From Rabat to the Middle Atlas – Avoid reading with dinner and thank me later

The second half of training didn’t bring many additional surprises to the table: practical methods to avoid theft and assault as well as overviews of the SWEET PCV library in the capital and our community-based training (CBT). There was an increased emphasis on the conversational basics of Darija including how to order coffee without sugar, tell our host family that 10pm is too late for dinner and that we are not yet married (but God-willing, someday!) That’s right; West Michigan doesn’t have the monopoly on older women trying to set you up with their eligible sons. As our bodies recover from the jet lag, they have discovered all the new food and drink that Morocco has to offer (warning, this gets gross). While I have enjoyed the best beets and dates of my life, a number of trainees have started to feel the unappetizing effects of the new dishes. Luckily, Peace Corps is a step ahead and on Monday afternoon we were provided with our “medical kits” for the service. From antibiotics and Pepto Bismal to condoms and a rape whistle, we are ready for anything! There are few things that our guaranteed in life, but Peace Corps promises that I will get hella sick during service. After spending nearly 20 minutes on the symptoms, diagnosis and types of diarrhea, I was reaffirmed that I don’t need to worry until my severe abdominal pain, bloody stool and uncontrollable vomiting have lasted for a few days. While I have always dreamt of collecting my own poo and shipping it off for analysis, I may instead opt to call a PCV friend to make me oral hydration cocktails while I lie in a pile of my own filth. Just a guess. As a final treat, in today’s “gender-specific” training we received an excessive amount of information regarding the details of the Turkish toilet, where to throw our trash and the possibility of being shaven by our host mother while at the hammam. Tomorrow the exciting adventure of community-based training begins in a small town near Fes. Apparently this site is gorgeous, essentially the Swiss Alps of Morocco! I am gearing up for complete immersion, hiking and minimal free time for the next two months- a necessary but difficult portion of my training before I am sworn in as a volunteer at the end of May. Please continue to pray for me as this may get intense, off to the mountains I go!

Staging, Arrival in Morocco and Pre-Service Training

Monday in Philadelphia continued with a long day of staging activities, meeting numerous volunteers and a fantastic introduction to life as a Peace Corps trainee (PCT). For the first time, I didn’t have to explain my reasons for volunteering in Morocco since my fellows PCTs understood and shared my wanderlust. Bonding over our common anxieties, dreams and lack of drawing ability, this group of complete strangers started to feel increasingly familiar as afternoon faded into evening. With a delicious meal of sushi and dishing about former and current loves, my roommate and I enjoyed the final night in the U.S. A fire alarm forced all of the PCTs from the comfortable beds of the Holiday Inn to the street at 7:15am Tuesday morning; I am still convinced it was a ploy to make sure we were all prepared for the 9:30am checkout (sneaky, sneaky Peace Corps!) We loaded into three buses and drove from Philadelphia to New York’s JFK airport for our evening flight. Moving as a group of 120 people through check-in, security and boarding meant that we spent nearly the entire day in slow transit from point A to point B. Prior to boarding, PCT feelings about the impending departure ranged from quiet nervousness to mild intoxication (thanks airport cocktail bar) to euphoria. Following a plane ride of turbulence, a medical emergency relating to another passenger’s allergies and zero sleep, we landed in the Kingdom of Morocco at 6am Wednesday morning. Casablanca’s brisk morning wind and glowing sunrise greeted me as I took my first steps in my new home. On the two hour bus ride from Casablanca, I saw my first camel and compared the countryside to a combination of Sicily and California before passing out until our arrival in Morocco’s capital, Rabat. The rest of Wednesday was a blur of our first meal (they eased us in, providing hamburger and spaghetti along with traditional Moroccan fare) and an overview of the rest of our week. By the end Wednesday’s training sessions, our sleep-deprived group had grown quietly disruptive; it was time for bed. With the aid of coffee, Moroccan tea and pastries, we hit the ground running with three days of intensive training. We were given additional vaccinations, met with the entire Peace Corps staff and the American ambassador to Morocco, and trained on everything from basic Darija (the Moroccan dialect of Arabic) to where female volunteers should sit on a solo taxi ride between small towns (backseat, closest to the door). The mix of formal training sessions, small group discussions, panels of current PCVs (Peace Corps Volunteers) and informal communal meals has encouraged me to be my own advocate and determine what I need to keep me sane in a conservative Islamic country for two years. As Peace Corps has made abundantly clear, you need friends within the PC community to “make it.” I have already been blessed with strong connections within our training group and cherish the shared awkward moments, dance parties and 4am conversations, As one of my fellow trainees put it ‘we tear off our bandaids, expose our wounds and share a part of ourselves;’ instantaneous friendships are forged in a matter of hours. Today (Sunday), we were finally given a day of rest. I took advantage of long relaxed meals, explored Rabat’s Medina, souks, and beaches as well as running across a small political demonstration. Ready or not, I am heading into another intense week of language before heading to my CBT (community-based training) on Friday morning. CBT is a period of roughly 2 months in which I receive intense language and cultural training while studying and living with a host family. The language facilitator (a Peace Corps staff member/Moroccan teacher) and the six trainees will travel from Rabat to a small town roughly 45 minutes north of Fez where I will complete this portion of the experience. As far as I know, I will spend the morning and afternoon learning conversational Darija and written standard Arabic through class work, field trips and participating in daily life. In the late afternoon, I will head to my host family’s residence for dinner, studying and ideally a lot of sleep. From what I am told, this is an exhausting period of time but essential to my success as a volunteer. All I know if that I can’t wait to attend my first Moroccan wedding! Kyla’s current state is excited with a side of pumped- despite my fatigue from jet lag and last night’s dance party (WOOT), I love this time. I feel prepared to move into the heart of Morocco and get a better understanding of where I have chosen to spend the next two years of my life. Huzzah for life!

I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello.

As my father reminded me during our last chat, life is simply a series of hellos and goodbyes. This week has provided me with a gentle reminder that this predictable cycle doesn’t make the goodbyes any easier or the hellos less sweet. As I sit in the purgatory of this in between, airports and hotels that are neither home nor particularly far away, I can’t help but grieve what I have left behind. 18 months of discovering the beauty of West Michigan through biking, beer, and blossoming friendships- it’s so good to be alive. Whether or not I always succeeded, I sought to find rest and satisfaction in my GR life while working towards the next step. The next step has arrived: 18 months after my initial Peace Corps application and 6 months after learning about my assignment, I have arrived at my staging. After weeks of tears and goodbyes, not to mention some extreme “anxiety belly” yesterday, I am relieved to finally begin the next step of my journey. Sunday’s playlists of Coldplay and indie sad rock have been replaced by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Le Roux. My 36 hour staging takes place at the Historic District’s Holiday Inn in downtown Philadelphia, PA. My roommate, Tiffany, had her own version of anxiety belly yesterday. Hearing about her fears and slight panic actually calmed my nerves. It was a good reminder that I’ve faced these challenges before; this year they are just being presented in a new way. A few added elements have made the last few weeks more stressful than the normal pre-departure worries: I’ve currently got three grandparents in the hospital (or just returning) and experienced my first car accident this week. I’ve got the emotional and physical bruises to prove it. This morning I took advantage of my Western freedom to walk downtown by myself, strange to think that it may be the last time for two years! I sipped on my delicious Starbucks and strutted around in a knee-length skirt, because I could. In an hour I will meet the other 120 volunteers headed to Morocco, receive a more detailed schedule and be able to ask my burning questions, i.e. “will there be ice cream?” It’s all happening. Thanks to my wonderful family and friends who have made my sojourn in Grand Rapids so memorable and painful to leave behind- I am truly blessed. Until we meet again!