Keep your eye on the summit.

The last 2 weeks have been a whirlwind of traveling – first to Rome with an old friend, then to Marrakech for Peace Corps In-Service Training, and then into the High Atlas mountains for a hike up 13,000+ feet – all back-to-back, one after the other. It’s been an exciting 2 weeks to say the very least, and I’m happy to say that I’m actually glad to be home (a.k.a. my site – one sure sign of adjusting is calling this place home, right?) after all of the adventuring.

ROME

My extended time traveling started with a short but sweet trip to Rome. I met up with a good friend of mine, Mike, who was going on a longer trip through Italy with a final stop in Rome. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect – the 3 days and 4 nights in Rome were right before our Peace Corps In-Service Training in Marrakech, and my flights went in and out of the Marrakech airport! We stayed at a hostel near the train station, known for its fun atmosphere due to its popular bar on the lower level. 3 days is not a lot of time to see one of the most beautiful cities in the world, but I have to say that we did a pretty darn good job fitting everything in while having a ton of fun along the way.

As far as sightseeing went, it’s like I said – we fit a lot into just 3 days! The first day was the Colosseum, Forum, Pantheon, Trevi Fountain, etc, and we were lucky enough to have a knowledgeable and hilariously flamboyant guide for part of the day. We spent almost the entire second day at the Vatican; everything was beautiful, and the drizzly weather in the morning somehow matched perfectly. On the third day, we visited the Borghese museum and then wandered around the city seeing the various neighborhoods, plazas, and sights that we hadn’t gotten to yet. Words would fail to capture how breathtaking everything was – the history, architecture, and artistry involved in nearly every sight never failed to capture my imagination and inspire an awe that would leave me standing, staring, appreciating.

Colosseum 

The Forum

Inside St. Peter's

View of the river and the Vatican from atop an old castle nearby 

From the courtyard in Vatican City

For all the time we spent running around sightseeing by day, we somehow kept up the energy to check out some of Rome’s awesome nightlife. Our hostel contained a popular bar known for international travelers and cheap drinks, and we checked out some of the plazas that are filled with people at night in an open-air pub atmosphere. We met tons of awesome Italians and other world travelers, had some laughs, and enjoyed Rome at night in all its beauty. And all the while, I couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast with life in Morocco – not only was drinking acceptable in Rome, but it was perfectly fine to be seen walking around town with open drinks, enjoying the sights over a beer or glass of wine. It was wonderful to have that kind of freedom again – to go out with friends, have some drinks, and not have to hide it or feel guilty or culturally insensitive. Don’t get me wrong – it doesn’t bother me to go without drinking in Morocco; but still, it was a nice little getaway.

And of course, any reflection on my trip to Rome would be incomplete without mention of all the delightful food and drink we enjoyed every single chance we got. Pastas, pizzas, risottos, breads, gelato, beer, wine, more gelato…the list goes on and on. Of all the places we ate, I have to say that my favorite was this tiny restaurant we found, tucked away in a bend in a narrow, winding road just off of the main streets. We sat outside under a canopy of vines, talked to people sitting near us, and enjoyed the best mushroom risotto and vegetable pasta I think we’d ever had. Coming in at a close second was a pizza restaurant in the old Jewish neighborhood, recommended by a PCV friend of mine who’s been to Rome a few times. On our last night there, we sat at that pizza restaurant for over 4 hours, sipping wine and ordering all sorts of various plates of food as a last hurrah of Italian food indulgence. So much deliciousness!

  

Looking back on it, the trip to Rome was one of the best short trips I’ve been on in a long time. Rome has made my list of top favorite places I’ve ever been, and I definitely want to return someday. And spending time with someone I know so well from back in America was a great experience, and I think helped with reminding me, through all of the confusion that life in Morocco can bring, of who I am, of why I came to Morocco in the first place, and of all the people who support me back home.

IN-SERVICE TRAINING

I was nervous about coming back to Morocco and experiencing culture shock all over again, even though I was in Europe for such a short time. Luckily, after landing in the Marrakech airport, I hopped in a taxi and headed straight to our week-long Peace Corps In-Service Training (IST), located at a beautiful hotel complex on the outskirts of Marrakech. IST is a training strategically timed for about 3 months or so after being in site, in order to assess how community integration has been going, discuss challenges and future goals, and plan steps for moving forward into the bulk of our service.

First and foremost, IST was exciting and memorable because of the rare opportunity to spend time with other PCVs – in fact, it was the last time our entire group of 100+ will be together until close-of-service conference, sometime in early 2014. In Peace Corps, seeing other Americans is rare enough that its always something of a magical time, and a week surrounded by your friends is like a slice of heaven. We took advantage of the opportunity as much as possible, and the atmosphere was honestly more akin to that of a vacation or reunion party than that of a business conference. We ate together, swam in the pool every chance we got, and hung out in big groups in each-others bungalows (yes, the complex had cute little bungalows, rather than rooms.), until late hours of the night, nearly every night. I spent quality time with the people I care most about, and made new friendships with PCVs I hadn’t really gotten to know before that point. It was almost like a dream, hanging out with over 100 other Americans in such a beautiful location, and more than once I almost forgot where we were!

In addition to all of this, many of the training sessions themselves were incredibly useful and inspiring. There were presentations by PCVs farther along in their service, many of them getting ready to leave after a successful 2 years. These PCVs shared their wonderful projects with us – classes, clubs, conferences, manuals, organizations – and gave us the honest, nitty-gritty details of their victories and challenges along the way to their projects’ completion. It was at once a breath of fresh air (finally, some concrete, real-life advice and training on how to navigate the abyss of our future work) and a shock into reality (oh crap, I’m 6 months into service, and if I want to do something like this, there really isn’t a lot of time to waste). I think its safe to say that the presentations inspired all of us in one way or another, and served to light a fire under a lot of our butts to get working as soon as we got back to site.

JBEL TOUBKAL

In the days following IST, I went with a group of my closest friends to climb Jbel Toubkal – the highest peak in North Africa at more than 13,600 feet. We started our journey by staying a night in the picturesque town of Imlil, the mountain village where the road ends and going further is only possible by foot or donkey.

The next morning, we set out on the first leg of our hike, but down by one – Ted was sick with an all-too-common-for-a-PCV stomach virus and wasn’t able to join us any further. The first day was about a 5 hour hike, all uphill at a moderate angle, to the refuge at the base of the mountain. We set out late because of worries caused by a harsh morning rain, but the weather cleared up for most of the hike. The scenery of the High Atlas mountains, shrouded at their peaks with wispy clouds and cool mist, was absolutely stunning. At the end of our journey, about an hour from the refuge, the rain really picked up; the trail began to resemble a river, the fog obscured much of the route ahead, and we became colder and wetter every minute. The sight of the refuge through the mist after cresting the last hill was an enormous relief – the small, squat stone buildings were the picture of paradise and warmth, as far as we were concerned. Once inside, we discovered that ALL of the things in our bags were wet – most importantly, our clothes for the next day. Still, the inside of the refuge was a great comfort. It had the appearance and feel of a ski lodge, and I was filled with a warm nostalgia for Michigan winters and family ski trips. After a much-welcomed hot meal, we sat by the fire with our wet garments, slowly drying them by the heat of the flames and talking with fellow trekkers about the ascent to come.

The second day was the ascent to the summit – 5 hours, straight up. I don’t know how to describe the challenge of that climb, other than to say it was the hardest physical thing I’ve ever done in my life. We were incredibly lucky to have beautiful weather that day, with sunny skies and no rain whatsoever. There weren’t really any easy portions of the hike, but the first half of the journey felt manageable; it was still warm, the sun shone from over the eastern side of the mountains, and we had a lot of energy left to use. About halfway up the mountain, though, a few of us, myself included, began to really feel the effects of the altitude change. I was nauseous and slightly dizzy, and started taking lots of short breaks in order to let my body acclimate to the changes in oxygen levels. It had also grown bitterly cold as we climbed, and I found myself wishing for a winter hat and gloves as we trudged through snow-covered rocks. At that point, the ascent to the peak itself was mostly visible, and I kept looking upward to the hikers ahead of us, appearing as tiny dots on the towering slope up above. That final portion of the hike was as much a psychological exercise for me as a physical one: the strength to keep going, the ability to persevere even when the going literally felt impossible, and keeping my mind focused on the end goal – they all came from somewhere deep within me that day, and I truly believe that in those moments, moving slowly up the mountainside, I found an inner strength I didn’t know I had.

First step in the hike up to the summit: crossing this

View of the refuge from the path up to the summit

Almost there...

The view, even before reaching the peak, far exceeded my high expectations. At the summit, the entire world seemed to stretch out before us. We stood, awestruck, higher than everything around us: the clouds, the mountain range, and the vast expanse of desert that lay miles beyond, where the horizon curved at what looked like the edge of the Earth. A thin blanket of white fluffy clouds danced around the mountain peaks below, and I watched as one at eye-level came towards us slowly, tumbling and changing shape with a life all its own.

Heading down

We stayed at the summit as long as possible, though the cold, whipping winds drove us back down the path after a short time. The hike back down was infinitely easier than the ascent had been, and the altitude sickness evaporated quickly as we made our way back down. Though we had planned to hike all the way back to Imlil that night, we had gotten a bit of a late start and opted to stay another night at the refuge in order to not be rushed making it back by nightfall. We all went to bed almost immediately after dinner, exhausted and happy after the day’s accomplishments.

The next day, we took our time hiking the rest of the way down through the mountains back to Imlil. I had hung back from the group a bit, and after getting a bit mixed up by the paths, found myself walking through a breathtaking mountain village surrounded by apple orchards and walnut trees. I was within sight of Imlil, so I wasn’t worried. I spent nearly an hour wandering through the village, asking for directions here and there, and finally walking through a huge forest of walnut trees, where men and women were knocking branches down in what appeared to be a huge nut harvest. I eventually made it back to Imlil, stayed the night with a fellow PCV near Marrakech, and headed home the next day, filled with reflections and beautiful memories.

Though I may be down the mountain and safely back on flat land, I still feel the lessons learned on the climb close to me. It’s as though if I close my eyes, I could still be up over 13,000 feet, trudging along through all of the challenges, urging myself to continue to the top. Even in the few days since our journey, when things have gotten tough for whatever reason, I’ve found myself thinking about the climb, telling myself, “I thought I couldn’t make it then, but I did – and if I can make it up that mountain, I can make it through this, too. Just keep your eye on the summit.”

Returning to site was simultaneously relieving and a terrifying: relieving, because after more than 2 weeks of traveling, there’s nothing like a hot cup of tea, clean PJs, and cozy bed all your own; and terrifying, because of the realization that this is it, the real start of service in site. No more Ramadan, no more summer camps in other towns, no more closed Dar Chebab. Time to hit the ground running, nose to the grindstone, and all of that. And for all of the countless moments that I waited for this moment, for how much I couldn’t wait to finally get down to business, I found myself nearly panicky with anxiety when I arrived in site. A year and a half of waiting in the U.S., 2 months of training, and 4 months of waiting through a mostly stagnant summer – all of that time, all of the anticipation, and all of my expectations of myself seemed to weigh down on me, and I found myself thinking, “Where the hell do I even start? What am I supposed to be doing, really? What is the best course of action?” And the answer, I’ve found is this: There is no concrete starting point. There is no right path. On the way up to the Toubkal refuge, when the river drowned the path and the fog obscured the route ahead, the only thing to do was to keep hiking forward – up the next set of boulders, over the next river crossing. Beyond that, nothing was certain; not the curves in the path, nor the hills to be crested, nor the sights to behold. Through the rain and the mist, only our faith remained; faith in the refuge that lay up ahead, faith in the attainability of our goal, and faith in the beauty to be witnessed at the summit. And that, more than anything, describes what’s necessary for my journey ahead.

Azilal in the Atlas

Welcome to yet another post about a Moroccan summer camp! I have to admit, leading summer camps wasn’t exactly what I expected to be doing when I departed for my Peace Corps service – nor is it something I plan to do for the majority of my service. But, during the long months of summer, when nearly everything is shut down due to Ramadan and the heat, and all work comes to a near standstill in site, summer camps represent a much-needed break from solitude and idle time. Thus, when I found out that there was an opportunity to work a post-Ramadan camp with two of my closest friends in country – and in a beautiful mountain city famous for its nearby waterfalls to boot – there was no way I could refuse!

Azilal is a gorgeous town nestled in the mountains, right at the point where the Middle Atlas transitions into the High Atlas. From nearly any point in town, one can look out over the rolling hills and mountain peaks that surround it on all sides. The town has a more modern, almost European feel to it (without being European to the point of creepy, liker Ifrane), while still keeping its Moroccan charm. There are cafes, restaurants, and patisseries all over town, and the three of us – Charlotte, Eugene, and I – frequented them as often as possible. There are no restaurants or patisseries in my town, and though there are many cafes, it would be a scandal for me to go to one, being a woman in a very conservative town. The chance to go to one, have a coffee or avocado juice, and sit and talk with friends was glorious – especially with the breathtaking views at the horizon.

Upon arriving to Azilal, we found out that the camp would be geared more toward older youth – roughly 15-20 years old. As none of the three of us are particularly excited about singing songs and playing camp games with kids, we were really happy about the opportunity to work with older youth and do more meaningful activities with them. We decided to plan each day’s camp activities around a particular issue or theme: news/bias, environment, sportsmanship, international, gender and development (GAD), and volunteerism. The English lessons, games, discussions, and activities for each day were based around that day’s theme, giving some coherence to the schedule and allowing the campers to explore each issue in more depth than if we had just done a few isolated issue-based activities. I won’t go into a complete account of all of our activities, but I will share the general idea and main activities we did for each day.

- News / Bias: We really wanted to get the campers thinking about journalism on a theoretical level, with an emphasis on bias and critical thinking. We broke them into small groups and facilitated discussions (all in Arabic) about news in general and about newspaper articles from a recent paper. We also did some activities and games that revolved around critical thinking and spotting bias.

- Sportsmanship: Following English lessons dedicated to the subject of sportsmanship, we taught the campers Ultimate Frisbee, and explained its famous emphasis on fairness and sportsmanship during the game.

- Environment: A local Moroccan who works with an environmental association led us on a nature walk through one of the protected forest areas owned by the Water and Forestry sector of the government. We talked about the environmental history of Azilal and the natural resources found there, and the campers had a good time exploring the forest, collecting pinecones, and the like. Later, we taught various environment based-words in English, and did some activities to reinforce the concepts of conservation and the food chain. We finished the day with a fun activity where a camper was blindfolded, led to a tree, and asked to "get to know their tree" without sight. Afterwards, the blindfold was removed and they had to find that tree again.

- International: We wanted to focus our international day primarily on human rights and conflict resolution. We had he campers read the United Nations Declaration of Human Rights, projected on a huge screen in Arabic. Afterwards, a camper led the group in a discussion of the declaration, including things that might be missing or that they might disagree with. Afterwards, we went to the mural of the world map on the wall, and talked about areas in the world where there are currently conflict situations. Later, we taught the campers an American line dance – the Virginia Reel – and discussed what was going on historically and culturally at the time of the dance’s popularity (the Civil War, immigration, etc.).

- Gender: We spent the bulk of this day doing activities that encouraged the campers to think about gender issues and discuss their opinions with one another. First, we did an activity where various statements about gender and family dynamics were read aloud, and campers had to place themselves in the room on a continuum according to their opinions: one side represented strongly agree, and the other represented strongly disagree. Next, the campers were given cards with various attributes and skills on them (e.g. strong, weak, cooking, working), and asked to place them on a wall, where there were placards hanging entitled “men” and “women.” Afterwards, a camper led the group in a discussion about the cards’ placement and how gender roles function (they came to the conclusion that almost everything could be moved to the middle; that is, that everything is determined by a mix of factors, including society and religion). Later, we had each camper draw a picture of a woman who inspires them, and share who they drew and why.

Intense discussion about gender roles

Before the discussion

After the discussion

- Volunteerism: We had intended for this day to include some sort of volunteerism or service-learning project with a local association, but our search for opportunities of that sort was fruitless; volunteerism is much less common in Morocco, and most associations were still not yet open after the Ramadan holiday. Instead, we led the campers on a short trash pick-up of the forest we had visited on Environment Day, and had them do an egg-drop competition using only things they had found in the forest. There were 4 groups, and each group had a limited amount of time to create a contraption which would protect their egg from breaking when dropped from the 2^nd story.

Each group with their egg drop creations:

Overall, the campers were very enthusiastic and engaged with the theme activities, including the more serious, discussion-based ones. There were some who showed a clear interest in one issue or another, and it was awesome to see them have a chance to express themselves and have their voices heard. We made the campers journals for the week, and gave them time to write down new vocabulary and reflect on the things they had learned. The journals weren’t written in as much as we’d hoped, but it was clear in the participation levels and types of discussions that ensued that the campers were interested in the topics all the same. There were also two journalism projects going on throughout the camp: a video and a blog. Neither one came to completion by the end of camp (due to some disorganization and frankly a shortage of time), but the campers seemed to really enjoy the opportunity to play the roles of journalists. The video project made the most progress, and even conducted interviews in a formal style. 

On one of the afternoons, the camp welcomed a panel of four professors / social workers from the court, to talk about the issue of violence against women and children. We were looking forward to the panel, especially because discussions of women’s issues aren’t exactly what I’d call mainstream in most of Morocco. After a long 3 hours, however, we left disappointed. What we thought would be a panel discussion was really a series of games and activities, only half of which somewhat pertained to the issue at hand. The games and activities seemed to me like something you would use during the first session of a college course on human rights, in order to get everyone comfortable with each other and with human rights on a basic, conceptual level. The problem was that the presentation never moved from basic games and worksheets into a real, substantive discussion. What made matters worse was the glaring hypocrisy in the presentation itself: the panel was made up of two men and two women, yet only the men spoke. One man led the bulk of the activities and games, the other talked for some time at the conclusion of the presentation, and the two women merely sat at the grand table, keeping up a façade of egalitarianism that was far from reality. In short, it was a presentation about violence against women and children, during which the actual rights of women and children were hardly mentioned, and the two women present didn’t participate. We were very disappointed, to say the least.

In addition to all of the themed days, one of the days in the middle of the week was dedicated to “relaxation,” and we spent the day going to a real live POOL, followed by watching Wall-E. The three of us swam with the campers – Charlotte and I in long shorts and t-shirts – and had a blast having some real summertime fun. Up until that point, my relationship with the Moroccan summer had been a less-than-positive one: avoiding the oppressive heat, cursing the fact that I have to wear pants and long sleeves in 100+ degree weather, etc. But on this day, at least, we got to do something iconic of the childhood summers that we miss so much: swim in a pool, and actually enjoy the summer sun.

The last day of camp was dedicated to the talent show – and the campers put on some awesome acts! There were rappers, dancers, singers, and more – and Charlotte, Eugene, and I put on a performance of Bohemian Rhapsody that I think it’s safe to say will never be forgotten by anybody present. Eugene wore Charlotte’s shirt, we sang and screeched along to all of the ridiculous (best) parts of the song, danced and bounced dramatically around the stage, and even ended up crawling on the ground at the end. Ted even made a surprise appearance (having come to Azilal to visit and see the waterfalls with us), popping in and out of the stage as the random guitar soloist that nobody had seen before. Yep. It was fantastically obnoxious, ridiculous, and altogether epic – even if the Moroccan kids had no idea what was going on or how to react.

The campers with their certificates on the final day of camp

Of course, a post about my week and a half in Azilal would be incomplete without mention of the earth-shatteringly awesome meals that Charlotte, Eugene, and I made during our time there. We didn’t actually have a lot of free time and so ended up eating a lot of these meals at 1am after hours of cooking, but it was totally worth it. Mexican night, with tortilla chips and salsa made from scratch, Italian night with homemade garlic bread and a cream sauce from scratch, homemade tomato soup and grilled cheese, kung pow chicken and rice…I could go on and on about how well we did for ourselves those nights. Cooking is so much better in the company of friends, and good food is so much more delicious when shared with people close to you.

The day after camp was over, the four of us took a trip out to see the famous Cascades d’Ouzoud, accompanied by Charlotte and Eugene’s awesome LCF from training, who lives in Azilal! The waterfalls were absolutely breathtaking, and we even took a hike down the side of the cliff near the waterfalls, rather than taking the stairs to the other side. I needn’t say more – the pictures speak for themselves.

Since returning from the camp, I’ve been surprised to find that the Dar Chebab and Nedi Neswi are still closed for the summer holiday. I was under the impression that September might bring open doors and some work to be done; unfortunately, that just hasn’t been so. School doesn’t officially start until next week, and the Dar Chebab and Nedi Neswi won’t start fully operating until sometime at the end of September or early October. Thus, I’ve spent the last week or so reading, embarking on cooking adventures, and finishing a craft project. I’ve read 3 books, made chic pea burgers, hummus, homemade pasta sauce, soup, and pancakes, and completed an art project for my wall that I think turned out rather nicely. It’s a line that I try to live by, and will serve as a reminder to keep striving to make each day count throughout my service. I plan to fill the wall surrounding it with pictures of friends, projects, and adventures through Morocco over the course of the next year and a half (because, did I mention, I’m already more than 5 months in – wow, how did that happen?!)

The next few weeks are sure to be jam-packed, full of traveling, and altogether awesome. I leave Wednesday for a short 4-day trip to ROME (!!!), and return to Morocco the night before our IST (In-Service Training) begins on the 17^th! What?! More to come on those adventures and more; and until next time,

Hold on to your hats!