前途: A Year in Morocco

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