Final week in Morocco

If I had to sum it up in one sentence: Morocco, You’ve been wonderful to me.

There, I did it. I summarized my Peace Corps service in one sentence. End. Of. Blog. Post. Really though, it is impossible to sum up in one sentence.

In one week, and around 8 hours, I officially will be finished as an Environmental Education Peace Corps volunteer in Morocco. I put stamp to paper, and literally close the book on 2 years, 1 month, and 28 days (I made the days part up. I guessed. Too busy typing to look at a calendar.)

I am expected to uproot myself, like a ripe carrot ready for the harvest, finish a life here, and go back to the life that I came from…

How dare you expect me to do that! Though I really know that you don’t expect me to do that.

My friends and family in Morocco have helped shape me and groom me into the person that I am today, sitting at this very table, writing this very blog post. I have been protected from harm, stood up for, and sheltered from nasty things by these people (oh how people not from your home don’t like to share their closeted skeletons, and keep them to themselves.) The people here in my second home have helped me to learn language, culture… a new way of life. I will forever be grateful and thankful for these people. I have had many frustrating times (for sure,) but that isn’t the focus, and I will likely forget those things.

While I plan to be uprooted fully, I am sure there will be a ripening period. Let’s look at it like Chiquita Bananas (Sing the song and dance please.) Bananas are harvested early, sprayed to hold the ripening, then sprayed again when they are in the states to start the process again. All giggles aside, I’m like a banana (he said he’s a banana! Teehee.)

For starters, I don’t actually come home until June 1st at 12:35am. Three of my dear friends and I will spend a month on the Adriatic coast of Italy renting a villa. This my friends is hopefully my ripening time; the time I relax, reflect, readjust, and reboot (I need a new computer too.) I will take all Italy can give me, and I hope to make the best out of it. I am sure the people I surround myself in Italy have those same thoughts in mind. They are as I said, three of my best friends from Morocco.

When I step off the plane at 12:35am June 1st in Columbus, I will go through security and hug my parents (hopefully they can both be there, and I know they will barring any unforeseen circustance.) While it seems sappy, I don’t care. They are and will be awesome, and I love them. Their support, and their thoughts have really helped me through the thick and thin of Morocco (both have existed in bulk.) I am sure that my parents were worried about my well being throughout (and they will continue worrying after I get home.) Little did they know that just after I came to Morocco I got an amoeba that I carried with me for two years haha. I just got around to getting rid of it this week. My friend, Mr. or Mrs. Amoeba, will hopefully not be joining me for my post PC trip.

My parents, just like any parents, are kind of scared of unknown things for their “little one” (as my mom still to this day calls me that.) My example, more recent, is about the protests going on in Morocco. They were worried that I would get hurt or injured, or unable to leave Morocco if the proverbial $@%^ hit the fan. While I still can’t fully express my thoughts on the matter (just wait)… I was safe. But my parents, like other parents, had seen the unrest in the region via the blokes at FOX and CNN, and worried it would spread to Morocco. It hasn’t as of now, and maybe it never will (sigh…)

I have so many stories to tell. The good, the bad, and certainly the ugly. Recently I watched 30 kids try to fight out a 1000 year cultural dispute at a Spring Camp. That was bad, and disheartening. At this very same spring camp I got to learn about a different culture, by sharing vocabulary of the regional differences of the Tamazight language. That was good. Lastly, at the very same spring camp, I watched helplessly as a young man missed on a flip (he is a gymnast of sorts) and land awkwardly on his shoulder and neck. He began twitching on the stage, and just lay there. He ended up alright, probably a concussion. He had asked me to pick out the music for the “flic-flac” routine. I knew the boy fairly well, and he had been at this spring camp two years in a row. It was the ugly (as I typed that, It is still fresh for me.) It was too much for me, and I left, white as a sheet, shortly after just losing it due to all of the above (the good, the bad, the ugly.) This spring camp is one of my final experiences of Morocco.

I could make blog post after blog post about random stories: The sheep in the taxi trunk, the lady next to me smelling like a perfume store and stripper, and the gaudiness of her outfit (I thought she might be a prostitute.) The baby that puked so much on the bus, it made me want to hurl, and how I thought the baby was puking for everyone on the bus. The bus I was on that probably ¼ of the 50 people on board were puking. The man that drove a motorbike/rickshaw thing that always had dirty hands and played “peek-a-boo” by covering my eyes, asking me to guess who it was, and finally stroking my hair. I had two attempted pick pockets yet no success for the men. And finally, the man in the coke bottle glasses who struggled to get a “Bonjour” out and by the time he did I had already said “Salam” and blew his mind. Stories like that go on and on.

I don’t just want to remember these stories and recall them; I want to learn from them, understand the human condition more, and continue to pay it forward like I hopefully have been doing. Peace Corps has made me feel lucky, privileged, almost to the point of making me feel bad. I just want to help people out, learn something great about them, and hopefully teach them something about me. I find it hilarious though that I get

Hopefully my dear and lovely readers, I will one day be sitting across from you at a table, drinking a beer or coffee, recalling some story, hopefully in detail, about Morocco. I would like to be at least. Only if you want though… no pressure. If you have questions, please write me, call me, or track me down.

I want to raise my glass though and thank you… whoever you are… that read this blog or have read this blog at any one point. I haven’t done my part recently (please forgive my computer outage,) but every time I felt rushed to post, or felt like my posts were not important to people, I saw my site stats. They saved me. I saw that at least 1 or 3 or 10 people clicked on a link to my blog. So I wrote it.

If I someday have the money (Let’s face it, I wont… I decided on this work as a career!) I will buy you are drinks. I thank you all for your support, your kind thoughts, and to those who delve into religion, your prayers.

You might be asking what is next for me. I refuse to give all of my information up, but I will let it be known that I will be in Georgia, studying International Policy Management as a Peace Corps Fellow. All the other details, ask me if you care. That said, if anyone has contacts in the Atlanta area, I am looking for a full time job as well as affordable housing in an area of Atlanta that suits me.

As for being done with Peace Corps, likely the answer is “no.” I have a feeling that I will be volunteering again someday. Likely with a twist though (think couple), and maybe even working for the organization. It was so positive (yes, there are and will always be negatives.)

In closing, Thank you all again (my lovely readers,) and I cant wait to see many of you again soon, and if I could, all of you. Much love, and if you see and or talk to my parents before June 1st, hug them for me. Also if you are reading this and are my family, please know I will be trying to see you all soon.

PS. I will be starting a new blog hopefully when I get back to the states. It will be about the randomness of the good ol’ USA. Home, sweet, home.