Sunday, July 31, 2011

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.


Friday, July 29, 2011

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.

Friday, July 1, 2011

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.