Ruth and the Big Move.

I'm moving!

Well, not me so much as my blog. Still Ruth of Arabia, just not here. Over here instead. I won't be posting here anymore, so don't email me about why I haven't blogged in a while.

See you on the other side.

xo

Ruth and the One Year Milestone.

Typical, right? Sick, yet I can't sleep, when that's all I want and need to do. So here I am, at 3 am on a Thursday night/Friday morning, musing, when I should be sleeping. What's a girl to do but write? 

Today was the anniversary of being in Morocco for one full year. The past couple of weeks I've had lots of days thinking, one year ago today, I was packing my apartment, or leaving my job, or saying goodbye to friends, family and San Francisco. And a year ago today (well, yesterday now) I landed in Casablanca, with people I'd known for little more than 48 hours, tired, a bit dirty, and so excited for what was to come. And my group and I, we've made it through training, two host families, (sometimes) violent illnesses, frustrations and happy realizations of work, celebrations of small milestones like making ourselves understood in our new language, other PCVs comings and goings, and we're still going. With longer hair, a bit of a tan, a few bruises, and the ability to squat for hours thanks to those turkish toilets. 

And of course, there's nothing better than a milestone, of any size, to make one reflect on events. It's surreal to observe and realize the vast changes that can happen in one little year. I think the biggest realization that has come to me in these past couple of weeks of reflection is that while of course I am here to lend my time, skills and anything else I can to the women that I work with and my community, I also need to work out what I need to do in order to look back on these two years with a sense of accomplishment outside of that - for myself. And I don't know what that is yet, but ideas are forming. A friend asked me before I left whether I looked at Peace Corps as a time for personal reflection. Absolutely. 

As I look back, there's a certain part of me that is still sad about leaving, because I know that all the people I said goodbye to are leading their lives, with all of those vast changes that a year can bring, and I'm a little bit less a part of it - not through lack of trying on either side - but through nothing other than sheer distance, time differences and a sometimes dodgy Skype connection. But, then I also realize that this works both ways - there are so few people that can ever really understand what my experience here is about for me, or what I have become accustomed to - good or bad - on a daily basis in my little Moroccan town. And of course, I'm incredibly lucky to be able to participate in this experience - I'm going to bring back with me skills I never knew I had (like making tortillas and aforementioned squatting), have seen a side of Morocco that few tourists get the opportunity to see, and have formed friendships that will last my lifetime. Plus, I've now added camel trekking to my list of activities - can't do that in San Francisco. 

So to another 14 months. With all the couscous, travel, amoebic infections, reflection, work, and bug killing that it will undoubtedly bring. I can't imagine that the second half of this experience won't fly by as the first year has done. Onwards!

xoxo.

Ruth and the Learning of Things

You'd think that after 11 months of using turkish toilets I would have learned. But no, that lesson was driven home only just today. Cell phones and turkish toilets don't mix. Cell phones and the most disgusting turkish ever really don't mix. Can cross that off the list of things to do while I'm here though. 

Despite that little incident, I had a very yummy lftur (breakfast) at my host aunts house - moroccan pancake thingers filled with kefta, onions and peppers, delicious cake with chocolate filling, the obligatory harira, and egg tagine for dinner too. Result!

Now for a things I've learned segment, based on the last few days: 

Food is not that important to survival, but chocolate, water and medicine for a funny tummy are essential. 

Don't drop your phone in a turkish toilet (see above). It will stop working. 

Blister beetles don't die easily. Do not assume they are dead even after six or seven gigantic whacks with a dictionary. 

Meringues are really hard to make if you don't have an electric whisk. 

I can make tortillas from scratch, as well as bread like my host aunts! Not muskina any more, Dad - I can make bread!! 

War and Peace is a really hard book to get in to. 

I really miss good mexican food, like Papalotes in San Francisco. I daydreamed about their salsa today. 

Ramadan is very good for losing track of time - neither my host aunt or myself knew the date today. 

I think that's all for now, but there's always more where that came from. 

xoxo.

Ruth and Ramadan.

So now it's week three of Ramadan, and I'm back on the fasting. I made it 7 whole days before my stomach decided that, really, it had had enough of being healthy for a while. I will spare everyone the details of what I've got and just say that I have enough drugs aimed directly at it that it should die any minute now. And so now I'm fasting again, which is going well. Still being woken up at 4am to eat rice and milk if I stay with my host aunts though… not altogether crazy about that, but this is what I do.

Ramadan has given me plenty of time to think, watch and read, which I'm happy for. I read an entire book in less than 12 hours. I'm completely up to date with Mad Men. My Kindle, iPod and computer have never been cleaner and more organized. Today I washed and packed away all my winter clothes as they were getting all dusty. Whatever will happen next?

All in all, it's a very quiet time in Morocco. Last week I was in Agadir, and it was amazingly quiet along the beach front, until 10 or 11 at night. Everyone is at home with their families, and since throughout most of Morocco it's the hottest time of the year, days are spent inside, in the cool. Luckily, my site has been abnormally cool - haven't even had my fan on recently. Hopefully it'll stay this way.

Until the lovely Annalisa gets here, back to the fasting, and with any luck my house will be the most organized place on the planet by the end of Ramadan.

xoxo.

p.s. Monday marked 11 months in Morocco. This time last year... I'd given notice on my job, my apartment... turned everything upside down. Who'd have thunk it?

Ruth and the Big Fast. And the Break Fast.

August 2

I'm hungry. Not starving, but I could definitely eat. It's 3:15pm, and I'm trying to keep my mind occupied with things other than hunger and not being able to go in the kitchen. I've got a list of mindless, yet time consuming projects that I want to complete during Ramadan, so am getting started on those. But, I'm about to tidy myself and go over to my host family's house to experience the first night of breaking fast with them.

August 3

I've just gotten home from my host family, and I'm on to Day 2. I was successful on Day 1, and even managed to shock a few people with the fact that I was actually fasting - I guess they didn't expect me to be. It's going to be interesting doing this for the whole month though. I'm wondering how I'm going to feel about it by the end. When I arrived at my host aunt's house, we sat around chatting for a while, while they prepared harira (soup) for breaking fast. Around 7:30pm Amina served the men of the house, and then us with harira, dates and coffee. Then Amina and I went visiting to a couple of different houses - family, friends, and saw a couple of women from the association. When we returned Sadia had nearly finished preparing dinner, tajine, which we ate around 11pm, then pretty much immediately we all went to bed, around midnight. I was woken by the alarm going off at 3:30am, and promptly fell back asleep again, while my host aunts got up and served the men. Amina woke me again about 4:15am, and the three of us ate bread with oil and honey, rice with milk, and of course, mint tea, until about 5am. I'm not sure I slept much after this, so I'm definitely going to be taking a nap today.

And tonight I'm going to be staying home and breaking fast by myself, with a Bakewell tart and some Cadburys!

xoxo.

Ruth and the Second Cricket War

Spoke too soon about the crickets. It's now the Second Cricket War: Return of the Cricket. This is what 97 dead crickets, one dead earwig and one dead moth looks like.

Just thought I would share what I woke up to this fine Sunday morning. (Although, please note, they were not swept into a neat little pile when I woke up. That was my fun task.)

xoxo.

Ruth and the Aftermath.

Aaaand I'm back. I know, I know. Long time. Don't worry, I have plenty of excuses prepared.

Excuse #1: Marche Maroc Essaouira.

Since late March another PCV and I worked on a craft fair for associations and cooperatives that work with PCVs across Morocco to attend in Essaouira (possibly my favorite place in Morocco). Everything went well, and as according to plan as could be expected. I think everyone had a good time, sold some product, and it was worth the living and breathing Marche Maroc, as well as blood, bruises and sweat (no tears, because there's no crying in Peace Corps). A little part of me is now wondering what to do with myself (oh, wait, there's still reports to be written and follow up to be done. Never mind.) Everyone who helped out was absolutely amazing - such a great team of helpers.

Excuse #2: London town.

Here's the short version: eating, drinking, catching up with my girls, dancing, more eating, some family time, shopping, museums (yay!), chatting, food shopping, trying on new shoes, more drinking, pub lunches, haircut, jacuzzi, steam room, sauna, running for busses (thank you Al!), and more dancing. All while wearing little dresses I could never get away with in Morocco (never mind that it was raining.)

Here's the long version: I went to London for ten days, of which the first 36 hours was spent being the wide-eyed country girl in the big city - overwhelmed by the number of choices, and being able to pick things up in the supermarket instead of having to ask the man behind the counter for something. I saw lots of my favorite people, some family, and ate my way through town. Everyone agreed that I've gotten some color while living in the desert (shocker, that one) and by the end of two years of service my hair may well be blonde (damn you, sun).

I guess that's not *plenty* of excuses, but whatever. It brings me to the last three days, in which I've unpacked (kind of), slept (a lot) and been fed (a lot) by my host aunts. Plus, in contrast to the last time I returned home after a spell away, when there were nearly 100 dead crickets on my kitchen floor, this time? Maybe six or seven. It would seem the Cricket War is over. Bonus.

Next week begins Ramadan, so will report soon on fasting, breaking fast, harira (soup) and staying up late to eat. I promise to write more during my days of not eating and being hot.

xoxo.

Ruth and the Beating of the Drum.

Moroccan women are pretty hardcore. You can give them the most limited of resources, and they will make it work, come hell or high water.

Last weekend I went to the end of the season hefla (party) at my association. It will be closed now until September or so, and what better way to close the year than with a party, right? So, about 35 women gathered in the association to celebrate. One drum, two buckets, a couple of skewers and a metal tray, and you got yourself a full blown music making machine on your hands. Literally for 6 hours, with the exception of breaking for food, they sung, clapped, danced, and beat that drum.

With one burner, they cooked 8 whole chickens with lemons and olives as well as a second course of sheep with prunes and olives. And made two rounds of tea. It's amazing what they can make out of what seems like nothing.

The other thing that I love about Moroccan women is their no-nonsense, take no prisoners attitude. You do not mess with them, and I for one, have no desire to be on the wrong side of any woman that can reach in to a red hot oven and pull out a tray with her bare hands.

xoxo.

Ruth and the War of Crickets.

Let me paint you a picture. It's 10.30 at night. A cricket chirps outside my front door, and a small moth flutters by my light. I sit near my fan and sip on my drink. Today's beautiful clear skies have led to a clear evening, and my village is peaceful.

Now, here's a different picture. It's 10.30 at night. It's 94 degrees inside my house, with its one window. That cricket outside my door is the largest and loudest I've ever experienced. He and all his cricket friends have been bombarding my house for the last two days, to the point where I can now kill one at twenty paces with my rubber house shoe. That small moth is small by Moroccan standards, which means it's the size of a small mouse, and it just dive bombed my head. That fan I'm sitting by is just pushing hot air around, and when I say sip my drink, I mean chug large quantities of cold water. And those beautiful clear skies made it hotter than nuts here today, and did not, despite all my pleas, lead to a cool evening, complete with breeze.

Today I went in to town to buy vegetables. I walked home from the main road, and in those 7 minutes - road to front door - I became absolutely drenched in sweat. I mean, ridiculous. I've sweated clean through two tops today, and am about to take my second cold bucket bath. I'm only just eating dinner, my first meal of the day, this late at night because it's been too hot to eat and cook until now (and still - 94 degrees?)

So yeah, it's hot.

But, all that said, I'm home, which is great, after having been traveling for the last couple of weeks. My tortoise is still alive, Pablo the lizard is still here - it's all good, despite the heat. The last two weeks have been action and fun packed, and the best couple of weeks in a long while. First IST, which was in the oceanside town of Mehdya, which is beautiful, and meant that after sessions were finished each day, we could all run and jump in to the gorgeous ocean. Then a trip to Porto last week for four days, which was glorious. I bathed in the spaciousness of not having to cram 7-10 people in a grand taxi; I marveled at the shopping center that served Caipirinhas to go; and I wondered at the feeling of wearing a tank top in public for the first time in 9 months. And Porto is beautiful to boot. All the makings of a great holiday - good friends, good food, good drinks, good city. Now, when can I do *that* again?

And so now, it's back to reality, and work. My craft fair project is swiftly approaching, and there's still plenty to be done. And off I go!

xoxo.

Ruth and the Travel Bug

All of my blog posts start with something along the lines of what a crazy couple of weeks it's been. I've been putting off writing for the past couple of days because I wanted a more interesting way to start writing, but honestly, there is no other way. Everyday in this country is an adventure, in every sense. And the one of the ways that I have been able to deal with some of the frustrations I've encountered thus far is to keep as busy as possible, which inevitably leads me to start blog posts with how crazy it's been. It's a vicious circle.

I've been in and out of my village for the past couple of weeks, starting with a trip up to Rabat for a craft fair, which, as usual, was great fun and the perfect excuse to see everyone and catch up. Then it was down to Essaouira, since another PCV and I are in the midst of organizing a craft fair for artisans there. The good news is that we have received funding for the project, which means we can really start putting things in place now. I came back to my site for about a week, and followed that up with another wildly productive few days in Essaouira, which was great. So my lack of blog posting recently can be attributed to all this travel, and also to the fact that I have been computer-less, which is a whole other story, and one that I'm not going to go in to since a) it's really long and involved and b) I'm over it. But, happily, it has given me the chance to do a ton of reading. The only thing I'm not a fan of when it comes to traveling is coming home to a house full of a weeks' worth of dead crickets and unidentified black bugs. Pablo the lizard is not doing his job, clearly.

In the next few weeks, it's much more of the same, with the added bonus of a trip to London, in precisely 51 days, which I couldn't be more excited about. Dear London, You might want to stock up on hula hoops, dairy milk, pub lunches, ribena/robinsons, and bacon. Just saying. xoxo, Ruth.

xoxo

Ruth and the Recent Adventures

Ruth and the Crazy Stories She Could Tell

The last three weeks have been a total blur, in the best possible way. I can hardly believe it's already the end of April, and that this month marked 7 months being in country. And if you round seven months up, that's like two years, right? So I'll be done before I know it. Sort of scary.

But, back to the last three weeks, since this blog post is long overdue. Here's what you missed:

Fes is a crazy town, but very awesome, especially when with my people

Jenn discovers that I laugh during my sleep, although we believe this is the first time

I am appointed to role of special police by Jo (thanks, Jo)

Craft fair was a lot of fun, good sales for my women

Fifteen hour bus rides after four days of giardia are not that fun

You can take a taxi from Agadir to Kech for 110 dhs, which is only 10dhs more than the bus, and way quicker

Mum and Dad make Christmas happen all over again with lots of goodies for me, including a Kindle, which is possibly about to change my life

I introduce Mum and Dad to the hot mess that is Marrakech

Mum is bewildered by grand taxis and crazy taxi drivers, while trying to pretend she's not phased by the driver playing chicken at 80 mph

I get in a 2 hour argument / discussion with taxi driver in darija instead of going to tutoring for the week

More discussions with taxi drivers in Agadir when they discover little white girl can speak their language (ish)

Mum and Dad come to my site and eat couscous with my host family, although Dad is singled out to eat with the men

My tortoise Olly dies of unknown causes, possibly because of unexpected hailstorm while sitting below my skylight. I am sad, but Tiberius lives on

My host aunt mimes slaughtering me to my parents for some unknown reason

Day in Taroudant with my parents and my tutors family is awesome and includes Dad wearing a fes, which is a very good look for him

My giardia makes a comeback and I nearly die drinking nasty rehydration salts

Giardia dies horrible death, I am victorious

Day in Tiznit with parents is hot and sticky, but it's gorgeous there, so we don't mind

I eat tuna tartare and drink a margarita and think I have died and gone to heaven

Another day in site with my parents meeting all the women from my association and having lunch with my landlady

I get lots of packages and cards, aka Christmas Part 3, including thai curry mix, quinoa, dairy milk and gorgeous earrings (thank you all!) and I am very happy

The bus to Marrakech proves much easier than taxi, and less stressful for me

Dinner with my people and my parents is fun, although margaritas should not be rimmed with sugar

The Vietnamese restaurant in Marrakech proves a little underwhelming

Essaouira moves up slightly in the possibly-being-my-favorite-place-in-Morocco ranks

We take a newbie to her site, which is a pretty awesome site, and drink a lot of tea

I have my first ever experience of nine people in a grand taxi, in which I am seated between the driver and the stick shift, and he is reaching over me to change gears, while talking about circumcision.

I arrive home and collapse, but not before my host aunt hunts me down to tell me where I need to be the next day

I go to get henna'ed the next day, which results in 8 hour Moroccan teenager dance party/wedding celebration and sheep's (goat's?) head for dinner at 12:30 at night

And here's what the next 2 weeks look like, so that we're all on the same page.

Stay in site, living in confused state of old time vs. new time

Sleep as much as possible

Try not to get giardia again

Buy a new fridge so I can make jello and eat thai curry leftovers

Get ready with my association for going to Rabat for another craft fair

Go to first and second Moroccan weddings

Wage war against insects and lizards trying to get in my house

And yes, you read that correctly. There are two time zones in this country currently - my village is on old time, ie. not observing daylight savings, yet my souk town and most major cities are on new time, where they do observe DST. Which is nice in that I gain an hour whenever I come back to site, but I lose an hour when I leave. My biggest issue with this is that if I am at home, but on new time, and I want to eat lunch at 12.30, this is actually 11.30 old time, ie. for the rest of the village, which means I can't eat lunch because it's not after noon. I will remain confused until July 31 when it changes back.

That's enough writing for now.

xoxo

Ruth and the General Excitement

So for the past four weeks, I've been hunkered down in site, trying to really understand working here, what that means, and how I fit in to it. And it's difficult. It's such a different working environment here, that makes work as a volunteer incredibly hard to get one's head around. Work is preceded by relationships with the people you work with; as volunteers we are working 24 hours a day, because it's not defined by going to the office or how many reports you can write. It's defined by having a good conversation with someone, and making a plan to do something productive next week. It's defined by building the relationship with the people you work with, so that they trust you enough to listen to your ideas. And it's also defined by showing the commitment to being there, whether 'there' be at the association when there's only seven people instead of forty because all the roads are flooded, or whether 'there' is at someone's house to celebrate a birth or mourn a death. All of which is pretty far removed from the traditional sense of the word work. But that commitment goes a really long way in a society that is based on community and in which people go out of their way to help and welcome an outsider. And I'm sure that all volunteers go through this struggle to define their role wherever they are, but I'm also sure that it won't be until toward the end my service that it will really make sense.

So I've been helping my women prepare themselves for an upcoming craft fair (check it out here and here) in Fes, which has resulted in a month of trials and tribulations, crazy, misunderstood conversations, and trips to various towns to buy supplies, but definitely productive. My women have been busily making more product that they know sells well, we've been adjusting one of their current products which usually means I end up playing the mannequin when I go to the association each afternoon, and a couple of women have been experimenting with a new product - pictures of that will come soon. Fes will be the first craft fair that my women have been to in a while, so I'm excited that they are participating, and I'm excited to go to Fes, since I've not been before. Yippee!

More excitement - after Fes, my parents will be arriving in Marrakech, where I will meet them and spend a few days, followed by a few days in Agadir. My host family and the women in my association are excited to meet them, and for them to see Ain Chaib, and I'm looking forward to being able to explore Agadir a little more thoroughly, including the souk there, which seems immense. And I'm looking forward to the look on my Mum's face when she sees how many people get in a grand taxi :)

Oh, and something else to mention, because it was awesome and super unexpected - last weekend five other volunteers arranged a surprise birthday gathering for me, complete with Mexican food, marble cake with sprinkles (yes, sprinkles!), amazing fudge, and hummus with yummy bread, amongst other things. I had no idea this was being plotted against me, but thanks to my awesome region mates, they totally had me fooled.

Anyway, that's all for now. More after the excitement of the next couple of weeks. If I can stand it.

xoxo.

Long over due, I know, and writing to follow, but... pictures!

Ruth and the Ides of March

Yesterday marked six months that i've been living in Morocco. Six months! I have no idea where this time has gone, but I'm still alive and kicking despite obstacles thrown at me, and more importantly, enjoying all of it.

The other good news I have for yesterday, the Ides of March, is that I was not stabbed 23 times. Yay me for keeping that one under control. Instead, I have become one year older and wiser. Mmm… maybe. But, naturally, the day consisted of chocolate cake and baileys, which we all know is happy making in my world. And thank you everyone for the birthday love!

This past weekend I attended a health workshop with three of the women from my association, which was a really great weekend. The workshop consisted of different sessions on topics such as leadership, women's health, the Mudawwana, which is the Moroccan family code, and the rights that are granted to women within this, yoga, tips for making things like salt scrubs and face masks out of easily available foods and a community planning session during which the women worked out an action plan for bringing all of this information back to their communities. We also all went running on the beach in Agadir, which was great fun, and for me, it was a great weekend for bonding with my women. They also took me to the souk in Agadir after the workshop concluded, where we ate huge plates of yummy fish, and and walked around the hugest souk I've ever seen for a while. We were all exhausted upon arriving home, but happy with our weekend. My women are already planning on holding the workshops to teach back in Ain Chaib, starting this Friday.

It's been raining in my site since last Thursday, which means that all of the roads are flooded again. There's a roughly one-foot wide dry track on the edge of each road which is now the path, and leaves to me clinging to the wall desperately trying to avoid falling in the small lake that is the actual road. Fun times!

xoxo.

Ruth and the Crazy Tortoise Lady (Called Ruth)

What a difference a day makes. I was in my souk town this morning, and it was like I was in a different town than the one I was in the other day. This is the town that I'm in on a regular basis - two, three, four times a week, and is generally pretty intimidating, but with the help of my iPod, my bitch face, and sunglasses, I can usually make it through without too much trouble.

When I was there on Friday, a man grabbed me by the arm out of the blue, which, needless to say, I was none too happy about, and demanded that I give him some of the water I was drinking. Yesterday, I was crossing the street and a random man (not the same one) grabbed me even more forcefully by the arm and tried to pull me in his direction, which was a pretty upsetting experience - especially as these instances are the first that I've had anything quite so physical in terms of harassment - usually it's the stares, the cat calls, the rock throwing. Of course, thankfully it went no further than just unwanted grabbing, but not fun.

But today, I went to town, and while waiting for some shoes to be finished (not mine - different story) I went and hung out with my vegetable guy, Mustafa. Who. Is. Awesome. I sat in his vegetable stall for over an hour, while he made me drink copious amounts of tea and eat cake, and handed me his cell phone with hours of video of Berber dancing. I showed him pictures of my tortoises (yes, plural - again, different story) and we spoke in my halting darija about the word for late (which there isn't one), how each of our families were, and the difference between normal tomatoes and cherry tomatoes. I love how trusting Moroccans are - Mustafa would get up and wander off to get the tea or have a chat with someone, leaving me in charge of his stall without batting an eyelid - while I was quietly dreading what would happen if an actual customer appeared, as I didn't know the prices of anything.

Anyway, it's interesting how from day to day it's a completely different story and experience here. The little things make such a different in either making or breaking your day. Of course, how I approach my day makes a difference too. A friend of mine just sent me "The Secret" (thank you Al!) and I've only listened to a little bit but the author talks about how like thoughts attract like thoughts - like if you're thinking negative thoughts, then you'll start thinking more negative thoughts and dig yourself a hole. Quite interesting, and true I think… I'm trying to stick with positive thoughts from now, which - I've said it before, and I'll say it again - is getting easier, as life gets easier in the cold land with the hot sun. As luck would have it, I completely understand why it's called that now.

And so here's the tortoise story. I now have two - Olly, aka the little one, and Tiberius aka the big one. Last week, I inherited Tiberius from two volunteers in my souk town, and luckily, so far, there's been no fighting or baby making between my now two tortoises. Two is enough I think. Between Olly, Tiberius, knitting, and my Bailey's addiction, I think I can now make it official. I'm the crazy tortoise lady of Ain Chaib. Brilliant.

I'll leave you with that happy image.

xoxo.

Ruth and the Terrifying Turkey Sandwich

Ah. Home. I've been away from home for around 10 days, and I've gotta say, I missed my house and my site and my people here, which did actually surprise me a little upon my return. It's good to be home. Thankfully Olly was still alive upon my arrival, although in his role as cleaner of my floor, he seemed to have found plenty of dust bunnies while I was gone and attached them all to himself at the same time. He's now clean and hiding.

Last week was a week full of training - all 67 volunteers from our stage were in the same place at the same time (well, different hotels) for recaps on each others sites and projects, and workshops on different subjects to help us in our work here. It was great to catch up with everyone and find out how we're all settling in to our sites. We also had more language tests, which was interesting, and despite my worrying about it, I actually went up a level - yay me! Now why can't I understand what people are saying to me??

So I'm home and exhausted from a long trip back down south - it's about a 12 hour straight shot from where we were to where I am, so I'm glad that's over. But up north, I at least got the chance to do a little hiking, which is the one thing that's sorely missing from the south. It's so flat here, it's just walking. Sad face.

Now it's another three months until the next gathering of us all, although us SBD-ers have an upcoming craft fair in Fes to look forward to. My task over the next few weeks involves encouraging my women to make as much product as possible to take with us. But based on feedback from other volunteers, with some tweaks, the product should sell up a storm.

I'm sure some of you have seen news of the protests going on here, so a quick word about that. There have been things going on in some of the larger cities - Fes, Sefrou, Marrakech, Rabat, Tanger, Al Hociema, etc. - but many of us are placed in small villages, where we really don't feel the effects of the things going on. So, not to worry - I am totally fine. Peace Corps keeps us updated on the goings-on, and lets us know if there are places we should avoid while traveling. So far, nothing has affected our day-to-day, and in'shallah, nothing will. We all have way too much work to get on with and too many things to look forward to to go home!

That's all for now - surprisingly no crazy stories despite the traveling. Oh wait, no, I have one. Kind of. Not all that crazy, just a bit disgusting. While I was waiting for my bus to bring me home I picked up a turkey sandwich to tide me over. Turkey and chicken sandwiches are usually pretty awesome here. But I managed to get through two-thirds of this one before realizing that the meat wasn't cooked all the way through. Mmmm. Raw turkey. Don't ask why it took me so long to realize - I just wasn't looking at what I was eating. And remember, this was just before I was about to get on a bus for the next ELEVEN hours. Imagine my joy. But luckily, it would appear that living in Morocco for the past five-and-a-half months has left me with an iron cast stomach. Who would have thought eating intestines and liver wrapped in fat could have done that, right? But thank goodness, as it could have been extremely messy and unpleasant. For everyone.

And on that note.

xoxo

Ruth, the Missing Internet and the Crazy Chicken

This week has been a little frustrating, to say the least. I have been trying for over a month now to have internet installed in my house. Which has involved me going to the Maroc Telecom store at least three times a week - I'm now on a first name basis with the director of the store - to ask them what's going on. And, at first, this was, oh just wait, someone will come, no problem. Then it was, oh, you don't have an address (which I had told them, and even drawn them a map to my house). Then it was, oh well you need a telephone pole put in by your house since you live in the back of beyond. (Which inevitably led to, and why exactly do you live there?) Then someone was killed in a car crash, so that threw things off for a week. Then it was, someone will be there by Friday. Then by Monday. Then by the next Friday. And finally someone did come. And put a wire that went to my window (outside - and not a new telephone pole, btw) but didn't connect it to anything and left. Then they came while I wasn't home and made a huge mess of my desk by drilling a hole in my window frame for the wire to go through (my landlady let them in). Then I went back to the store, and reminded the director that I haven't paid for anything yet, and I don't have the modem I need. His response, was well, who is going to pay for it then, and why don't you have a modem - like it was my fault that I've been telling them since day one what I want. And that I'm willing to pay! Here, take my money and MAKE IT WORK!! So then I got the modem. Yesterday. WHICH DOESN'T WORK. ARRGGGGGGGGGGGGGH! I've tried everything I can think of and my computer recognizes the modem, but won't connect to the internet with it. Which I suspect is part of the evil Maroc Telecom plan. Oh, yes, and they are closed on Saturdays. Brilliant.

So. It goes without saying that I will be in there first thing on Monday, and they can expect an earful from me. All I want is this to be fixed before I leave for PPST (training) next week, so that I know it's done and dealt with (and download my missing episodes of The Office). Things really are never as easy as they should be. Especially when you're trying to do 70% of this in a foreign language! (The other 30% is in English, since the director does speak English - thank eff.) Phew. So there's my rant for now. Oh wait, no, no - I forgot, there's more - then, my trusty iPod decided that it didn't want to work and needed to be restored, wiping all my music from it. Thank goodness for back ups, but talk about a technology challenged week.

In other news, I'm sitting at home, and when I'm in the house, I usually keep the front door open, to get some fresh air in, and some sun, for Olly to go and sit in. But today, there is a very bold chicken, who has come in to my house three times now - I've caught him behind the door, under the sink, and on the threshold to my bedroom! He's a quiet, sneaky chicken. If he's not careful though, he may end up as dinner. You hear me, chicken!?! I've watched chickens killed before! I'm not afraid of doing it! (Well, a little bit. Okay, a lot.) Oh, and now the chicken is getting in a fight with a cat outside. When will animals in Morocco learn that cross-species fighting will always end badly? Donkey vs. dog, cat vs. chicken, chicken vs. human…

Also, today I did my laundry. Not particularly, newsworthy, although it reminded me of the good old days when I had a washing machine and tumble dryer in my apartment building, and I thought laundry was a still such a pain in the arse - lugging it all all the way downstairs (in the lift) and then back, and having to fold it all when it was nice and dry. Now, I hand wash in buckets, and hang everything in the bathroom where it takes 3 days to dry. This is from the girl who avoids hand washing at all costs. Luckily, my lovely landlady does some of it for me - she always offers when she is doing her wash, and I've resisted since I've moved in because I don't want to rely on her doing it for me for the next two years, but I broke down the other day and she did my jeans for me, since I'm really scared of hand washing them (jeans are really heavy when they're wet!). But, everything else I do - and so my bathroom is now covered in my underwear (can't put it outside - since I don't have a roof, and that would be hshuma. And weird.) So, think about me and all my hand washed, wet clothes the next time you use your tumble dryer. Thanks.

Another story for you, and I think this will do well to cement everyone's perception of the wild, crazy, adventurous life I live in Morocco, at least when I'm at home. Last week my power went out, because my landlady next door is doing lots of work on their house, and there was something about a regulator that was broken. And it was out for 3 days. So, as soon as I would get home from the association around 5.30 or 6, the sun would be going down, and I would have to cook dinner by candlelight and headlamp. It also meant no computer, no phone, no heater, and no toast. So, what does one do without the stash of movies on my hard drive to watch over dinner? Read. A LOT. I finished a 435-page book in those 3 days, and was still in bed by 8.30 or 9. Wild times, right? You gotta just embrace it sometimes.

So, yes, thoughts from the back of beyond - where even here, people struggle to understand why I live where I live. And where people don't even know where I live, even though it's only 2km from where they live.

xoxo.

Ruth and Olly the Turtle

The past couple of days I've learned lots of things. Like:

Being whacked in the face by a spiky tree branch will give you a bruised nose and bleeding scratches across the face.

Elderly Moroccan women are awesome.

I love red peppers, and can easily eat a whole pepper raw as a snack. And they can be found here.

You can get icing sugar in Morocco!

Ski jackets are not necessary in Agadir, despite the fact that they are necessary inside my house.

Making knitted purses in different color combinations is really fun. And the possibilities endless.

Baby turtles pee on your hand when they are scared. And then try and bite you.

I've spent the last couple of days in various parts of my local region - some, I can name, and others I can't. On Saturday, I don't know where I was - some small village much smaller than mine, which I think is just a suburb of Ouled Teima, but it was quite far out, and I could never tell you how to get there. I was taken to see my host aunts' aunt, on their mother's side, who is awesome. My host aunts don't know how old she is (I would guess in her 80's, maybe even 90's?), but she gets around by walking literally doubled over - on her feet, but hands on the floor. I can barely even walk like that. And all she kept saying to me was that I was welcome there anytime I wanted.

Sunday I headed out to Taroudant, which was made a little harder by the road in to Taroudant being closed because of all the rain we've been having, so a thirty minute cab ride became an hour cab ride going the long way round. But some lovely views of the High Atlas mountains in the background. I met up with a couple of region mates, and went to one of their sites, which is a little outside of Taroudant. This volunteer works with an Argon oil association, which was really interesting to see. This was an education for me, which I can now pass on. Argon nuts have two shells - a outer shell that is easier to get off, and is eaten by animals (like tree climbing goats), then there is another shell inside, which is much harder to crack, but is cracked by whacking it with a big stone. Then, there is a little sliver of nut in there, which is they ground to a pulp, and the oil is squeezed out of that. So there's a lot of work, and nuts, that go in to making one bottle of argon oil. But it was really fun to meet all the women doing it.

Yesterday was Agadir with my (basically) site mates, who showed me yummy burgers, the closest thing to Best Buy in Morocco, where to go to shop without having to go to Marjane - and where I found good things like icing sugar, Carr's Water Biscuits and blue cheese. Yes, more blue cheese. Don't judge me.

And something else I've JUST learned in the last 10 minutes - I'm now the owner of a baby turtle called Olly. He is currently scared and hiding behind a table leg in a corner since the neighborhood kids just terrorized him. I went with my next door neighbors to the ruins of their family's old house again, and we found him in the field on the way there, and now he's in my house. He's tiny, so here's hoping I don't step on him in the middle of the night or something equally traumatizing.

xoxo