A Long Time Comin'

Since I last wrote an entry my life in Peace Corps has completely changed. Where do I start? I live in a new site, I have new work, I have a new apartment, I am engaged to be married… tackling this task of reporting what has happened seems quite overwhelming. In this case I guess I just have to take it imik simik [little by little].

Ayyur Wissin (February)

February can be described as such:

1. lots of rain
2. a flooded house (complete with ruined books, pictures and clothes)
3. more rain

Ayyur Wiskrad (March)

As the saying goes, March came in like a lion and went out like a lamb. At the beginning of the month I was overwhelmed with all kinds of challenges. I continued to face significant “roadblocks” in the work department, my house was literally falling apart at the seams since the flooding, I continued to be sick, and I was gripped with the growing sensation that my service was all for naught.
During that time I ended up taking two trips to Rabat. During the first visit one of the staff members asked me how work was going and I described to her the situation. She pointed out that I still had 8 months of service left, and perhaps a site change was in order. By the end of the impromptu meeting, I had come to realize that not only was it a good idea, but a site-change was in fact necessary for my own safety and sanity.

Things moved fairly quickly after that. We worked hard to get the necessary paperwork completed, while I worked with my community to help them understand why the change was happening. Meanwhile, amidst all the chaos my cat did me a great favor by biting me, thus requiring me to return to Rabat to receive the rabies prophylaxis… on St. Patrick’s Day. I won’t spell it out, but suffice to say that was the best place for me to be to celebrate my favorite holiday. Tanmirt, Mr. Potato Bed!

In the last few days of March I packed up my dusty, meager belongings and moved to my new site just over the mountains. It was only then it occurred to me that I was starting over completely, and the end of my service was going to be very different than what I had envisioned.

Ayyur Wiskoos (April)

In April I visited the USA for the first time since I left in September 2007. My cousin got married and I was a bridesmaid, so not only was I going for a visit but I took part in a beautiful wedding that was quite the cultural experience. The timing couldn’t have been better, though. Not only was I able to see everyone in my immediate family, but I got to see my youngest brother play one of his last college baseball games, I ran a 5K with my sister, I spent a day with my World Wise Schools students talking about Peace Corps and Morocco, I ate many delicious foods, and I briefly saw a good many of my beloved co-workers and friends from my previous job.

I was overjoyed to see so many people in such a short amount of time, but after being gone so long I became acutely aware of how I had changed and how my country had changed as well. I am so glad I had a chance to visit the States before COS (Close of Service); I think I am better prepared for some of the challenges I will face, especially in terms of reintegration and the economic crisis. But I must confess that by the end of my 2 ½ week stay, I was ready to come home.
When I returned from the States I got to work on setting up my new apartment. I had found a place to live before I left, but getting the utilities turned on was quite the arduous task. In fact, when all was said and done it took over three weeks for my apartment to be ready for move #2. In the mean time, I lived with my friend Brooke and we had a blast. In retrospect, as much as I love having a nice place to myself, I wonder if Peace Corps would have approved us living together for the rest of our service. We made quite the pair! Tanmirt, Brooke!

Ayyur Wissmoos (May)

I’m not entirely sure what happened to May. It started and it ended and I can’t account for what happened in between. As I recall, I spent most of the month moving in and unpacking, and also trying to establish a routine (and relationships) at my new work site.

My work site is about 10 km by road, and 6 km on foot from where I am living. Unfortunately, as amazing as this new site is, it has one thing in common with my previous site: there are no houses available for rent. We’re hoping to rectify that before the next volunteer arrives, but for the time being the solution we found was the only solution. Anyhow, getting to site is quite the adventure. On Tuesdays and Wednesdays I can usually find transportation to and from work because those are souq [market] days. But any other day of the week there are no guarantees. Depending on the time of day, weather, my energy level, and the women’s work schedule I either walk (about 2 hours) back and forth, or bike it (about 1 hour). Getting there is almost all the battle.

The work I am doing is completely different than before. I have been assigned to work with an argan co-operative run by women, most of which are married with children. Their product is lovely, but they currently only sell out of their workspace that is about 10 km from the main tourist center. Because my time with them will be short, I will probably only have time to assess their needs, establish some short-term and long-term goals, and perhaps work on some simple projects such as updating their business card, creating a brochure, and assessing new, local markets. They are a wonderful group of motivated, hardworking women, and I’m sure that the time will pass too quickly with them. In fact, it already is…

Ayyur Wissdis (June)

This is the first month since last fall that I have felt settled. Having some semblance of a routine and a place to call home is crucial in the life of a PCV, especially one nearing the end of service. In this month we became the most senior PCVs in country and it feels like it. The times they are a changin’…

June has already proved to be a good month for me. I was finally diagnosed with a parasite. I’m sure that sounds like a strange thing to celebrate, but I’ve been sick off and on for 11 months and I was really, really tired of it. A diagnosis is good news indeed, and I’m diligently taking all my meds so that I can finish service a happy AND healthy Megan.

Now that I don’t have to worry about having a roof over my head or a mystery illness I can spend the last 160 days focused on the things I’m supposed to as a PCV: work, community integration, and language acquisition. Between those things and planning a wedding, I have little time during the week to simply relax and reflect. But perhaps that’s the best way for a PCV’s service to conclude: we’re always learning, we’re always growing, life is always changing, and we’re just along for the ride.

Peace.

PHOTOS:

St. Patrick's Day in the Rabat (I love cat bites!)




An amazing scene on the train from Rabat to Marrakech



Moving Day: all of my belongings fit in this truck, believe it or not.




Life on the other side of the mountain




View of the valley from afar




Lunch in one of the caves on the beach



A beautiful sunset in Morocco




The bridesmaid in Washington



At Brendan's ballgame with the family




Brendan pitching




Teaching my World Wise Schools students. Thank you again!




Argan tree (indigenous to southern Morocco)



Argan nut before being harvested, dried and processed.

UFOs, And Other Such Nonsense

Last Monday I really thought “This is it; my toes are so frozen I’m going to have to amputate them myself.” I had this thought as I was trapped inside my sleeping bag, under a heavy blanket, clothed in two pairs of long johns (one of fleece), three pairs of socks, a bandana, a wool hat, a scarf, two hooded sweatshirts and three undershirts. The only part of me exposed to the balmy 31 degrees in my bedroom was my left eyeball, and for a moment I wondered if eyes could freeze, too.

Getting out of bed these days takes a herculean effort that goes way beyond what it takes to hang laundry on the line in 130 degree heat. [I will read this in August to remind myself] But on Monday I forced myself into a standing position, literally yelped as I stepped out of my sleeping bag, and sprinted across the courtyard to the safety of my tiny kitchen. Let the winter morning ritual begin! The time was 5:30 am, and there was no indication that the sun intended on making an appearance.

…Light the stove to heat up water for morning ablutions. Heat up yesterday’s coffee and milk, conveniently refrigerated on the counter. Cut up two bananas and cover them with plain yogurt. Stand as near to stove as possible without catching fleece outer layer on fire. Do small dance while waiting, to warm up the body and defrost the brain cells. Peek outside to see if the sun has started rising yet. Shoo away the cat that has stealthily run inside for warmth and is now staring at the wall (a new and bizarre habit of his). Close door and stand near stove again. What a morning!

My Internet day schedule has been completely off ever since Ramadan. There was the GRE, Mid-Service Medicals, a few personal trips, the holidays, my family’s visit and our trip to Spain, and here I am in 2009 trying to finally reestablish some semblance of a routine. So last Monday, as I flew from room to room in the pre-dawn hours trying to prepare for my daytrip it occurred to me that I didn’t really know whether the bus that used to run at 7:30 am still did so. The way buses run around here the 7:30 am bus could come at 6:30 am, at 12:00 pm or not at all. I’ve waited up to 5 hours for a bus to never come, and that’s no exaggeration.

While washing my face with the glorious warm water I reflected on my newfound patience for odd bus schedules, and also a long list of other things such as a marked lack of queues, tools that break after first use (or before use), the way in which my neighbors knock on my windows, leaky roofs, bugs in the flour and rice… I had to interrupt myself and move on to the next task so as not to miss the bus that may not come. [I often have to stop myself from indulging in trains of thought that manifest themselves as lists; when you have a lot of time on your hands it’s alarming how much of it you can devote to one subject if you’re not careful.]

Remembering a month’s worth of laundry I had attempted the day before, I ran outside with a flashlight, naïve visions of it being dry floating about in my head. The line was underwear and socks from one end to the other, and as I got close I had to blink my eyes to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. My underwear was frozen solid to the line. As the winter sun’s rays made a weak attempt to stretch past the buttes to the east and kiss the jagged peaks to the west I found myself laughing aloud in my tiny garden and knocking on my rock-hard undies just like my neighbors at the windows. Quick check of the time: 6:15 am. No time for pictures. “I may have to try that again just for fun” I thought to myself as I ran to my bedroom with my stack of icy unmentionables and deposited them on the plastic lawn chair in the corner. Get dressed. Comb hair. Finish breakfast. Brush teeth. Slippers off. Shoes on. Off you go.

At 6:45 am as the sun was finally making a convincing appearance I locked up the house and set out down the path to wait for the bus. Mr. Potato Bed decided to come along with me, and played his favorite game of Walk Betwixt Her Legs all the way to the road (a game that on more than one occasion has got me thinking that I’m going to be that PCV that gets sent home for medical complications after tripping over a pesky cat). Walking along watching the cat I was only able to glance up once or twice so as not to break my neck. Eyes up. Eyes down. Eyes up. Eyes down. Eyes up… What’s this? For the second time that morning I found myself blinking so as to be sure the vision was clear.

Flying across the pale blue morning sky was… well, an unidentified flying object. As I quickly processed the speed and trajectory of the… well, the UFO, my thought pattern was as such: An airplane. We don’t see many of those. That airplane sure does move fast. That’s not an airplane. Moving entirely too fast to be an airplane. Holy cow! It’s on fire! Is it a rocket? It just split into 3 pieces! It’s on fire! Really on fire! It’s headed for the mountains! No. Wait. Over the mountain. What the heck was that?! Did anyone else see that? Oh my gosh, have I gone crazy?! I wonder what time the bus will come. It never comes on time.

[Note: I did not make this up about the fiery object because I could think of nothing else to write. If I were to make something up it would probably be about how I was walking down the road and I found a beautiful Chipotle burrito, a tray of Arcaro’s white pizza, a hot shower, a copy of today’s New York Times and a working laptop with Internet. That’s how PCVs dream...]

I looked around me. There was another person off in the distance, presumably waiting for the bus as well (but one can never assume). He didn’t seem at all like a person who had just seen a UFO. The cat stared up at me, not at all phased by the fiery object that had just flown across the sky either. Apparently in this here mountain village UFOs are no big deal.

I stood still for a good 2 minutes calculating my next move. Do I get out the camera and hope it happens again? Do I text someone to see if something has happened? But who? And what do I think happened? Did I just see what I think I saw? What did I see? Should I talk to that man? What is the word for UFO in Tashlheit? Oh, the questions were making me quite tired for so early in the day. The cat shook me out of my alien daze by pouncing on an invisible something just to my left; I had better go find a good rock to sit on, think about this some more and wait for the bus.

The rocks were entirely too cold to sit on, so I jumped in place and stared at the sky. My neck cramped and the cold air made my nose ache, but I kept that head tipped back. I didn’t know what I was waiting for, but I sure wasn’t going to miss it. The image of the UFO blazed across my mind as the sun itself finally peaked over the horizon. And then something TRULY unusual happened… the bus came trudging up that hill at 7:30 am sharp. Right on time.

Frostbit toes, frozen underwear, UFOs, the bus keeping a schedule… mmm, and the warmth of the hand warmers I had stuck in my shoes. Now that’s a list! As I nestled into a seat by the window and put on my dilapidated headphones a thought occurred to me; if this morning is any indication of the year to come, 2009 certainly is going to be one for the books

PEACE

Music and Cake

Have my last few entries focused too much on the 16 months that have flown by? Because folks, I remain in complete shock that I am going into my final 11 months in service not to mention the impending landmark of 2009, the year I finally go home. Where has the time gone?

It’s complete cliché, I know, but I really do feel as I’m just getting adjusted to my life here in Morocco. It’s only in the last month that my town appears to “get it” with regards to why I’m here and what I’m supposed to be doing. Only now are shop owners, taxi drivers and school kids treating me as if I’m just another community member and not the fish-in-a-fishbowl I felt that I was all throughout my first 14 months of service. Only now does the routine of market day come naturally. Only now do I feel completely comfortable inviting myself over to people’s houses.

The odd thing is the sudden realization of this new “normal” occurred to me amidst two of the craziest months I’ve had here yet. October and November brought with them two trips to Rabat (GRE & Mid-Service Medicals), Halloween alone with gobs of candy, the election, a first-time visit to my friend Anny’s site, heavy rains and flooding, unseasonably cold weather (snow on the mountains twice, and sleet in my town once), a fantastic visit with our new Country Director, an unforgettable Thanksgiving, uncharacteristically productive meetings at the Nedi, and many successful English classes. No wonder I’m looking forward to the post lEid Kbir winter routine.

So what’s been most notable? What am I itching to share with my dear readers? Actually, the two things that stand out the most during the whirlwind of fall are the following: the acquisition of a guitar and the purchase of an oven. Yes, those two things have improved the quality of my life in ways I didn’t think possible, even more than not having to study for the GRE anymore.

I’ve been meaning to get a guitar since the moment I arrived in country. But as luck would have it as many of you know I inherited a “fixer-upper” of a house and most of my budget has gone towards making my humble abode livable. The second time I was up in Rabat I happened to be in a taxi with a friend when she got a text message asking if she knew anyone that wanted a guitar. A couple that was finishing their service and was in the throes of getting rid of everything was offering it for a more-than-reasonable price. I believe they call that serendipity, right? I jumped at the chance and a handful of hours later I was the proud owner of a Melody guitar, complete with a soft case and three picks. I was on my way straight to the top, as soon as I could learn how to play the thing…

Now the oven is a similar story, in that I have been meaning to get one since I arrived at site. I kept telling myself “as soon as your butane tank runs out and you have to refill you can buy the oven”. I had my eye on the tiniest fire-in-a-box thing you could imagine, but for many moons the whopping $19 US seemed unjustifiable. Nobody NEEDS baked goods, and heaven knows I have no willpower up against sweets. But again I received a little nod from serendipity when simultaneously my butane tank gave out (9 months!) and the temperature dropped from pleasant to freezing in the blink of an eye. The day I broke down and bought the oven I baked the most delicious apple cake that I shared with my neighbors, not to mention I spent a glorious day basking in the warmth of my tiny kitchen. Life is indeed good!

What I haven’t mentioned is that as a result of the flooding (i.e. my house) I was forced to rethink my living space once again. After much deliberation, and days of more hard labor, I changed the tiny storage room into the “salon”, changed the leaky salon into the storage room, hung some holiday decorations and voila!, I suddenly have a cozy space that I enjoy: a first in this house. Now my leisure hours are spent picking away at the guitar, eating baked goods, and wondering why I waited so long to do all these things. Necessity if the mother of all inventions…

So after having found such happiness during the last number of weeks it may be hard to believe that anything could top any of this. I happen to know that without a doubt, though, the grand finale of 2008 is going to be better than all these things combined: my parents and two of my siblings are coming to visit. The day that I see Mom and Dad will mark 474 days since I have seen them. 474. Every day leading up to this visit I wake up reworking what I will feed them, or adding one more thing to my to do list in preparing the house, or think of one more thing I need to procure for the kitchen or the bathroom… the closer I get to the day, the less I am able to believe that it’s actually going to happen. But it will, and it will fly by just as all the rest of my time as a volunteer has.

I don’t like do too much reflection at the end of the year; I suppose I’m usually too consumed with the next year to come. For me half the fun in life is wondering what’s going to happen next. But I can say with certainty that whether you prefer dreaming of the future or reflecting on the past, I truly hope you are all looking forward to such happy reunions. I hope you’re all enjoying good music, good food, warm and dry shelter, and the feeling of being part of some “community”. You don’t have to go halfway around the world to find those things, but I’m glad that I did. Here’s to 2008; it sure has been great.



PHOTOS OF MY TRIP TO RABAT FOR MID-SERVICE MEDICALS

A group of us went to see the ruins in Rabat. Kate and I in front of the mineret




Ruins at the ruins




There was a Gnawan musical group outside of the ruins taking pictures. I had just seen them a few days before on TV!




A protest in Rabat




One of the main drags in Rabat (the road towards the medina)




Staring longingly at the commissary that is off-limits to PCVs




Good times at the American Club




Happy PCVs after delicious toast and the end of Mid-Service Medicals




PHOTOS OF MY VISIT TO ANNY'S SITE

Anny on the way to her weavers association




Anny and the weavers busy at work




Meg and Anny enjoying delicious tea and cookies




Anny in front of her association building




Meg and the beautiful carpet she bought from Anny's artists




Anny and I walking back from her association




Some turkeys that are probably really happy nobody in Morocco celebrates Thanksgiving




A view of Anny's site from the top of the hill




PHOTOS FROM THANKSGIVINGS 1 AND 2

Snow on our mountains on Thanksgiving Day... and that's the second time this fall.




Thanksgiving #1




As you can see I was working really hard to help Anny with her cooking and baking...




Anny and Jessica play take a break from cooking to play a tune or two. It was indeed a holiday filled with great live music...




Amelia and Matthew give Zonga the Thanksgiving turkey a "nip/tuck" job in order to make it fit in the neighbor's oven




Mahri (a.k.a. Decorating Comittee) sets the mood in the garden




Our amazing hostess (and dear friend) Amelia




The beautiful Thanksgiving spread (and that doesn't include the dessert!)




Meg and the beautiful turkey decor




Thanksgiving plate #2.




Happy PCVs after a delicious Thanksgiving meal

It's Been Too Long

One year down and one year to go; I simply can’t believe that’s where I am in my Peace Corps service. Five years ago this adventure was just another item on my “list”, and to be honest with you I never really thought I’d get here. And yet, here I am, leading an everyday life in a tiny town in the Anti Atlas Mountains of Morocco as if this is exactly where I was meant to be. I have settled in and day-to-day life has become effortless.

I told someone recently that I’m a little worried about this new level of comfort; the “abnormal” has now become the mundane. Over the course of my first few months in Morocco I was positively brimming with stories to share and oddities to recount. Even if I wasn’t physically in Maryland, my mind was still working as if I was there, my culture grounded in the United States. Now when I nearly get run over by a pair of amorous stray donkeys or I kill yet another scorpion, when young, hip teenagers blast Celine Dion or I down a glass of fresh buttermilk and ask for more it seems totally normal… nothing to write home about.

This may all seem like fantastic progress. Perhaps you’re thinking “finally she has fully adjusted”. But as much as I’m enjoying that there’s so little left that’s unfamiliar or frightening, I think it’s sad that I’m noticing the “funny” things less and less. After all, those are what shape the stories; the quirks about this experience are what make it an adventure for everyone at home even if the events are a normal part of my life here now.

So as I sat down to write the first blog entry in two months (!) I thought to myself “Nothing has really happened. What can I possibly write about?” But in all honesty, if I look at it from your point of view, that’s simply not true. In fact, in August I attempted to climb the tallest peak in North Africa but got sick at the refuge 11,000 feet up and had to admit defeat (I will go back and climb it, the mountain can’t win!). I also got to explore the beautiful High Atlas for the first time, saw the quaint town of Taroudant for the first time, was nursed back to health by my dear friend Anny, and enjoyed an amazing festival in my town during which I got to meet one of the most famous female Tashlheit singers in Morocco.

In September I experienced my first Ramadan at site (the last one was in Ouarzazate). I fasted for the first week, but due to the persistent and mysterious mountain illness had to stop. Also, fall began and brought with it badly needed cooler weather, I signed up to take the GRE, I finally met my host mother and a great number of other host family members I had never met, incorporated Bingo! into my English lessons with overwhelming success, ate Pizza Hut and McDonalds for the first time in at least a year (pizza was delicious, but I could have done without the latter), got to go to the beach twice, and was able to visit with a number of dear friends. Life is pretty boring here, right?

As I look at what went on in August and September I marvel at the fact that in my mind’s eye those were by far the two quietest months I’ve spent here. You’ll notice that there is very little work other than the English lessons incorporated into that time period: as the summer progressed the girls travelled to see family, and then when Ramadan hit it was simply too warm and too difficult for them to come to the women’s center. Perhaps I felt that so little happened because I no longer had somewhere to be on a daily basis. It was exactly for that reason that most of September was spent praying for October to come quick, and now that it has I feel as if I am on the downward slope of a rollercoaster.

Only two weeks of October have passed and already we have had yet another festival, I winterized my bedroom and finally got to hang up some of my clothes, I had an amazing girls weekend at the beach complete with lots of coffee, conversation, used clothes shopping (I tripled my wardrobe for about $13 US), Indian, Chinese and Mexican food, I’ve begun corresponding with my WWS students in the US (thanks for the letters! I loved them!), am working on some new projects with my tutor, have started drawing again, and hosted some ladies from my cyber town for lunch and tea at my house. No wonder life seems to have dramatically increased in speed; and the next few months leave little time for R&R.

One of my best friends who was a volunteer in Namibia has told me numerous times that the first year you spend wishing you could leave, and the second you spend wishing it wouldn’t end. I am now getting to understand what she meant, even if only two short weeks ago I couldn’t fathom that’s where I would be emotionally now. Folks, this experience is flying by, and I fear that I’ve already lost time to do all that I wanted. And even worse, I fear that the little things will no longer be noticed in the frenzy of the last year and so I will unconsciously allow the beauty of this experience to make less and less of an impression on me. Perhaps my new mantra should be: Let this new level of comfort not mask the beautiful moments to come in the next year.

Below are some photos from the last few months. Enjoy!

Peace,

Megan


PHOTOS:

This was shot on a beach south of Agadir in July. It reminded me a lot of the Outer Banks on a grey day.




When I went to the High Atlas in August the blackberries were just perfect for eating. Perhaps this is when I picked up the mysterious illness? Totally worth it! They were delicious!




Alex and Anny pick blackberries while I wait patiently to enjoy the fruits of their labor (ha ha ha)




We went on a hike the first day we were in the mountains and ended up at the bottom of a beautiful waterfall where we all dipped out feet in. The water was freezing!




No need for a fridge. The mountain water was cold enough for this shop owner to use as a cooler for the drinks he was selling.




In the High Atlas is the mountain Jebel Toubkal, that stands just under 14,000 feet. It is the tallest peak in North Africa and the third tallest peak in Africa. This is a picture taken in the first few hours of our day hike to the refuge. That's me in the pink with the red backpack.




It took us about nine hours to get to the refuge, and while the climb wasn't technically difficult as the day wore on I became really tired. At this point I was still smiling, though!




We stopped for tea and coffee on the way up. It was about a third of the way into the hike and we were ready to sit and take a load off.




About an hour from the refuge we came upon this lovely patch of green, green grass. It was the most green I've seen since coming to this country.




Right when I got back from Toubkal they had a festival in my town. It was a cultural festival with Moroccan goods and music. These are all the decorative items the girls made to sell at the festival, all laid out the day before at the women's center.




This is a picture of the road through my town all dressed up for the festivities.




Here is the girls' tent at the festival. It reminded me a lot of my previous job!




Here I am getting some free henna in a booth three over from ours. It was great fun and the woman couldn't get over that I spoke Tashlheit.



Ah, yes. The women could not resist dressing me up in the traditional clothing and taking pictures. That's me.




One of the concerts was a woman named Raissa Fatima Tabaamrante, who is one of the most famous female Tashlheit singers in Morocco. She came on stage at 2:30 AM, by which time I was falling asleep unfortunately. But I did keep my head up and eyes open long enough to take some pictures.




Traditional tamazigt dancers



Here I am, bright eyed and bushy tailed at 4:15 AM meeting the famous singer. Again, she thought it was hilarious that I was speaking Tashlheit.




So as the cold weather settled in, along with it came the rain. My house seems to have sprung a few leaks, and this is my salon after a particularly ugly downpour. We needed the rain, just not inside my house.




Two of my fellow PCVs and I are working on making an instructional yoga video for volunteers to use at home. Here Amelia and I are prentending to be very engrossed in the filming. We actually took this after we were done...




Here we are, the whole crew. Amelia, Mindy and myself. We had a great time and the weather was perfect. Now if I could just get my computer to work long enough to finish editing it...




Meg enjoying delicious snacks after the shoot.




This is a pencil drawing I did for my parents of a woman wearing the white veil of my town. I've finally started drawing again after almost a 7 year hiatus.




I found this giant toad in my garden. Isn't it fantastic?




I thought you may all be interested to see how I do things like dishes without running water. The perks are that I get to spend most of my time outside, and the sun heats up and dries them after I'm finished cleaning the dishes.




Mr. Potato Bed asleep under his old potato bed




This is Mr. Potato Bed's girlfriend. At first she was very scared of me, but now she comes around begging just as he does. She doesn't have a name yet. Any suggestions?




I love this picture of him!




I usually have quite the black thumb, but here in Morocco I have been successful in growing basil. Now I have more of it than I know what to do! I've been eating a lot of pesto and pasta recently...




Me, Mr. Potato Bed and the basil hangin' out on the front stoop on a particularly lovely evening.




I made this winter hat for my friend Matthew. Here he is modeling it.




In October we had yet another festival, although this one was more like a week long giant market and MANY more people came. This shot was actually taken the morning after it ended.




Here I am dressing for yet another midnight concert. We had a great time and everyone was amazed to see that I wore the traditional dress instead of my Western clothes. We had a great time and I didn't get to sleep until 5 AM!