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.