A Moroccan Whirlwind

Two days later, I have crash-landed at the hotel with 11 hours to pack up and get ready for tomorrow's big move from Rabat to Marrakech. It has been a whirlwind of meetings, new faces, and information gathering. I have met many helpful and friendly people whose names I cannot pronounce or remember. The bulk of my time has been spent at the U.S. Embassy where, despite my Top Secret security clearance (that is a story for another day), the world does not exist beyond the walls. WIFI and phone-free, we got an inside glimpse of embassy life and the people that will support us out in the field. Most importantly, we got a chance to shop at the commissary and stock up on Starbucks ground coffee and Tootsie Rolls (the only available form of chocolate for now - however I have high hopes for Marrakech). This evening we enjoyed a dinner hosted by the embassy staff and met many of the people from northern Morocco who are connected to English language learning. We are now officially ready to go forth and spread peace, love, and English. Stay tuned as the real adventure begins.

A glimpse of Rabat... 

My view from the Hotel Rabat

Rabat

Kasbah Les Oudaias

Kasbah

Kasbah Streets

Kasbah Streets

Kasbah doors

Door of Baraka (Blessings)

Glimpse inside the medina

Seaside Cemetery in Rabat

Good Morning Paris and Good Afternoon Rabat

Four hours in Paris was just enough to get a taste of France, let exhaustion settle in, and locate my ELF partner in crime, Wendy, who will be working as a fellow in Oujda, Morocco this year.  We boarded our flight to Rabat, and, after determining that we are both equally clueless about what we will be doing this year, we settled in for the final leg of our trek to Rabat.

After getting our luggage, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the Rabat Airport was a sea of quiet and calm (everyone waits outside for arriving passengers).We exited the cool airport and got  an overcast and warm welcome from  Morocco. We were greeted and whisked away by our Regional English Language Officer, her assistant, and a driver from the embassy. We quickly found ourselves in the centre of Rabat, with tall white buildings, lots of traffic (cars not motorbikes!), and and palm trees. The driver deposited us at Hotel Rabat, where, at last, I was overcome with the sense that I had finally arrived in Morocco. Inside the lobby, we were surrounded by dark wood, colorful patterns, and the mixed scents of cigarette smoke, incense, and spices. We had arrived.

Hotel Rabat Elevator

Hotel Rabat

Mint tea was poured. I relished the first taste of the Moroccan social beverage and was pleasantly surprised to discover a warm, tasty, sweet drink that I will be happy to enjoy at every social occasion. We checked in to our rooms, and, after a quick look around, I tried my best to take a nap. Jet lag doesn't like naps, so I rationalized that I would force myself to get up before dark and get out for some food. The traffic outside and my growling stomach kept me on track, and I made it out by 6:00 for my first glimpse of Rabat.

I quickly noticed that the savy pedestrian skills I gained in Vietnam will be useful here. An aggressive approach with a mental prayer seems to be the way to go when crossing traffic. The one major difference is that cars, rather than motorbikes, make up the bulk of the traffic in Rabat. I wandered past a park, saw my first snail vendor, found a modern square with trendy cafes, and ventured inside the walls of the medina. Without a map, I was reluctant to get myself hopelessly lost, so I resisted the urge to explore the alleys deep inside the medina. I skirted the outside edges and saw, heard, and smelled just enough to confirm the vision of Morocco I have been imagining since May.

Once I managed to navigate my way back out of the medina, I headed back to a restaurant in the modern square where I found both WIFI and my first  chicken tagine -  a traditional Moroccan dish with delicious spices, potatoes, olives and chunks of lemon. At the end of day one, I am feeling satisfied, excited by the possibilities, and ready for some deep sleep and Moroccan dreams.

Hotel Rabat

Chicken Tagine

The Dream Begins

Saying good bye to Vermont and these goobs (for a little while) with a not-so-traditional fall pumpkin photo shoot.

And so it begins. The last of the tears have been shed, and the good-bye hugs are behind me. The challenging job of reducing my life to one, fifty-pound suitcase has been conquered. After a quintessential Vermont autumn Saturday, I find myself in the Detroit Airport pinching myself. The dream is about to become reality, and I am set to board a flight for Paris en route to Morocco. At this time tomorrow, I should be enjoying (or sleeping through) my first afternoon in Rabat.  Ten months ago, I began the process of applying to be an English Language Fellow. This month the adventure begins. What started as an exercise in patience quickly evolved into a whirlwind of planning, organizing, purging, and packing.

In June, I gave up my job and threw caution to the wind - trusting that the universe will see to it that this adventure is just the beginning of a new phase. I rented the house and spent the summer emptying it for its new family. Each week that the kids returned home to me, they found fewer and fewer pieces of furniture. Eventually bed frames were whisked away to the attic, and mattress-camping became the norm. By mid-August we were down to the dining room table, and it was time to go. Grandma and Grandpa took in this family of nomads and endured our invasion for four weeks. Now I am on the cusp of a much-anticipated journey to a new country, a new job, a new community, and new challenges. I could not be happier.

I am not exactly sure the U.S. Department of State knows who they've hired (shhh...don't tell). They put me in a swanky hotel in D.C. for a week, while they taught me everything I need to know about being an English Language Fellow. It was intimidating, overwhelming, and incredibly exciting.  This promises to be a year of opportunities I can't even imagine. For that matter, apparently no one can really imagine them. My job is a bit of a mystery. The details will reveal themselves eventually. No one else seems too concerned, so I am trying to embrace that spirit and just go with the flow. The overwhelming message that came out of my week of orientation in D.C. was to be flexible beyond my wildest imagination (thank goodness for my stellar yoga skills - yikes). I'm on it. I'm being flexible. I'm flying to Morocco.

I've got an agenda for the next week. It says things like "security briefing" and "health and safety briefing." The word "briefing" makes me feel very official and just slightly anxious since security in Jericho, VT consists of closing the front door instead of leaving it wide open. I also have a very fancy invitation for a dinner "to honor the new English Language Fellow." Once again, I am concerned that they don't know who they have hired. I had to R.S.V.P.;  I didn't know if I should offer to bring a potato salad or a bag of chips. The invitation says "casual attire," but I am struggling. What is "casual attire" in Morocco? The country is at the forefront of the burqini battle. When you Google appropriate attire for Morocco, you'll see things like "conservative but liberal for the Arab world." What does that mean? In practice, it meant I had to use almost all of my allotted luggage weight for my flight on a whole host of potential outfits for one dinner.

Evidently I'll be shopping for clothes in the markets of Marrakesh as soon as I arrive. That will be amusing with my complete lack of Darija (the Moroccan form of Arabic). I'll be doing my best to dress conservatively in the relatively cool ninety degree-September temps. I'll be scouting out the pool situation from the safety of my apartment in hopes of resolving the burqini question before I need to make an appearance poolside. So much anticipation. So much excitement. So much fatigue. So many questions.

Bonjour Paris!

Lights out.