tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6463020025723199122024-03-12T20:31:22.634-05:00Anna in AfricaMy adventures serving as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Morocco, Africa. Wish me luck!Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.comBlogger35125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-59797393313644510822011-07-25T08:24:00.002-05:002011-07-25T14:43:01.998-05:00Smithsonian - More Photos<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Khadija, Mom, Fatima, Sophie and Emily hanging out after lunch. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The crowd watching the women weave. Normally, there were several rows of people watching and listening while I talked about the women, weaving in Morocco and my time in the PC</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a group of us waiting for the bus after the fair one day. The woman in white started the world map project and designed manuals for PCVs to paint world maps on school walls around the world. The RPCV in blue, Laura, helped her local elementary school build two classrooms using recycled plastic bottles. Her host mom and aunt, who came to DC to help her demonstrate, were the principal and a teacher at the school</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Khadija weaving early one morning, before all the visitors came. This is one of my favorite outfits she wore, with a traditional Berber headdress and sparkly white sheet held together with a large gold belt. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyEH6n1vIJUxxGT4raFpRrEPsvgPhDzeafj1mDpQ3Q32rOBlHaYKhOyPbsHQbqS9PqoLX-_HeT-2k2TmQwcJ1gaoU5-jSdzH0sCkGwEbUNwjEI_NK0Rwp9Bxd-b0VCkCHIOhB_3_-x97OI/s1600/IMG_3068.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyEH6n1vIJUxxGT4raFpRrEPsvgPhDzeafj1mDpQ3Q32rOBlHaYKhOyPbsHQbqS9PqoLX-_HeT-2k2TmQwcJ1gaoU5-jSdzH0sCkGwEbUNwjEI_NK0Rwp9Bxd-b0VCkCHIOhB_3_-x97OI/s320/IMG_3068.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fatima working on her carpet. She wove a beautiful, all natural dye carpet with Berber symbols in lots of beautiful colors. </td></tr>
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</div>Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-91880949045503779502011-07-25T07:12:00.000-05:002011-07-25T07:12:57.304-05:00The Festival<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">The festival itself was an exhausting but totally amazing experience. Most days, we had several rows of people (up to four deep) surrounding the weavers and listening to me talk about carpets, weaving and Peace Corps Morocco. (On the second day, the Smithsonian staff started handing out throat lozenges to all the participants because we were talking so much.)<br />
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I can't say enough about how well Smithsonian took care of us during the festival. We had breakfast and dinner provided everyday at the hotel and food tickets to get lunch at the fair. They arranged transportation to and from the fair everyday and always had people walking around to make sure we didn't need anything at the fair itself. Best of all, they gave all the participants spending money so that we could sightsee and the women could buy souvenirs to take back to the families in Morocco.<br />
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For me, one of the best parts of the fair was that my family and friends came to visit! My mom, Emily and Sophie came up the first weekend of the fair with two of my cousins, Christina and Patty. They helped me explain about Peace Corps Morocco to visitors (which was great, since there were so many, I couldn't talk to everyone), they brought sandwiches for Fatima and Khadija when they found out neither particularly cared for the food at the fair and they took me out to dinner every night so that I got my 'fix' of Mexican and Italian food. My mom really wanted to take Khadija and Fatima out to a nice dinner, but they were always too tired after the fair ended. They just wanted to go back to the hotel and sleep.<br />
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After the fireworks on the fourth, Mom, Emily and Sophie drove the 16 hours back to St. Louis. The next weekend, my Dad and Katie (another sister) flew up for a night. It was great to see everyone and lots of fun for them to see the fair. Dad and Katie bought lunch for the ladies, which both really appreciated, and helped me at the cooking demonstration. (We had 6 cooking demos during the fair, where Fatima and Khadija prepared dishes from Morocco and I talked about food in Morocco and my PC experience as a whole.)<br />
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I think the crowd really enjoyed hearing my Dad talk about visiting Morocco and drinking tea with my host family. Often, we PCVs get so used to the culture we're living in that we forget to mention some pretty amazing things. For example, I'm so used to the amazing hospitatily in Morocco that I sometimes forget to mention it when I'm describing my time here. When my family came to visit last summer, the hospitality we received at my host family's house is one of the most special memories for them. His comments about Morocco really added something special to our demonstration.<br />
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I also got to spend time with my friends Greg and Lauren from undergrad. I hadn't seen either of them in several years and I really enjoyed catching up. It was wonderful hearing what they've been up to and about their lives in D.C.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The fair was closed on July 5th and 6th, so we got to go sight-seeing. Sarah, an RPCV from Morocco, and her husband Brahim, came down from NYC to visit. I think everyone had an amazing time and we had a lot of fun trying to figure out how to describe all of the sights in Tashelhit.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEMSNDRUZaewyCY0Ebiu7aw8jjq5EMRR9Y5KQeG3FIjxo32ebeaHGb84BAAF2ItbuPCFgjGYLvtOQDn-5d1XRCWu584cHFOokMT2PrB31apxVI5ccjgwT3m-5Md-yl514hBMnMP43ahuLh/s1600/IMG_0312.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEMSNDRUZaewyCY0Ebiu7aw8jjq5EMRR9Y5KQeG3FIjxo32ebeaHGb84BAAF2ItbuPCFgjGYLvtOQDn-5d1XRCWu584cHFOokMT2PrB31apxVI5ccjgwT3m-5Md-yl514hBMnMP43ahuLh/s320/IMG_0312.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the souvenir shops we went to had an oval office we could take pictures in. We got shots of Fatima and Khadija pretending to work at the desk and this great group shot. Lynn, in the hat, is an RPCV from Morocco who lived in Fatima's town. Fatima was beyond thrilled to see Lynn. Her smiles didn't stop the two days Lynn was in town.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigughxwfvdDOXUIKDz_zFj8vULUjJtepc6mNbNua13HizY8wHJSXnMFJ5qPn69iXN0_He_7lFySlkAsyVBjKn3ykqR2nGMES-5g8OGqtSO7Uj-_IyiDb3FfCbdzBTA4n2YXgINxXBaJHos/s1600/IMG_0344.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigughxwfvdDOXUIKDz_zFj8vULUjJtepc6mNbNua13HizY8wHJSXnMFJ5qPn69iXN0_He_7lFySlkAsyVBjKn3ykqR2nGMES-5g8OGqtSO7Uj-_IyiDb3FfCbdzBTA4n2YXgINxXBaJHos/s320/IMG_0344.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a shot of most of the Peace Corps participants at the fair during the reception they held on the 6th. The reception was beautiful and it was great to hang out with such an amazing group of people</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEb4Bhgg6gElmTcTT0ABqWz9Y_SWpK7sgmPwfzU2Du6gUIrdaHFVzh3uHCyWOyFFTAx1-d_2aXLQTdySZbGboN7LpuVSZng7GUEpocdthH6McbDzAWSTdWgm8U9TLRwutpEOywW1ZTEE4L/s1600/IMG_2802.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEb4Bhgg6gElmTcTT0ABqWz9Y_SWpK7sgmPwfzU2Du6gUIrdaHFVzh3uHCyWOyFFTAx1-d_2aXLQTdySZbGboN7LpuVSZng7GUEpocdthH6McbDzAWSTdWgm8U9TLRwutpEOywW1ZTEE4L/s320/IMG_2802.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is us at the cooking demonstration. Generally, there were about 40 or 50 people watching us make sffa (a delicious dish made with couscous, powdered sugar and cinnamon) and a chicken tajine. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9O9pmDrzN2PdRAMfXTScoizBub1L_hA-CHswTd-VuiGV-5UeJqcwP7oxiILyLa_gmpLbDNIBRNq8wrItc5NBP0hvynO_dHuZM5MEl5vL4jLkQmpRbZFYCMD_IOvD4LFktDzALvQyseXyn/s1600/IMG_3060.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9O9pmDrzN2PdRAMfXTScoizBub1L_hA-CHswTd-VuiGV-5UeJqcwP7oxiILyLa_gmpLbDNIBRNq8wrItc5NBP0hvynO_dHuZM5MEl5vL4jLkQmpRbZFYCMD_IOvD4LFktDzALvQyseXyn/s320/IMG_3060.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">These were some of my favorite people at the fair. Samba (on the left), from Mali, read a beautiful poem about what Peace Corps means to him and his community during the reception. It had most of us near tears. </td></tr>
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</div>Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-3686673176025994732011-07-25T06:48:00.001-05:002011-07-25T08:28:54.503-05:00Smithsonian Folklife Festival - Traveling<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I just got back from an amazing two weeks at the Smithsonian Folklife Festival in Washington D.C. It was exhausting, but such a cool experience. Khadija and Fatima did great, despite often being overwhelmed by the strange food, strange clothes, strange sights, etc.<br />
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We left our villages on Monday, June 27th and traveled to Casablanca. Khadija and I traveled together from Marrakech to Casablanca, while Fatima met us at the hotel in Casablanca. It was Khadija's first time on a train! So many firsts on this trip, for both women. They did an amazing job 'going with the flow' and trying new things. After the first day of the fair, Khadija turned to me and said, "Now I know what its like for you volunteers when you first get to Morocco. EVERYTHING is strange!"<br />
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It was over 120 degrees when we were traveling through Marrakech and the train, unfortunately, had no air conditioning! Its amazing how much more exhausting traveling is when its super hot. We made it into Casablanca in the early evening and quickly turned on the air conditioning in our hotel rooms. Smithsonian really took care of us on the trip - they paid for our travel in Morocco and graciously offered to pay for a hotel room in Casablanca the night before our flight, so that we all had a good nights sleep before another long day of traveling.<br />
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We woke up on the 28th, ate breakfast, and headed out to the airport. We had A LOT of luggage, since I brought carpets and embroidery from my cooperative to sell at the festival and Khadija and Fatima brought all their weaving supplies. We looked a little silly each dragging two giant bags to the train station and then to the ticket counter. After checking in at the airport and sending our bags off, we were a lot more comfortable. We went through security and relaxed for a few hours before our flight.<br />
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Both Khadija and Fatima did absolutely fine on the trip. It was Khadija's first time on a plane (Fatima had been on a short plane ride from Casablanca to Agadir) and both ladies first time out of Morocco. Luckily, the plane wasn't full so we could all stretch out and get some rest on the flight. After 8 hours, we arrived at JFK and went through customs. I was a little worried, because we had a huge amount of luggage, but we made it through without any problems. All of the customs agents really got a kick out of my speaking Tashelhit (you speak WHAT??) and wished the ladies good luck on the rest of their trip.<br />
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After grabbing a snack at Starbucks, we got on our plane to D.C. By this time, we were all exhausted. When our plane got stuck on the runway for two hours, both Fatima and Khadija fell asleep and slept until we landed in D.C. at 11 pm. We found the Smithsonian staff that came to pick us up at the airport and rested for a few minutes while waiting for some of the Columbian participants at the fair to arrive. They got in at 12:30 AM and we took the bus to the hotel.<br />
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Smithsonian put all of us up at the Marriott Hotel by Georgetown. The hotel was absolutely beautiful and I felt really lucky to be staying at such a nice place. After making sure that Fatima and Khadija could work the air conditioner, TV and the shower, I went to sleep. We were up again at 7:30 am for orientation and a trip to the mall to set up for the festival. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">This is me with Fatima on the train to the airport. You can't tell so much from the photo, but it was HOT and we were carrying a lot of luggage. I was so happy when we finally got to the airport and could check-in and get rid of all those bags!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Zarnaz, an RPCV from Morocco, invited all of us to her home for a wonderful dinner. I can't thank all of the Moroccan RPCVs enough for their help during the fair. They went out of their way to make all of us feel at home, taking the women out for shopping, for lunch, and coming to help at the fair itself. They were all wonderful and made the experience even more special for all of us. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKGC4FSoYkH0vtpMepTgbwS6hyphenhyphenhRa5JxiglWFH3GpeK_iDeUojLhDYYJsAvffDkta80a5djM_VhHVkAPq7st2AkbSgE7ZGjeAric9PgWXM-HFXHHEIJji5VQoiTgKjigU83GbCm_SI8Fl2/s1600/IMG_2685.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKGC4FSoYkH0vtpMepTgbwS6hyphenhyphenhRa5JxiglWFH3GpeK_iDeUojLhDYYJsAvffDkta80a5djM_VhHVkAPq7st2AkbSgE7ZGjeAric9PgWXM-HFXHHEIJji5VQoiTgKjigU83GbCm_SI8Fl2/s320/IMG_2685.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fatima, me and Khadija in front of the official 50th Anniversary sign for Peace Corps.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2trTjT-JT5Aqhoz_2ij_Y2EgacaIRGFJ278trEj2oxZbaAiJhbpWiZCjuAN5-1kC8o_6_5vfDli4WQgtzmNlZGZqTUzdKAZPzhcrVioXMZgjVmEmN0kBN6P4H0OV8Gk_675n91duZLh_P/s1600/IMG_2842.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2trTjT-JT5Aqhoz_2ij_Y2EgacaIRGFJ278trEj2oxZbaAiJhbpWiZCjuAN5-1kC8o_6_5vfDli4WQgtzmNlZGZqTUzdKAZPzhcrVioXMZgjVmEmN0kBN6P4H0OV8Gk_675n91duZLh_P/s320/IMG_2842.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is us at the 4th of July parade with our amazing neighbors at the Festival, Elena and Mele from Tonga. They demonstrated weaving palm like leaves into mats and decorative items, like the belts they're wearing</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ0e0cVtFLdFPbUhSQLE4cEYYcuiEruJcZMELdITAoyeiA78z3yS4PbVe3UcrnBLU1UXxNGlwl35D5_M9L2iEiDtbUd-F679xKEKg8v4q1txHiyo4W7gvqmYIhmSTqaWltZuY1fs0tqgvb/s1600/IMG_2959.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ0e0cVtFLdFPbUhSQLE4cEYYcuiEruJcZMELdITAoyeiA78z3yS4PbVe3UcrnBLU1UXxNGlwl35D5_M9L2iEiDtbUd-F679xKEKg8v4q1txHiyo4W7gvqmYIhmSTqaWltZuY1fs0tqgvb/s320/IMG_2959.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amy, Khadija and Karen at the dinner party at Zarnaz's house. Karen was the PCV in Khadija's village a few years ago and Amy served in a village very close to mine. Both really went out of their way to make all of us feel at home in D.C. and came to the fair several times to hang out with us. Khadija's face would light up anytime she saw them :)</td></tr>
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</div>Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-32442579868420854202011-06-22T05:22:00.002-05:002011-06-22T05:25:15.425-05:00Smithsonian Folklife Festival<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Its official! This summer, I'll be coming to D.C. to represent PC Morocco at the Smithsonian Folklife Festival. I'll be bringing two weavers from here in Morocco; one from the north, Fatima, and one from the south, Khadija. I'll be in D.C. from June 28th through July 12th. The festival is June 30th to July 4th and July 7th to 11th. The ladies will be demonstrating Moroccan weaving techniques outside on the mall. I'll be there to help translate and explain about weaving here in Morocco.<br />
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Its a huge honor and I'm really excited to be the PCV chosen to represent PC Morocco. I must admit, though, I am a bit nervous about the huge undertaking this trip will be. Neither of this women has traveled extensively. They come from small villages in rural Morocco. This trip will be the first time Khadija has been on a plane! (While Fatima took a short plane ride from Casablanca to Agadir, she's never been on a large jet like the one we'll be taking.) They both seem very excited and I hope that excitement helps them cope when faced with western toilets, strange American food, the 'nakedness' of American clothes when compared to Moroccan jellabas, etc. They are going to be constantly surprised by the strange things we'll be seeing/doing in D.C. <br />
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While both ladies have been taking a few English lessons these past few weeks, their knowledge is pretty basic. Besides 'My name is...' and 'I am from Morocco' they won't understand much of what's going on. That means they'll be relying on me 100% for translations in addition to explanations of what's going on. I'm both excited and nervous about doing all that. I have a feeling I'm going to be exhausted at the end of each day, but it'll be worth it. What an amazing opportunity for all of us! How cool is it that I'll be the one helping introduce them to all of these new things?!? I'm going to do my best to help them make the most of their two weeks in America. Our two days off will be jam packed with site-seeing, eating at different ethnic restaurants, and riding the metro (one of the women has never been on a train; neither have ever been on a metro.) Many RPCVs are going to be joining us, including the RPCVs from Fatima and Khadija's villages. Its going to be so much fun! If you are in the D.C. area, please stop by to see us at the fair.<br />
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Here is the website for the Folklife Festival - <a href="http://www.festival.si.edu/">http://www.festival.si.edu/</a><br />
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And here are the news articles about me being in the festival with Fatima and Khadija :) I've never been in the paper before....<br />
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<a href="http://www.stltoday.com/news/local/columns/deb-peterson/article_73f9aed8-9b88-11e0-8e4e-001a4bcf6878.html">http://www.stltoday.com/news/local/columns/deb-peterson/article_73f9aed8-9b88-11e0-8e4e-001a4bcf6878.html</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=about.fiftieth.folklife">http://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=about.fiftieth.folklife</a><br />
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I'll have my computer with me, so I'll have email access. If anyone needs more information about visiting us at the fair, or setting up a time to see Fatima/Khadija in the evening, please email me :)<br />
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</div>Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-67092944269808195102011-02-08T12:52:00.001-06:002011-02-08T13:00:24.287-06:00Safety in the Peace Corps<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Recently, there has been a lot of talk about safety in the Peace Corps. On the day the 20/20 story about safety in the Peace Corps aired, we received a text from our country director reminding us that we could come to her with any questions or concerns. Since that time, I've discussed the episodes with many PCVs and written a few emails home about it. Overall, I thought the story was sensationalized and misleading, especially in regards to how PCVs (and RPCVs) feel about their safety. I have since heard stories of people deciding to not apply to Peace Corps because they are worried about their safety. This really upsets me, since I believe the work we do is so important.<br />
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</div><div>First of all, let me say I feel as safe in Morocco (if not safer) than I do in St. Louis. Here, I don't hesitate to walk alone at night (something I would hesitate to do in my neighborhood back home). Most everyone in this tiny Berber village knows my name and I have had ZERO instances where I felt unsafe. In my cell phone here I have the number of the local police chief, the direct line to the police office, the 24/7 number for Peace Corps (where someone ALWAYS answers immediately), the cell phones of my Program Manager, Program assistant, the 24/7 doctor line AND my Country Director. If, at any time I feel afraid, I can call any of these people and ask for help (as well as go to my neighbors or any of my countless friends here in my village.) Thankfully, I have never had to do so.<br />
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</div><div>Most people aren't aware of how hard Peace Corps works to make sure PCVs are safe. When they say it is their number one priority, they really mean it. Here in Morocco, we have two full time staff members devoted to safety and security. All PCVs are required to tell these ladies (and usually their local police) when they leave their villages. We have a very thorough action plan in place in case a major catastrophe occurs. It is reiterated at all training events and practiced once a year. If the safety situation in a country looks iffy, Peace Corps is quick to pull the PCVs out. In the vast majority of evacuation stories I've heard, the PCVs had no idea any sort of a crisis had occurred and were confused and upset that they had to leave. From everything I've read and heard from PCVs that were evacuated, Peace Corps ALWAYS errs on the side of caution if a country looks unstable. <b>And of course, PCVs are offered a free ticket home if they, at any time, decide they no longer want to be in Peace Corps. (</b>This is called early termination if you want to google it at www.peacecorps.gov)</div><div><div><br />
I don't want to discount what Kate Puzey and her family went through, nor the horrible rapes of the other PCVs that were interviewed. These were awful tragedies that should be analyzed so that the risk for all future PCVs is minimized. Peace Corps needs to have a formal policy in place for how to notify a family when a PCV dies. PCVs that go through a trauma like rape should be given counseling free of charge, both in the immediate aftermath of the rape and for as many months as they need when the return to the USA. No PCV or family should feel "abandoned" as Kate Puzey's did. All Peace Corps staff should receive yearly training on what do to in an assault situation so that future PCVs feel supported if/when a sexual assault occurs. </div><div><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Unfortunately, the 20/20 story did not do an accurate job depicting safety in the Peace Corps. The story threw out many statistics about rape, assault and murder for PCVs. According to 20/20, 1000 female PCVs have been sexually assaulted in the past decade. Furthermore, 23 PCVs have been murdered in the past 50 years. These are awful statistics, right? Its horrifying to read that 23 PCVs have been murdered and 1000 female PCVs have been sexually assaulted. I've heard of people withdrawing their Peace Corps application after hearing these statistics. Who would want to volunteer to live for two years in an unsafe place?</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>Unfortunately, these statistics are misleading.</b> First, over 200,000 volunteers have served in the last 50 years, which makes the murder rate about 11 in 100,000. <u>This is lower than the murder rates in many US cities</u>, including New Orleans (52 per 100K), Baltimore (37 in 100K), and even St. Louis (40 in 100K). Second, 20/20 quoted that the 1000 female PCVs were sexually assaulted in the past decade. They fail to mention that approximately 11,000 female PCVs served during that time, <u>making the assault rate about 1 in 11 female volunteers, much lower than the US average of 1 in 6 American women!!</u> (Many thanks to Scott Brinton, an RPCV at the LI Herald for his well-researched article on this issue. You can reach it at <a href="http://www.liherald.com/stories/Rape-murder-and-the-Peace-Corps,30326?page=1&content_source=">Scott Brinton Article</a>)</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, times, serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div>While I don't think Peace Corps is perfect, and I know there is always room for improvement, I hope that no future volunteers are scared to join because they fear for their safety. The vast majority of PCVs (myself included) serve their 27 months without any major safety issue. Just like in the USA, bad things happen, but I don't think they happen at a significantly higher rate in Peace Corps. For most PCVs, Peace Corps is a time to learn a new language, new culture and a whole lot about yourself. Its a time to help make the world a better place (even if its only your tiny corner of it.) Most importantly, its a time to teach others about the real America and Americans about your new home. </div></div></div><div><br />
</div><div>If anyone has any questions about joining the Peace Corps, or what else Peace Corps does to make sure PCVs are safe, please visit <a href="http://www.peacecorps.gov/">http://www.peacecorps.gov/ </a> or <a href="http://www.peacecorpswiki.org/Health_care_and_safety_by_country">Peace Corps Wiki Health Care and Safety</a>. You're also free to contact me, either through this blog or at my email :)</div></div></div>Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-447899536121258662011-01-26T12:26:00.001-06:002011-01-26T12:30:01.599-06:00Busy, busy, busy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">The last two months have really flown by! December was jam packed with a craft fair, mid-service medical exams, and then my flight home for Christmas. I felt like I was always rushing around, but had a lot of fun and felt like I got a lot accomplished.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk2-_PFSv6FdF_t2IJPanE8_mXNTfoSD7ttg5tNthvKaZvzxRSGqTAP1tamMQO8-iXutkQGUSxkjJQ6Y67O_xMd-GH92uT2RQDvmXhf_2QuqAkoSEGx7txSWsAPnE5Q1giWssw8JzzcIeU/s1600/Banner+-+Edited+JPG+-+LOW+RES.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk2-_PFSv6FdF_t2IJPanE8_mXNTfoSD7ttg5tNthvKaZvzxRSGqTAP1tamMQO8-iXutkQGUSxkjJQ6Y67O_xMd-GH92uT2RQDvmXhf_2QuqAkoSEGx7txSWsAPnE5Q1giWssw8JzzcIeU/s1600/Banner+-+Edited+JPG+-+LOW+RES.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The banner design for all of the Marche Maroc craft fairs. </td></tr>
</tbody></table> The craft fair was the fourth in a series of craft fairs run by PCVs here in Morocco. A group of us got together to organize one for early December in Marrakech, in hopes of catching the winter tourist crowd. Although sales weren't amazing, I really learned a lot about running the fair. I enjoyed working with the other PCVs and meeting the artisans from all over Morocco. In addition to my cooperative, we had 26 other cooperatives and associations from (mostly rural) sites around the country. In total, we brought in 44 artisans!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEPtMlHStgf4OuPH2ADE84BWNutQqq4_GrSbD3KVgDbMOU0fCINw1zwpLy-f2oiCkJh6rI6ZumnecS-rOdOjIArNLRmqA8c65JXEZVN085RiaDNbvySMlc8MhyippiaSdRdupuo17kOkBi/s1600/232323232%257Ffp633-2%253Enu%253D3332%253E%253B92%253E%253B-3%253EWSNRCG%253D3599924884336nu0mrj.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEPtMlHStgf4OuPH2ADE84BWNutQqq4_GrSbD3KVgDbMOU0fCINw1zwpLy-f2oiCkJh6rI6ZumnecS-rOdOjIArNLRmqA8c65JXEZVN085RiaDNbvySMlc8MhyippiaSdRdupuo17kOkBi/s1600/232323232%257Ffp633-2%253Enu%253D3332%253E%253B92%253E%253B-3%253EWSNRCG%253D3599924884336nu0mrj.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of the fair organizers with the American Ambassador to Morocco, Samuel Kaplan, and his wife, Sylvia. They were in Marrakech for the film festival and made a special trip out to see our craft fair. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>The goal of the craft fair is two-fold: we want to give the artisans a chance to sell their products AND have some training for them in basic business. The fair was held from December 1st - 5th at the Ensemble Artisanat in Marrakech. The delegate for Marrakech (the head of the Handicrafts division of the government) was very helpful. He arranged for tables and chairs, as well as let us have the use of a room for training and the awards ceremony. Talking with him was a bit of a problem, because those of us organizing the fair only spoke Tashelhit (Berber) and the delegate only spoke Arabic and French. Still, with the help of our program manager, Tariq, we managed to get everything worked out eventually.<br />
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Thanks to a grant from USAID, we were able to provide each artisan with a place to sleep, a certificate of participation, and a couscous lunch. On top of that, we used the grant to print posters and flyers to advertise the fair, as well as programs to hand out at the door. Although not everything went perfectly, most artisans said that they learned something at the workshop and almost all of them said they enjoyed networking with other artisans. Its amazing what you can get for only a few thousand American dollars. (For example, the ingredients for the couscous lunch for about 75 people was only about $200, including renting all the equipment. Can you imagine feeding 75 people for $200 in the US???)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSfXiLDXCs7iVxyLiw4gsegF48ru1ESB20VFI5kfAbgQjggdulTzJLI9njHZmNXpEagFKEASvWxkHKmEtLa_L_t70A2a-HeyXqmeUXZNQ134oXN9_1f43rEO5SyK708reVOlasdJZALc3j/s1600/DSC_2062.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSfXiLDXCs7iVxyLiw4gsegF48ru1ESB20VFI5kfAbgQjggdulTzJLI9njHZmNXpEagFKEASvWxkHKmEtLa_L_t70A2a-HeyXqmeUXZNQ134oXN9_1f43rEO5SyK708reVOlasdJZALc3j/s1600/DSC_2062.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me with Angelica and Linda, two of the PCVs that live close to me. They are both lots of fun :)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>These fairs are a lot of work, but I think its important to give rural artisans (especially women) a chance to get out of the village and meet other people. It was great to see how the more experienced participants helped out the newcomers. Our biggest seller for the fair was a woman from a very tiny village in the High Atlas Mountains. This fair was the first fair she had EVER been to. She didn't speak a word of Arabic or French, but her welcoming smile (and the help of the experienced participant next to her) meant she sold more than any other person at the fair. (Of course, it didn't hurt that she had beautifully made natural-dye carpets with unique designs).<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnoikipWu8nmg867g2XVuRNp3jC2e3upR3rYYxlqJ6R8RRs-RsX1gSCkIVbuQUjW7TmOHTUxoAe-woFiLryIzpYYg5Isdh8x9vylEVqzJFHrhfTg3k5DsA7IWlFfPaBVyXVWz_VSuF6FRJ/s1600/big+seller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnoikipWu8nmg867g2XVuRNp3jC2e3upR3rYYxlqJ6R8RRs-RsX1gSCkIVbuQUjW7TmOHTUxoAe-woFiLryIzpYYg5Isdh8x9vylEVqzJFHrhfTg3k5DsA7IWlFfPaBVyXVWz_VSuF6FRJ/s1600/big+seller.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The beautiful carpets of our top seller. They are all natural dyes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
The fair ended on Sunday, December 5th. After a quick stop at the artisan hotel to make sure everyone was packed and ready to check-out, I made my way (with a few other fair-planners) to Rabat for medical exams. Halfway through Peace Corps service, all volunteers are required to get dental check-ups and physicals. Luckily, I was healthy (no parasites!). Although not all parts of the medical check-up are fun, it was great to see everyone from my training group again. The last time we had been together was for a week long training in June!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMnIMSCj5OflJbvV7le6MDInC4KndZY-Qed8gReFG4SjNRgqfFcZFrSf-L9RoPuyYVSmA9Htpr4ZFZ6ys_pUt8d9JdpMraBW0orRAnwvp7EPMCg0cfzDAzinZUzhrmKLCnuGb6SzlWIYo9/s1600/MSMS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMnIMSCj5OflJbvV7le6MDInC4KndZY-Qed8gReFG4SjNRgqfFcZFrSf-L9RoPuyYVSmA9Htpr4ZFZ6ys_pUt8d9JdpMraBW0orRAnwvp7EPMCg0cfzDAzinZUzhrmKLCnuGb6SzlWIYo9/s320/MSMS.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The 19 of us from my training group!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
A few days after I got back to my village, I was traveling again. This time, it was to go home for Christmas. I was a little worried, since many of the airports in Europe were closed due to snow in the days before I was set to travel. I also had my friend Linda, who lives 10km away, watching the mountain pass for me. (It closes a lot for snow in December and January.) Amazingly, I made it to the airport in Casablanca and then all the way to St. Louis without missing any flights!<br />
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Being home was wonderful. I loved spending time with my family and enjoying all the luxuries we take for granted (central heating, hot water on demand, fast-food, a car, etc.) I think I ate out at least once a day. I definitely tried my hardest to take advantage of Mexican food, veggie burgers, cheese and the amazing tofu lettuce wraps from Pho Grand. I was even able to help celebrate my grandparents 60th wedding anniversary. The ten days I was home was definitely packed, but I really enjoyed it. It was a great break from Morocco, although I missed my English students and the ladies I work with at the weaving cooperative. They are all wonderful people and lots of fun to be around.<br />
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I flew back to Morocco on January 3rd and am now back in my village. Its definitely winter, although no snow in the village yet (I can see it higher up on the mountain peaks.) </div>Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-8699287982787239102010-11-13T06:43:00.000-06:002010-11-13T06:43:31.800-06:00Natural Dye WorkshopLast week, I set up a Natural Dye Workshop for the members of my cooperative here in the village. It was a huge success. We were expecting 35 participants from the village but had 50 show up. The women and girls were very engaged in the lessons and rushed to help stir pots, add materials, or rinse the dyed wool when asked. The only thing they were nervous about was coming up in front of the group to reiterate the lesson in Tashelhit (our local dialect.) Luckily, a few were brave enough each time and all the participants really seemed to grasp the concepts of how to use local materials to dye wool.<br />
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In order to pay for the workshop materials and presenter, I applied for a grant from Peace Corps. Thank goodness Peace Corps has a partnership with USAID to fund projects like this. Although I only needed a small amount of money by American standards, the amount needed was out of reach for the local cooperative. One of the business program staff at Peace Corps helped me get in touch with a teacher who is an expert in natural dyes and a wonderful teacher. (She traveled over 20 hours to reach our village for the workshop!) Despite the fact that the teacher, Amina, spoke only Arabic, she was able to use many visuals and the women understood each step very well.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Eldmw-WDMRjQ2B9VFcXSl3xPgGDzn69qf-EJE0yk2_Z7QyEb_y-FHBqgIOVr0hnmx0NQ34d7IrpGtHgyOuArKO_AYrO1v7bjnVAaZ1-pEzHfWAEGywA5E7Sz6GR21U1kau5NwjFRARis/s1600/Chamomile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Eldmw-WDMRjQ2B9VFcXSl3xPgGDzn69qf-EJE0yk2_Z7QyEb_y-FHBqgIOVr0hnmx0NQ34d7IrpGtHgyOuArKO_AYrO1v7bjnVAaZ1-pEzHfWAEGywA5E7Sz6GR21U1kau5NwjFRARis/s320/Chamomile.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amina showing one of the colors - I think this one is madder root.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The workshop lasted two days. On the first day, Amina showed the women how to treat the wool with aluminum powder, which helps the color set in the wool. She explained the correct proportions of water, aluminum and wool and had volunteers repeat the instructions several times in Tashelhit to make sure everyone understood how to prep the wool. She showed the women how to use some easily accessible materials, such as chamomile, onion skins, pomegranate skins, and madder root, to create colors in the wool. The participants were very enthusiastic when they realized they could dye wool with materials they can pick for free in the fields and create colors identical to store-bought wool.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0vKmc1N_W2cbKdD8ljt9lh3PAhSxvbIgKxy8TBnIjD_fF6bh348UBs2ZK3puLk-iQfz0zUYjtUXnBKodtoWWpueCqWXKdXC_oSiUl3qNtQpPrge6kllunGwsnZAuTJky1DDQ8hmInwD7H/s1600/Materials.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0vKmc1N_W2cbKdD8ljt9lh3PAhSxvbIgKxy8TBnIjD_fF6bh348UBs2ZK3puLk-iQfz0zUYjtUXnBKodtoWWpueCqWXKdXC_oSiUl3qNtQpPrge6kllunGwsnZAuTJky1DDQ8hmInwD7H/s320/Materials.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This table, which held the materials from around the community, wasn't big enough to hold all the things the women brought in to Day 2 of the workshop.<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">By using local materials, the women were able to create all the colors below. Some colors were a big surprise - a branch from a fir-like tree created a beautiful beige while the leaves from an almond tree created a vibrant yellow. Some colors were created by boiling the wool first with one plant and then with another. Dipping the finished wool in a baking soda solution brightened some of the colors even more. The participants had a lot of fun comparing the colors they created "naturally" with those they had previously purchased from a store.</span></div></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhyzuBTGBM7tmk0Wb5bD6o1NwjjNvRCsidrE6fVVymei3mbhWt8OlEorPyJ0RpvlxZusI_bKYpIEXNVhZ65zqFD-QKWgWbZxpqXD2cb6mLRwzV-B7LnyDRqNKXsFuGp-oMqa24_1SRz_H3/s1600/Colors.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhyzuBTGBM7tmk0Wb5bD6o1NwjjNvRCsidrE6fVVymei3mbhWt8OlEorPyJ0RpvlxZusI_bKYpIEXNVhZ65zqFD-QKWgWbZxpqXD2cb6mLRwzV-B7LnyDRqNKXsFuGp-oMqa24_1SRz_H3/s320/Colors.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All of these colors were created using materials available locally. Most can be picked for free in our village fields.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>At the end of the first day, Amina asked the women and girls to bring in materials from around the village to use as dyes the next day. They really took up the challenge. I arrived with Amina very early in the morning to help set up for the day. As each participant came in, they brought some leaves, or flowers, or some plant they had found around the village. I was astounded by their enthusiasm and so glad I had organized this opportunity for them to learn a new skill and experiment with materials from around our village.<br />
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Thank goodness Linda, another PCV who lives in a neighboring village, was able to come and help out at the workshop on the first day. She helped take pictures, organize the materials and keep me company (since neither of us understood arabic, we spent most of the lesson lost.) The picture below is of Linda holding up one of the colors.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdWGwbJJ1Jq3a_8FpRqIMNqkqRrsbylZm3EnHRRpGybU1BMx_pMoSxOCFVFtBJW8f-i3JVC3JKnqrQwjxFNcpzLE51c1lJDIFErfpVd2Aj-bdTkoD-WJLSYbmoSDsZWuqKshXWwMU9mmR6/s1600/Linda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdWGwbJJ1Jq3a_8FpRqIMNqkqRrsbylZm3EnHRRpGybU1BMx_pMoSxOCFVFtBJW8f-i3JVC3JKnqrQwjxFNcpzLE51c1lJDIFErfpVd2Aj-bdTkoD-WJLSYbmoSDsZWuqKshXWwMU9mmR6/s320/Linda.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Linda, a PCV from the neighboring village, came to help out on Day 1 of the workshop</td></tr>
</tbody></table> I was so happy the workshop was such a success. The teacher, Amina, did a tremendous job, in spite of the language barrier. The participants were enthusiastic and really eager to learn. Thank you to Peace Corps and USAID for funding this project and to my wonderful counterparts for helping acquire the materials we needed. If they hadn't spent hours bargaining with shopkeepers for the pots, stoves, and buckets we needed, with the hotel for Amina's room, and with village shopkeepers for the gas cans, snack food, and other supplies, I would not have to been able to have this workshop.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXK_MoAndUgq6-9cO5LtJLls0FZ5AdFjY0pUIv-i5FuzJ9er-xNAIfLauEOUrrok1yOO2Cu57ts_jSgDy8eGPM8L3zpw3W1yIHzO91RLgEgzvmnJ3nTVyTyeUUWSuMHciSPDnuIfDDVrUS/s1600/My+Favorite.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXK_MoAndUgq6-9cO5LtJLls0FZ5AdFjY0pUIv-i5FuzJ9er-xNAIfLauEOUrrok1yOO2Cu57ts_jSgDy8eGPM8L3zpw3W1yIHzO91RLgEgzvmnJ3nTVyTyeUUWSuMHciSPDnuIfDDVrUS/s320/My+Favorite.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is my favorite color from the workshop. It was created from a bush that grows along the roadside in this area. The bush is the color of a redbud tree, but creates this amazing violet on the wool.</td></tr>
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Thanks to everyone who helped me make this workshop a reality. I hope the women use these new skills to create new carpet designs with a natural dye color palette. Keep your fingers crossed their enthusiasm continues and they really take advantage of their new skills.Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-22347948638207268102010-09-21T06:20:00.001-05:002010-09-21T07:40:49.623-05:00Sarah's Wedding<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLwXdMaFbO25u_zoGgVNuPtfC5G5ceq7b8GvZ6V75pnEFp_rTTb6g8I96Jc9WUlWjtV5DYk9pcgEgHbXXd7hMjqVHqe1NWHo68HrglUBc2pP7e_zZKZZA_e9vkV2BhUk53csiQ0AMuG3h/s1600/Pre-Wedding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLwXdMaFbO25u_zoGgVNuPtfC5G5ceq7b8GvZ6V75pnEFp_rTTb6g8I96Jc9WUlWjtV5DYk9pcgEgHbXXd7hMjqVHqe1NWHo68HrglUBc2pP7e_zZKZZA_e9vkV2BhUk53csiQ0AMuG3h/s320/Pre-Wedding.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Sarah (in purple), her mom Wendy, and other PCVs on the afternoon of the henna ceremony.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>This weekend was my friend Sarah's wedding. Sarah is a Peace Corps Volunteer in a tiny village about 3.5 hours southeast of mine. She married a local man, the brother of one of the weavers she worked with. It was a 100% traditional Amazigh wedding, which was lots of fun, even if I didn't understand the reason behind the traditions. Her family and a few friends came in from the U.S. to help her celebrate. While they got a bit overwhelmed by the many strange sights, sounds, and smells, they did a great job participating in the festivities. With Sarah's family and friends in attendence, along with the 12 Peace Corps Volunteers that came, there was a lot more English spoken at this wedding than at most weddings I attended.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The first day of the wedding was the henna ceremony. Sarah was dressed in a sparkly white dress, then veiled with a dark blue cloth to cover her hair with a brightly woven mesh cloth to cover her face. Henna was mixed in a large plastic bowl, then slowly applied to her hands and feet with plastic syringes. Once the designs were drawn on, black tea was applied with a wet cotton ball to help darken the henna. Her hands and feet were then covered with strips of cotton and wrapped in plastic bags to make it dry more slowly so that it will stain the skin a darker color. The whole process took a long time, as even after the henna was applied Sarah had to sit quietly as to not smear it while it dried. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLbpaYp0OmXFlzsbQIEIfGjWoWe1HB1Sd3O3Gkl8YFjxRVHo37wTjBfKAfJepoo6rgQCpPcjgI4hPTSnLrYv3RsxpwrdM5rlP_0AnNQ8zWjX0AwmRg_wWGla79kEm81ns-jVptNXfx1ME_/s1600/Henna+Application.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLbpaYp0OmXFlzsbQIEIfGjWoWe1HB1Sd3O3Gkl8YFjxRVHo37wTjBfKAfJepoo6rgQCpPcjgI4hPTSnLrYv3RsxpwrdM5rlP_0AnNQ8zWjX0AwmRg_wWGla79kEm81ns-jVptNXfx1ME_/s320/Henna+Application.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The henna from the bright orange bowl was applied to Sarah's hands and feet. As you can imagine from the intricate designs, the process of applying the henna took several hours. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We left at about 1:00 AM Friday night, with Sarah still sitting with her hands and feet wet with henna and wrapped in plastic. When we came the next day, Sarah was getting dressed in her full bridal finery. She had a fancy white dress with gold stamps on it, a bright gold belt, and fancy gold shoes. We all went into the salon once she was dressed, where the women sang and danced. Her hair was covered with many brightly colored silk scarves, then her face was veiled with the same mesh fabric. Finally, the women gave her a headdress of bright red. Sarah said the whole headdress was very heavy and very hot to wear. After she was veiled, her hands were wrapped with yellow wool yarn. From what I understand, the wool is symbolic of her being "bound" to her husband and is good luck for a long and happy life together. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjWuc0mTY5732ZNYHF8ZmVHgpcHZHp7aiBF_vlpRbMDP1dNaCAL3hkgZGGSbwBPvo9oDqwC1YO7LoQLSlUB5-P2Wea_EtjDYzm1NhXxbIndGwPNAdshq7nyJPAeZhjK_iMV-FHWE4EAU9C/s1600/Sarah+%26+Brahim.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjWuc0mTY5732ZNYHF8ZmVHgpcHZHp7aiBF_vlpRbMDP1dNaCAL3hkgZGGSbwBPvo9oDqwC1YO7LoQLSlUB5-P2Wea_EtjDYzm1NhXxbIndGwPNAdshq7nyJPAeZhjK_iMV-FHWE4EAU9C/s320/Sarah+%26+Brahim.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sarah and Brahim (her new husband)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpkqB5bZQZiwC49olrekFhSSUU7NhiGzTJ3S2M74uIwk5hMsdhUSYMSLLkORYeNm42vOZ6jjdIfUm3faBCsVy-Sr6zhg9QaULMWSO6jFb2bKUVlL1NuGLfE1w87WT3Y9TUtsYzoyoxvq_b/s1600/Wool+and+Henna.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpkqB5bZQZiwC49olrekFhSSUU7NhiGzTJ3S2M74uIwk5hMsdhUSYMSLLkORYeNm42vOZ6jjdIfUm3faBCsVy-Sr6zhg9QaULMWSO6jFb2bKUVlL1NuGLfE1w87WT3Y9TUtsYzoyoxvq_b/s320/Wool+and+Henna.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sarah's hands were wrapped in yellow wool to symbolize her being "bound" with her husband.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3MQxkOqBp5-qemjk8t6bNi6dzIdqkoaLc17zP6UIi03ps3tuIcSwBFs54Vc9wONOJcl2jVM8FlgwKUwyffdbidtTgKGaAZNwUzUi9CkJp89WZNg0b1Bss8TWsYc_PrL0-kdMZj_NrRIEz/s1600/Sarah+Getting+Dressed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3MQxkOqBp5-qemjk8t6bNi6dzIdqkoaLc17zP6UIi03ps3tuIcSwBFs54Vc9wONOJcl2jVM8FlgwKUwyffdbidtTgKGaAZNwUzUi9CkJp89WZNg0b1Bss8TWsYc_PrL0-kdMZj_NrRIEz/s320/Sarah+Getting+Dressed.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The women veiled Sarah's hair with many colorful scarves, then made a headdress of bright red wrapped around with green wool. Sarah said it was very hot and pretty heavy.<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjWuc0mTY5732ZNYHF8ZmVHgpcHZHp7aiBF_vlpRbMDP1dNaCAL3hkgZGGSbwBPvo9oDqwC1YO7LoQLSlUB5-P2Wea_EtjDYzm1NhXxbIndGwPNAdshq7nyJPAeZhjK_iMV-FHWE4EAU9C/s1600/Sarah+%26+Brahim.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjWuc0mTY5732ZNYHF8ZmVHgpcHZHp7aiBF_vlpRbMDP1dNaCAL3hkgZGGSbwBPvo9oDqwC1YO7LoQLSlUB5-P2Wea_EtjDYzm1NhXxbIndGwPNAdshq7nyJPAeZhjK_iMV-FHWE4EAU9C/s320/Sarah+%26+Brahim.jpg" width="0" /></a></div><div style="font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
After a dinner of tajine and couscous, we all went outside for the entertainment. All of the weddings I'd attended previously had had music, but none had hired a band like Sarah and Brahim. With so many people in attendance (probably about 200), the band set up outside so that everyone could see and hear the music. The family had spread read carpets around on the road and grass and people were sitting on most every available surface. The band played traditional Amazigh and Arabic music. Unfortunately, there wasn't much dancing, as it was considered "shameful" (perhaps since we were outside.) </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCdg4OeeyRjs67M_95x-jvvSEhXCQnxNde707BFbLXShvROE_KTrXK19ILmsvLc64qJjm1S1e7g7TVHn7_TFHFi3jbDALrC9rqAJe5nwCq5_PdRLa-oEDTvc89Tfue_luZubSWWx4yPhbp/s1600/Outside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCdg4OeeyRjs67M_95x-jvvSEhXCQnxNde707BFbLXShvROE_KTrXK19ILmsvLc64qJjm1S1e7g7TVHn7_TFHFi3jbDALrC9rqAJe5nwCq5_PdRLa-oEDTvc89Tfue_luZubSWWx4yPhbp/s400/Outside.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</div><div style="font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Overall, it was a lot of fun at Sarah's wedding. It was great to hang out with other PCVs and to meet Sarah's friends and family from back home. Sarah and Brahim will leave for America in November, when Sarah finishes her service in the Peace Corps. I hope everything works out for them and that they have a wonderful time making their new life in America.</div></div></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpkqB5bZQZiwC49olrekFhSSUU7NhiGzTJ3S2M74uIwk5hMsdhUSYMSLLkORYeNm42vOZ6jjdIfUm3faBCsVy-Sr6zhg9QaULMWSO6jFb2bKUVlL1NuGLfE1w87WT3Y9TUtsYzoyoxvq_b/s1600/Wool+and+Henna.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpkqB5bZQZiwC49olrekFhSSUU7NhiGzTJ3S2M74uIwk5hMsdhUSYMSLLkORYeNm42vOZ6jjdIfUm3faBCsVy-Sr6zhg9QaULMWSO6jFb2bKUVlL1NuGLfE1w87WT3Y9TUtsYzoyoxvq_b/s320/Wool+and+Henna.jpg" width="0" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-18962648265570103342010-09-12T18:15:00.000-05:002010-09-12T18:15:04.234-05:00Babyhood Blues...Today my 3 year old neighbor, Ilias, was circumcised. The whole extended family gathered in the house for the ceremony (while I wasn't there for the actual circumcision, I saw a video later.) He was dressed in a fancy jellaba and a ceremonial hat. The doctor, I was happy to see, wore gloves for the procedure. He was laid down on a cloth while his father and uncles helped hold him down. After the circumcision, he was bandaged and put on a blanket on his mother's lap in the bedroom.<br />
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Poor Ilias was pretty unhappy with the world when I got to see him a few minutes later. His aunt, who speaks English very well and has gone out of her way to befriend me during her stay in the village for Ramadan, came to get me and invited me in to see Ilias. He sat crying on his mom's lap, although I think some of his tears were from anger (that they did this to him) rather than from the pain of the procedure. While normally he is a very happy kid, today he was definitely not. He didn't want anything to eat, didn't want to see anyone but his mom, and was very unhappy that the rest of the family was celebrating. He threw a fit every time his picture was taken, tried to hit his uncles when they came in to kiss him, and called everything and everyone "UriHli" (which translates roughly as bad, ugly, horrible, etc.)<br />
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Other than poor Ilias being unhappy, it was a fun day. Every once in awhile, I look around and really feel like I'm in Morocco and integrated into the community. Today was one of those days. Since Ilias didn't want company, I sat out in the courtyard with his many aunts, uncles, and cousins and clapped along as they sang traditional songs and celebrated the circumcision. They had drums, some clappers similar to castanets, and even brought out a piano. Everyone was very happy, as a boy's circumcision is a fairly big deal with many traditions involved. According to my neighbor (who is wonderful about answering my many questions about life here), a boys circumcision is one of the tenets of Islam and is set out in the Koran.<br />
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Although I'm sure the family would have welcomed me staying all afternoon, I left after lunch. (We ate couscous crouched around a table they brought out to the courtyard.) While I enjoy hanging out with my neighbors, I sometimes still feel overwhelmed by the loud and boisterous music, the many people milling around (there were probably 30 in the tiny house) and the mixture of Tashelhit and Arabic being spoken. Still, it was a fun day. Tomorrow, I plan on taking Ilias some M&Ms, since he asks me for some almost every day. Hopefully, he's feeling a bit more like himself.Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-803306973887978382010-09-09T08:35:00.044-05:002010-09-09T11:08:31.130-05:00Happy Ramadan<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzH8280o0y_u075oQY7wBBCjLm-VnP_b6YLrZwmxvGybYg6q-wEQwaaFFNgmhTU1E-vofHwNy3Sw9_pSC4g1bDHkbPUEvh_L6wg0J_bq3SNHoWEVyn-mxkIIZTYSktH9LtLuy5avbs-vLX/s1600/ramadan_poster.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 241px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzH8280o0y_u075oQY7wBBCjLm-VnP_b6YLrZwmxvGybYg6q-wEQwaaFFNgmhTU1E-vofHwNy3Sw9_pSC4g1bDHkbPUEvh_L6wg0J_bq3SNHoWEVyn-mxkIIZTYSktH9LtLuy5avbs-vLX/s320/ramadan_poster.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514927113857171634" /></a><div>Happy Ramadan!</div><div><br /></div><div>This month is Ramadan, the holiest month in the Islamic calendar. It was the month in which Muslims believe the Koran was revealed to the prophet Muhammed. During Ramadan, which is the ninth month in the Islamic calendar, all Muslims over the age of puberty must abstain from eating and drinking from sunrise to sunset. When its over 100 degrees outside, and you still have to harvest in the fields, work at your store, and take care of children, this can be quite a challenge. Similar to Lent for Christians, Ramadan is a time of reflection and prayer for Muslims. I've been told fasting allows them to understand the suffering of those less fortunate and be thankful for the things they have. </div><div><br />Luckily, in my village in the mountains it was rarely above 100 degrees (In Marrakech it was in the 130s). Still, fasting makes most everyone tired and the village has slowed down quite a bit. The elementary and middle schools were closed, as were the weaving and carpentry schools and the cooperative I work with. Most stores are open shorter hours, if at all. With everything being closed, Ramadan gave me lots of extra free time which was very nice at the beginning of the month. I got to watch all the movies I wanted and read as many books as I could. While this was great the first few weeks, now that we've reached the end of Ramadan, I am VERY ready for things to open up again.<br /><br />One of the best parts of Ramadan is families spending time with one another. Husbands that work away from the village take time off work to spend the month with their wives and children. Many relatives from big cities and abroad come back to the village to celebrate Ramadan with their relatives. (My neighbors have about 10 extra relatives from Ouarzazate and other cities that are living with them for Ramadan.) This means there are plenty of extra hands to help with chores when you are feeling tired from fasting and many more people around to break the fast with at sunset.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoAdt3kSMqmmyQaQeYfWBEHYM6OURoD1ZiwYzSc1bwBkNYUNfSBRxISPdcim-7LXw92GlcCg9JhpVM_dhaLNhA-hm_bMLq74DHXVCd5eLYtZVfpMM97H56x8b_1LihnFQC8YJNcjAf0gD4/s1600/chebekia-heaped-on-plate.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoAdt3kSMqmmyQaQeYfWBEHYM6OURoD1ZiwYzSc1bwBkNYUNfSBRxISPdcim-7LXw92GlcCg9JhpVM_dhaLNhA-hm_bMLq74DHXVCd5eLYtZVfpMM97H56x8b_1LihnFQC8YJNcjAf0gD4/s320/chebekia-heaped-on-plate.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514917614761150594" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Breaking the fast during Ramadan is a very ritualized and family oriented affair. The fast is broken when the evening call to prayer is heard throughout the village. Families gather around the table in their salons to break the fast. Food is set out a few minutes before the expected call to prayer so eating can commence as soon as the call is heard over the loudspeakers. Once the call to prayer is heard, each family member is given a date. (During the first Ramadan, Muhammad broke his fast with a date.) Next, a delicious cookie called shebekia is served (fried dough soaked in honey and sprinkled with sesame seeds.) Families then drink fresh juice and eat a soup called harira made with chickpeas, vegetables and meat (usually mutton.)</div><br /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRViURMBUtVCAusSVBoXWGkBk0NzX0QvQl78Z63STAJOXgSRc691oGkdeGHa-EcbIaLZYYC0orx3YRTybnYxhDMfS7dY9Y5mM9dOTbipk_60TQDMeNmOEEA3DOF5DfrafMbgSBiVkznCId/s320/HariraandDates.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514917603289592706" /><div><br /></div><div>Families may also serve cake, more cookies, and sandwiches made with tomato and meat. (Some of these may be traditions of my village alone and not Morocco as a whole.) Dinner is served a few hours later and is more standard fair (tajine or pasta.) After sleeping for a few hours, the family wakes up at around 4:00AM to have breakfast before sleeping late. If someone is sick, elderly, traveling, pregnant, or menstruating, they are not required to fast, although anyone capable must make up the fast at a later date. (Young children are exempt from fasting as well).</div><div><br /></div><div>Ramadan ends when the head imams sight the new moon. Families in Morocco celebrate with a holiday called l3id Imzin (or the small holiday in Tashelhit (the Berber dialect spoken in my village.)) I have been told by my neighbors that tomorrow is l3id, so everyone is spending the day preparing cookies to serve to visitors tomorrow. Villagers will spend the day visiting each other, wishing each other 'Happy Holiday' and eating lots of cookies. It should be a fun day. </div>Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-91169071258429417322010-08-04T14:14:00.006-05:002010-08-04T16:55:46.746-05:00Vacation!!!<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The last few weeks have been full of traveling for me. My family flew into Morocco on July 16th (It was supposed to be the 15th, but their flight got canceled.) I met them at the Casablanca airport and we took the train to Marrakech. It was a nice change to ride first class and have a compartment full of my family. While everyone else fell asleep, my mom and I got to chat the whole way to Marrakech.</span></div><div><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM2oMhV0Aabdzhm8qVDmce8WAD89ova0Gh9jx73eeNBHeptK-rol4fewMDuvorFX9-4vjWwyC1mMS53PGgOY0H4ZucJ9llGuJ_0QTd2YnW1AC42dBAphNehlhEfAdWG4yp1H-ydzlOV851/s320/Ride.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501670650580173698" /><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">In Marrakech, we stayed at a very cute riad called Riad Nejma Lounge. It only had about 6 rooms, but was decorated in a very fun way and had a beautiful roof we had breakfast on each morning. I think the riad was a nice introduction to Morocco for my family, as it had a Moroccan "flavor" but still had air conditioning, clean towels and hot water.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEtYJw3sLBrWt_hgRnqgQGXu7KoYxQYJPMAW8FGuL19Y68hgdU8MBXDUOHksrTydJeJhqRRWwubl__M_5E98IS3NQmsWsuN1WaZhHPKTewSLPYM7Gb6BOAIVA8GnAk2MTwNmz1DUmT1_cH/s320/Kech.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501670653484228162" /><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Because of the travel problems, we had to make our visit to my site a daytrip instead of spending the night as we originally planned. While our time in my village was rushed, we did have time to see the weekly souk, visit the cooperative and meet a few of the women, and have a spaghetti lunch at my house. My family also got their first introduction to "real" Moroccan travel - hours smashed together in a grand taxi. For those of you that haven't experience the joy of a grand taxi ride, imagine riding with four people smashed together in the back seat of a normal sized sedan with another two sitting together in the front passenger seat.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw8VnpGjfn25bheqL1ANCcXhe6Q4Njo67F5FxpEUfvUMgFCH8tib3OqBz8chIFjhFKtTgKTbF7Elri7_rspYevK97s1VlbxaLwqaZjoDfdkPBUwCJvx6DzWqlrLXycN5eYy8Qo4cquYky2/s320/Tagla.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501670630297829346" /><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The next day, we set out for the waterfalls at Ozoud. On the way we stopped by my host family from training. We had tea and I think both my family and my host family enjoyed the visit. Plus, my family got a real glimpse of how I lived for my first few months in Morocco. I was really lucky that I got placed with such a great host family and am really glad my real family got to meet them.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqTvPLqD0NqREAsBVIWcKcHL0MCbMnzIRBdkbKyYgiZVMruIxMkhB36jqurR05EOd1QMAiz2Z0ucBsAOhhjMcAF6Btf4PM51xnKORsTyn22rlTvGoNdCFc_KhZ4_dAEbqatYaQhI1qsuso/s320/Rome.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501670639334507650" /><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The rest of our Morocco vacation flew by, with just a few more hours spent in Marrakech and a night spent in Casablanca (where we went to Rick's Cafe.) After Casablanca, we took a plane to Rome, where we spent the night. Since only Emily and I had visited Rome before, we had to make the most of our time there. In just a few hours, we saw the Trevi fountain, the colosseum, and the Pantheon.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Our time in Egypt was great but went by too fast! Katie had found some amazing hotels for us to stay at in every city we visited. In Giza we got to see the pyramids and the sphinx. In Luxor, we got to see some amazing temples and visited the valley of the Queens and the valley of the king's (where King Tut's tomb is.) It was really cool to see all the hieroglyphics and go inside the pyramids. Plus, we had a few hours each day to relax by the pool (where I got horribly sunburned) and just hang out in the shade.</span></div><div><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgME3UP0qJtSZlY75wxoi5AysdKbebUYPzj_glaDSVQuMgAxNX4r7EgyPLBeGJuaat-6dDDtBc-3X7k9b1ownk6tHu47zTQo742BojsJ-zk-Tr2uxK38SmAu5HN4hviLBxsD3XSVM8N2-V2/s320/Luxor.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501670659569927922" /><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">In addition to all the cool ancient relics, we took time to ride camels and take a felluca ride on the Nile. Although neither turned out to be exactly what I imagined, they were still fun. (The camel ride was through the ghettos on Luxor and the felluca had to be towed by a motor boat because there wasn't any wind.) Our last night in Egypt we stayed at the Grand Hyatt, which is on an island in the Nile in Cairo. It was AMAZING! We had great hotel rooms, a beautiful pool to swim in, and had a wonderful meal on the terrace overlooking the Nile.</span></div></div><div><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwn-xtb2oO8kbrFIgGoYX1NWKLXRwX62jKR_3C2GMN6tJ_TwIoAwhABckHO4KsWEPjoqk4duj2c8pcEpFUUFU8UMwnZH6WVmMmMJTanIcBTnJEJXu0YPDoYQgdW-cc35tdn7Li-ZCMIRNb/s320/Camels.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501675643234204258" /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It was a perfect vacation. Although it was really hard to say goodbye to my family, I'm so glad they got to come visit me. It was wonderful to share a bit of my daily life in Morocco and really cool to see all the ancient tombs and temples in Egypt. Take a look at my facebook to see more pictures of my trips.</span></div></div>Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-23901004715568954402010-07-08T06:18:00.002-05:002010-07-08T06:43:37.771-05:00WeddingsThis week is a week of weddings in my village. While I attended a few weddings right after I arrived in the village, I haven't been to any since. I'm excited to be invited to these weddings, as I know the families of the girls getting married very well. Weddings in Morocco are very different than weddings in the US. They normally last several days and have parties that go on until the early morning. Yesterday was the beginning of the wedding for Malika, one of my host cousins. She is about 20 years old and lives next door to my host family. I was invited to the very beginning of the festivities, including where the bride gets henna done on her hands and feet. It was a lot of fun to see the wedding of a girl I know pretty well. <div><br /></div><div>When I arrived at Malika's family's house, I was shown into the main salon, where I sat with about ten other women. We were served tea and cookies, then a meal of chicken (which I obviously didn't eat) and couscous. (I'm getting better at eating couscous with my hands, but am still not very tidy when I do it.) While we were eating, the bride came into the house in a large group of women who were singing and dancing. She was led to the back salon, where there was a throne for her to sit on, surrounded by beautiful embroidered tablecloths and pillow covers. (She'll take these with her to her new home.) She was wearing a white kaftan with silver designs on it. Her hair, for the first time since I met her, was not veiled, but instead was in a fancy bun and sprayed with glitter. She wore a gold crown and had a long veil attached to the bun. She wore kohl on her eyes and had lipstick and blush on (again, not anything I'd ever seen her wear before.) </div><div><br /></div><div>After she sat down on the thrown, people took turns taking pictures with her. It was warm in the room, so her sister got a fan to put in the window and one of her friends stood next to her waving a paper fan for her. After a few minutes, a table was brought in with a bowl of milk, dates, a sugar cone and incense. Several girls walked over to the bride and helped her get situated so that the henna could start being applied. They had brought in a girl from outside the village to do the henna. She started applying a thick layer of henna to the bottom of Malika's feet. She then did intricate patterns about 8 inches up each ankle. Because of the intricacy of the designs, this took several hours. Malika had to sit quietly on her throne throughout the process. Henna was then applied to her hands and arms. I can tell you from experience, its difficult to sit still while the henna is drying on your hands and feet. It can take an hour or so dry and then has to be scraped off with a knife. Sometimes, paint thinner is added to the henna mixture so that the henna patterns last longer. Unfortunately, this really makes the henna burn when its applied. (I don't know if Malika's henna had paint thinner in it or not.)</div><div><br /></div><div>After watching Malika get hennaed for awhile, one of my host sisters came to get me to take me to the "party." In my host families house, all of the women of the village had gathered to sing songs and dance to celebrate Malika's marriage. Most marriage celebrations in rural villages are gender segregated, with the women divided into two groups (married and un-married.) Luckily, I'm able to attend whatever parties I want, as I'm kind of in a special group of my own. Its fun to see all of the women and girls dressed up in their most fancy jellabas or dresses, talking and singing. Around 9 pm, tables were brought in and we were directed to sit in groups of ten or so around the table. (I always kind of dread this part of a party, as being a vegetarian can lead to lots of questions and strange looks.) We were served chicken, then couscous, then fruit again. After that, a prayer was said and everyone went home. Tonight is the party for the unmarried girls. I'll probably attend again, but I'll see how I feel. Tonight's party will probably end much later, as the younger girls have more energy. </div><div><br /></div><div>Tomorrow, the sister of one of my English students is getting married. The parties will start all over again!</div>Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-55354975996246436772010-07-08T05:51:00.003-05:002010-07-08T06:18:19.031-05:00Traveling....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk2fUjUcuxPG0C56a767zhY2bPUZKAQigbZbljP2sA_xRyBcHZ98EsCLPadUsqYYkMUtu-xO4ULMbWLjXbqET17AHMFuek_XkaJT4m2Sb6ughRniZ3OQyzpZ_5I60Iz380FWLqZ72A75ab/s1600/RabatFair.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 246px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk2fUjUcuxPG0C56a767zhY2bPUZKAQigbZbljP2sA_xRyBcHZ98EsCLPadUsqYYkMUtu-xO4ULMbWLjXbqET17AHMFuek_XkaJT4m2Sb6ughRniZ3OQyzpZ_5I60Iz380FWLqZ72A75ab/s320/RabatFair.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491492234015957874" /></a><br />I have finally made it back to site after traveling what felt like non-stop the last two months. I helped organize two craft fairs, one in Rabat and one in Marrakech. While my artisans participated in the Marrakech craft fair, they decided that the Rabat craft fair was too far to attend. I was disappointed in their decision to not attend the fair, but hope they will be open to going to the next one. The picture above is me with two other PCVs, Joy and Adriana, modeling the new shirts that Joy's association is making. They were a big hit at the fair.<div><br /></div><div><div>After the craft fairs, I was only back in my village for a few weeks before I had to travel back to Rabat. This time, it was for a week of training with Peace Corps. My counterpart attended the training as well and I think learned a lot about Peace Corps and what volunteers are supposed to do/ can do for their villages. It was fun to be in Rabat for a week and see all of the other PCVs, many of whom I had not seen since our last training in February. Peace Corps put us up in a nice hotel, with hot showers in the rooms, clean beds and towels provided! I really enjoyed being in a big city again, where I could get all sorts of food (my village doesn't have any restaurants) and hang out with other Americans for a few days.</div><div><br /></div><div>After training, I went back to my village for a week or two, then started traveling again to help plan the next Marrakech craft fair, tentatively scheduled for early December. My friend Ali, a PCV in taroudant province, is the main planner for the fair and has asked for as much help as we can give her. We talked to the director of the previous fair and got a lot of great advice on what to improve, what to keep the same, and how to write the grant proposal. It will be a lot of work, but hopefully worth it in the end. Our biggest challenge is going to be language. Ali and I both speak a Berber dialect called tashelhit. All of the government officials we will be speaking with speak Moroccan Arabic or French. Ali speaks some French, which will be very helpful but we will have to recruit additional volunteers that speak Arabic to help with some of the more technical language.</div><div><br /></div><div>Right now, I'm sitting in my salon, preparing information on another craft fair for my cooperative. I will not be able to attend with them, as I'll be traveling with my family in Egypt, but I really hope they go without me. Craft fairs are great for the women to see what other cooperatives are doing and get new ideas for products. The fairs also give them a chance to build their customer service skills and become more comfortable with traveling outside the village. Keep your fingers crossed they decide to attend!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-23103450170892469012010-04-21T16:07:00.003-05:002010-04-21T16:47:19.779-05:00Gestures<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2447IxJZhGF-uEGEqpAd6OlBpo4nKZi4bIM2EUkZdNRBtxX9cRJUcjvUVv29W2dm-QvyA36oLd1vZSM8emrveCS1EwenyxfjP5EQdpjdx7cH57AyXBPOmqV8r6ooFcerryRyH-GtFkc4d/s1600/images.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 68px; height: 112px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2447IxJZhGF-uEGEqpAd6OlBpo4nKZi4bIM2EUkZdNRBtxX9cRJUcjvUVv29W2dm-QvyA36oLd1vZSM8emrveCS1EwenyxfjP5EQdpjdx7cH57AyXBPOmqV8r6ooFcerryRyH-GtFkc4d/s320/images.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462710488044492162" /></a><br />Since my Tashelhit (Berber) isn't perfect, I talk a lot with my hands. When I don't know how to say something, I try to express the idea with my hands. Its no surprise, then, that I've picked up some of the Moroccan/Berber gestures used in my community. They are now such an ingrained part of my way of speaking that I use them while speaking Tashelhit or English. Here are just a few of them....<div><br /></div><div>1) To express something or someone is nice/beautiful/handsome/good, flick your fingers. If you are saying someone or their clothing is nice, you flick your fingers in their face. Think of how flick your pointer finger with your thumb...now do this with all your fingers. Its a little frightening the first time it is done in your face. I don't even notice it anymore and do it unconsciously anytime I am talking about something I like (like someone's dress) or someone who is good (like my student who is always on time for class.) </div><div><br /></div><div>2) To express something is the same as something else, rub your two pointer fingers together with your hands horizontal to the floor. This can also mean someone is close to someone else (either by blood or by friendship.) This gesture is used A LOT in my village. Its very helpful, as I can use it to describe most anything - my sister is the same age as my cousin - rub my fingers together. Start using it! I want to see it catch on in the U.S.</div><div><br /></div><div>3) To say you are going to get someone, flick your ear. This is mainly used in jest, but its pretty funny to see. We don't have a great gesture like this in the U.S....ours are much more extreme. You can express the same intent, although at a slightly more serious level, by hitting your closed fist with your hand (this one is a little more extreme.) </div><div><br /></div><div>4) To express shame on you, pull down your lower eyelid with one finger. This one is pretty funny to use, especially with your friends. Moroccans use this one when we Americans use rubbing one pointer finger down the other. I don't use this one very often....its more used by mother's when telling a child to stop doing something bad (like picking on a sibling.)</div><div><br /></div><div>5) To tell someone to come to you, put your hand facing down and pull your fingers towards you. This one took me awhile to get used to, since we sometimes use this gesture (or a version of it) in the U.S. to tell someone to go away. I have a hard time remembering to use this one instead of the American version (pulling your pointer finger towards you.)</div><div><br /></div><div>6) After shaking hands, kiss your fingers or put your hand over your heart. I picked up this gesture the first week I was here. Now I do it unconsciously, whether meeting Americans or Moroccans. This will be a hard habit to break when I come back to the U.S. I do it probably 30 times a day....</div><div><br /></div><div>7) To express something is full (like the market) or someone is wealthy, take your thumb and rub it upwards under your chin. This one still confuses me sometimes, as I am not totally sure of when to use it myself. </div><div><br /></div><div>8) To express someone is worthless, make the A-OK sign and hold it downwards (with your fingers pointing towards the floor.) This one is slightly profane, but the previous volunteer said her host sister did it when boys were cat-calling towards her in our village. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Of course, I still use some American gestures that aren't understood here in Morocco. The most prevalent one is crossing my fingers. I didn't even realize I was doing it until one of my students asked me why I cross my fingers when I say "Inshallah." (Inshallah means "God willing" and is often used like we use "I hope" in English.) I'm trying to break myself of the habit now, but am not sure if I'll be successful. I've been crossing my fingers for too many years. </div><div><br /></div><div>Pretty interesting, huh? I'm planning a lesson soon for my English class on American gestures and what they mean. Send me any ideas you have....</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-46396992346539588902010-04-10T10:01:00.003-05:002010-04-10T10:37:15.959-05:00Spring Camp<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJM4TPNN0fVJPPZNT5Di2wME516pYuCdALkLqqCyKtgIXrER6IJ5vNpMgVyY5cwGqbIYW6xY1PZt9-Z3S-gaL5QhhJXPzW1A12hhZCDwXEXtkKg1N7MXgA-ga_uXSYAIitNAFkBIauf3E/s1600/24593_395178112408_558557408_3952905_8159900_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyJM4TPNN0fVJPPZNT5Di2wME516pYuCdALkLqqCyKtgIXrER6IJ5vNpMgVyY5cwGqbIYW6xY1PZt9-Z3S-gaL5QhhJXPzW1A12hhZCDwXEXtkKg1N7MXgA-ga_uXSYAIitNAFkBIauf3E/s320/24593_395178112408_558557408_3952905_8159900_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458532337246994754" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div>The first week of April was Spring Camp. Youth Development Volunteers work with Moroccan government staff to coordinate week long English Immersion camps. I helped out at one in Khemisset, which is about an hour from Rabat. It was a lot of fun. The kids were great, although very different than the kids I work with in my village. Many of them came from affluent families. Most were very familiar with American pop culture and wore western style clothes. Most were very excited to study English and really enjoyed learning American songs, rhyming games, and anything else I could come up with.<div><br /></div><div>Every morning, I taught an intermediate English class. I had about 14 students from the ages of 12 to 17. While they would sometimes get pretty rambunctious, they would quiet down when I told them to. They loved all the camp songs I taught them, including "Who Stole the Cookie from the Cookie jar" and "I'm Being Swallowed by a Boa Constrictor." They also really enjoyed the games I came up with to reinforce my lessons. After they learned fruit, vegetables, and animals (including what they say in English), we played Pictionary. They REALLY got into it. Some even cheated so that they could win! Luckily, I had a very honest boy, Souleyman, in my class who would tell me if his team or the other team cheated. They were pretty funny kids and I'm glad I got to spend a week with them.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the afternoon, I taught "Art Club." It was a pretty funny title, since we all know I'm not an artist. Luckily, my art club involved making friendship bracelets. All those years of making bracelets and anklets during Swim Meets really helped me out. I was able to teach all the kids how to make them and my club was very popular! Some of the girls even came up to me at 2:00 a.m. the last night to get extra string so they could make more at home!</div><div><br /></div><div>After art club, the kids played sports and then had some sort of activity run by the Moroccan staff. We were very lucky - the staff from the Dar Chebab (youth center) was AMAZING! They took care of everything and were quick to solve any problems that came up. They were great at keeping the kids entertained and had some excellent activities planned for them each night. In addition to a talent show, they had a game night where the kids had fun games to play. I think the funniest was a game where a group of five boys pretended they were driving a bus. They had to stand up when they went up a hill, lean when going around a corner, etc. One by one, the staff put a wet rag on their chair while they were standing. Luckily, the boys all took it in good fun and the kids loved it. It was pretty funny, seeing their expressions as they sat down on the rag!</div><div><br /></div><div>Here are some more pictures from camp.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlykhceXGcA03sVOM1GA1fTw-z8a8ttyyPRmaLUqGR-2erjkvcTQacGdyPeTH41HHkUzM2vUOqaR8HuwTSfcnrNjSj9zm7F_Ki_N0vngi1MFHHzY_0Wx4bVjcEcQ7YzC2USRtu3IyMTnQG/s1600/24593_395169007408_558557408_3952557_731026_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlykhceXGcA03sVOM1GA1fTw-z8a8ttyyPRmaLUqGR-2erjkvcTQacGdyPeTH41HHkUzM2vUOqaR8HuwTSfcnrNjSj9zm7F_Ki_N0vngi1MFHHzY_0Wx4bVjcEcQ7YzC2USRtu3IyMTnQG/s320/24593_395169007408_558557408_3952557_731026_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458532333120556898" /></a>Halloween night! Sarah really got into her costume. (Its a ninja, if you can't tell.) She was hoarse the next day from all her "battle" yells. The teenage boys didn't know how to react. I have to say, I laughed a lot.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinkee_ZPLJzeQvEG8U6k6htdiV1cWb02NliPhQW-JSlakm41nGLvwWahrA3IoFORysWZ_fu-8BTNGrzy1F2JvLvsduXylVNvXdyU5u3PiYYLzqSCwGp2JyiN_d4BhT8h_mh5mO-prjt99I/s1600/24593_395168962408_558557408_3952554_7156643_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinkee_ZPLJzeQvEG8U6k6htdiV1cWb02NliPhQW-JSlakm41nGLvwWahrA3IoFORysWZ_fu-8BTNGrzy1F2JvLvsduXylVNvXdyU5u3PiYYLzqSCwGp2JyiN_d4BhT8h_mh5mO-prjt99I/s320/24593_395168962408_558557408_3952554_7156643_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458532316534303426" /></a>Some of the kids waiting for their afternoon snack.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNgGzv3_7KUlznrvCAAA65wEXI37hXYWiQm9Ju9a-W94K78A8HMlifbDrSoyyPBGyYQU5wFOa22xNVaqvgeT9XUEi9uA5rTJzjKqeUWR1CSd5Sgng_WCEXlDA1R7W9O6fyajy-1MQeicew/s1600/24593_395163597408_558557408_3952473_5763380_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNgGzv3_7KUlznrvCAAA65wEXI37hXYWiQm9Ju9a-W94K78A8HMlifbDrSoyyPBGyYQU5wFOa22xNVaqvgeT9XUEi9uA5rTJzjKqeUWR1CSd5Sgng_WCEXlDA1R7W9O6fyajy-1MQeicew/s320/24593_395163597408_558557408_3952473_5763380_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458532311850152978" /></a>Me teaching the art club how to make friendship bracelets. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9enP2meM6m3RWkEtul3X3_-UsMg1zblRMce4jsvrXo_FTnOlXGoxEhupNehyjDNNar7UIXGjR3Jx6RHYj-rOA6DFCSKu7vlgY-Qjo3ED9e7mO_sQXV6BFyNHTu9BVk56HEmNZAJsfCunN/s1600/24593_395161467408_558557408_3952381_4816940_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9enP2meM6m3RWkEtul3X3_-UsMg1zblRMce4jsvrXo_FTnOlXGoxEhupNehyjDNNar7UIXGjR3Jx6RHYj-rOA6DFCSKu7vlgY-Qjo3ED9e7mO_sQXV6BFyNHTu9BVk56HEmNZAJsfCunN/s320/24593_395161467408_558557408_3952381_4816940_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458532308495376098" /></a>Me with Rachel and John, drawing out the schedule for the week. Luckily, one of the staff was able to add the arabic translation for us!</div><div><div><br /></div></div>Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-34749200547331393482010-03-12T06:12:00.004-06:002010-03-12T06:32:32.863-06:00Todra GorgesMorocco is a land of contrasting landscapes. It has the Sahara, a mediterranean climate up north, and several sets of mountain chains (one of which I live in.) It also has a beautiful gorge a few hours from Ouarzazate, called the Todra Gorges. It reminded me of a mini grand canyon and was very pretty. Here are a few pictures from our day trip there.<div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioQ_NXAhjHT4r8qh_o1mR7c22J-P09I1IQ425MLZXzOUxaNnVZaimV56E_S9iTaYTtr7sMt_0YHjOmPP0NES37MwNko5T2Kb0cZ8QX5HFLVn6MFEe1lXd6_8YrMxBD4y-NqG6RSHjuWVeY/s1600-h/Shopping+in+gorge.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 310px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioQ_NXAhjHT4r8qh_o1mR7c22J-P09I1IQ425MLZXzOUxaNnVZaimV56E_S9iTaYTtr7sMt_0YHjOmPP0NES37MwNko5T2Kb0cZ8QX5HFLVn6MFEe1lXd6_8YrMxBD4y-NqG6RSHjuWVeY/s320/Shopping+in+gorge.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447722201717112322" /></a>Annie, Linda, Donna, Peggy and me with our new masks that we bought in the gorges. They are from Mali and pretty cool looking.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_2JecXzcMj7aoXiOwKYWnt_pA01ncoi2M8weSzcGktkVBON2ZuYs94AVs73ZcOH-H2rXInQgskjFB5kWtNaO5rZn2xYgLWX57MbdR2z4-YDVC5IImH2uyWmbW41zrCPfkVR4dbflbhFQO/s1600-h/DSC_1067.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_2JecXzcMj7aoXiOwKYWnt_pA01ncoi2M8weSzcGktkVBON2ZuYs94AVs73ZcOH-H2rXInQgskjFB5kWtNaO5rZn2xYgLWX57MbdR2z4-YDVC5IImH2uyWmbW41zrCPfkVR4dbflbhFQO/s320/DSC_1067.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447722192748783250" /></a>Me in the gorge.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPxWSo7VOEwekErjIYXENjLZ6Cd5RhSZapkMW6yxg9GV5WEygxZEHsMPo690NkFMHGTI3cJm7YpbREqj2B7nkf2E_MibIPhZRCLsGIUCmNjJdoJ8SEIIg0rrtf_GG98O_w2TENsbQAARdc/s1600-h/DSC_1065.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPxWSo7VOEwekErjIYXENjLZ6Cd5RhSZapkMW6yxg9GV5WEygxZEHsMPo690NkFMHGTI3cJm7YpbREqj2B7nkf2E_MibIPhZRCLsGIUCmNjJdoJ8SEIIg0rrtf_GG98O_w2TENsbQAARdc/s320/DSC_1065.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447722188237824050" /></a>Me, Linda, Donna and Annie in the gorges.<br /><br /></div>Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-7926815999842893832010-03-12T05:42:00.003-06:002010-03-12T06:11:24.612-06:00Desert Oasis and Camel Trek<div><br /></div><div>This weekend, I got to go on a camel trek into the Sahara and visit friends in their desert oasis home. Here are some of the pictures from my adventure.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwnX35UBxGpqSZD9575Oq4ow_4vPTnL_nQ0uNmyVjRAeXhors7_m9ruH6TlKwydaSBXdUlf8pPRMferwdycw10KH_MNWYwg9bvO7nbgrV2TRXh29_pQC8c2aujwED45ARQJg5WZZXBLwdT/s1600-h/get+that+one....jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwnX35UBxGpqSZD9575Oq4ow_4vPTnL_nQ0uNmyVjRAeXhors7_m9ruH6TlKwydaSBXdUlf8pPRMferwdycw10KH_MNWYwg9bvO7nbgrV2TRXh29_pQC8c2aujwED45ARQJg5WZZXBLwdT/s320/get+that+one....jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447714196847442754" /></a>These are our guides getting the camels ready to go on the hour and a half ride to the desert camp. It was my first time riding a camel, so I was a little nervous. Luckily, although my camel complained loudly when she was given a command to sit or stand, she didn't bite or spit. We nicknamed her "Princess Sara" because she seemed pretty high maintenance.<br /><div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnhDfjt3Ti9qmgKb9FWpEYH60W6bGHKa-3x1WzdrN6LbliMlY0sjnvKJEcp47u4jfTtpLzQMjxf2dyUUnwB8RwpZeCWWYUlr4ZvTu1andGAsYWdE4LFCS7viXAw9v0Eh_stNPeSCB5Xq7W/s1600-h/riding+to+camp.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnhDfjt3Ti9qmgKb9FWpEYH60W6bGHKa-3x1WzdrN6LbliMlY0sjnvKJEcp47u4jfTtpLzQMjxf2dyUUnwB8RwpZeCWWYUlr4ZvTu1andGAsYWdE4LFCS7viXAw9v0Eh_stNPeSCB5Xq7W/s320/riding+to+camp.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447714191141913154" /></a>This is our caravan heading into the desert. I'm in the very back of the line.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizuGcpczKaOil_clRotExf9J1_7OSdA7MykS_0PkG63EFYOJme9p7XXFrPghQhY5jzcE1L1y63huV3KigZWKsY7ncqZI3Hoqqv7Ry6Kf9OA3xcjvwE6xh7o671-oWBbu5XEkFnu19Vv8M-/s1600-h/IMG_0980.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizuGcpczKaOil_clRotExf9J1_7OSdA7MykS_0PkG63EFYOJme9p7XXFrPghQhY5jzcE1L1y63huV3KigZWKsY7ncqZI3Hoqqv7Ry6Kf9OA3xcjvwE6xh7o671-oWBbu5XEkFnu19Vv8M-/s320/IMG_0980.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447714187638467874" /></a>This is us posing on top of our SUV. We stopped to get our first good look at the Sahara. You can see the dunes in the background.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvgN9QgtLYg3b5WQ-E14kiCUIjLOmjezH7Qh-qnu1Lbn4n-uGTvbDhCfBqZkCF2zd8949xbE1_bf1ZoZo39Yqb3YP91OQq2bvY93oqL49EXVFH-rCYQM1NNpEFsVduY8MgJWOSKJUUp8S_/s1600-h/IMG_0959.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvgN9QgtLYg3b5WQ-E14kiCUIjLOmjezH7Qh-qnu1Lbn4n-uGTvbDhCfBqZkCF2zd8949xbE1_bf1ZoZo39Yqb3YP91OQq2bvY93oqL49EXVFH-rCYQM1NNpEFsVduY8MgJWOSKJUUp8S_/s320/IMG_0959.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447714183303822162" /></a>This is our group taking a walk at Emily and Sean's site. They live in a beautiful town in the Errachidia province. Their town is an oasis in the middle of the desert. It has palm trees and amazingly clear streams and rivers running through it. It was truly a beautiful area.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim5jiLZrJTMw1B3orSM8O6Ak0loEF1mkQ9pCVWGY-4d1M__3Gn2YDQ7gbH5aQQrPzNHW8cxSq49H1f5le06UE29Xdm_to6_vte9Nq0bKscdHL0ATObqGdbU8mYiPclzISTcdr86UZHEG8P/s1600-h/Big+enough+for+all+of+us.jpg"></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim5jiLZrJTMw1B3orSM8O6Ak0loEF1mkQ9pCVWGY-4d1M__3Gn2YDQ7gbH5aQQrPzNHW8cxSq49H1f5le06UE29Xdm_to6_vte9Nq0bKscdHL0ATObqGdbU8mYiPclzISTcdr86UZHEG8P/s1600-h/Big+enough+for+all+of+us.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim5jiLZrJTMw1B3orSM8O6Ak0loEF1mkQ9pCVWGY-4d1M__3Gn2YDQ7gbH5aQQrPzNHW8cxSq49H1f5le06UE29Xdm_to6_vte9Nq0bKscdHL0ATObqGdbU8mYiPclzISTcdr86UZHEG8P/s320/Big+enough+for+all+of+us.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447714174562652338" /></a><br />Emily and Sean made their giant bed by lining up six foam ponjs. Its huge and comfortably fit five of us to sleep. They were wonderful hosts and I'm so glad I got to visit with them and see their site.<br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-27900153696206233472010-02-17T13:57:00.004-06:002010-02-17T14:24:50.035-06:00Fes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkCsEmS849cq8O0exWuaQiGmH4ZjmRCrhlJdYGZAl19sjRIwG0MgO_Fwn3AcdPG4MQEAJcjtXFhK0-FjOOTLCTPyEZ8HaNYLGD9B8n66uC3b_P8uxvAnlEFOM7Gspuh0_6qAnwECIfZnos/s1600-h/IMG_0864.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkCsEmS849cq8O0exWuaQiGmH4ZjmRCrhlJdYGZAl19sjRIwG0MgO_Fwn3AcdPG4MQEAJcjtXFhK0-FjOOTLCTPyEZ8HaNYLGD9B8n66uC3b_P8uxvAnlEFOM7Gspuh0_6qAnwECIfZnos/s320/IMG_0864.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439309468607054146" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>On the way to PPST, I stopped in Fes with a couple of my fellow PCVs. What a cool city! The architecture is amazing. I even enjoyed seeing the tannery, although it smelled horrendous. Thank goodness they gave us sprigs of mint to smell while we were looking...<div><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL6_BnzvlG6-taBJM6UFC9mXAvpLpj0Mmh5PvPp5t5dS5__8fhfz58iMJ4Wv4AH8z_tVTZobKeS681fvnrAV7cBl8zn3OstN4SGFM39skkZPPi2iPbEf5M8qUdyL-7L4YROe9w2E0FsVz6/s320/IMG_0874.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439309461344468994" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>This is me with Adriana and Peggy in front of the tannery. The vats below are filled with pigeon poop (because its high in ammonia) and lime to help treat the skins. The tannery treats cow, sheep, goat and camel skins. The building we climbed to get this view is filled to the rafters with all the products they make from the leather.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-89076416231907163082010-02-17T13:54:00.002-06:002010-02-19T05:42:25.405-06:00PPST<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">A<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">s most of you know, Peace Corps loves acronyms. These last two weeks I've been at PPST or Post-Pre-Service Training. Although I was worried about being away from my site for so long, I'm so glad I got to go. It was great! We got to spend two weeks in a very nice hotel. We had heat in our rooms and hot water (almost) every morning. The food was amazing and best of all, I didn't have to cook it. There was even a sandwich shop down the street that sold amazing chocolate, pistachio, and vanilla caramel mouse for about a dollar. Oh, and of course I learned a lot about working with a co-op and will hopefully be able to implement some of the ideas here at my site and with my weaving cooperative.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Training is a little different in every Peace Corps country. In Morocco, each stage, or training group, is brought together a few months after swearing-in so that we can discuss how things have gone our first few months at site. As I'm sure you can imagine, no two Peace Corps experiences are alike. In our group, we have some people in large cities (250K) and others in very tiny villages (250 people). Some people have a plethora of associations to choose from when deciding who to work with. Others have to work to find even one. I'm lucky in that my site is kind of in the middle of these extremes. While I don't have as many options as my big city PCV friends, I do have an association I can work with that makes some beautiful, high quality products. And, while I can't get some of the food products I want in my village, I can get them by traveling the hour to Ouarzazate.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was great hearing about everyone's sites, their trials and their triumphs. Hearing how others have struggled adapting to the language, culture, etc. really helped me keep my worries in perspective. It made me proud that I've been able to accomplish some things and pushed me to try to accomplish even more. In one of our training sessions we got to hear from a woman who's co-op started working with a Peace Corps Volunteer in 2000. That PCV helped them establish officially establish the co-op. Today, that co-op is very successful and selling their products internationally. Although I know that may not be possible with my co-op, I'm hopeful I'll be able to at least help them get started on that path. At the end of the session, all of the PCVs were pumped about getting back to site and implementing some of the suggestions from the speaker. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Training also included tips for website development, photographing artisan's products, product quality control, and training artisans in business skills. I can't wait to meet with my co-op again to get their perspective on what's important and get their input on what they'd like help improving. I am going to start building a website for them and hopefully start training on how to develop more marketable products. While my co-op makes beautiful carpets and their embroidery is top-shelf, they don't have a wide product line. Some of my fellow PCVs gave me ideas on how we can adapt the products so that they are more marketable in the international and tourist markets. I'm so glad there are people with artistic talent in my stage! Business skills I've got but I can't draw at all!</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It was wonderful spending time with my fellow PCVs. I forget sometimes that I'm not alone in what I'm going through. There are other people who are struggling with the language, and making cultural mistakes and struggling to force down that new drink they've never had before and hope to never have again (I hear the sour milk grows on you, but I'm not there yet.) It was good to hear other people's stories and how they coped with some of the more difficult parts of living in a new culture. All of us had difference coping mechanisms. Some of us had a lot more difficulty with the language, while others had more trouble with the culture. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Overall, PPST was a lot of fun. I really enjoyed the sessions and the hot shower every day and heated room every night were a wonderful treat. Plus, I got to see a lot more of Morocco. Azrou is a beautiful city, Ifrane really is like a piece of Switzerland in the middle of Morocco, and Fes is too amazing for words to describe. I can't wait to travel more and see more of this amazing country. </span></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-58952501724374468172010-01-23T11:55:00.003-06:002010-01-23T12:15:54.793-06:00The wolf and the hen<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">As most of you know, Tashelhit (Berber) is not a written language. For someone like me, who has only studied written languages like German and French, this makes learning the language much more difficult. I had no idea how much I relied on dictionaries and stories to learn a new language. Lucky for me, my tutor found a few websites with stories written in tashelhit. I’ve been working on translating them with my tutor. Its really helping my vocabulary and I enjoy learning the Berber folktales. One of my favorites is called “The Wolf and the Hen”</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">It goes as follows: </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">A hungry wolf went walking in the forest until he came up next to a small tree, in which a hen was sunning herself. He said to her, “ Peace to you” to which she replied “And peace to you.” </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The wolf said, “Did you hear what the town crier announced? Its no longer allowed for the lion to eat the gazelle or the tiger to eat the mountain goat. Also, the eagle can no longer hunt the hare. To top it all off, democracy will spread in the forest! So come down from the tree!” The hen wanted to come down out of the tree but she was afraid. The wolf said, “ Come down! The era of dictatorship is over! Come down!” </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Meanwhile, the hen saw two hungry hunting dogs coming towards where she and the wolf were standing. When the wolf saw the hunting dogs, he wanted to run away. The hen said, “Hey Wolf! You just said all that about what the town crier announced!” </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><br /></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">He replied, “It seems these jokers didn’t hear the announcement!” </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Pretty funny, huh? I love folktales. And translating this one meant I got to learn how to say “to top it all off” in tashelhit (Its “awal n ufella” for those of you who wanted to know.) </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">My language is progressing slowly but surely, but I wish it were faster. I’m very lucky in that I get tashelhit “lessons” when I tutor some local women in English. We speak in a mixture of Tashelhit and English, so its improving all of our language skills in both languages. </span></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-57695062128824178072010-01-07T13:02:00.005-06:002010-03-19T10:13:49.522-05:00Home Sweet Home<div>I'm writing from the couch in my very own living room here in rural Morocco. I moved in seven days ago today and have slowly been changing the place around to make it mine. I live in a traditional adobe house, with neighbors on both sides. My neighbors have been very welcoming since I moved in, bringing me cake and always stopping by the say hello. They are all very nice people and I'm lucky to have moved into such a great complex. There is even a toddler next door who is cute as a button and loves to say hello... maybe I'll practice my Tashelhit with him. We're probably on the same level!<div><br /></div><div>Its been a challenge to get the things I need to my place, but I'm persevering. My house is on top of the hill in our village, about a 20 minute walk from the center of town. I'm lucky in that my town has fairly plentiful commerce, so I'm able to find almost everything I need without going into Ouarzazate. Of course, I've still got to cart it up the hill. I had no idea how heavy a plastic dresser could be after carrying it for 20 minutes. Whew! I'm lucky the wind wasn't too strong that day!</div><div><br /></div><div>I'm almost set with everything I need. I have a dresser in my bedroom, a foam pad for my bed, plenty of blankets, a beautiful wooden table with plastic chairs (they were lighter to carry up the hill), and a refrigerator, stove, and oven in my kitchen. My place is 5 times as large as the apartment I had studying abroad in Germany, which is great. I've even been able to cover the open window above the dining room, so not as much dust is blowing in off the mud roof when its windy. If only it were a bit warmer, it would be perfect! (Its freezing cold today, with snow for the first time. I can't wait for spring. As those of you who know me know, I handle being hot a lot better than being cold!)</div><div><br /></div><div>Everyone in the village has been so welcoming. I'm lucky that I'm not the first volunteer in the village, so villagers are somewhat used to seeing a strange face around. I'm even called by the previous volunteer's name sometimes. I just answer... I think its nice they are greeting me, even if they are calling me Mia. Today, when I went to the post office, a nice woman in the taxi went out of her way to make sure I got there okay then had the taxi wait until I got finished. I am always so thankful when people go out of there way to help me out. Its a wonderful part of Moroccan culture.</div><div><div><br /></div><div>My tutor, the local English teacher, has been meeting with me a few times a week to help me with my Tashelhit (berber). Its going fairly well, but the Berber language is unlike any other language I've studied. Its helping that I'm teaching English several times a week. I use a mixture of Tashelhit and English to teach, and the girls I teach speak to me in the same sort of mixture. I think its helping my language skills a lot and I think their English is improving as well. (At least I hope so.)</div><div><br /></div><div>My tutor also helped me with come up with questions for the local co-op, then helped me interview the president. Part of Peace Corps goals is to create sustainable development, so volunteers are supposed to concentrate of those improvements the co-op wants. These may not line up with what the volunteer thinks is most important. Luckily, the questions we came up with exactly mirrored what the president is hoping to accomplish with the co-op! I was very impressed with all he wants to accomplish and said I'd help in any way possible. He has specific goals in mind to make the co-op more profitable, train more people, and even get the younger generation involved. I'm so lucky to have been matched with such a motivated counterpart! I hope my language improves quickly enough that I'm able to be of help to them.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEx9Tc7Q8Qu0w9RGVwVDuWtF_7vPVGNeFyEipN5bdP91A9N0AKe3Hz8-EVQL_ALYEhUp2Ii-dAaZA3DLG-H_vVHSymb68TbBVhrly09E_dvkz0P6ivb9ItjvnlX-VDtiawtyfRqDGK6bOV/s1600-h/2008-06-03+Tapis+du+magasin+150LR.jpg"><br /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></div>Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-7443953160709819642009-12-24T04:13:00.003-06:002009-12-24T04:47:25.939-06:00Merry Christmas from Morocco!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Today is Christmas Eve, although it sure doesn't feel like it. While much of the U.S. is having a white Christmas, its in the 50s here in Ouarzazate province. Unfortunately, that's true inside and outside the house, so its a little chilly. Its strange not being at home for Christmas, although my family sent me a package to open Christmas morning, so I will be able to keep some traditions alive :) I have created a tree of sorts, stockings, and wrapped presents to put under the tree for my host family. Since the tree and stockings are made from blue construction paper, they are utterly unique. I'm looking forward to seeing my host family's faces when they open their gifts tomorrow. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Overall, things are going well here at site. I move into my own place in a week and have slowly been collecting all the things I need to make it "mine." I was able to buy most of my furniture and kitchen supplies from the previous volunteer, which really helped out since we only have about $500 to furnish our whole house. Getting things second hand from Mia was great. Otherwise, I've heard you have to choose between getting a refrigerator and getting a bed. Lucky me, I have both. Once I get a dresser and a few chairs, I should be totally set! I even found thick plastic to cover the open window in my dining room. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Work wise, things are slowly getting rolling. I have restarted the English classes that the previous volunteer taught. I teach a group of local women, ages 13 to 32, for a few hours a week. I'm so glad I started the classes again, because these women are wonderful. They are all very welcoming and positive people. I love sharing some of my culture with them and really appreciate their willingness to share (and explain) Moroccan culture with me. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">I'm also met with my weaving association a few times and really hope to get their needs categorized within the next few weeks. Then I can get started on whatever project is most important to them. My tutor has offered to help translate their answers, since my Tashelhit (Berber) is still pretty primitive. The group seems pretty highly motivated, so I hope we're able to get some things accomplished these next two years. My tutor thinks they may want a website, which would be a pretty awesome project. We'll see what they need. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-71945645167420202302009-12-07T04:51:00.002-06:002009-12-07T05:14:45.754-06:00Marrakech<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLyYd4zBPgx84_8rRxsoiJCgS4s7PviTXhiLg7vInDdlXtGzNb584pWgh8K33RSuzicAi1_FvldpPyo0CYVf1VsA5Y5dwfwAtMO5IJWyJ1_zd_tgGEwv1LhpeqlusuomLByKRDFWBjBvc7/s1600-h/IMG_0804.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLyYd4zBPgx84_8rRxsoiJCgS4s7PviTXhiLg7vInDdlXtGzNb584pWgh8K33RSuzicAi1_FvldpPyo0CYVf1VsA5Y5dwfwAtMO5IJWyJ1_zd_tgGEwv1LhpeqlusuomLByKRDFWBjBvc7/s320/IMG_0804.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412450108317413202" /></a>The snake charmer in the central square in Marrakech.<div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8zFBccS07hluRREJFzJfuaQzkhYrRdWCYGFEBfOhyLVkSl33NbjBLM0MVyIy2niZbZaUiJ1_qrNcm9O34XJ9bKGxKmUoWdgl9to0dK3EJkO3ZTdbdExLlxDBrnZa7YYKG8e9JMKJzfe5U/s1600-h/IMG_0805.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8zFBccS07hluRREJFzJfuaQzkhYrRdWCYGFEBfOhyLVkSl33NbjBLM0MVyIy2niZbZaUiJ1_qrNcm9O34XJ9bKGxKmUoWdgl9to0dK3EJkO3ZTdbdExLlxDBrnZa7YYKG8e9JMKJzfe5U/s320/IMG_0805.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412450102737889970" /></a>Me in front of one of the movie screens in the square. It is the Marrakech international film festival this week and the place is packed at night.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoOTnNDYw20LEJyEqk3GLxZGkgdsz87onWSc2z440YLRsVd09GVIcKTqHfZOsSempCJScM8_UjpJailtS7Go_W8Mq5HzLMVQCoj47inTpVeJvk3ePx-4CdWCU03gMKQPjnF8NBIyfSOAYA/s1600-h/IMG_0791.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoOTnNDYw20LEJyEqk3GLxZGkgdsz87onWSc2z440YLRsVd09GVIcKTqHfZOsSempCJScM8_UjpJailtS7Go_W8Mq5HzLMVQCoj47inTpVeJvk3ePx-4CdWCU03gMKQPjnF8NBIyfSOAYA/s320/IMG_0791.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412450098220040706" /></a>Me with a viper around my neck.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA_kPrLhxaZ9tVmcEqJk2kpMpRHiiqRqWBPabmyEyz-tTd2zySPvQtNV0Uhh4fzZXxXmJtAgjcRQDMEzO7reDcDVxA7UCwpBv_vAtX8Tf4ENeZumWPKO0P5lXKGzksZOZkuZDq6IjdYoTO/s1600-h/IMG_0809.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA_kPrLhxaZ9tVmcEqJk2kpMpRHiiqRqWBPabmyEyz-tTd2zySPvQtNV0Uhh4fzZXxXmJtAgjcRQDMEzO7reDcDVxA7UCwpBv_vAtX8Tf4ENeZumWPKO0P5lXKGzksZOZkuZDq6IjdYoTO/s320/IMG_0809.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412450093146453938" /></a>The famous mosque just off the square.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimSe_aUsFrJOLLlhiKv0PexNI0jk2I3nSXnBaqWbXOtL8ww6EVyR7vh4XuqHmez52TkXNFCvnlkjo10JHQ0XyHWrSIokANXzX85C3o5eLSWkpTEr1Uukjoy4UKzOATxRyESxlckaUrS_8y/s1600-h/IMG_0796.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimSe_aUsFrJOLLlhiKv0PexNI0jk2I3nSXnBaqWbXOtL8ww6EVyR7vh4XuqHmez52TkXNFCvnlkjo10JHQ0XyHWrSIokANXzX85C3o5eLSWkpTEr1Uukjoy4UKzOATxRyESxlckaUrS_8y/s320/IMG_0796.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412450083683877666" /></a>The cobra that danced for the snake charmer.</div>Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-65301327060705019392009-12-02T15:23:00.002-06:002009-12-02T15:53:54.596-06:00My New HomeAs promised, pictures from my new village.<div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghMsySTqnC4oq98PNS7QXBNNqeL3F-hFYvMO1RP7Lv7xcMp4uEYONwbApXramJChDXUZQ0kr267ONJBe07sH9y4AIE83xlgyLATo_ogryLQmRGDdNFifh78OzpFzIdG7Tdfaqa7_2VxyoF/s1600-h/IMG_0898.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghMsySTqnC4oq98PNS7QXBNNqeL3F-hFYvMO1RP7Lv7xcMp4uEYONwbApXramJChDXUZQ0kr267ONJBe07sH9y4AIE83xlgyLATo_ogryLQmRGDdNFifh78OzpFzIdG7Tdfaqa7_2VxyoF/s320/IMG_0898.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410756815044289922" /></a>Me with the volunteer I replaced, Mia.<div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkwsD5flAKamk-wLn8yGFvdtD9LkJ4whILlftFG0GvwuKSZZru-qmuZJt7snQHv9pnjf1d0qJ7joXtoIlxzCSEgAi36PQfPUd6rWITKnY81mvsBcjK3snSf0NC4l7TvrgLbN2kL1_gE1Mt/s1600-h/IMG_0781.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkwsD5flAKamk-wLn8yGFvdtD9LkJ4whILlftFG0GvwuKSZZru-qmuZJt7snQHv9pnjf1d0qJ7joXtoIlxzCSEgAi36PQfPUd6rWITKnY81mvsBcjK3snSf0NC4l7TvrgLbN2kL1_gE1Mt/s320/IMG_0781.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410756803038283298" /></a>My living room.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5N1e4wzS4piSm4HOgcCid_qe2R7WIjXIAraUXliGSaD2xxQ-Dt5Q0ftZRg1vhBnGkma4xOT3xgiHxMFD18VOBM3RmiiPgh52FnT00F5UPiNEbPFeIYP-silaGKE7Ls-zLHC1iaYSktdvW/s1600-h/IMG_0785.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5N1e4wzS4piSm4HOgcCid_qe2R7WIjXIAraUXliGSaD2xxQ-Dt5Q0ftZRg1vhBnGkma4xOT3xgiHxMFD18VOBM3RmiiPgh52FnT00F5UPiNEbPFeIYP-silaGKE7Ls-zLHC1iaYSktdvW/s320/IMG_0785.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410756796397905042" /></a>My bathroom. If you can see the tiny hole in the wall behind the toilet, that is where the kitchen sink drains too. The bucket is what I take my "showers" with.</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglc2TJLZcmROOcKUWPJL1xKzURX6Wc163XPEN1dbVrgpuHmifcbPZIYTw_x8mOf4rzC9BXBVHxO-y0P3b2bvP9IIxCkfjMOS9umFRIQyLRKmsOmg_zOpduKFgZDjfhGJvEAdacG7IlYA09/s1600-h/IMG_0779.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglc2TJLZcmROOcKUWPJL1xKzURX6Wc163XPEN1dbVrgpuHmifcbPZIYTw_x8mOf4rzC9BXBVHxO-y0P3b2bvP9IIxCkfjMOS9umFRIQyLRKmsOmg_zOpduKFgZDjfhGJvEAdacG7IlYA09/s320/IMG_0779.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410756786579773986" /></a>My kitchen. </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7o48WoNHhUvDHXGtKP3NJZxKiR1AXB8P9LLUPNMPtDt95RrNVcEsdiCQCyWkdCWB4rL5nYi0mV56ogJ_R8OLD-1Li2CkpUWap0q94-BuXSCYI_ws3hjnmI3UhPo0IRsnCCGPQtKyCC3Z5/s1600-h/IMG_0766.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7o48WoNHhUvDHXGtKP3NJZxKiR1AXB8P9LLUPNMPtDt95RrNVcEsdiCQCyWkdCWB4rL5nYi0mV56ogJ_R8OLD-1Li2CkpUWap0q94-BuXSCYI_ws3hjnmI3UhPo0IRsnCCGPQtKyCC3Z5/s320/IMG_0766.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5410756778029873890" /></a>One of the "streets" in my town.</div></div>Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-646302002572319912.post-89753697808834645472009-11-15T06:44:00.004-06:002009-11-15T07:25:02.222-06:00Swearing InI'm changing acronyms...I'm officially a PCV! Training is over and I took the oath in Rabat on Thursday to become a Peace Corps volunteer. I got to meet the ambassador and dress up in my fancy kaftan (it had sequins!) Then we had couscous and went to our hotel. Unfortunately, Rabat's hotels were all super full because of a karate convention, so we were packed a little tightly in our rooms (8 of us in mine with me sleep on the loveseat.) Oh well, at least I got a wonderful hot shower.<div><br /></div><div>After swearing in, Kat, Erin and I went out to explore Rabat. We were craving Mexican and Kat found one in the guide book, so we went to check it out. Since it didn't open until 7:00pm, we explored a bit and had a snack at TGIF. The manager spoke a little English and told us that Papa John's is going to be in Rabat in a few months. How cool is that?! </div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway, we went to TGIF, then walked around for awhile. Rabat is a really cosmopolitan city. They have everything! I can't wait to take a trip there for a few days when I can really explore. At 7 we went back for Mexican. As many of you know, Mexican is my favorite type of food and I'm having withdrawal. Somebody eat some chips and salsa for me! It was a great treat and I'm really glad we were able to find a good restaurant, even if it was expensive. </div><div><br /></div><div>On Friday morning, Linda and I took off for our sites. (She's stationed about 10km from me.) Luckily, we took first class because the train from Rabat to Marrakech was very full. I'll be fine with standing normally, but it was nice to have an actual seat when I was hauling a bunch of stuff with me. We got to Kech (as the PCVs call it) and then five of us shared a taxi. We paid too much, but it was worth it for me. We had more room and he was great about stopping at each of our sites and dealing with our mounds of luggage.</div><div><br /></div><div>I got to my site about 4:00 and the PCV I'm replacing met me at the taxi stand and took me around to introduce me to everyone. My host family for the next two months is almost exactly the same as my training site host family. My host dad works in Casablanca for most of the year. I have 4 host siblings. Zahira is 20, Kauotar is 15 (she lives at school in Ouarzazate), Hajar is 13 and the lone boy, Muhammed is 8. My host mom is part of the weaving co-op I'll be working with, which is great. </div><div><br /></div><div>Its getting a little chilly here already, which is quite a change from my training site. I hear it gets very cold in the winter so I'm really happy to have a heater, gloves, hat, etc. I also think I'll be drinking a lot of tea!</div><div><br /></div><div>I'll post more soon, hopefully with pictures of my new home. </div><div><br /></div>Anna (pronounced AH-NA)http://www.blogger.com/profile/07695402354998091518noreply@blogger.com1