Signs of Spring in Marrakech

I returned from Bahrain to find that Marrakech has fully embraced spring (and even summer). We enjoyed a few days that would have qualified as "crisp," where the sky was blue and the air felt sort of fresh and cool early in the morning. Occasionally we even caught a whiff of Vermont.  We flung open the windows and welcomed the new season with open arms. Then a bird swooped into the kitchen while we were making dinner. Brianna calmly said, "That's a bird," as it shot past our heads and landed on the floor behind Andy at his computer. It started flopping around. Nolan said, "That's a bat." Brianna, Nolan, and I took that as a cue to run shrieking into the bedroom and slam the door. No sound from Andy. We cracked the door and asked it he wanted to join us. He reported that the bird (not bat) had flown into the bathroom and was now trapped there. We concluded that we would need to temper our enthusiasm about flinging the windows open.

Apart from the occasional rogue bird, other signs of spring have been less adrenaline-inducing but still notable. The orange trees are overloaded with fruit, and we have watched city workers knocking off the oranges into giant piles at the base of trees. When my Vermont-girl brain imagines the cost of a fresh glass of orange juice at home, I cringe to see these giant piles of sunshine going to waste. Then I remind myself of what I look like in an apple orchard in September - taking one bite of a McIntosh and tossing the apple into the grass, taking a bite of a Cortland before launching it at an imaginary target in another tree, all the while twisting my ankles on the dropped-apples littering the ground. I have to remind myself to adjust my brain. We are living in a country where oranges and pomegranate are like apples in Vermont. Fresh juice on every corner is the trade-off for the scarcity of apple cider and maple syrup. I can work with that.

A litter of seven puppies appeared in a vacant lot down the street - another sign of spring. And every cat lurking in the shadows is fat with kittens. I anticipate the next month will be filled with kitten sightings at every turn. The free-range chickens are back outside playing on the sidewalk at the market. As Nolan and I walked past yesterday, I wondered where my favorite feather-footed chicken had gone. Nolan, ever the compassionate soul, said, "He's probably dead. It's a chicken market." He was stating the obvious, I suppose, but I didn't need it clarified quite so clearly. We continued on past three mangy-looking chickens who were intently pecking at the skeletal remains of another chicken on the sidewalk.

The flowers are bursting on the bushes and trees. The fountains come to life with water more often, and the main square is packed with tourists again. The beautiful season has definitely arrived in Marrakech. The mountains are still snow-covered and looming in the distance, while the mid-day temperatures are hovering in the high 80's in the city.

And then there is the construction. The building project that began the week after we arrived in Marrakech (with the knocking down of the apartment building next door), is about to reach the stage we have been dreading all year. We have watched with interest as the new building has gone up step by step over the last few months - marveling at the construction process from the street and from the roof of our building overlooking the scene. Six days a week the hammering and grinding of metal begins at 7:00 a.m. Sunday is a day of silence. This week, the new building reached the fourth floor. Next week they should move on to the fifth. This will put the daily pounding just on the other side of our bedroom wall. Thankfully it is spring in Marrakech, and we will take our offices and classrooms outside to the park for a few weeks until the din dies down.

Top right window - that's us! Bring on the noise.

And, yes, there is that whole work and school thing that has been going on for us against this backdrop of seasonal change. I turned in my grades from last semester and learned that 125 of the students who took the original final exam (and failed) will have the opportunity to take it again in a few weeks. I will have the opportunity to correct 125 more exams three months after the course ended. I think that will finally be the end of the process, but I am learning to expect the unexpected.  I was due to start teaching my new courses this past week with lesson plans for the semester laid out and ready to go. Mid-week I learned that my courses would perhaps be changing. I have shifted into Moroccan mindful meditation mode - reminding myself that this is a beautiful time to be in Marrakech with an undetermined path for next week. I will enjoy the sunshine and practice deep breathing until I hear the new plan.

This is P.E. Marrakech-style.

In the meantime, Brianna and Nolan have been taking full advantage of the "homeschooling" routine. Nolan is learning to code and is launching a movie-making club at the American Language Center. Brianna has, at last, started working on that "fine arts" credit she needs to graduate from high school. She's doing an internship at the Henna Art Cafe in the medina. This week she came home with cool sketches and did her first practice with a henna syringe.  Andy has two weeks left in the TEFL certificate course that has left him shaking his head over the challenges of English grammar.

Art class at the electronics store

So, life in Marrakech goes on. This week we'll let the sun stream in while trying to keep flying objects out. We'll dance to the din of construction, and we'll remind each other to take life one day at time. Planning is overrated. Breathe.