Where in the world is....

Yes, I'm in Mexico now - San Miguel de Allende to be exact. I have the very great fortune to be able to stay at the house of a generous friend until the end of January.

For those who haven't visited, San Miguel is a beautiful town rich in colonial history, architecture and color. It's been a favorite of artists and ex-pats for decades and it's not hard to find aging hippies from Marin draped in Mexican silver strolling the streets. That said, it's also not hard to find humble Mexican families who have lived here for generations. It's an interesting balance that keeps this town wonderfully appealing (though personally I could do with a few less Texans and Marin-ites - no offense). 

While I was in Morocco, I found many familiar comparisons with Mexico - the climate, landscape, architecture, colors, and warmth of the people. The contrast of extreme poverty and wealth is also obvious in both countries. 

Now that I'm here though, I'm finding the differences even more remarkable. The most fundamental is perhaps most obviously based in religious culture, but most striking in comparison. Islamic culture strictly avoids the representation of figures in religious contexts and these are rarely seen elsewhere. One sees no paintings or sculptures of saints, prophets, or historic figures in Morocco. 

Mexico, on the other hand, couldn't be further apart on the spectrum, especially this time of year. Richly embellished churches are "enhanced" by garish exhibits of tinsel and flashing christmas light-draped nativity scenes. And one would have to walk with their head to the ground to avoid seeing shrines of saints and statues of heros on every corner (even Starbucks can't avoid it... and the fact that we even have one here is a whole other story). Even now as I type this, I'm watched by 7 faces - traditional Mexican dance masks staring down at me.

I love the richness and visual vibrancy of Mexican culture, and growing up Catholic I'm no stranger to icons of saints. But I love Morocco too where words and designs, rather than literal pictures, are the expressions of our human souls.

Morocco vs Paris vs San Francisco

Roger Cohen's column in today's NYT beautifully articulated so much that I've been trying to express since returning from Rabat last week. Branding and consumer culture and the bustle of SF city living have been my life for longer than I care to admit, and chances are will continue to be a part of my future. But these things bombard me now and my de facto participation is leaving me with a sense of guilt instead of the satisfaction of being home again.

Don't get me wrong - I like my iPhone and the convenience of my microwave, and certainly my cab ride yesterday where the driver politely asked me to buckle up was much safer than a run-down grand taxi in Rabat. But the richness of the market street in the medina where fish scales stick to your shoes and the smells of mandarines are mixed with fresh herbs and incense cannot be found in the perfectly orchestrated experience of the Ferry Plaza Farmers market.

Where Cohen laments a safer and more sanitized Paris, I agree to a point, yet having spent a long weekend there last month, to me it is still Paris even if the cafes are non-smoking. In my youth I excitedly ran down the Champs Elysees to meet a boy under the Arc de Triomphe and tearfully said goodbye in the busy and dingy Gare St. Lazare. But I still think one can find those things in Paris, perhaps it just requires youth.

Like Cohen's description of Havana, I miss the "pungent texture" of Morocco, the primitive branding of the medina poultry seller, and the toothless grin of of the street merchant. But unlike Cohen's Paris, it's still there and I most certainly will go back.

Goodbye Rabat (for now)

I can't believe that 3 months has passed so quickly. I expected to document so much more in this blog, but will have to share many of my experiences in person... unless of course I realize my next goal of writing a book.

Morocco was different, and much richer than I expected. And much less foreign as well - I've said this before but it does feel like home in many ways. I can't imagine not returning here soon. And I've even been allowed to keep the keys to the house!

Today I play tourist and try to document everything, but so many things won't fit in my lens... the sound of morning prayers layering over each other in the 5am silence. The smells of sheep's heads grilling and fresh mandarines. The brilliance of the sun and the cold of unheated houses. The feeling of being drawn along in a throng through the market streets on a warm evening. The loud and laughing conversations in broken Arabic and French in crowed grand taxis. The food!!! The music and dancing. The poverty and the generosity.

My baraka.

The desert

Yes, I realized my little dream. I finally did ride a camel in the desert, sleep in a berber tent under a starry sky and dance by the fire. I also almost got caught in a snow storm and saw other wonderfully unexpected sights this past week. Thank you Omar.

My adventure here is almost over. But I know there will always be more to come.

Last days

Yesterday was my last day at work. With big tears I said goodbye to my autisitc kids - Mehdi, Seddik, and Abedsammad. In the afternoon I wished all 40 of my AMESIP students good luck, finally being able to call them each by their name. This was by far the most emotional day of my journey.

The more I travel, the more comfortable I become in different situations, it seems that change is what happens in the environments around me and, somewhat regretfully, less frequently inside me. Is this what they call knowing theyself? Envisioning my trip home it feels like I've only been gone a few days and Moroco already feels like just a dream. I'm feeling like the same person that left San Francisco almost 3 months ago, but I'm hoping I'm just a bit more.

I'm trying to hold onto each minute here now, even if it includes tears.

contrasting the familiar

I just returned last night from 4 days in Paris visiting friends. I love Paris (who doesn't really) and little seemed to have changed since my last visit 8 years ago. Even the guy at the reception desk at the Hotel du Quai Voltaire was the same. Everything felt very familiar. It was nice to be back.

As I walked home from the edge of the Rabat Medina where the taxi dropped me off last night, down a narrow alley I ran into some kind of ceremony in the middle of the street - a family holding candles and traditional gnaouan musicians dancing around a small bucket of burning charcoal and offerings of dates, milk and bread. I have no idea what this was about but my first thought was, "it's nice to be home." Of course my second thought was, "how the hell am I going to get past these people."

It's pretty cool here in Morocco. I'm going to hate to leave.

Street life

Rabat is full of cats. They roam the streets and alleys and have their regular hangouts. In the afternoon they brave the crowded market street searching for handouts and then siesta in the sun around 2pm. Then it's time to beg for dinner at the local butcher.

Life is hard for many in Morocco and you take what fate gives you. Cats' lives are no different. There is no SPCA here, no bleeding hearts group campaigning for spaying and neutering. But a fresh sardine or chicken head is gladly offered and while I've seen quite few scrappy cats, I've not seen a starving one.

Another little hammam anecdote

The internet cafe that I normally use is about a 2 minute walk from my house. It's a tiny convenience shop, about 10 x 15 ft with a teeny loft and miniscule spiral staircase (not even close to legal in the US) and about 6 computers. You can buy soda, candy, hot sauce, water, make a phone call or print a file (for an exhorbitant 5 dh a page - the one thing that's more expensive than the US).

The woman who runs it is extremely nice and we always exchange pleasantries. As I was leaving last night after writing my blog, she asked about my weekend and I told her I had visited the hamman. The typical response when I mention this is "ah, le hamman, c'est bon." The store owners response was no exception, however I also received a nice invitation to join her one day at the local hammam, inshallah.

That might sound a bit odd... how many times has a store owner invited you to take a bath with them? (various SF subcultures not withstanding). However, here it's not only evidence of a culture of welcome generosity, but also an indication of the culture of community that exists here. You might even call it tribal in a certain sense.

You see many examples of this, from the obvious sharing of bowls and platters of food (it's very rare to have individual servings) to the sharing of cabs. At the table also, only a few glasses of water are set and everyone shares the same glass (I still haven't become used to that one). Personal space is non-existant. You also often find many family members living together, though here in Rabat thay may have as much to do with the cost and scarcity of real estate as with culture. Our house has a sink in the common are where we all wash our hands and brush out teeth. I could go on.

There is something reassuring in this culture of sharing, the safety of the tribe.

The hammam

There are many wonderful things to love about Morocco and this morning I discovered another... the hammam (which from now on I will pronounce hammaaahhhhhmmmm). The hamman is the traditional public bath where you shed your clothes and most of your skin because cleanliness is truly next to godliness afterall.

To be completely honest, the idea of going someplace around the corner from my house and the open air market selling fish and vegetables, and spending a dollar fifty to shower with a bunch of naked female neighbors was a little off-putting, so for my first experience a friend and I opted to go the lux route.

A three dollar cab ride took us to Institut Moving - a spa/health club in a nice area of Rabat. After checking in for our Mille et une nuit (thousand and one nights) session we were escorted to a beautiful relaxation room decorted like a haram. We shed clothes (a strange experience having done nothing but ensure almost complete body coverage for the last 6 weeks) and were escorted to the hot room - a kind of sauna with a barrel ceiling and very warm stone benches all around where we were rinsed and slathered with some kind of mixture of henna and herbs and oil. Looking like a couple of mud wrestlers, we marinated for 15 minutes before being led to rinse off and then to the warm room.

For the next hour we were laid out on heated soap stone slabs and scrubbed with a sandpaper mitt (kese), soaped, shampooed, massaged, rinsed, oiled with something smelling of jasmine and soothed with a facial mask of mint and sugar (it's a rare experience in Morocco that doesn't involve sugar). Then back to the haram room wrapped in a warm robe with a glass of fresh orange juice to listen to soothing tinkling bells (some spa effects are universal) and relax. And all this for 200 dh (about 30 dollars)!! OMG, we both agreed we'd be back.

Now I'm ready to try the neighborhood joint around the corner. I'm sure it will be an amazing expereince of another sort... hopefully I won't come out smelling like fish.

The Wedding... Part Three

Three hours of sleep and a knock on my bedroom door. Time for petit dejeuner with the family and 10 wedding guests who never made it home. Listening to more incomprehensible conversations in Arabic and craving an afternoon of sleep and a nice evening shower. Hah.

Lunch at 2pm, then decided to do a bit of laundry to take advantage of the Sunday sun (and fearing an immenent lack of clean underwear). Layed down for nap around 4. Five pm - sounds of chairs shuffling and people arriving. I open my bedroom door to ask what's up and learn that part three of the wedding will be happening at our house in the next few hours. "Nothing like last night, just the family, but you should wear your new djabador."

Over the next few hours people arriving, furniture being rearranged, kids running amok, glasses being washed, napkins being folded. 9pm - a house full of 50 people, traditional Moroccan percussionists, table full of wedding gifts, more sweets, tea. Bride and groom arrive, are seated for first musical act. Women dance, people sing, bride changes clothes three times. Presents are opened, platters of pastilla and tagine are served.

In bed finally at midnight. No guests sleeping in the salon.

I've been told that's it for les fetes de marriage. I haven't arrived home yet tonight. We'll see

The wedding... part two

OMG. There is nothing I've experienced that comes close to last night's event. Forgive me if I'm a bit incoherent, but I finally made it to bed by 6am and then was up at 9:30 for breakfast with the 10 women who never made it home last night from the big night.

Due to unceasing rain, there was a last minute change of venue so at 4pm yesterday we were madly removing carpets and furniture to accomodate 200 people at our house (note that our house is probably a modest 1800 sq ft). And that was only the beginning.

There is no way to accurately depict a traditional Moroccan wedding in writing, but I'll do what I can. Imagine the most lavish silk and brocade dresses in vibrant colors, belted with gold or silk... now imagine 150 women wearing these. My costume was one of the fanciest things I've ever worn and I felt under-dressed.

Now imagine the loudest middle eastern beats you can, a wonderful singer and the whole house clapping and dancing like mad (yup, traditional Moroccan belly dancing moves)... for 8 hours straight. And keep in mind that like last night, were talking about a house full of women... with the exception of the band and the caterers, the men were banished to the hall.

Now imagine the most beautiful bride you've ever seen carried in a silver platter and paraded through the house by four men and, after that, five (yes, 5) costume changes complete with matching jewelry, tiara/crown. And not a simple necklace or bracelet, but draped in gold, pearls and silver. Even some of the guests changed outfits... only Allah knows where they were keeping them. (Rashid, the groom did change from suit to caftan a couple times, but he even kept the same tie). Then more parading around on raised platters, presentatations of gifts, eating of dates, exchanging of rings and jewelry, and more dancing. A quick flicker or YouTube search will give you some idea of the experience. I'll have my own video and pix to share at some point (the broadband gods willing).

The whole affair ended with a 4:30am ride to Rabat's most famous monument, the Tour Hassan, for a few photos (did I forget to mention that each costume change was also accompanied by photos with many of the guests... there seriously must be 2000 photos from the event).

To think that all of this wildness was fueled by a little fruit juice, tea and sweets is also quite amazing, especially for those of us used to 2-day wedding hangovers from too much champagne. I will admit to a slight sugar hangover this morning though along with ringing ears.

There is so much more I could describe, but I'd be here for hours and lunch is calling. You'll have to wait for the in-person stories. All I can say is that it's incredibly difficult to express how priviledged and lucky I feel for having been a part of this amazing experience. It's truly altered and greatly enhanced my impression of this country, its culture and its people. This adventure really is my baraka.

My big fat Moroccan wedding...

I've been extremely lucky to have been invited to a traditional Moroccan wedding this weekend... two days of feasting, dancing (so I hear), and getting dressed up. Like many things here, the way I came about discovering this invitation was quite by accident... during lunch last week Said's mother Aisha showed a new beautiful caftan to Wafae. Having sat through a whole coucous meal conversation in Arabic of which I understood nothing, I finally had a chance to comment on the beauty of the outfit (zweena). I later learned that night from Said that the aforementioned caftan was for his brother Said's wedding in one weed and h by the way, I must come and I need appropriate attire (I mean really... how do you plan for these things?). Thus started my week of shopping...

The wedding takes place over 2 days - last night and today - and I learned I needed a different outfit for each. I am now the owner of a very beautiful green and gold djabador, and a shocking pink Moroccan caftan with gold trim and a brocade belt. Of course I also had to buy gold shoes and a gold purse to match, and new earrings.

Last night we (the groom's family) walked through the narrow streets carrying a big bouquet of roses to a house where the bride's side waited. The women all chanted on the way there. Within the great atrium of the traditional home, the bride sat poised on a raised brocade seat and draped in emerald green and gold silks with more gold and pearl jewelry than you'd ever seen. A woman decorated her hand and feet with intricate henna designs while everyone sat and ate sweets, drank tea, talked, drummed, clapped and sang... at least this is what the women did. The men were all in side salons probably talking about soccer.

The groom, Rashid, sat next to his fiancee and many photos were taken (I'm in one). Finally the couple signed their official wedding contract. This is the point of this event. At about midnight huge platters of coucous and roasted chickens were served and we finally all went home around 2am.

Today is an even bigger party with hundreds of people and I'm not sure exactly what happens though I hear there is a lot more singing and dancing... I'll let you know!

So that's my life here... one moment swinging a laughing autistic child in the air as he pulls my hair and gets drooling bisquit pieces on my sweater, the next sitting like a princess in a fairy tale getting my hand henna'd. Who would have thought.

The end of Ramadan...

Well, Ramadan has finally ended as of Wednesday, and I have to say that I'm missing it. Not being a big daytime eater anyway, I had no problem fasting (and happily lost a few extra kilos), but now having to be home for breakfast, lunch and dinner is really putting a crimp in my schedule. And to be honest, I'm missing all that sugar (me of all people). I wonder if I can request , dates, s'fouf and tea for dessert tomorrow night??

On the positive side, eating and drinking (non-alcohol) in public seems like a treat now. Yesterday, a couple friends and I had table service on the beach... Fanta in the afternoon never tasted so good.

Marrakech Express

Yes, since the beginning of last weekend I've had that song running through my head, because I finally experienced the Marrakech Express... well not really the express - it did take 4 hours from Rabat.

Marrakech was not at all what I expected but that could be said of much of my experience in Morocco. Somehow I pictured fortress walls, men in dusty djellabas, camels, snake charmers, sand and date palms. Well, 3 out of 6 ain't bad. Definitely walls, snake charmers and palm trees, but also lush gardens, carriages and more tourists than Moroccans. 

At first glance, Marrakech seems more like a third world Disneyland, though walking through the souks, you definitely know that you're in Morocco. People and motos everywhere and unbelievably no one is getting crushed. If you have any issues with personal space, Morocco is not the place for you. On any day inevitably you will find yourself in a complete gridlock of people, with a cacophony of smells and sounds bombarding your senses. It's wonderful actually.

My only unfortunate outcome... I've now developed a bit of an addiction to bargaining. It's less of a game in Rabat, where tourists are fewer (though still part of the buying process however), but in Marrakech, it's essential or you'll be paying 3x the price. What I can away with... pillows, jewelry (of course) and some fun photos. And a great deal on a carriage ride around town.

The advantages of Ramadan

Having arrived in Morocco during Ramadan, I'm very curious to see what life here will be like afterward. While Ramadan is a very spiritually and culturally important time; it also seems to make a convenient backdrop for all kinds of commerce. When you know you have a rapt audience consisting of almost an entire country, who haven't had a drop of sustanence all day and are glued to the TV waiting for the prayer call so they can eat, what better time to advertise food. After 2+ weeks here I know almost every jingle for cookies, juice, yogurt, salad oil, flour and the universal Vache Qui Rit. Yesteday I rode past a billboard for Pizza Hut (yes, we actually have one here, but no one has heard of Starbucks thankfully), featuring a huge pizza and wishing everyone a happy Ramadan - when you're starving I have to say it really makes your mouth water.

I also can't tell you how many times shopkeepers and even the henna artist in the kasbah have offer me "good deals" because it's Ramadan afterall. Do all the prices go up afterward? Only 2 more weeks to go and I'll let you know.

mmm - fish!

I live 15 steps from the marketplace (actually the Medina is really just one big marketplace). People selling everything from tupperware to tomatoes - I even saw whole cows heads the other day on the way back from work.  15 steps from my front door is a guy who sits on a crate and sells sardines. We had some for dinner Sunday night - they were wonderful!

My Moroccan family

Said, Wafae and 20-month old Akram. (a better pic to come soon)

F'tour

The first meal after sunset is called F'tour. Here is what we have every day at around 6:45pm - soup (harira), hard boiled eggs, bread, dates, milk, s'fouf, and other sweets, Follewed by sweet tea. Delicous. Another dinner happens at 11pm. Bouf!!

Finally Wi-fi!

I've finally made it to the Wifi cafe, Bert's, in Agdal - about a 15 minute bus ride from the Medina. It's a very nice big modern european-style cafe where single women can sit with their laptops, have a coffee, even smoke a cigarette (unheard of during Ramadan) without any hassle. 

Sorry for the long delay without a post! I actually did post something but... ah well, those Moroccan Jhinns (genies). Here is something I wrote days ago... now finally posted...

Things I've learned so far in Morocco...

Time is relative. Not relative according to the person or the occasion or even the country, but relative to the moment, the place, and the device. Somehow I think I've acquired a time genie - a very mischievous one. The time difference between Rabat and California is 7 hours. Simple enough. I suspected something was wierd when I realized that the Royal Air Maroc plane from New York only posted the anticipated time at arrival in Casablanca - not the current local time there. We didn't actually land at that time and at no point did the crew announce the local time when we landed. We arrive in Casablanca early though no one was there to meet me as promised in spite of the fact that immigration and getting my luggage took some time. After waiting until almost everyone in the terminal had left, I changed some money, bought a phone card and called Saad who was surprised I was calling so early, even though by my watch it was at least 30 minutes past my scheduled arrival time.

When he arrived I noted that the clock in the terminal was 45 minutes earlier than my watch (why not an exact hour?), so I readjusted my watch thinking I must have miscalculated the time change. A little later on the ride to Rabat from Casablanca in discussing the early arrival, Saad asked the time I had and noted that my watch was off by 25 minutes. So I changed my watch again, and of course began to assume that my watch was not working. This morning I asked the other volunteer (Sandy) staying in the same house as me the time and indeed, my watch is 10 minutes off. So I pulled out my spare watch (always be prepared).

Now, there is a clock in the kitchen and it's confirmed with the time on Sandy's cell phone, so I am assuming that this has got to be be fairly accurate, but then why is my spare watch 6 hours and 17 minutes different? Why not just 7 hours? I've now readjusted my first watch and my spare watch and they seem to both be running fine. Though I still am really not sure what time it is - maybe I'm just supposed to get over it.

I will get fat. The traditional month of fasting began a few days ago. The traditional pattern of eating is to begin with a small meal at 4am (which I declined to join this morning in exchange for a few hours of sleep). Then nothing, not even water, until f'tour at sunset - about 7pm - at which time you break fast with dates, milk and honey, sweets, soup, hard boiled eggs and sweet mint tea. (here is a photo of my first home meal, f'tour, in Rabat.) Around 11pm another meal is is shared consisting of rice with potatos, bread, salad, spiced turkey "nuggets" and flat bread and more sweets (I was awakened out of my first 2 hours of sleep in over 30 hours, so I can't guarantee that this is exactly what we had, but it's the best recollection I can muster.)

Because I am not Muslim I get to eat during the day, so I am also being feed bread with jam, tea and another kind of sweet crumbly thing I don't yet know the name of in the morning when I get up. Then I am fed lunch (yogurt and fruit) around 2ish. It's impolite to say no and even though I told my host Said that I could skip lunch, the message didn't get to Wafae who doesn't speak english nor much french. So - I am stuffed and just short of diabetic shock.

Tomorrow I am going to ask join in the Ramadan fast, though I think I'll still have some water. And I'm still going to skip the 4am meal. And I'll buy some djellabas, not for the style, but because I am sure that in a few weeks most of my clothes will no longer fit.

Shoes, no shoes, shoes, no shoes... Said and Wafae's home, about 200 years old in the old Medina, is very traditional and very modest. There is a small door on the street that enters into a shared hall. To the right is the front door of the flat. It opens into a large open center square area 2 stories high covered with a thin fiberglass sheet with a large opening on the side - sometimes birds fly in. This interior patio, decorated in Moroccan tiles, is ringed by 7 rooms which are long and narrow. Clockwise, there is the living/dining room with long banquettes, where we watch TV and bring in a low round table to eat. Perpendicular on the next wall is another sitting room (about 9x20) ringed by a beautiful banquet. Perpendicular to that on the next wall (opposite the Living room) is a bedroom and next to that a tiny guest bedroom (mine). On the next wall are the bathrooms and a small kitchen in the middle. There is no "walkway" from room to room - you must cross the center square.

When you are in the center square, kitchen or bathrooms, you wear your shoes. When you enter a sitting room or bedroom (carpeted), you remove your shoes. What this means is that you are taking off and putting on your shoes about 100 times a day. I figure this is why the Moroccans wear baboushes (slippers) and sandals - they are considerably easier to get in and out of. So far, I am about 30/70 with getting this whole thing right, but at least no one has reprimanded me yet for wearing my shoes on the carpet or laughed a me for greeting guests (of which there are many) in my bare feet.

God and words. Allah is central to life... and language. You mention Allah when you meet someone, before you eat, after you eat, if you speak of events in the future, and I'm sure in a million other instances I'm not yet aware of.

Getting around. Said has been very very thorough in trying to orient me to the City. Just my second day here and I actually think I can make it back to the house on my own (Allah willing), though I may take me a few tries.

Hospitality. I have never been anywhere that is more hospitable and the people kinder or more generous. I am so far truly blessed.

First days

As the Shirly Bassie song goes... where do I begin to tell the story...?

In brief I arrived safely and tired and am unbelievably at home here in spite of the fact that I am living the life of a poor exchange student, not an exec on sabbatical. I have a tiny bed and 3 hangers and no place to put any of my toiletries... though I have to say that I have spent $300 a night for practically the same size accomodations in NY and the food wasnt nearly as good. The other people in my program are less than half my age and I could be the mother of my host "mom" so I feel quite young - who knew?

I have a much longer blog to share, though trapped on my laptop until I can find a wireless connection. Suffice it to say here that all is quite well - in fact could not be better (except for this azerty cyber cafe keyboard where I cannot find an apostrophe and the roman letters are rubbing off so only the arabic letters are showing)

I will start work tomorrow - for an idea of the kids I will be working with, rent the movie Ali Zaoua - our center has both boys and girls like this from the streets. And they are amazing. In the first 5 minutes at least 10 kids asked my name, told me theirs, showed me their drawings, and one sweet little girl even gave me a kiss on the cheek when I bent down to ask her name - I am in heaven.

On my way

Hard to believe that this is it - tomorrow I board a flight at 6:35 AM and 20+ hours later I land in Casablanca (with a nice stopover in New York for dinner at Balthazar with my friend Shellie).

Actually, getting on a plane to go to Morocco isn't that hard to believe. Accepting the fact that I'll be gone for 3 months is. Although my house is pristine with empty cabinets and closets ready to be filled by my renter (Leah), it still doesn't feel like I won't just be back in a couple weeks... which makes me fearful that in spite of my extremely heavy (though not bulging) suitcase, I still may have forgotten something really important. (those who know me well are laughing at that comment - but just wait until I call in a panic asking that you FedEx my eyeglasses or something absurd).

So... one last TV goggle and it's goodnight San Francisco (and what a TV night it promises to be - those wacky Republicans. Any bets on when we'll be seeing the talking Sarah Palin VP Candidate Barbie?).

Stay tuned and don't forget to write!

Where I'll be living and working

Last week I finally found out exactly where I'll be living and working for the next three months. Maybe it's hormones or the reality that this is all really happening, but I welled up in tears (and it takes a lot to get me to cry).

As I had hoped, I'll be living in the medina in Rabat, which is the old part of the city (Rabat is the capital of Morocco). Here is a  YouTube video that will give a sense - lots of shops and narrow streets. I'll be living with a young family - Mr. and Mrs. Lahnikate and their 19 month old son, Akram. The house is described as very clean and "quite big inside" though I have no idea what that means - in any case I'm sure it will be much bigger than my SF cottage!

I'll be working at the Association Marocaine d'Aide aux Enfants en Situation PR (I have no idea what PR stands for). Rather than summarize the info I received, I'm posting it all below. 

I was looking for a change... clearly I found it.

BACKGROUND
This association was founded in the late 80's and has since been working hard to re-direct the lives of children away from drugs and towards education. Most of the children are between the ages of 6 and 16 and have either left school or have never been. The volunteers work with them in basic classerooms. The daily classroom programme is from 9am until 5.30pm and is under the supervision of the coordinator with the help of a Moroccan team of instructors. If you can bring any materials from home such as paper, colouring books, crayons or games for example, it would be greatly appreciated and very useful throughout your placement.

LOCATION:
The association is in an area called Hay Nbyat in Sale (north-east Rabat). This is one of the less privileged areas of Sale, however it lies next door to one of the richest areas, Hay Salam.

Volunteers usually take a shared taxi or a bus to work from just outside the Medina where most volunteers live. The taxi costs just 4 DHS each way, approximately 25 pence or 0.5US$ (please note that transport costs during your placement are not paid for by Projects Abroad).

KEY FACTS:
No. of people cared for 120
Age Range in institution 6 to 16
Age range cared for 6 to 16
Av. Group Size 12-15
Hours of work/day 08:30 to 17:
No. of staff 6
Type of institution Day care centre
Other type AMESIP has got seven centres bet

YOUR ROLE AS A VOLUNTEER:
On our care placements it is important that you show the initiative and enthusiasm to immerse yourself into the job and spend your time productively. Your role is essentially as an extra pair of hands, and where children are involved, the more help available the better! As well as helping with the day-to-day running of the centre you will also have the freedom to come up with games and activities to keep the children amused and occupied. We recommend that you come prepared with ideas and materials. You could even teach some basic English, maths, music and drama. if you feel this would be useful to the children. Art, music, drama and sport are always popular!

Typical Day:
You will normally arrive at work by about 9am. Throughout the morning you will work on a range of different activities with small or large groups or sometimes it is beneficial to spend time working one-on-one. The ability of the young children and teenagers differs, but in general they have great attention spans and they are very keen on learning new structures and methods, so varying the activities you do with them is a good idea.

Project Structure:
You should arrive at work before 9.30am. You can structure the morning as you feel is best, but you could include a range of different activities such as singing songs, playing dominoes or doing arts and crafts. You could work with small groups or spend time working one-on-one. The abilities of the young adults/children differ, but in general they have short attention spans, so varying the activities you do with them is a good idea.

We recommend that you bring some materials with you to help with daily activities. You may want to bring games, toys, art materials or even sports equipment.

Other Activities:
Volunteers can sometimes take the children on a trip away from the centre. This may be simply taking someone for a short walk, or a more organised day trip out with several staff as well. Please speak to your supervisor and the Projects Abroad staff to arrange these activities.

Aren't horoscopes uncanny sometimes?

Two days left to go at Cheskin - it's hard to believe - and today is my big send off. With that in mind, here is my Google horoscope for today...

It feels as if you don't have much time left, so taking care of your responsibilities early in the day is a smart idea. Unfortunately, you could work hard, only to discover that you should have been doing something else. But don't look back, for you probably won't see your past very clearly now. Just do what you can to get ready for the big changes ahead.

Now I wonder what else I should be to be doing?

Just another reminder

My newest issue of Met Home arrived yesterday. Maybe it's like buying a new car where suddenly everyone is driving what you just bought. But this latest reminder of Morocco seems more than coincidental.  I mean, isn't this just a little weird?

Step One... Ensure the gods are on your side.

I sent out my email to the company today, letting everyone know that I would be starting my next chapter; off to my great adventure. I was soon overwhelmed with the most wonderful sincere thoughts, wishes and reassurances. If that wasn't enough to affirm my decision, this was my horoscope for the day (courtesy of excite.com)... no kidding...

Today marks the beginning of a very relaxed and carefree time in your life! Projects have been completed, tasks have been finished and goals have been attained. Now you should just kick back and schedule some time off! Explore a new hobby, or pick up a juicy book you've wanted to crack open. Your brain is open to new ideas and new ways of doing things, so fill it up! Step out of your comfort zone -- it will feel a bit scary, but only in the most exciting way.