and friends – were suddenly inadequate.

Faced with the unknown, I began the journey within. Over the next few years, through a painful but wondrous process of self examination, I discovered intimacy with myself, and with others. In my heart, I found horizons broader than those of any globe. I found freedom and power in knowing myself and owning my beliefs. I found the courage to accept myself, to face my mistakes, and to build long-term commitments to people. I found peace and joy, and began to discover miracles all around me. I finally felt I belonged in the world I had seen so much of.

I found strength in these newfound inner resources. Burdened with massive student loans, I worked long hours at unfulfilling work but found endless enrichment in the connections I made there. I fought for balance by nurturing my dreams: I danced and sang, volunteered, traveled whenever I could, and discovered a new love of photography. To build for the future, I bought a condo in a transitional neighborhood. I was mugged 3 months later, but came through the experience empowered, my faith in humanity intact, easily trusting another stranger a few months later to escort me to safety.

They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I believe it’s not what makes you stronger that matters, but what broadens your capacity to love. My nomadic life taught me to see beyond superficialities and accept people of all races and cultures. Being rooted has given me the tools to connect without losing sight of uniqueness. I have come to truly understand in my heart, in the words of R.W. Emerson, that “What lies behind us and what lies before us are small matters compared to what lies within us.”

I want to volunteer for the Peace Corps because it weaves together everything I have worked for and everything I want to be. With its mission of promoting peace in the world by sending its volunteers on wild adventures and asking them to stretch themselves to their limit in hopes of empowering others, the Peace Corps represents to me the ultimate quest of each human being and the ultimate professional, spiritual and personal goal of my life. After years of working to attain financial independence, reaching within to truly know myself, and discovering a great capacity to connect with others, I am now poised to expand and deepen this quest of empowerment. At this juncture in my life, all signs point me in one direction: the Peace Corps.

I want to build skills for connecting with people that transcend cultural and economic divides. In my pro bono work, I counseled and advocated for immigrants with employment and family law problems. I found immense fulfillment in using my analytical, problem solving and listening skills to lead clients through discrimination, discharge, wage denial, and custody and child support disputes. I want to use these skills as a Peace Corps volunteer to empower others by working within their circumstances to improve their situation. I believe this experience would broaden my perspective and enhance my ability upon my return to work in individual advocacy and universal policy change on behalf of women, minorities, employees and consumers.

I hunger for new personal and spiritual challenges. After a lifetime of journeying, I have been stationary for ten years. I have found strength and peace in belonging, but find that one’s sense of self can shrink and calcify if too closely tied to the place, people and work that have become familiar. It’s time to stretch and deepen my understanding of myself by shedding material possessions and learning what I can about what is really important in life from those who are simply struggling to survive. I want to rediscover that universal human spirit that transcends culture and economic circumstances and connects us all yet gives us each a unique purpose. I want to empty myself to find what it is I have to give.

I long for adventure. To discover new lands and to live immersed in a vastly different culture would be a thrill beyond all my imagining. It would give me rich and endless material for writing and photography, two of my other passions. To find a way to integrate who I am into a new world that has different ways of understanding itself would open my eyes to unforeseen wonders both within and without. I would find new ways of connecting with people and build new skills to make a real difference in people’s lives. Through all I have worked for, and all I have been given, I have been empowered. Now, it’s time for the ultimate adventure. It’s time to focus full-time on empowering others and in the process, transform my life.