Wednesday, November 18, 2015

Summer Vacation


















My summer vacation in Coupiac France with the Cluzel  famiily: Juliette, Lou, their parents and grandparents.



Juliette au table
 Lou danse dans la centre de la ville pendant le féte du Lundi


Everyone comes for the delicious food;

At the top of the little mountain at Ambialet.  A bit of a climb!  Tamara and I hiked with girls and we all spent a great day picknicking at Comblet.where later their excellent restaurant provided us with a great dinner.  We swam, read stories, played Uno and had many a fine wine and much good cheese, which we don't have in my site in Morocco.


I had not seen this family for a year and it was  wonderful to see them all.
Then back home in Morocco I found the Dar Chebab in the process of renovating the classroom to prrepare it for the computers we hope to buy.


This is Rachida, the dynamic woman who got the painters together to show how to use the organic paint. The painters are watching!





Then Massaoud Saleh, my counterpart and I went to Rabat for the Library workshop presented by the Peace Corps.  We hear the books are coming:

Fatiha and Aicha teach me how to make briouats



Summer

Summer began in July with a wonderful Peace Corps Training at our first hotel: Club Yasmina on the Atlantic Ocean; We had  the opportunity to see and hear about the many projects the 2nd year volunteers have done: CLIMB, GLOW (Girls Leading Our World) Camp, Write On, and many others.

Then I flew to Toulouse to be with my family in France for two weeks.  Two granddaughters kept me reading, playing UNO, swimming and there were many good dinners and much good wine and cheese.
My daughter took me on some good hikes and one climb in Ambialet.  It was fantastic to be with them and the French family my daughter married into.

Returning to Morocco, I visited my host family and shared in a family wedding which was more than one day, almost three.  It was so good to see them and the new baby Rania.

Peace Corps held a Library Training Workshop at the end of July to which both I and my counterpart Massaoud Saleh attended.  We now have three cartons of books in Arabic for the Dar Chebab  and more will arrive in December.  We also hope to have computers fir the young members soon.

August brought my family from California and we had a good tour of Morocco: first stop to see Kika and Cameron and their kittens, Rabat, Meknes, Volubilis, a couscous Friday dinner with host family Hassan and Naima, Fez briefly, Azrou, Marrakech and Casablanca.  The two grandcuildren loved the snake charmers, chicken tagine, and especially the Roman ruins at Volubilis where they could run wild.

If I can figure out how to get their pictures up I will do so but I have had lots of problems uploading photos.

Now Massaoud and I are busy with classes and I will say more about that later;

Saturday, May 30, 2015

Long neglected, abandoned blog, so out of date I hardly know what to say. However, the last post ended on an enthusiastic note which turned out later to be unwarrented.  The said apartment was made unavailable due to its present tenant deciding to stay.  The good news is that my very kind host family were in the process of building a new home. They offered to rent their apartment, spacious, nicely arranged, huge kitchen by Moroccan standards, European bathroom at a reasonable sum.  So now I am at home where I was all along.  My hosts' cousin Fatiha did not move with them to the new place. She has a tiny apartment on the roof, but had always been busy here cleaning and cooking for the family, and she is still doing this even though they are gone..

Family stateside worried about exploitation so I asked Badr, my tutor to explore the issue with her. She likes doing this and feels that an older person should be helped and not left alone.  Outside sources confirm this to be a Moroccan cultural bias. So I am probably the only volunteer with a helper who cooks, shops and cleans as well as instructing me in Deriga which is her only language.
Others in the Corps rejoiced at finally getting their own place with the freedom to be naked, cook American, enjoy privacy and its delights.  I think about my aunt Gert who lived alone at my age and who decided to take a nice hot bath one evening and then discovered she could no longer haul herself out of the tub. She spent a long, cold, uncomfortable night in the bathtub before she was rescued. It gives one pause as they say.

Here in my sweet site I have had very unexpected experiences, mostly delightful and I'm not going to talk about the one which wasn't.  Monday this week I met a teacher through my former Bac student Abdali, who said he would like my help in teaching English to his students.  He, Achmed, offered to show me his classroom which turned out to be a large, beautiful room, decorated with nice art done by the students, pastel tables and chairs and on the wall a large interactive computer panel, overhead projector sourced, with so many good sites for music for the students and much else. I had not expected anything like this being accustomed to my dilapidated classroom at the Dar which has a huge hole in the ceiling and stained walls, dirty floors.  I was amazed, envious, delighted all at the same time.  Of course I want to get all this for my students.  Achmed said he could help me get these things at a good price.  Grant writing looms ahead.

The same day I met Jouad when I was buying somethings for the apartment. He asked me in English if I was the owner of the store!  We started a conversation in English which is the first time I have used the language on the street, so to speak.  It turns out he lived in Los Angeles for a few years. He is now a chicken farmer, as well as having a large olive grove.  He really wants to keep his English up and was delighted to hear that I had classes at the Dar (sorry for dissing you, Dar) He showed up Thursday for conversation and that was terrific.  He asked me how I felt about old people not living with their families in the US, so we had a long conversation about the cultural differences in caring for the old;  While he was there suddenly four women teachers arrived who teach at the Ecole near the Dar. They spoke English as well, welcomed me, kissed me on bth cheeks, invited me to visit the school and of course we all went outside for photo ops.  This gave Jouad an opportunity to comment on how welcoming Moroccans are.  I suddenly felt as if I were in a giant church called Morocco.

Then Hadija from the Net Neswi came in to invite me to a féte the next day which was to run from 3 to 6, completely fictitious numbers of course, as the féte began at 4 or so, and lasted until 7 plus.  It was the pep rally for women to prepare for Ramadan complete with songs, druming, sermons and delicious gateaux and drinks.  This is the tradition in our town, I was told, so I don't know if this happens all over Morocco.  I will post pictures later.

Now the ultimate in miscommunication and just plain dumb.  Last week Anas who is the youngest in the class brought a plast ic bag and when I inquired told me it was for me.  I thanked him and put it on my desk; took it home after class and discovered a bottle of Pom and two boxes of homemade cookies. The note said, "Happy birthday Anas;"  Duh.  It was obviously meant for us to celebrate Anas' birthday.  I immediately got out all the records and noted down everyone's birthday.  Then the next class I told Anas we would celebrate his birthday on Thursday this week and I apologized for not understanding.  (Fatiha and I demolished the cookies over the weekend but I had no trouble replacing them at the Patisserie whose glass cabinets were full of cookies as well as gazillions of honey bees dragging their feet through the frosting about which the owner did not comment )  So, Thursday I had all the students learning the months of the year and posting on the board their own birthdays; They made beautiful cards for Anas, a streamer which said Happy Birthday.  Anas never showed up until after the class was over, and the cards and cookies on their way to his house.  His mother came with him and again I apologized for the whole sad affair, with Jouad's help. She was laughing and said it was fine, not to worry. I told her what a good student Anas is, and how much I liked the hat he wore that day.  Big mistake, she insisted on giving it to me; See below. Jouad again could comment on the Moroccan tradition of giving what you admire to you. Lessons learned

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Saturday, April 18, 2015

New home Inshallah

Yesterday my Host lady Aicha pulled me out the door to go see an apartment owned by a relative of hers. It is affordable, and having the landlord (whose family I met) in the building is a plus;  It is one flor up, and I have access to the roof to dry my clothes and enjoy the sunshine and even make some solar experiments; The neighborhood is a block from the Cyber which is a normal daily stop for me and has the best pastry shop in the town.

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

And this is what we did from January to the end of March.
We ate a lot of very good food.







We learned directions in Deriga blindfolded in a field with sheep and one cow.












We met some wonderful young people at the Dar Chebab.












We celebrated my birthday by subtracting a year.










With Badr our LCF (Language and Culture Instructor)













With Emily Reagan, Alexander Levine-Epstein, and Hamsa







There are more pictures but my French PC isn't talking to me anymore.  I will try later.


As my fellow volunteer Elle Belle put it: "What a wonderful three months CBT has been. With plenty of ups and downs, this time has been challenging, encouraging, and rewarding. A big thank you to our LCFs! We have no idea how hard it must be to devote every waking moment to our happiness, education, and integration. We have never given of ourselves to others the way you have given of yourselves to us. Thank you for welcoming us into your country and into your hearts. With all sincerity we say, we wouldn't have made it without you. 
Shukran, barak llah fikum."

The four who kept me laughing all the way through the rain, the long language less
ons, the things we did at the Dar Chebab, until we made it to swearing in!!!
  Adelia Gray, Dominick Delegge, Alexander Levin-Epstein, Emily Reagan and our long suffering LCN Badr Allouche.



All of us and Senior PCVs with Ambassador Bush




The Girls in Blue

Newly sworn-in PCVs selfie featuring a photobomb by Ambassador Bush.


The amazing volunteers in my group, brilliant and beautiful!

What my first roommate said (because I gave her EmergenC packets has to say, take it cum grano salis.

With my inspiration!!! Alice was my first roommate in this crazy experience. She is warm, smart, amazingly interesting and super inviting. She is in her 80s which always brings me back to earth when I am feeling too old for this! Congrats for becoming the oldest volunteer in Peace Corps history today Alice!! It is never too late for a new adventure.


How to do Pascha (Easter) in Morocco

Traveling to Pascha. No, there are no taxis to Rabat. Finally we agree on Sale and I climb in with 5 others and off we go for awhileuntil the driver points to a taxi traveling beside us and tells me they are going to Rabat, change and go to Bab Chellah and get the tram to Russia, not the country the tram stop, Petite Taxi to Holy Resurrection where the service begins hours from now. Decide to go to Carrefour for Pascha basket but can't get taxi. Policeman goes to get one for me. Get cheese, crackers, strawberries, peaches and a sturdy chocolate bar. Back to church which is open and I fix my basket in the patio. Three little girls belonging to Father Maxim keep me company and eat crackers. It is decided that I need an extra jacket so Father Maxim's wife brings me one, then they tell me I will be too tired waiting for the service to begin so I should go to Alexei's house to rest. He just returned from St Petersburg and a master conducting class there. He conducts the choir. His apartment is outstanding and the patio deck enormous with lots of plants. Now I will sleep.

Traveling to Pascha 2. Alexei and I went to church at 11. Almost everyone was dressed informally, as if we had put up a tent in the desert which we might need to dismantle. But no, the church, a beautiful white and blue building with a domed roof and tower looks permanent. No bells were rung as this is forbidden in Muslim countries but we processed around the church, hidden by a very high wall, singing "Your Resurrection oh Christ our Savior the angels in heaven sing, enable us on earth to worship You in purity of heart." (in Slavonic) the church was filled with flowers, zwin bzeff as we say, the singing was beautiful and as Father Maxim censed the sanctuary he would say Christ is Risen in English as he passed me. My friend Eugene was not there, his wife was having her baby and the baby was born before the end of the service. In the patio outside three tables together held all the dishes everyone brought to share, no baskets that I could see except mine and there was only the Russian table to join! I wished Inga could have beamed up at that moment!. So we ate wonderful food, including pork and bacon which Alexei had told me they get in Spain which is not that far - 150 km. I met a Peace Corps staff member, Dr. Victor Britkov, who told me the church had been built with a huge financial gift from Tolstoy's son Leo, who with other Russians in France, fled to Morocco after the Nazi invasion. We drank a toast to the new baby when Eugene arrived. He, Alexei and one other member of the parish are all in the Royal Moroccan Symphony, and it is a small parish. In spite of jet lag and conducting the long service Alexei drove me home and it's a 26 km journey, so quite a kind merciful gift under a beautiful night sky with a lemon slice moon, and I was able to rouse my host at 4:30 AM to open the door. Joy to all my friends. Christ is Risen!

Tuesday April 14

I am at a Hanut near the Dar Chebab where the kindly proprietor asked me to wait until someone who knew how to recharge my modem arrived. Which took awhile but finally did happen. So I asked him if he knew of a little apartment in the neighborhood and again he asked me to wait and disappeared. I wonder what will happen now.

What happened after the proprietor returned?


On his motorbike. I finally introduced myself and he did as well, Said, not young. He walked to a building and we met another man with a key. We walked up FOUR flights of unforgiving marble stairs to see two apartments which I will never live in - not bad but for that many stairs 1600 and 1700 dr are pricey. Plus we, that is, Said and me were so winded by the climb we couldn't speak. So I wandered Into a lumber hanut and the man there said come back at 4 so I did and he took me to a man who showed me a ground floor apartment with no cross ventilation or shower for 1200 dr . Then I went to a paint store, and the clerk hailed someone passing by who took me to a man sitting by a metal worker who told me to come back tomorrow afternoon.

As I said to one of my friends it has been a great way to get to know the community.

Wednesday April 15. 

And I did come back to the paint store whose proprietor called the owner.  We saw it together and they lowered the rent 100 dr and the apartment is great.;  It has a complete bathroom with a shower;  All the floors are marble, two bedrooms, salon, kitchen with a double sink. It is three floors up;,no one over my head and the roof has great views.

Plus I finally got the receipt for the Carte de Sejour so now I am legally  here!

Monday, March 30, 2015

This blog is not a Peace Corps blog, It is just my meandering journey/

Sunday, March 8, 2015

I have a new computer, everything is in French.  But it is better than the broken one which died on ,y birthdqy qnd thqt is the reason for the month of silence.  We have been studying Deriga daily, as well as learning about Moroccan culture;  We have been to the Hotel Malta in Meknes twice for trainings by Peace Corps staff. Always a pleasure to have hot showers!

The big news: we have our new sites.  Mine is a half hour east of Rabat so the winter temperature willl be milder than where we are now.  The winter was colder than I expected, as the houses are not heated. Getting warm required bottles of hot water and heavy blankets. Now the sun is out and we are warming up.  I was given a great birthday party by my host family: Naima and Hassan;  As soon as I can retrieve my camera (it has been our training group's camera) I will post pictures of that as well as pictures of my fellow trainees teqching English and organizing activities for the young people at the local Dar Chebab;

We are all going for a five day visit with our host families in oue new sites;  To get there I will take three taxis, not expensive at all.  I will stay with my new host, Houseine;  We stay with our host family for the month of April, during which time ze look for a place to live, get acquainted with people we will be working with, neighbors, shop owners, gendarmes, associations and the children who form phalanxes around us as soon as we go outside;  More about our life in Morocco to come as I get used to the French keyboard and figure our how to do photos.

Monday, January 26, 2015

We have been here a week and can count to 10000 and conjugate personal pronouns, tell time and many other things.  But yesterday, desperate for connection to the world, mostly family, Hassan, my host and I went to the next town Taoujtate in a petit taxi with 6 other men. It worked if you didn't breath or search for a safety belt. Hassan tried many hanuts and finally found a modem.  But neither Hassan or I had brought IDs, passport etc., which is needed for anything telephonic so he had to call a friend to come with ID to liberate the modem.  Back in the taxi again loaded to the gills and home.  I am connected.  That evening Souhaid decorated my hands with henna, pictures below, after Atila scrubbed me down in the turk.  After the henna was finished, Souhaid put cotton socks on my hands.

Sorry for the repetition, I don't knw how to remove photos yet.  I am wearing a head covering because my hair is wet, not a cultural act.
 Hassan and me

Souhaid with her needle








Akia, Hassan;s granddaughter