tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66308034859396324712024-03-13T12:23:36.749-07:00A Moroccan good time with Leigh Anne: A Peace Corps AdventureLeigh Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14490275088786448688noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6630803485939632471.post-33722189718865514832012-06-30T07:24:00.001-07:002012-07-04T13:49:35.318-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I believe it is obvious to all that I am not so great at this blog thing. There is no real reason why I don't update as often as I should. However, the more time passes, the less motivation I have to actually write about my life in Morocco. Atlas, the time has come when I've downed 2 cups of coffee, and have forced myself to sit and update my friends and family. It's been months since my last post, so let me try to break it down for you.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My grant for my woman’s' center was approved. It took a few months to hear back, but I finally received the funds to make the project a possibility. Starting things from scratch is not always easy, and this has been proven to me over and over again. Ever since I told my association our grant was approved, MANY problems have arose. First, they told me it wasn't enough money. The frustrating part about this is that they think I can just call up the Peace Corps and ask for more. It's difficult to explain to anybody about the grant writing process. The hours I spent writing up the proposal, the days it took to get an accurate budget using this strange foreign language, and talking to community members about an action plan. After withholding my sudden urge to throw rocks at their children and taking MANY deep breathes, I did my best to explain that was not possible. I am certain that $5000 is enough to build a 1 room center, and told them this is all we have and must work with it. The second issue was finding a space to build. The only land available is literally a rock cliff where they have to bulldoze the land to flatten it. However, the bulldozer isn't cheap, and wasn't included in the budget, so we had to figure an alternative, which I think was decided last week. Third is that now it is summer. It is time for the harvest, and Ramadan is only a few weeks away. Therefore most of the men who will be building this center are too busy to begin at the moment. That and the fact that my counterpart is gone for the summer, I highly doubt we will begin building until September. At first I was disappointed and exceedingly frustrated. However, I accepted the fate of my project, told myself it was out of my hands and I literally did everything I could have possibly done, and haven't let it bother me since. Such is life.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>In addition to this project, I started a girls club that I LOVE! We meet 4-5 days a week. I teach them English, talk about empowerment issues, and they also color. Every day right on schedule the girls bang on my door, with their notebooks and motivation to learn, and tell me the classroom is ready. The other day all the classrooms were locked so I held class in my tiny house. After we finished I turned on some Daddy Yankee and started dancing, mainly moving in a way that a girl shouldn't in a Muslim society. They mocked everything I did, so I started to booty pop. It was by far the funniest thing I've seen in my site. Thirteen young girls in their scarves and long skirts, booty popping to reggaeton. I'm certain it is something they will never forget, nor will I. It's moments like these in a Peace Corps service one has to cherish.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>At the end of May began my summer of fun. Part one: One of my best friends from college, Brian, and his lovely girlfriend, Lauren, came to visit me. The visit was only a few days, but it was absolutely wonderful to see them. I think the funniest part for them was to watch me speak Tashlheet. They even took a video of me bargaining. It was amazing to show people I love from home around Morocco. Part two: Visiting Spain with my dad and little brother, Matthew. We stayed in an apartment with a washing machine, ate ridiculous amounts of cheese and pork, and just sat around together while drinking beer and wine. Matthew and I went out on the town with some people I met on the airplane as well. We drank beer in the center, and went to clubs where we shook our booties until 3am. Words cannot describe how refreshing it was to be around my family. It was heavenly. The only regret I have is that I didn't hug my dad enough. Part three: This will be happening next week. Something I'd like to call my dream vacation. My wonderful friend Sara, who lives in Abu Dhabi, is getting married in the Maldives in 2 weeks. She asked me to be her maid of honor. I will be flying to Abu Dhabi for a few days to hang with her, then we fly to the Maldives for a week for her wedding. I will be staying on an island resort where I'll lay on the beach, drink mimosas before noon, and my biggest worry for the day will be whether I want to go diving in the morning of afternoon.(for those interested I will be staying here: kuredu.com) After this I am meeting my friend Hanna, who I volunteered with in Honduras, and we will explore India for a little over a week. For as long as I can remember, India has been my top travel destination. I couldn't be more excited that my dream is becoming a reality and I get to share it with Hanna. So yea, lots of good things ahead!<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>May 25th marked my 1 year anniversary as an official Peace Corps Volunteer. Now the countdown to coming home begins. Only 10 months left, and I know they will go by quickly. I remember 2nd year volunteers telling me many months ago that you just have to get through the first year, survive through all the BS, and your 2nd year is your gift. Now that I am at this point of my service, it makes sense. Through all the tears, overwhelming feelings of self doubt, frustration, homesickness, coupled with Veronica Mars TV marathons and devouring way too many candies sent to me in care packages, life here has suddenly become easier. I'm not saying every day is rainbows and puppies, but Morocco has become familiar, and the anxiety of stepping out my front door has slowly faded.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I often like to reflect on how much I've learned since arriving to Morocco in March 2011. I think that the most important thing I've learned thus far is patience. Sitting and waiting for hours for a bus to arrive does not faze me. There are times where I just stare at my wall, and am completely content. I've also learned to not feel so guilty. One thing Peace Corps drills in your head during training is to be as social as possible. I used to feel like the worst volunteer if instead of having tea with my community, I would sit in my house all day and watch an entire season of Dexter while eating ungodly amounts of popcorn. However, now that I am completely comfortable in my tiny village, and have developed strong relationships with much of my community, I allow myself to stay inside every now and then, guilt free. Another thing I have noticed is that I am no longer the strange foreign girl living by herself. I am just Leila (my Moroccan name). This, I believe, to be a great achievement. Two of the three Peace Corps goals are to help promote a better understanding of the American people AND to help promote a better understanding of others to American people. It took me a while to believe that having tea and going to the fields with my community was actually work. As Americans, we often need something tangible to measure our levels of success. This is one reason why the first year for many volunteers is so challenging. There is nothing we can actually touch to show us our job well done. However, these past few months I've noticed people that I've never spoken to greeting me by my first name, children stand on the hills in my village as I'm walking home yelling for me to come have tea with their families, and whenever somebody cooks cous cous, I'm always invited, as everybody knows it's my favorite. So, maybe my woman’s center project isn't going as smooth as I hoped thus far, however, whenever I feel frustrated and wish my mom was here to rub my head and tell me it's going to be alright, I step outside, revel in the serenity of my village, and enjoy the moment. Because before I know it, 10 months will have passed, I will be back in America the beautiful, and my life will never be as simple as it is now.</div>Leigh Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14490275088786448688noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6630803485939632471.post-85692232526927520822012-02-27T07:05:00.000-08:002012-02-27T07:05:16.093-08:00February, Morocco, emotions, grants, and animal slaughters<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"> It’s hard to believe that it’s almost been a year since I arrived in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Morocco</st1:place></st1:country-region>. I remember the beginning months of my service and not being able to see the end. Thinking that May 2013 would never come and that the next 2 years would literally be spent not being able to communicate and drinking too much tea (while accumulating a few more cavities). However, I am finally starting to feel comfortable here, and, dare I say, it feels like home. Sure, I still get frustrated when the kids in my village ‘bon jour’ me even though they know damn well I’m not French, or those days that I wait hours for transportation, and I’m especially exhausted from being so cold I can see my breath in my house. I am also getting tired of this rollercoaster of emotions I’d like to call ‘My life as a PCV’ but overall, I feel that I am at a very good point in my service. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">A few weeks back I went up north to a training to speak to the newer volunteers. I know I say this a lot, and I’ll keep saying this, but I HATE traveling in this country. The waiting, the inconsistency, the harassment, it’s exhausting. To get home I stop off the main road, take a 45 minute taxi ride to the center of my site, then I either walk an hour or if I’m lucky, I catch a ride to my village. On my journey back to my site from the training, I was exhausted, smelly, and irritated from spending hours on a bus and train when I finally stopped off the main road. Immediately my feelings of frustration faded when the cute butcher gave me a chair to sit at his shop while I waited for a taxi. Once I caught a taxi and made it to the center of my site, I ran to the vegetable man who lives in my village to see if he was still around. When I saw him cleaning up, I yelled his name in excitement, and asked him if he would take me home, as that walk in the dark would most likely result in me getting bit by a rabid dog. He laughed and took me home minutes later. It felt so good to be home. It’s nice I am finally feeling this way about my site.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"> Yet, there continue to be days where feelings of homesickness are overwhelming, and I stay inside to eat tootsie rolls or an entire box of Mac and Cheese mixed with bacon bits (thank god for care packages) and watch ‘Breaking Bad’ or whatever TV obsession I have that week. The other day, I was on Facebook and I was looking at a page my friends from college started for events and such. As I was looking at this, and realizing all the times I was going to continue to miss out on, I cried. Now, I can probably name very few times since being here that I’ve cried, but there is no denying how much it pains me that I will miss out on being with my loved ones back home. No need to worry, this cry was short lived. And yes, this was one moment where I ate 15 tootsie rolls in the matter of 5 minutes. Don’t judge. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Last week I finally submitted my first grant proposal to build a women’s center in my village. I am fortunate enough to have found English speaking counterparts to work with, however, the most challenging part of this whole process was getting a legit budget. Since my counterpart is a teacher, he left for 2 weeks for vacation. During this time I was left all by my lonesome to meet with people and get a price list for all materials that are to be needed. Getting this budget took me about a week, usually of me going out everyday and finding Mohamed, or Hamid, or Mostafa, or Rashid, or some other Moroccan name to get an answer. This, mind you, was all done in Tashlheet. I would walk around with my Tash dictionary and all my papers just to find the right person who could give me an answer. The majority of the time I would ask somebody where the person was I was looking for that day, then they would write the name down in Arabic, and I would continue walking around showing this piece of paper to whomever I passed until I was successful in my mission. After getting a budget, I spent about a week writing up the grant. I should hear back from the organization in a few weeks if my grant has been accepted. Fingers crossed. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> About 2 weeks ago I went to another festival with animal slaughtering where Angelica and I witnessed the massacre of 6 cows. Then we went to a friend’s house and ate delicious tajine and pasta with tea and nuts. I know this is going to sound absurd, but I love me any Moroccan holiday where an animal is slaughtered because whatever I am going to be fed is going to be DA BOMB! Pictures are posted on Facebook, with a warning in case you’re not in the mood to see dead and bloody cows. I have a video of the slaughtering as well, but I didn’t think too many people would appreciate that. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Now that my grant has been submitted and my weeks of being consistently busy have faded, I am trying to find ways to entertain myself. That’s the thing about life as a PCV, there are days when you are so busy you barely have time to fit in one episode of Dexter, and then there are days when you go through an entire season way too quickly. Lately, I’ve been daydreaming a lot. Most of these thoughts are spent on FOOD! What I would give for Ben and Jerry’s chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, my moms’ lasagna, my Magrandes’ tacos, BACON, loaded nachos, thin mints, sushi, a killer breakfast made by my older brother, greasy happy hour food, oh and a Blue Moon. I would kick a small Moroccan child in the face for a tall glass of Blue Moon. Until that fateful day when I step foot on beautiful US soil, I’ll have to continue life as I do, not eating these foods. Is it May 2013 yet because I’m starving???? </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div></div>Leigh Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14490275088786448688noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6630803485939632471.post-75953462764784626112012-01-07T13:10:00.000-08:002012-01-07T13:44:04.143-08:00Madrid and post Madrid reflections<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"> After 11 days of debauchery in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region> for the holidays, I have returned home to my quiet little village. <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region> (aside from the robbery) was fantastic. The minute we landed we all felt free and giddy, away from Muslim norms, and back to the comforts of the Western world. We ate tons of pork, delicious cheeses, and of course, drank decent amounts of beer and vodka. It felt amazing to go to a bar, not be the only women there who weren’t prostitutes, and to not get harassed by perverted men. It’s been 10 months since I arrived to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Morocco</st1:place></st1:country-region>, and I easily forgot what the world outside was like. I wore whatever clothes I wanted, put on make-up, and spoke a language I easily understood. There were times where I felt I could skip through the streets of Madrid, enjoying the fact that I was in a country where drinking at noon was a norm and that I wasn’t getting harassed by every man who walked by. Christmas day was spent lounging around our beautiful apartment, eating (lots of bacon and cheese of course), and then ending the night watching ‘Love Actually.’ Our apartment didn’t have wifi, however, I thought it was probably better to not talk to my family on Christmas day, as I figured it would depress me. New Years Eve was pure insanity, as most everybody went out to the center, wore crazy wigs, ate grapes at the stroke of midnight (a Spanish tradition), then stayed out until all hours of the night bar hopping. It wasn’t the same as going to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Prescott</st1:place></st1:city> with my Wildcat crew, but I still had an incredible time. Although it was sad to leave <st1:state w:st="on">Madrid</st1:state>, I felt that by the end of the vacation, it was time to get back to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Morocco</st1:place></st1:country-region>.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Being in <st1:state w:st="on">Madrid</st1:state> has made me reflect on my life here in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Morocco</st1:place></st1:country-region>. The truth of it is that as a country, <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Morocco</st1:country-region></st1:place> is not fun. There really isn’t much to do, and when volunteers get together, it’s usually a group of us sitting in a hotel room, drinking crappy vodka or wine (or both), and maybe venturing out to the closest prostitution bar where we boogie to really bad music. There are other times when we just sit with each other in our houses, and talk for hours on end. As a result, we may know each other too well and we have to make our own fun. This has been an obvious challenge for me, because, as most of you know, I really like to have fun. However, I have come to the realization that being here, in a Muslim country, is probably the best thing for me. I have a lot of time to think, reflect, and learn about things I would otherwise never learn, and have even began to think of this as my own personal rehab. I have realized how lucky I am, being an American woman, and having opportunities like attending college, traveling, and marrying whomever I want (if I so choose to even get married). I am also lucky enough to have some of my closest friends only a few kilometers away from me, so if I do need an American outlet, it’s only a short walk away. There will be no other point in my life where I will have this much time for myself, and instead of dwelling on the fact that I have a year and a half until I am back home with my loved once, I instead am going to embrace this experience and enjoy all it’s quirks. I still have a lot to learn about life, and what better way to do it than with this once in a life time experience? </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Although I am here to help the people in my village, I have also realized that I have a lot to learn from them. Life is much slower here, which has therefore forced me to develop more patience. Sitting and waiting has become an every day part of my life, and I am surprisingly okay with it. Also, the kindness of the people in my village continues to astound me. I can barely communicate with them, yet they still care about me. If I say I’m sick, an hour later somebody is knocking at my door with soup they made for me. If I need help carrying something to my house, nobody hesitates to stop what they are doing to help me. I often think that if this were the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">US</st1:place></st1:country-region>, and a strange foreigner arrived and did not speak an ounce of English, hardly anybody I know would give them the time of day. So yes, I often get annoyed with the backwards mentality of the people here, and still don’t understand how they can eat and do the same thing every single day. However, there is a lot to be said about a group of people who fight for me to go to their houses for tea or lunch, even if I can barely have a conversation with them. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> On a side note, I have a funny story. I went to my neighbors’ house yesterday for couscous (couscous every single Friday. It’s delicious) and when I tried to leave, she told me I had to stay for something. Moments later, a large group of women came over and laid out a mat. Next to the mat was a pot of cooked corn kernels. I had no idea what was going on, but was intrigued and decided to stay. Then they took about 3 or 4 children, set them on the mat, and placed a silver bracelet and a block of sugar on top of their heads. After that they took a large heaping spoon of corn, and poured it all over them. They told me that this was supposed to give the kids healthy teeth. Never mind the massive amounts of sugar they put in their tea, or the fact that they give babies sugar cubes to suck on, but a shower of corn will do the trick.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Although it’s good to be back, I can’t help but wonder when my next get away will be. There are some volunteers who are planning on doing St. Patty’s day in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Ireland</st1:place></st1:country-region>, but I doubt my liver and lack of funds can handle it. Radiohead will be in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Berlin</st1:place></st1:state> the beginning of July, but I have a feeling I’m going to need something sooner than that. My closest planned vacation will be in July, when I go to the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Maldives</st1:country-region></st1:place> to attend my beautiful friend Sara’s wedding, as her maid of honor (sooooo excited!). July can not come soon enough, so if anybody feels the need for a European vacation, holler at your girl <span style="font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Hope you all had a fantastic holiday. Sending my love all the way from <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Morocco. </st1:place></st1:country-region></div><div class="MsoNormal">Leigh Anne</div></div>Leigh Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14490275088786448688noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6630803485939632471.post-77485747361996481652011-12-21T12:14:00.000-08:002011-12-21T16:04:45.506-08:00I swear I will get better at this blog thing....Insha'Allah (god willing)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">So apparently, I’m pretty bad at this blog thing…..</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"> It’s been almost 3 months since I’ve written, so I’ll make this as precise as possible. The beginning of October my awesome friend Annie came to visit me for 10 days. We started with the overnight bus to <st1:place w:st="on">Fes</st1:place> where we walked around the medina, ate delicious street food, and wandered to the smelly tannery (where a Moroccan man shoved mint leaves up my nose...no joke). We inevitably got lost and had to pay a small child to show us the way back. The next day we went to Chefchaouen, which was by far my favorite part of the trip. The gorgeous blue medina, which was surprisingly hassle-free, made us feel as if we were in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Greece</st1:place></st1:country-region>. We ate cheese salads, and this made me happy. We then spent 2 nights in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Casablanca</st1:place></st1:city>, which was interesting. We toured the mosque (set so scenically on the beach) then went out for a night on the town. I won’t write too many details here, but let’s just say that Annie and I were the only women out who weren’t prostitutes. Therefore, I got sassy and yelled at a Moroccan (okay I yelled at a few). Then we went to Marrakech, and then she came to my site where she got to meet my site mates and get her henna on. I was sad to see her leave, but then the next week my parents came for a visit.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> The original plan was for my Dad to come alone, but to my great surprise at the airport gate in Marrakech my mom was with him. I cried and screamed, then pointed and laughed at her because she was in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Morocco</st1:place></st1:country-region>. They were only here for 5 days so we spent a night in Marrakech, then I took them to my site. My mom was a good sport, and even used the Turkish toilet. We went to Angelica’s house (along with Alex and Alexa) and made them burritos for lunch. The last night we went to Marrakech where they took me out to one of the fanciest dinners I’ve ever been to. I had a caesar salad, steak, and cream brulee. Not to mention a few bottles of wine. It was heavenly. I have to admit, it was a bit stressful showing them around. <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Morocco</st1:place></st1:country-region> is a difficult country to travel in. There are days where I wait 3 hours for transportation and am often crowed between people in the crazy taxi rides. However, I think that overall they enjoyed their time here. I am glad they came because they now have a slight understanding of my life here. I doubt my mama will come back, but I may be able to convince my dad to return (or better yet, meet me in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Portugal</st1:place></st1:country-region>) <span style="font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"> Now we are in November. Most of this time was spent getting to know my new community and celebrating Eid. (I don’t feel like explaining this holiday, so if you want to check out the Wikipedia page: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eid_al-Adha">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eid_al-Adha</a> all your questions will be answered) A lot of volunteers don’t particularly like this holiday, but I found it surprisingly enjoyable. Give me a holiday where I walk around my village and am handed meat on a stick, and I am a happy girl. The beginning of the day was spent watching 2 sheep get slaughtered. Maybe <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Morocco</st1:place></st1:country-region> has made me immune to things that I would normally find disturbing, or maybe it’s because I have become accustomed to seeing the meat I buy hang ever so lovingly at the butcher shop, but I didn’t find the slaughtering as troubling as I expected. My neighbor took his knife, slight its throat, then it started to bleed to death. No need to feel bad for this sheep, because Moroccans don’t waste a single part (they eat the eye’s, heart, tongue, EVERYTHING). I spent the day eating liver wrapped in fat kebabs, meat tagine, and of course, Moroccan cookies and tea. Families came home, everybody was in their best dressed, and the entire village was lively. It was like Christmas, expect instead of giving presents to each other, they sacrificed a sheep for Allah.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> Other than that, I have been putting my efforts in to assessing the needs of my community. I have been so lucky to live near some amazing teachers (who speak some English!) who are eager to work with me. I had a meeting with them and they gave me some great ideas for larger projects. They are interested in building a library, new desks, and are in need of science materials. Also, I spoke with the president of an association and he is very willing to help out on building a neddi (women’s center). After vacation, I will start writing up a grant to get things going. Also, come January they are giving me a classroom 4 days a week. I will probably start off teaching English, but once I get in the groove of things, I’d like to do some basic health lessons and art projects. Also, Alex and I are planning on starting an English club at the middle school which is 4 kilometers from my village. My site, Tidili is made up of 49 villages (population is about 17,000) and within Tidili, there are many elementary schools, but only 1 middle school. The closest high school is in Ouarzazate, which is about 2 hours away. Therefore, these kids need some motivation when it comes to their education. This is why I’d like to spent most of my time working in the schools. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Now we are in December. I just spent the past week up north at a beach town an hour away from <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Rabat</st1:place></st1:city> for my last Peace Corps training. The days were spent in sessions and the evenings were filled with hanging out with my fellow volunteers. As usual at these trainings, the evenings were a bit livelier. I slowly made my way back to site, and now I’m home for a few more days until I head off to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">SPAIN</st1:place></st1:country-region>!!!!!!!!!!!! I’ve been in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Morocco</st1:country-region></st1:place> for 10 months, and this is my first time leaving. I am in desperate need of a break from this place! It will be my first Christmas away from home, and while it will be difficult, I am fortunate enough to have found good friends to spend the holidays with. We rented an apartment in <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Madrid</st1:place></st1:state> so we will be able to make dinner (pork, pork, and more pork please), Christmas cookies, and watch Love Actually (always a Christmas favorite). I’ll be back in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Morocco</st1:place></st1:country-region> on January 3, so once I’m back, I will (hopefully) feel refreshed and motivated. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Happy holidays to everybody back home. </div></div>Leigh Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14490275088786448688noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6630803485939632471.post-48994569965637319522011-10-02T11:46:00.000-07:002011-10-13T08:06:49.587-07:00Surviving Ramadan and a site change<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">I know it’s been a while since my last entry, part of which was due to limited internet access, being surprisingly busy, AND being too lazy to write about my life. That said, let me give you all a brief summary of my life these past 2 months.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ramadan….it came, it past, and I survived. Not much happened during the month of August. I spent my days watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer (I heart Spike), working out, reading, and chatting with other PCV’s on the phone (thank god for the phone plan). Boredom throughout the daytime really set in within the first week. I noticed that I was going slightly crazy one day when I was sitting on my roof and staring at the sheep. In the distance I noticed a large white tent. (For those of you that don’t know, I am located in the Ouarzazate province, home of a large movie studio. Here movies such as Gladiator, Prince of Persia, and Sex and the City 2 were filmed). I watched the tent and started wondering if maybe, just maybe, James Franco was filming his next movie in my little village. He would then discover that a Peace Corps Volunteer lived nearby and knock on my door. He would look past the fact that I haven’t showered in days and dress like a homeless person, and we would instantly fall in love. Suddenly I thought “What am I, 12 years old sitting in the back of my Magrande’s truck with my cousins and truly believing that it is Jonathan Taylor Thomas driving behind us?” I immediately went inside and called a friend for moral support. Turns out I’m not the only one with a crazy imagination. I suppose that’s what happens when you are the only English speaker in a village of 400 people. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">As the night started to fall during Ramadan, I would walk around and in no time, I would get an invite from somebody in my village to break fast. Initially I was worried about breaking fast, as I was getting tired of the typical Moroccan dishes served to me during home stay. However, I was pleasantly surprised when instead of being served tagine and cous cous, there would be an array of deliciousness such as fresh figs, dates, soup, pastries, etc. I was also surprised to find myself enjoying spending time with people in my village, especially my host family. I was able to practice my language (which continues to be atrocious) and often get laughed at when I would sit around not knowing what the hell was going on. This was, in a nut shell, my life in August….</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Now we move to September, which was a very busy and somewhat stressful month. I will make this very long and complicated story short: The closest volunteer to me had an incident which involved a site change. Because I have to travel through her site all the time to get to Tamalkout, Peace Corps decided that for safety precautions, I too needed a site change. Three weeks went by and we both moved to another site (still in the Ouarzazate region) called Tidili. I now have 3 AMAZING site mates and after all the confusion and stress, I feel very content with my move. Not only is my new site absolutely gorgeous, there is a lot of work to be done. I do, however, worry because I am in the mountains, which means that winters will be quite harsh. As I am used to my sunny <state w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Arizona</place></state> winters, I am beginning to mentally prepare myself for the large amounts of suffering I will endure come November. Until then, I am enjoying the beautiful weather. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">In addition to my site change, and a rockin’ birthday celebration in Ouarzazate, I went to <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Rabat</place></city> for my first VSN (Volunteer Support Network) committee meeting. <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Rabat</place></city> was fabulous. It was modern, clean, and had all the food a person could ask for. Because I have spent so much time in the rural parts of <country-region w:st="on">Morocco</country-region>, <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Rabat</place></city> made me feel out of place. My mom told me that maybe once a month I should go to <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Rabat</place></city> just so I could have normal interactions with people. After experiencing multiple James Franco and Spike fantasies, I am beginning to think she is right. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">The other day I got together with my site mates (Alex, Alexa, and Angelica) at Alex’s house to discuss potential projects. We then made lunch, discussed our Halloween costumes, and then played darts. This all happened on a Tuesday between 10am until 4pm. When we were walking home we started to laugh, wondering at what other moments in our lives would a day like this make for a productive Tuesday afternoon? Gotta love the life as a Peace Corps Volunteer. No need to worry though, there are many projects to be done in Tidili, so your tax dollars won’t be a complete waste.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Yesterday Alexa and I walked through my village and stopped to sit on a rock next to a creek. An old man walked by and handed us some walnuts. He then took them out of our hands, cracked every single one for us, and left us with a delicious snack. When we were done at least 2 more people handed us walnuts and apples. The day before that we met up with each other in our souq town, and after doing our shopping, we got a beverage and decided to sit down on the side of the road to chat. A man saw us and not only brought us a table and chairs to sit in, he gave us a bowl of walnuts and made us tea. Say what you will about <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">Morocco</country-region></place>, but the hospitality in this country, especially in my site, never ceases to astound me. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">My wonderful, beautiful, and amazing friend Annie, that I taught with in <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Honduras</place></country-region>, is coming to see me tomorrow. It’s been a little over 2 years since I have seen her, so it will be a lovely 10 days. Also, in 2 weeks, my dad is coming for a short visit. Seeing how I haven’t gone longer than 3 months without seeing him, his visit will be quite amazing. Also, I will not be coming home for Christmas. As much as I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to go home, I worry that going back to <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Morocco</place></country-region>, with still a year and a half to go, would be difficult. Instead I will be traveling up to <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">Spain</country-region></place> with some friends. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Hope everybody is doing well back home. When you eat bacon or drink a beer on tap, think of me.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Leigh Anne</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">My new address is:</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">BP9 Inghrom N Oudal 45253</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><place w:st="on"><city w:st="on">Ouarzazate</city>, <country-region w:st="on">Morocco</country-region></place></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div></div>Leigh Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14490275088786448688noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6630803485939632471.post-48157262109620547462011-07-28T02:38:00.000-07:002011-07-28T02:38:56.148-07:00Pre-Ramadan shenanigans<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>First of all I would like to apologize to those I tried to set up multiple skype dates with this past month and was not available. With the time difference, zero internet at site, and the inconsistent internet when I am able to connect, skyping is difficult. Please know that I would never intentionally ignore any of you. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Last week we had PPST (Post pre-service training) up north. It was Quad’s birthday a few weeks ago so a bunch of us went up to <place w:st="on">Fes</place> for a belated celebration. I always felt that transportation in <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Morocco</place></country-region> was awful compared to other places I have been, however, this day verified my opinion regarding the bus system in this country. The plan was to meet Alex on a bus towards Marrakech, then catch the train to <place w:st="on">Fes</place>. This entire trip should take on average 12-14 hours. I left my house at 8am, and finally met up with Alex at around 4. Take note that the trip from my site to his site should only take 2-3 hours. We finally made it to Marrakech (city of <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">American</place></city> goods such as McDonalds, KFC, and Pizza Hut) around 9pm. I know that these restaurants are not usually recognized as delicious cuisine, however, live in <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Morocco</place></country-region> for 5 months and trust me, you will change your mind. We got off the bus and immediately headed to Pizza Hut. Alex and I walked in to the restaurant looking frumpy, sweaty, and wildly unattractive, and were surrounded by modern Moroccans and foreigners. As we ate our delicious stuffed crust pizza (with real pepperoni), we sat and stared at the beautiful people, as if we’ve never seen girls in short skirts and nicely groomed men. The lifestyle in our rural, bled sites is quite different than a big, modern city like Marrakech, so we sat and enjoyed the cheese and attractive people. This is what living in the bled does to a person, scary to think I have 20 more months of this life. We safely made it to <place w:st="on">Fes</place> and 8am the next morning. Total travel time: 24 hours. We ate McDonalds twice while in <place w:st="on">Fes</place> <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></span> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" closure_uid_l033lm="111" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I finally returned to site on Monday and will be here (with the exception of heading to the city for internet and a birthday BBQ for James next weekend) until the end of August. To be honest, it feels good knowing that I can put all of my time and energy in Tamalakoute. My daily schedule consist of waking up, working out, making my coffee, then I start my ‘work.’ Like I have mentioned before, I haven’t, nor will I, start any real projects for a couple months. Part of this is because I need to assess the needs of my community and I want to work on my language (which is still appalling). Therefore, work for me right now is going out on walks, getting invited to tea, and sitting awkwardly with everybody as I try to speak tashleheet. Getting tea invites takes no time, as most people in my village are eager to get to know me. It must seem like a joke to most of you back home knowing that your tax dollars are going to people like me who, at the moment, their job consists of drinking tea with Moroccans. Therefore I am hoping that I can eventually astound all of you when I actually start real projects. Until then, I am a slave to this rigorous and time consuming work schedule. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After talking to other volunteers at PPST, I have realized how lucky I am to be in the Ouarzazate region AND to be in a small village. The people in Ouarzazate are amazing, especially in small villages where everybody knows one another. Tamalakoute is great because I can wear t-shirts, I can paint my nails, and wear my hair down (mostly signs of a prostitute). Also, men greet me and sit with women for meals. There are areas where the women don’t even leave their homes, so living in Tamalakoute is quite the positive experience when it comes to living in a Muslim country.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ramadan starts on Sunday night and I have to admit I am frightened about the whole month of August. I have to leave my site to get food (other than basics like jam and eggs) so I am not sure how to get out of site when people will be fasting. Many volunteers like to fast during Ramadan, however, I have opted to do otherwise. Experiencing Ramadan in a Muslim country is a rare experience, but I have no desire to not drink water in 100 degree weather. Needless to say, August is going to be rough. If anybody has any book recommendations to get me through this, please send me an email or message on facebook. Thanks! </div></div>Leigh Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14490275088786448688noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6630803485939632471.post-90706320993253856342011-07-07T04:33:00.000-07:002011-07-07T04:33:18.264-07:00Brief highlights of June<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">It’s been a while since I’ve written, and much has happened in the month of June, so I will give you a quick overview of what’s been going on. In the beginning of the month, a group of us (a mixture of older volunteers along with us newbie’s in the Ouarzazate province) went on a nomad hike. The purpose of these hikes is to trek and locate groups of nomads and to survey certain health related issues within the families. We then send off the questionnaires to the Ministry of Health with hopes of providing mobiles in the region to give them vaccinations and an opportunity to see a nurse or doctor, since clinics are not easily accessible to nomads. After they answer our questions, we provide them with soap, toothbrushes, toothpaste, shampoo, etc. The newbie’s couldn’t do much because our language is still very limited, so we mainly shadowed the other volunteers. The trek was more strenuous than we predicted, and after the first day we questioned if we were ever going to walk again. We did make the best of our pain, often by busting out in to songs by Lady Gaga and even performed Nsync’s ‘Bye bye bye’ for everybody on top of a mountain. However, most of us were happy we did it, and now have a better understanding of how to do these treks, which is something many of us want to continue to do. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Last week I went to a music festival in the beach town called Essaouria. About 70 volunteers all over <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Morocco</place></country-region> were there and we rented 2 ‘hotels.’ Not only was it great meeting other volunteers, it was amazing getting out of the Ouarzazate province for the first time. Needless to say, it was a much needed good time. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>After arriving in <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Morocco</place></country-region> in June, I have been living out of my suitcase and living with 2 different host families. Living with a host family is although a good experience, is extremely tough. We have no control over what we eat (tagine EVERYDAY), and are always checking in with our families. However, that all changed a couple days ago when I FINALLY reclaimed my independence and moved in to my new house. Although it’s not as posh as other Peace Corps houses, I love my new casa. It has 4 small bedrooms, a living room, a nice kitchen, a bathroom (no shower so bucket baths will be had for the next 2 years), and a roof with a 360 degree view of the mountains. Getting everything I need for my house is a pain, especially since I am so rural and have to haul things from the city to my village every time I want to buy something. This week I have made 3 separate trips to the city and still need many more things to get my house in order. I’m trying to get everything done before Ramadan (beginning August 1<sup>st</sup>), as transportation during that time will be scarce. For my first meal to celebrate my newfound freedom, I cooked up a box of Velveeta shells and cheese, sent to me in an awesome care package from my wonderful parents. It was the best batch of Velveeta I’ve ever eaten in my life. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The other day the transit from my site to the main road arrived and as I opened the door, there was a giant cow sitting there. The driver told me to sit up front and I just closed the door and sat in the front seat. It took me a minute, but I turned around and laughed to myself. I’ve only been here for 3 months and do not find the fact that a large cow sitting in my transit was odd. It made me think of a conversation I was having with fellow PCV’s and how after being here, certain things that we would find unusual is now ordinary. We laugh at how crazy we are all going to be upon completion of our 2 years here. I suggested that the Peace Corps provide us all with intensive therapy once we go home, just so we can get back to ‘normal.’ Everybody agreed….</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>After heading to a friend’s house in the city of <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Ouarzazate</place></city> for a 4<sup>th</sup> of July party (no bacon or hotdogs were eaten<span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">L</span></span> ), my standard group of volunteer friends in my region are working an English immersion camp for the week. A group of about 15 high school students were selected to attend this camp where we will provide them with activities such as theatre class, volleyball classes, leadership exercises, etc. It will be a lot of work (days start at 8:00am until 10:30pm), but so far, I am enjoying working with young Moroccans. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Hope everybody had a wonderful 4<sup>th</sup> of July! </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></div>Leigh Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14490275088786448688noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6630803485939632471.post-27342151030752719192011-06-03T04:09:00.000-07:002012-01-24T14:10:58.932-08:00All I want from America is.....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><div closure_uid_26657h="99"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Note to all: The easiest way to send care packages is through USPS using the flat rate box. However, sending things to Morocco isn’t cheap and if you wish to be so kind and send me things, I would advise some of you to get together and pitch in (hint hint: Wildcat friends and cousins…) Also, the post office here checks packages so don’t send money. If you buy things in boxes (i.e. Mac and cheese) it would save space if if you took these things out of their boxes and put them in ziplock bags. That said, and I will say it again, you don’t have to send me a package, as I would appreciate a post card or letter sending your love. </span></div><div closure_uid_26657h="99"><br />
</div><div closure_uid_26657h="99">*There have been some issues with the post office stealing things out of care packages. If you do send anything, please attach a list (on a post-it or whatever) of everything in the box in case things go missing.</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span closure_uid_dic0q7="104" style="font-size: 11pt;">My wish list: Updated on January 24, 2012</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><div closure_uid_dic0q7="105"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Good hot sauce (like Sriracha)</span></div>Taco Bell sauce packets<br />
Kraft Parmesan cheese (very important to make my mama's Cesar salad)<br />
Buffalo sauce (this would seriously make my day)<br />
Any other kinds of bottled sauces (Ranch, yellow mustard, honey mustard etc.)<br />
Pepperoni (you can get packets of these that don't need to be refrigerated)<br />
<div closure_uid_8nugl4="90">Blocks of Velveeta Cheese</div><div closure_uid_dic0q7="90">Granola Bars and protein bars (lots of these!)</div><div closure_uid_dic0q7="101">Venus Razor blades</div><div closure_uid_dic0q7="101"><div closure_uid_26657h="101">Beef Jerkey</div><div closure_uid_26657h="101">Ban roll on deodorant </div></div>Photos (I love looking at pics of my family and friends)</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Peanut butter </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Almonds </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span closure_uid_dic0q7="102" style="font-size: 11pt;">Kraft Mac and cheese (take the cheese packet out of the box and just send that. I can buy the noodles here)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span closure_uid_dic0q7="103" style="font-size: 11pt;">Garlic powder, taco seasoning, fajita seasoning, enchilada seasoning, etc. (VERY IMPORTANT! A package of just spices would bring a smile to my face)</span><br />
Kernel popcorn seasoning<br />
Cayenne Pepper<br />
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Powdered ranch packets </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Nail polish (bright colors make me happy)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Hair ties</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Nyquil</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><div closure_uid_f4p3ed="92"><span closure_uid_f4p3ed="91" style="font-size: 11pt;">Reeses’s pieces, M&M's, etc.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span closure_uid_f4p3ed="93" style="font-size: 11pt;">Candy (gummies and sour stuff)</span><br />
Starbursts</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Nutter butter cookies </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Powdered Gatorade</span><br />
Crystal Light packets</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Sunscreen for face (Very expensive in Morocco)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Mascara (black)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">BACON BITS!<br />
Boxer shorts</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Arm and hammer baking soda and whitening toothpaste (the best toothpaste ever!)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Construction paper</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Markers</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">COFFEE!!!!!!!!!!!!! (can’t get enough of this!)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">T-shirts</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Dove curl and sculpt moose </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Lotion (big fan of Jergen’s cherry almond scent)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Dried fruit</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">And anything else that you think would bring a smile to my face…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">My address is:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">BP9 Inghrom N Oudal 45253</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><place w:st="on"><city w:st="on"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Ouarzazate</span></city><span style="font-size: 11pt;">, <country-region w:st="on">Morocco</country-region></span></place></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><place w:st="on"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><country-region w:st="on">Love to all,</country-region></span></place></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><place w:st="on"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><country-region w:st="on">Leigh Anne</country-region></span></place></div></div>Leigh Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14490275088786448688noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6630803485939632471.post-38115550359259142142011-05-31T14:18:00.000-07:002011-10-30T15:31:38.102-07:00It's official..I'm a Peace Corps volunteer!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>At last, training is over and I am an official Peace Corps volunteer! We all swore in on May 25 and after a rockin’ night in the city of <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Ouarzazate</place></city>, we all went our separate ways to our final sites. Alex (the other volunteer in my staj in the Ouarzazate province) and I had an appointment with the Ministry of Health to obtain some papers so that we could legally work in <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Morocco</place></country-region>. I spent the night with Alexa (another health volunteer who lives close to me and has been here for a year) on Thursday, and we headed back the next day to the city for our meeting at 10:00. Alex was running late due to transportation issues, and as he was calling me at 11:30 telling me he was finally in the city, we were getting told that we had to come back on Monday. When Alexa asked them why we couldn’t do it then and that Alex was on his way, they answered: Just because. Ahhh such is life in <place w:st="on"><country-region w:st="on">Morocco</country-region></place>. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">On Friday I arrived to my final site, Tamlakout. Apparently, Tamlakout is a big tourist destination due to its incredible hiking opportunities. There are 4 hotels in my site and I am living in one of them. Some of the other volunteers wanted to have me scalped when I told them I had a western toilet and hot showers. However, I do not have a bed, (I know, what’s the point of a hotel if there aren’t any beds?) so it evens out. The first 3-6 months of my service will mainly be me hanging out and integrating with my community. Since there are only 400 people in my village, getting everybody to know who I am won’t be an issue. On my first day I took a walk and it didn’t take me longer than 3 minutes for a large group of women to stop me while they were baking bread and welcome me to their village. EVERYBODY knows my name and tell me that I am welcome to be there. After getting told by 10 women that I should get married, I left, and the next thing I knew I was sitting at somebody’s house and drinking tea. From what I’ve been told, the people in the Ouarzazate region of some of the kindest, so I feel lucky to be here. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Since I am the first volunteer in Tamlakout, I am faced with many challenges. People have no idea what the Peace Corps is and look at me like I’m crazy when I say I will be there for 2 years. While there are volunteers who are replacing each other and are getting projects handed to them, I have to start from scratch. I have no idea what my community needs and with my VERY limited Tashlheet, figuring this out will take me months. While it is daunting having all this free time after 2 months of a rigorous training schedule, I have to admit that I like that my days are all mine. Next week I am going with a large group of volunteers on a backpacking trip in the mountains to talk to nomads about health issues. I’m still not sure of the details of what we are doing, but not only will it be fascinating, it will get me away from my home stay (which will end on July 1<sup>st</sup> when I move in to my house!). Needless to say, it should make an interesting blog post.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">I’ve been getting a lot of requests for my address and things that I need. I forgot my wish list at home (so I’ll post that list on Sunday when I get internet again) and while I feel a tad guilty posting up things I want, I think I’ll get over it once I’m eating a delicious box of Kraft mac and cheese. I know that sending stuff to <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Morocco</place></country-region> is expensive so even if you want to send a card or letter, I would love it. My address is:</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">My address is:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">BP9 Inghrom N Oudal 45253</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><place w:st="on"><city w:st="on"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Ouarzazate</span></city><span style="font-size: 11pt;">, <country-region w:st="on">Morocco</country-region></span></place></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Hope everyone is doing well back home. I love and miss you all. </div></div>Leigh Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14490275088786448688noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6630803485939632471.post-42453438809475361852011-05-20T06:15:00.001-07:002011-05-20T06:15:31.823-07:00Two months in Morocco down, only 24 more to go<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">To be honest with you all, writing in this blog will not be consistent. After being here for 10 weeks I have come to terms with the fact that for the next 2 years internet will be slow and not dependable. That said, I will do my very best to keep you all updated of my whereabouts in <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on"><place u2:st="on"><country-region u2:st="on">Morocco</country-region></place>. </place></country-region></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt -0.25in; mso-outline-level: 4; text-indent: 0.75in;">I finish training and swear in as an official Peace Corps volunteer on May 25. My job title in the Peace Corps is a Community Health Educator in Rural Morocco. I won’t bore you with my training schedule, however I’ll give you a very brief description of what my life has been like since my arrival in March. There are about 58 of us who arrived together and were broken up in to small groups for training. Four others and I (along with our teacher) have been living in a village 20 minutes away from the city of <city u2:st="on"><place u2:st="on"><city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Ouarzazate</place></city></place></city> called Tazentoute. I have been learning the Berber dialect Tashlheet, which in my opinion is the most confusing and frustrating language on earth. (I mean really, what is the point of conjugating adjectives?) However, I was lucky enough to get placed with an amazing host family who has taken me in as their own. They have demonstrated an immense amount of patience and tell me I speak great Tashlheet, even though I know it’s a lie.<span lang="EN" style="color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A month ago our final sites were announced and we were sent to visit our assigned locations for a week. I am going to be living in a very small village (population: 401) an hour and a half away from the city of <city u2:st="on"><place u2:st="on"><city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Ouarzazate</place></city></place></city> called Tamalakort. Tamalakort is nestled at the base of the High Atlas Mountains, and as my new volunteer friend Alexa described, has a lot of character. My second day I decided to go on a walk and as I sat on a mountain and looked around, all I could do was laugh. Here I was, my blonde American self, alone in the middle of <country-region u2:st="on"><place u2:st="on"><country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Morocco</place></country-region></place></country-region>, and all that surrounded me were sheepherders and their sheep. It hit me that this was going to be my life for the next 2 years. In reality, I wanted to cry (and I did this once I got home), however I have accepted that I have many challenges and many more uncomfortable situations in my future, and I need to keep reminding myself that this is what I wanted. After only being in Tamalakort for 5 days, it became clear that the idea of a single 27 year old girl is blasphemy. There were at least eight women in Tamalakort telling me not to worry, they will find me a Moroccan husband. I need to learn how to say “Thanks, but I’ve already been promised to James Franco” in Tashlheet. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>So much has happened since I got here and yet I often don’t have the right words to describe to you all what it’s really been like. Moroccans are probably the most hospitable people on earth. It is difficult to walk through my village without an invitation for tea. I am still trying to conquer the Turkish toilet (for those of you that don’t know what this is, please Google image it immediately) and not a day has passed that I haven’t peed on myself. While rinsing my laundry (Yes I have to hand wash everything) I did loose my underwear to this evil contraption and almost lost a sock as well. I can’t count how many times my family just looks at me and laughs, and I laugh too, still not knowing what the hell is going on. Luckily, I have met some pretty amazing fellow volunteers, and it took many of them no time to comment on my laugh or tell me I walk like a duck. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"> There are a bunch of committees within Peace Corps Morocco such as a Gender committee and an HIV/AIDS committee. I ran for the VSN (Volunteer Support Network) committee and was excited that my fellow volunteers voted for me to be their representative. The VSN committee serves as a strong support network for volunteers during their service. I will be traveling to the capital city of <city u2:st="on"><place u2:st="on"><city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Rabat</place></city></place></city> every 3 months for the meetings with other representatives. I am really looking forward to supporting my new friends these next 2 years, as we all know there are many challenging and frustrating days ahead of us. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The other day my training group had a going away party for our families in Tazentoute. My host brother and his friend (around 9 or 10 years old) were sitting next to us and our cook was serving them food. We asked our cook to stop and made them get up and serve themselves. Although this won’t change their attitude of the role of women in their village, I was overwhelmed with joy as I watched them pour their own drinks without the help of their mothers. While <country-region u2:st="on"><place u2:st="on"><country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Morocco</place></country-region></place></country-region> is a progressive Muslim country, there are still many conservative families, especially in the rural areas. Being the feminist that I am, learning to live in a world where women empowerment isn’t valued will probably be the biggest challenge I will face. These 2 months in <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Morocco</place></country-region> have made it clear to me how lucky I am to be American. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Within the next couple weeks I plan on posting a wish list. I welcome any care packages or even letters from you all. I’ve only been here for two months and I already feel terribly homesick, so even a card from my wonderful friends or family members will be greatly appreciated. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div></div>Leigh Annehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14490275088786448688noreply@blogger.com13