i would like to buy a vowel...

But I can't. I've got other things to spend my money on (like chocolate). Also, there are no vowels available for purchase. Tashelheet has successfully eradicated the vowel altogether.

Okay, no. But there aren't many to be had. Shoving a whole lot of consonants together to make a word is fun, but I sometimes feel like it would be nice to have a vowel, just as a buffer, so my brain could have that extra moment to figure out what consonant comes next and how on earth I'm supposed to pronounce it.

It may not need to be said, but Tashelheet and I are still struggling along. Getting to know each other more and more each day. I often wonder if I'll ever be able to speak/understand it and I have to remind myself (and everyone else) that I'm still learning. And if there was ever a time to do it, now is it. Because I kind of have to. It's in the job description. I really do love learning new languages, so I'm not resentful of the task, just speechless quite often.

I've been an official volunteer for a week now. It's exciting and intimidating all rolled into one. My new host family is wonderful and prove to be a comforting pillow to fall back on when the world outside their door seems a little scary.

It feels like life is about to be drastically different. I, along with the four other new volunteers in Tiznit province, have a meeting with the delegue of the Ministry of Health for the region tomorrow morning in the regional capital. He'll hand us our "note de service" and I'll be an official something or other for the government of Morocco. This seems a bit heavy to me. I've been hanging close to the host family the past five days, but once that document is in my hands, it's onwards and upwards. Meeting with the local government officials in my town, meeting with the landlord for the apartment I will potentially be renting when August rolls around. I'll be getting to know the staff down at the sbitar (health center) and making my presence as a health worker known in the community. Yes, this still feels heavy.

But this is my life now. And I think I'm ready to live it. Maybe not prepared, but ready. I'm blown away by the peace I have about it all. That in the midst of all things crazy and new, there is calm.

I realize there's a whole chunk of my life that has been left out in the past month and a half or so on here, but that's fine. I'd like to say I'll catch up, but I probably won't. I'll just keep going from here...now that I'll have plenty of time to sit and ruminate about life and my existence.

the salinas valley is in northern california...

I feel like a pretty big jerk for how I treated John Steinbeck when I only read the first two chapters of Grapes of Wrath junior year of high school. East of Eden is amazing. I'm so thankful John gave me another chance.

We returned from our second CBT yesterday. I don't feel like a complete alien there anymore, which I think is positive. My host sister Jamila put henna on my hands and feet my second night there. It's fun to look at, but the process leaves a bit to be desired. I ate dinner before the family that night and Jamila rested my hands and feet on pillows on my bed, applied the mudlike paste to my feet and then my hands, tucked my fully clothed self into bed, turned the lights out, and left the room. This was around 9.30. I sat in the pitch black with my hands and feet raised --wide awake-- for at least a couple of hours. It was the most interesting night of waking, sleeping, and positioning of my entire life. My heart jumped with joy at the sound of the 4.30am prayer call because it let me know that the sun was on its way. At the first sign of light at around 6, I shuffled to the bit l-ma (bathroom) and scrubbed like heck for 20 minutes.

We head back out to CBT on Thursday for another week. I think Soufiane has a broken arm which no one seems to be too concerned about. This complicates my frisbee plans. I have a practice language proficiency interview tomorrow morning. I hope to leave my interviewer awestruck. I also do not expect this to happen. At least not in a way that is of any benefit to me. Tash is not easy, but I am enjoying learning it.

All is well. The sun is hot. It will only get hotter.

twist and shout...

I washed my clothes yesterday. By hand. In a bucket. And then I dried them on a clothesline.

It's okay if you want to be impressed. While I was doing it, I was thinking how utterly inconvenient it was to have to wash my clothes by hand in a bucket and how I couldn't wait to be done. I had to laugh because it was only at that point that it occured to be that I'm going to be washing my clothes by hand and in a bucket for the next 26 months of my life.

We're heading back out to CBT tomorrow for 7 nights. I want to play frisbee with Soufiane. I also want to make bread with my host mother. I watched her make it last time I was there. The oven is clay and dome shaped with an opening at the top. You build a fire at the bottom of the oven with branches (that I watched my little-bit-of-a-thing host mother break on her knees like it was no big deal) and when the coals (or whatev) are ready, you smack a big circle of homemade bread dough against the inside wall of the oven. It's a pretty intense process and fairly impressive to watch. So, that's the goal for this next week. Oh, and maybe to be able to say at least a sentence to one of the members of my host family.

Also, Edam cheese and avocado sandwiches with dijon mustard should win some sort of an award.

imik s imik...

The past 6 days/nights were spent away at our CBT sites (community based training). There are 5 of us in my group - Whitney, Emmy, Eli, Andy - and we have an LCF (language and culture facilitator) named Samira, who is pretty much fantastic. We each stayed with a host family and came together every day for school aka crash course in TashLheet. We'll return to our CBT 3 more times over the next two months. Which is good, because I baby step it into relationships with people and I know there's a lot of potential with my host family.

My host brother is 12. His name is Soufiane, which is pronounced like "Sufjan," which is amazing, if you know what I mean... We count together in three different languages.

My TashLheet is rocky. Like the Grand Canyon. Give it time, give it time... I have only been studying it for a week.

It feels so good to laugh as hard and as often as we do here.

I'm happy to be back with the big group for a few days. It's crazy that we've only been here for 3 weeks. It feels like months already. I love the people I am with. I'm so thankful to be here.

I want to write love poetry to my Chacos. They inspire.

Faith never knows where it is being led, but it loves and knows the One who is leading. The life of faith is not a life of mounting up with wings, but a life of walking and not fainting.

the shoes make the woman

I don't think I gave cargo pants a fair shake before. I quite like these things.
So. Morocco. I kind of love this place. I kind of love my new Chacos.
Who is this cargo pant, Chaco wearing person? Different clothes. Same me. Kind of liberating.

"My Humps" was just playing in the internet place. Oh, Fergie... Never leave me.

I'm going to be learning the Berber dialect, Tashelheet. Found that out yesterday. I'm excited. These next two years are going to be a triiip. Everything is going really well thus far. I really really enjoy all of my fellow health trainees and I've had a lot of fun getting to know the town where we're doing our training.

The typhoid vaccine, however, is one unfriendly fellow.

We finally had couscous today!

come on, baby, do the locomotion...

Trainees would do well to remove any facial piercings and cover any tattoos as these prevent them from adapting well to their communities.

Blah.

Dan In Real Life was the in-flight movie from Phoenix to Philly. My row was one of the only two on the plane whose audio didn't work. I had to close my eyes and force myself to sleep. I would've been far more fussy about it had there been someone there to complain to.

I think I must've been overly tired on my way to the airport this morning because I heard something about J-Lo and her twins...(I guess I've been living under a rock, because apparently they were born three weeks ago. Who was gonna tell me?!)...and I almost started bawling. Weird. Still tired. Awaiting the arrival of my Philly roommate. The first stranger out of a series of strangers to come...

Tomorrow will be good. I can't believe this is finally here.

ps - the GRE is a big, fat jerk.

everybody's free to wear sunscreen...

Don't go overboard. There is no reason for you to spend a lot of money packing for the Peace Corps. Brand-name outdoor gear will not make you a more effective or happy Volunteer.

When it comes to packing, "overboard" is all I know how to do. This is a practice in self-control and discernment and it feels suspiciously similar to shopping for a kid from one of those angel trees at Christmas. I know it's a boy and he's 7. Period. My understanding of what I should be bringing can be described as vague at best. Yesterday, I went shopping for a pair of shoes. I came home with six shirts and a pair of pants. I lack focus.

I'm taking the GRE Thursday morning. 24 hours before my flight leaves for Philadelphia.

Understand that friends come and go, but for the precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.

I found a pile of cds I've been looking for. Just in time.