Sunday morning blog

Went for a great run, and Im waiting to go to the hamman with my bro Yasin. But he's sleeping still (it's 1030). There was some confusion last night because our teacher Fatima wrote to the 2 girls saying she'd meet them at 1030. Since we got the message at 9 PM last night, we were afraid we'd missed something, until I thought: Morocco uses the 24 hour European time, so when she says that she likely means 1030 tomorrow morning, not 1030 PM. If she were going to meet us last night at 1030 PM, she'd have written 2230.


I discovered that the earlier I can wake up, the more alone time I have to do my business. And it's worth getting up an hour or 90 minutes earlier while everyone is still asleep so I can do my PC readings, review my new words, go for a jog. I went for a jog this morning and it was quite splendid. The only person up is our host dad, and we'll see him in the streets sometimes going around for different things.


Today is officially the last day of Ramadan, so we have Monday off to celebrate the end of the fasting. I imagine it to be something like Carnaval or Mardi Gras, minus the boobs and the beads. But really it seems like every night has been an orgy of food. Since I've only participated in Ramadan once, I've been eating the same amount as them each night, but also I've had lunch and a sort of English style tea at 10 each morning. So I've felt like a glutton.


Ramadan is supposed to be no consuming anything until night time, then there's a brief, ferocious meal at the night time call to prayer, right as the sun is setting, and then around 11 PM there's an explosion of food. The first few nights here I didnt expect this and it was unsettling to think that I was expected to eat more and more. One night we had cous-cous. Great, really yummy stuff. But I was full and still ate 2x more than I wanted. But after comparing the fight to a battle, and valiantly striving to endure, as I ate the last bites of the cous-cous then came a sliced cucumber. Ok, have at it.


But as I ate the last bites of the cucumber, then came a yellow melon. HUGE yellow melon, nearly as big as a watermelon. And there was only me and Samiya eating it. OK. Done with that, about to die, I look over and see the mother cooking flan. And while it took 2.5 hours to cool down, giving me some time to let the other things digest and settle, I wasnt allowed to sleep until it came out and I ate all of it. Finally at 130 AM I dragged myself to bed. And boy, what strange dreams, followed by about 20 minutes of hurt the next morning.


Last night was especially good. Yasin and I went to the Jazz cafe, where we called Sara and Cynthia to join us from our language group. We were able to make jokes, including the one I like best of all :


“What is the difference between Moroccans and Americans?”

“In Morocco they pray in public and they make love in private, but in America it's the opposite.”


Before the night was over, we had lamented that the Moroccan people couldnt pronounce our names, so we resolved to find new Arabic or Berber ones. This was inspired by my PCV Bolivia friend Mark, who went for 2 years as Armando.


The first one was easy : Cynthia became Samiya, the name of Yasin's sister. It's pronounced Sem-ee-ya, or like the boy's name Sam, plus iya. Now I'm laboring to find a suitable name for myself tha I like.


The interesting thing is that I found a girl Cara who seems willing to join me in a team to do the MdS in 2011. This is especially good news, since it means we will be able to double or triple our fundraising efforts, as well as the joy of sharing this thing with someone that has only heard of it. The idea of going back, of returning not from the US but going there to do it while living as a Moroccan is especially satisfying. But that is a long time fro


I feel bad about part of the email I wrote to my friend that I posted on my blog last night. It seems insensitive for me to be bellyaching about how things are too nice here when likely this person is living in a place much like Candelaria was. But it seems in what I wrote that I clearly am talking just about the supposed ills of the YD program, while desiring to be more like SBD in its locations and aims. But until that person writes back, I'm not entirely sure how trainees in other places are faring.


Apparently next week in Fes we will get to visit a Japanese restaurant that Yasin knows! I called Cara to talk about how things are in her site, to update her on the MdS stuff, and she said how she is trying to spend the night there with her host grandparents. So that will be fun!


Later

Fell asleep and now Yasin is trying to turn on the hot water so I can have a good shower. Dinner will be in an hour, and I'm very excited about it. It should be a big one!


Been able to read a lot more today. It is disappointing that we don't have but 2 weeks of technical training that comes after the two months in our permanent sites. “Post-PST Training, mainly all techinical, or Youth development for me.” That's the answer I got. But it seems again like something that should be more highly valued and given serious theoretical attention. Because if our focus is on Youth Development, then we should be given the tools to do it right.


But maybe Im being too hard. We have a book, after all. One copy to be shared with all 5 of us. Its good, I've read the first two chapters. And we will have a lot of hands-on experience. And like in Bolivia, it's frustrating if you expect too much from the work PC does.


Just now I finished teaching Hassan the basic rules of chess, and we played an entire game. So another 4 or 5 times and he'll be up and running with it. It was nice when he finished, saying that he wanted me to work with him on Anglais, and he gave me a kiss on the cheek.