前途: A Year in Morocco

Just a quick note: I am not currently updating this blog, so I only log in periodically, once every few months or so, to check messages. But I do welcome any and all questions or comments. :)

With the exception of the Casablanca airport, which was noisy, hectic, slow, and a trial of my last shreds of patience for communicating in three languages at once, my journey home has been rather relaxing. The flight itself from Casa was not full, and I ended up towards the back of the plane with two seats to myself and was able to curl up on them and get some sleep, which is usually difficult for me to achieve on airplanes. In a 24-hour journey home, any sleep which is achieved is valuable, but the opportunity to actually lie down really helped my energy level for the rest of the day.

My luggage from Casa arrived in JFK sans problem and my fear of having to pay for my extra bag twice was unfounded, and I just flashed my receipt at the baggage transfer window after I was breezed through customs with some very friendly “Welcome home’s” when I explained what I had been doing in Morocco.

Speaking of which, such politeness has actually been making me uncomfortable. I’m not sure how to handle it, haha.

I keep wanting to speak Arabic. On the Casa to JFK flight, I also kept wanting to ask the people sitting around me on the plane from Casa where the plane was going, and if it was the right one, because that’s what you do on any public transportation in Morocco.

In NY, I ate a toasted bagel with cream cheese, a mushroom omelette with real champingons, some grits, and coffee for breakfast. I had a Starbucks iced soy latte—I had actually forgotten that iced coffee existed! I had cranberry juice on the US flight, and Thai food for dinner. I’m pretty happy about the food, but my body is vaguely cognizant of the fact that I haven’t consumed much in the way of high-fructose corn syrup for quite some time now.

On the flight from JFK to SeaTac, I somehow ended up in the Economy Comfort section, with a little more footroom. Not sure how that happened, but I was grateful for it.

All in all, I’m not sure how to categorize what I’m feeling about being back in the US. I feel a lot like a plant that has been uprooted and transplanted into another environment. I need to break the habit of talking like no one else around me speaks my language. I hate how expensive everything is. I feel relieved to be home; I feel like I’m home. There’s a part of me still back in Morocco, a part of me that will continue to compare the two and know that neither is perfect and both are great, and a part of me that is amazed at things like signs, and English, and easy change.

I’m mostly just going to miss the people and places I became familiar with, and I guess what I’m looking forward to most is a few good nights of sleep.

/epic journey

Packing is annoying because it has to be done in advance, meaning if I suddenly have a desire to wear something at the bottom of the bag, I either have to dig through and make a mess and then repack later, or just do without.

Packing also makes my departure seem much more real.

Four more days… XD

At the beginning of Fulbright, it was suggested that we hire a maid to assist us with cleaning, shopping, housework, and cooking. It was also mentioned that it’s a good way to employ a Moroccan, which is a Really Good thing to do, but I remember being super uncomfortable with the idea of having someone clean for me. I’ve learned a lot about the practice since then, so I’m going to talk a little bit about it today.

Expats have maids. So do many well-off Moroccans. Which is fine, there are a lot of good things about a maid. You can send her shopping, have her deal with the language barrier and get good prices, and if you’re a busy person (which is something that is actually pretty difficult to achieve in Morocco), she is invaluable in helping keep your household running smoothly. You can learn language from her as well, and it’s a good opportunity to practice, as well as teach her some basic English.

Beyond that, it’s kind of fun to have a maid. It’s nice to not cook for yourself always, to learn Moroccan cooking and get variety in your diet. It’s nice to not be doing the housework all by your lonesome, and it goes a lot faster with someone to help and chat with. Moroccans are certainly better at cleaning a house than I am, because they’re used to the methods which are common and useful in this country. And it’s not terribly expensive, maybe 12 dollars for a few hours, and even having her come once a week helps her and her family out immensely.

What are the downsides? Well, the maids have a tendency to move things all about in their cleaning. Things don’t always go back the way they were, and you might not be able to find something because it was moved. It’s hard to maintain a good power balance and also to not completely trust the maid, just in case. They don’t know how to deal with your clothes always, and might wring your cotton shirts and stretch them out. Little things.

Honestly, I think the benefits outweigh the minor drawbacks. I have not hired a maid to come regularly, but I do appreciate being able to do so at the drop of a hat. I hate cleaning; I find it repetitive and unrewarding. I had the concierge’s wife come earlier today and help me clean everything before I move, and I’m really glad I did because it was a lot of work.

I have a pair of friends who have rented a beach house for the month of July. It is situated on the Atlantic coast north of Asilah, in a place that is basically farmland up to the beach with very little other infrastructure. I went to visit them and beach-bum for a few days, since it was my last chance to see them before I leave Morocco.

To get to and from this place, we took grand taxis. Basically, we paid for a ride from Asilah to Tangier, then told the driver to pull off on the side of the road. From there, we walked down a mild slope for about 5 minutes, through farmland with little other than a footpath. Getting back to town required flagging down a grand taxi, or hitchhiking and making local friends.

To complicate the transportation situation, there was nothing other than a small store with bread, milk, soft drinks, and snacks. Significant food shopping required hitchhiking into town, and it was most efficient to buy several kilos of vegetables/fruits and a large amount of eggs and then use them for several days.

There was also no refrigeration, so meals were made to be consumed in their entirety, and we didn’t cook any meat—although I did have some awesome fried calamari in Asilah itself for lunch before I caught the train back home today. We also went all the way to Tangier one day, and spent the afternoon drinking and having tapas/desserts at a hotel, a bar, and a cafe.

My friends were lucky enough to have running water in the place they rented, but most of the neighbors didn’t. They drew water from wells by hand, probably just for washing, maybe cooking, and possibly watering animals (we occasionally had chickens or cats wander into the house). However, in the lower part of the land, all of the water smelled/tasted bad, so drinking water came from a well at the top of the hill and got transported in re-used water/soft drink bottles.

We only had a squat toilet, and needless to say, there was no hot water. Showers could be done as bucket-based sponge baths with the toilet as the drain, or were skipped altogether. We tended to sleep late, eat breakfast (maybe), hit the beach with books, then come back for lunch (or not) and naps until dusk, when we would retire to the roof with candlelight, drinks, and dinner or snacks to watch beautiful sunsets over the Atlantic, repose, and reflect on our Fulbright experience.

The experience gave new meaning to the phrase “minimalistic existence.” It was a nice escape from the stress of city life and the emotional-ness of my impending departure from Morocco, as well as a good reminder of how stark class/lifestyle contrasts are in this country.

Although I’ve been done officially teaching since the beginning of June, today is technically my last day as an official Fulbright ETA, as well as my 10 month anniversary with Morocco en general.

I feel like I’m on a roller coaster: I’m anxious to return to the Glorious Homeland and see friends, and am especially excited to start moving my career forward. For those of you not already in the know, I have signed up for a TEFL certification class in Seattle. It starts in September, and I will complete that while working and looking for another position teaching English overseas.

I’m also entertaining a lot of doubts about how easy it will be to re-adjust and about how much I’m going to miss the ease of life in Morocco. I wonder about how many “salaam aleikum’s” will slip out of my mouth and how strange my friends will find it when I ask them repeatedly how they are doing. I will miss Friday couscous, trains, hanging out in cafés, last minute plans, and reposing on couches.

I’ll be in Morocco for a little over two more weeks, insha’allah. I have friends to visit, books to finish and return to the MACECE library, last minute souvenirs to buy, an apartment to set in order for my lovely successor, too much stuff to pack, my final hammam/couscous/henna rituals to undertake, and goodbyes, large and small, to make to the people who have been at the center of my Fulbright experience.

I’ll probably get home to Seattle and sleep for about a day.

I just went through my contact list on my phone and deleted a bunch of friends’ numbers, expats who have moved on to home or other countries. In a few weeks, I’ll be gone as well. It’s weird to think about…..