Last Monday, January 19, 2015 we were all on our way to Philadelphia for Peace Corps Staging before departing for Morocco.  We had a full afternoon of information and role playing to get us ready for the big adventure.  I had too many bags,  too heavy for me to get to my room.  Jack at Crowne Plaza West took care of them all, then and the next day.  I met my roommate, Brandy Blue from Atlanta, Georgia, who will be my roommate in Morocco at the Hotel Jasmine Club in Rabat.  We were given a one-time use credit card for $120 dollars to cover our travel from the airport and meals.  I had taken a taxi which was not cheap but very helpful, and was happy that was covered.  The next morning we were on our way to JFK airport in New York under the guidance of our leader Ayeesha from Tacoma, Washington.  Tacoma was well represented in general as I discovered when we arrived in Rabat.

Departure that Tuesday evening involved a very long line of Peace Corps Trainees dragging and rolling and backpacking their luggage. In the gate area a young mother and baby sat across from me, she looked sad and when I asked her where she was from – Nigeria.  But she would not return there, she went to Morocco with us. AirMaroc provided pillow, blanket and a hot fish dinner.  It felt like time travel back to a sweeter time to fly.

Our arrival in Casablanca the next morning revealed a balmy, blue sky with palm trees which gave me a completely false picture of my future residence after Pre Service Training. After navigating through customs we were greeted by our country director Ellen Paquette and Abdelghani Lamnaouar, Program Manager for Youth Development, who supervised our training in Rabat. They both made us feel very welcome. And then we loaded into buses which did not provide knee room so we sat sideways. But it was a short trip.

Above: What we do a lot of in the Peace Corps,hotel courtyard - a little surprising, the Atlantic ocean from the east side, the big data exchange of which I had the most movies, Hotel Yasmine Club, its cats.

And soon we and our luggage arrived at the Hotel Yasmine Club where the local Peace Corps staff took us under their more than adequate wings and helped us find our rooms.  My delusion about my next home was deepened by the resort atmosphere we found there.  First impression: many cats – cats by the walk, cats by the pool, cats by our rooms,. We then more or less nodded though our afternoon training, being jet lagged as well as short of sleep.  The restaurant revived us by serving a very good dinner. We spent the next three days covering medical issues, (I got my flu shot. I also go a cold and was seen by the Peace Corps doctor because it came with a fever) financial information including setting up a local bank account, getting our pictures taken, getting mobiles, preparation for training at our sites, cultural training, safety information, how to use the contents of our enormous medical kits and the illnesses they could address, and finally in gender divided groups the important information about how to use the “Turk” which was very helpful as I discovered later.

We got to know each other a little as we sat down to breakfasts which provided tomatoes, cucumbers, and olives along with the usual items.  We were happy to try the café au lait, carafes of hot milk and coffee were at the table and a waiter moved around with the mint tea which is always poured from a height of a foot and a half at least.  Our Friday dinner was couscous, standard all over Morocco, covered with chicken and vegetable tagine, harissa on the table.  We couldn't finish.  It all came to a close and we were divided into two groups, one to go to Azrou hub and the rest, including me, to Meknes.  My last morning I arrived early in the dining room and the elegant older maître d with who I exchanged greetings in French each day and who had escorted me home one evening, came to my table, kissed me on both cheeks and told me I was magnificent.  Which is still a source of cheer as I grapple not only with my ignorance of the language, but with the fact that  the small town where the five of us in our language group were assigned is very, very cold.  But we are not there yet.  We were loaded again into buses, with more than adequate knee room, but not as much luggage space as needed, so we piled it into empty seats and the stairwell in the middle of the bus. I sat with a very friendly older gentleman who had served in Vietnam and we shared stories of that epic area as we made our way to Meknes.  On arriving there, our small group of five followed Badr, our Language and Culture guru, with our luggage, in the rain, to hail the two petite

taxis needed to take us to the Grande Taxi to take us to our site..

      

We did it. All our luggage went to Badr’s house, and we made our way to the Dar Chebab to meet our families.  Mine live right next to Badr which is good indeed.  There we were greeted by the brave and hospitable Moroccans who were willing to take us on and deal with our total ignorance.  My family Hassan and Naima, are the most amazing people, kind, hospitable, caring, warm and there is a real sense of peace in their house, which is both vertical and horizontal.  Their daughters, Souhaid and Oumaima, are as well and Mehdi, who is adopted, gave me a painting tonight .  I had enough gifts for all, which included Atila their daughter-in-law who is expecting a baby in May, and her three year old Alia. We eat together on the couches, and in the evening there is always a bucket fire to warm our feet and hands with.  The food totally agrees with me.  The Volunteer who was their first PCV had sent s letter for me and when I called was very helpful.  She is quite attached to this family and I can understand why.  She will be here mid-February for training.  Language classes began this morning and it is a steep learning curve for me. This afternoon we toured the town, met the mayor whose office was bare and dreary, the chief of police who had a nicer office.  I managed to buy the socks and hat and plastic shoes needed for the Turk, as well as stamps, and toilet paper. We stopped at a café on the way home with the African Soccer on the TV.  I am slower in walking than the four: Adelia, Emily, Alexander and Dominick but that is no surprise. 

The pictures above:  all of us at the police station, vegetable and fruit on sale in our town., Sheep on the roadside. Bad'r's cats and our town.