The Good Things about Life

I promise that there are good things that happen here. I most certainly do not wish my blog to be a receptacle of sad and frustrating stories. So I am going to tell you now about a good day, a series of events that make me happy that I am here in Morocco, and talk about the good side of the people that I live near. This story is from a week ago, and I will try to recall the events with the same reflective nature that I initially felt.

I woke up feeling happy and refreshed. I was somewhat sad to be leaving my fellow friends. I had just spent a weekend visiting some other PCVs on the other side of the park that I live near. We had been celebrating a number of things. First, there were the birthdays, one actual birthday, and a half-birthday. I mean, Yes, it needed to be celebrated. Also we were celebrating the birthday of our country, and celebrating the Fourth of July. I firmly believe that holidays are best celebrated outside of the country for which they are held. You have a firm belief in them, and you certainly cherish the celebration and the comradery. I mean, we technically are all employed by the government, so this is a reason we are able to come here.

The celebration consisted of making pizza, and garlic sticks. I was pleased that my year of employment at Papa Johns gave me incredible pizza making skills. After we ate lemon bars, apple pie, and carrot cake to top it all off. There were about 11 of us there, and we just hung out and chatted. But I am digressing from the day I wish to discuss.

SO, as I said, I woke up happy, but wishing that I could stay in my bed. But I had a long trip ahead of me, and I needed to go out to the road early in order to take transit that could leave at anytime. I headed out, and went to the road to wait. I sat there for a while, and some other folks were waiting there for the transit as well.

Two hours pass, and about this time, it is beginning to get hot, and I am trying to stay in the shade. I start talking to a guy, and we go through the typical conversation, where are you from, what do you do here, where do you live, where are you going, and the always present question… are you married??? It was a good conversation, and as I said, very typical. It was nice to chat with someone, but at this point I have to use the bathroom (I think I have a parasite by the way), so I do that business. I come back out to the road and the man is gone, and there are more people waiting for the same transit that I am.

Two more hours pass, and it is noon (you probably are wondering why this is a happy story). I am getting impatient, and my decision on route of getting home is being questioned over and over in my mind. But it was too late, I had committed, so I was in it for better or worse. I then talk to the same guy again, and he tells me to come and have some tea with him and another man. He introduces me to the man, who is waiting as well for this transit.

During this time, a car (looks like a taxi) pulls up, and people ask the guy where he is going, and he says no where (I think… maybe he said, not for a while). But as I sitting there having tea, the car owner gets red paint, and paints a taxi ID on the back of his car (all taxis have to have them or they are illegal). But I found this humorous, but knew this guy was going somewhere soon. The guy I am sitting with calls the driver over, and basically reserves me and the other guy at our table a place in the taxi. This is a good thing, as about this time there were 15 people trying to get 6 spots. So I lucked out, probably because I was a foreigner, and spoke the language (it happens sometimes here, it is what we refer to as “rock star status”).

So luckily (or not) I get a spot in the taxi. The trip is a few hours, and I now know I can make it back to my site and my own home. I originally wanted to be back by noon, in order to make it to my weekly souq and buy the vegetables and fruits that I would need.

I enjoy the ride in the taxi immensely. I am driving through incredible mountain scenery. I know a fair bit about geology and forms, and the mountains have all sorts of textbook examples of thrust faults, layers, and folding. It is barren, so it just sticks out everywhere. Very few trees exist (maybe 1-2 per square mile IF that), so I am able to just take in the curvy rugged mountains, and really appreciate the geology that they contain.

In addition to the pretty sites, we drive through flocks of sheep and shepherds just lying on the ground napping. Sheep take care of themselves here, and the shepherds have to watch their flocks, but not so closely. There are not any big predators (they were all killed off over the past 100 years… think cats and lions and jackals and hyenas) so the sheep just graze. The shepherd gets them in at the end of the day. There are flocks of sheep in the road, and we have to stop for a minute because the sheep are refusing to move.

We go through several mountain villages, and people outside working their fields look up to see if they know who is in the taxi. I can only imagine how isolated yet amazing living in a place like this would be. We finally get to our destination, and rather than just go on my own, the friend I made before the taxi ride wants to have a drink (coffee/coke). I am kind of in a hurry, so he shows me/helps me to see if there are any taxis, and there are not. I have to go from this town to the main road and catch a bus. I have no idea how far the main road is (remember this!!) and he suggests that I take a transit to the main road. However, I do not wish to wait the one hour for this transit. So I start off on my own.

I walk up the hill, and in the distance there is thunder and rain. I hope that this rain is not intended for me. I run into a few people, and talk to them, and they ask where I am going. I tell them I am going to the main road to catch a bus. They say to me “It is far!! to the road.” I ask how far, and the man says 5-6km. I think to myself that this is not too far, and so I will walk it. So I begin on my way. As I go, a car passes, and half-heartedly I wave it down, so I could ask the guy a question. We talk for a minute, he seems like a good guy, and tells me he will take me. So I get in, and we are off.

We have a great conversation, and my new friend speaks English as well as Spanish. He actually mistakes me for being Spanish (I get this often, almost daily, probably because of my hair). He tells me he has lived in Spain working, and due to the economic situation, he is unemployed. Like a said, great guy, nice, and we have a great conversation. We talk about family, what I am doing here, and what he does in Spain and back here. He is around my age, a few years older actually, so we relate pretty well (except I am not married with a child!)

As I get into the car first, I take note of the odometer to see how many kilometers it is to the main road. In fact, it is not 5-6km, it is 25km. I would have walked all day and not made it, and I met a really nice guy. He tells me he will drop me off at the main road, he has to take care of some business in Khenifra, the big city nearby. We get to the main road, and the guy wants to have tea, which I definitely say yes to. He apologizes to me for not being able to take me further, and if he did not have business, he would take me. He promises to call me to make sure I have made it home okay. He goes on his way. I am certainly grateful for this man.

One of the conversations we have is about the friendly, open, welcoming nature of Moroccans. Having lived in Spain, this guy knows that people are cold to strangers, and will not be willing to help out. He says that I am welcome and he should give me a lift. He also invites me to tell him if I am around his area, and he will have me for dinner and to meet his family. This is Moroccan hospitality right here, and it is one of the things I hope to bring back with me. I have grown to dislike “business first” mentality, and it actually turns me off. I want to know about people first, about their family, about their interesting lives, before I get down to business. I reciprocate this man’s offer by telling him he is more than welcome to come and visit, and hang out. I do not do it just to be nice, I truly mean it, and actually hope he comes and visits. I can only hope to give him the same welcome and hospitality as he has given me.

So now I wait for a bus to come. I spill my water on me, and chuckle about it. I am sitting at a basic bus/thru stop, with a few cafes and a few stores. A bus finally comes, and the man who gets out asks me where I am going. I tell him, and he tells me there are no seats. I get worried for a minute, as some busses will not let you stand. I tell the guy I do not care, I just need to go. He is happy, and very friendly. My good string of luck continues, and I stand on the bus for a while until the next stop, and then grab a newly opened seat. I complete my journey by catching my final taxi back to my site. I am happy to be home, but extremely happy with the events of the day.

In every place there are good people, and in every place there are a few bad ones. But days like this where I feel welcome as a visitor, and people try to help me and talk to me just make me happy. I am sure part of it has to do with the fact I feel totally accustomed to living here, getting around, and talking to complete strangers. To be honest, there are people of high importance (sheiks, moqqadems, council people) that I see daily, that would easily pass for homeless and poor in the states. If appearance is everything so often in the states, this is almost the exact opposite. I am not saying that it is okay to have poor hygiene, but being here gives one a new perspective on the way people “appear” to be like.

Current Book - "The Red Pony" John Steinbeck
Current Album - Elvis Costello - "10 years" (kind of like greatest hits)

Much Love,
Me!