A Humdinger of a Weekend

It probably wasn't really a "humdinger," but gosh it feels like one when you're somewhat stranded in a foreign culture and all you can say is "hello" and "thank you" and that just doesn't get you very far. Ironically, we talked about culture shock this morning at New Teacher Orientation (Yes. That in itself is SHOCKING, since I've only been going to school for, oh, my whole life! Can't believe that I actually start teaching in a week . . . but that's a whole post in itself. . .). It's one thing to say "these are the reasons for culture shock, and these are the symptoms, and these are the remedies," but it's an entirely different thing to be present and waking and living and sleeping in culture shock. So because I'm having a rough, culture shock-y day, I'm going to vent about the things that I'm finding very disagreeable at the moment:

Friday: I tried to get cash out of the ATM. Both times that I inserted my card, the machine told me, quite politely I might add, that it could not complete the requested transaction at the moment. No problem. I'm learning (or think I'm learning) to deal with NOTHING working like I think it will or should.  I'll just get money later, right? Except that it charged my card BOTH times.  Okay. No problem. I'll call the bank and tell them there's been a mistake and everything will be fine. Except it's not, because I've now discovered I have no idea how to use the phone to place calls that aren't already programmed into my cell phone. I have a number the length of a football field with a bunch of 0s and 1s and 2s and every other number under the sun, and I can't dial out. And when I do try, I get a message in French (a language I also can only say "hello" and "thank you" in), so it's uterly futile to try to get ahold of anyone. I try deleting numbers, still get the same message, and hang up disusted with my current situation. *Update: I did eventually get ahold of someone who told me how to call, and I was informed the money would return to my account at the end of 30 days. Great.

Sunday: Being sick in another culture is AWFUL! Not only do I have no idea where to buy drugs (I haven't had to buy them when I'm healthy at the grocery store. . .), I don't have mom or a dear friend to run out for me and buy me a giant box of tissues or chicken noodle soup or whatever else I may want. And of course the heat REALLY is so very comfortable and conducive to sleeping when you already have a giant headache and are sweating profusely. That's right gentlemen, girls sweat!

Monday: This is actually a couple-day frustration, but it culminated today. I bought fabric this weekend, beautiful, beautiful fabric, and was uber excited about it. Of course, when the shopkeeper showed me the price, I had a mild heart attack, but my math skills weren't sharp that day, and he used a calculator, so of course he had to be right, right?! I didn't question it; I just gave him the money. Word to the wise: ALWAYS question. He did give me back a few Durhams (the currency here), and I was totally confused, but figured he was being nice and giving me a tiny price cut because it was so expensive. Come to find out 24 hours later, the price was in Ryals, which I don't completely understand, but apparently they're like half of a Durham. Which means I paid almost double the price he had originally quoted us! ANGER! Well, I went back to try to get my money, but of course it was my word against his, and he swore he wouldn't have charged me double and I swore I knew exactly how much I had given him. I got some back, but the point is: This wouldn't have happend in the U.S.! Why? Because they have things like receipts, and cash registers that count the money and record how much should be in the system at the end of the day, and they also have U.S. dollars that I totally understand.

So, sure when I write about it the stories don't seem so bad, but when you're stressed about figuring lesson plans out for the next week (did I just say next week???!!!), and trying to figure out how to walk to place X without getting lost, and what you'll say if you do get lost since you can't ask for directions, and whether you reallly need to go to the store or you can get buy with the fruit you have in the fridge because you don't really want to walk to the store alone, and you don't want to have to meet anyone because you can't have a decent conversation, and it's hot out so you don't want to have to be modestly dressed so it's easier to stay inside. . . . then the stories seem like the most horrible things in the world. Our HR person says "get over it" when deal with culture shock, but I don't want to get over it. I want to fight and kick and scream, and so that's why I'm telling you about it--because I'm a whiney American baby who will get over it eventually, but doesn't want to just yet.

Oh, how I wish I could snuggle up with Mary, or Beka, or Kathryn, or Jacque and watch one of a thousand movies avaible on the elusive-to-Morocco Netflix, and hear them whisper that everything's okay. But I can't, so instead I want to buy a plane ticket to. . . Antarctica???. . . because I'm sure I wouldn't have ANY culture shock there. . .

Chefchaouen

I was able to travel to the Northern part of Morocco this week with a few other teachers/administration as a getaway before school starts.  We drove Wednesday morning, spent the night, and drove back Thursday afternoon. It was a relaxing time in a wonderful city, and it was such a blessing to be able to get to know the other teachers so much more and in such a great way! The 24 hour period was filled with much walking, serenading the group with musical tunes during lunch, learning useful and non-useful Arabic phrases and when to use them, lack of sleep due to staying up late listening to a trumpet player at. . . 3 in the morning???!!!!, hiking up a giant hill or small mountain (being from the flat lands, it's difficult to tell isn't it?), sharing our hearts, talking about lesson plans and students and school, lots of laughter, and so much more! Here's a little video I put together for your viewing pleasure. Don't mind the fact that this girl needs a larger vocabulary.  For being an English teacher, I sure used the word "beautiful" too much! :)

Feeling Refreshed

What a busy, interesting, and exciting day.  I woke up this morning and, running on very little sleep, helped one of the teachers move from the Medina (the old part of the city) to Fes Jedid (the not-as-old-as-the-old-part-of-the-city-but-still-an-old-part-of-the-city and where the Jewish quarter used to be). Although there was a temperate breeze that felt quite nice, after moving many boxes and trekking through many alley-ways, the sweat was dripping by 10am!

Back in my apartment, I contemplated a nap, but decided (quite shockingly!) that I would be a bit domestic before it got hot.  In the less traditional Moroccan way, I cleaned/mopped my floors.  Moroccan homes are not carpeted (a fact that I will probably find unpleasant when it turns chilly in the city), and it is necessary to mop.  Traditional floor cleaning requires a large amount of water to be dumped on the floor and then squeegeed toward a drain somewhere in the house.  Because I'm not a) good at mopping floors b) a fan of dumping water everywhere when I'm not sure what I'm doing and c) Moroccan, I went for the less risky version of cleaning and used a bucket and cloth, pushing the rag around on the end of the squeegee until everything was nice and wet.  Although I'm sure I just moved the dirt from one side of the room to the other, I still felt quite accomplished when all was said and done.  I also did two loads of laundry, washed the dishes, and looked at a bit of 12th grade literature before mid-afternoon. Go me!

This evening, all the teachers in Morocco so far (some have yet to return from summer vacation) went over to the founder of the school's home.  We had a lovely meal and wonderful fellowship.  It was great to meet the two newest members of the staff who arrived just last night somewhere around midnight.  Although they were still jet-lagging a bit, they were so bubbly and enthusiastic about their new careers here. We all went around the table and shared how we each ended up in Morocco.  Each story was unique, but they all seemed to be similar cases of doors opening, and miraculous connections just when they were needed.  It was so encouraging to see how we were all ordained to be here at this exact moment.  If I wasn't excited this morning or even this past week about teaching, I'm staring to be--and if not even about teaching, then about being in Morocco.  I'm so excited for my new friends and the experiences, joy, sorrow, frustration, grace, surprises, laughs, and everything else we're going to share together these next few years.  I just know that they will turn out to be some of my life long friends!  I know that I sometimes have a trust issues, but Daddy never lets me down when I'm in a new place. He always has new, friendly faces ready to welcome me and help me adjust, and Morocco is no exception.  I'm feeling very blessed right now, and even though it's not quite home (and I'm sure I'll have down days following this high), I'm glad that I have such wonderful people around that we can transition to the "home" stage together. :)

Tomorrow I'm going to the school to check out my classroom, and later this week we're heading up to the mountains for a mini "before school and stresses begin" vacation.  I'll try to post some of my adventures later this week!  Hugs and Kisses!


P.S. I wanted to share some devotions that I've been reading this week.  Ever since I arrived here, each one has been pertinent and applicable to my situation and feelings for that day. I hope these speak to you as well.

"Find me in the midst of the maelstrom. Sometimes events whirl around you so quickly that they become a blur. Whisper My Name in recognition that I am still with you. Without skipping a beat in the activities that occupy you, you find strength and Peace through praying My Name. Later, when the happening have run their course, you can talk with Me more fully. Accept each day just as it comes to you. Do not waste your time and energy wishing for a different set of circumstances. Instead, trust Me enough to yield to My design and purposes. Remember that nothing can separate you from My loving Presence; you are Mine."


"Expect to encounter adversity in your life, remember that you live in a deeply fallen world. Stop trying to find a way that circumvents difficulties. The main problem with an easy life is that it masks your need for Me. When you came to Me, I infused My very Life into you, empowering you to live on a supernatural plane by depending on Me. Anticipate coming face to face with impossibilities: situations totally beyond your ability to handle. This awareness of your inadequacy is not something you should try to evade. It is precisely where I want you--the best place to encounter Me in My Glory and Power. When you see armies of problems marching toward you, cry out to Me! Allow Me to fight for you. Watch Me working on your behalf, as you rest in the shadow of My Almighty Presence."

All Grown Up?

It's my first night alone in the apartment.  Mom and I bid each other a tearful farewell, and friends of the Wiederwohl's drove her to Casa for her midnight flight (as this family was already headed to the city, and Amy has been ill the last few days).  It was a lonely feeling watching them drive away, knowing that I can't just pop on over to Mom and Dad's during a long weekend or for the holiday season.  As much as it was so difficult to live 10 hours away from my parents, obviously this is so much harder.  I will miss them very much.  I had to remind myself on the elevator to my apartment tonight that, I am indeed 24, and that must mean I'm grown up--I can live alone for 2 weeks and be a teacher. :)

On the upside, the Wieds have been so generous to me.  They let me hang with them at the studio this evening so I didn't have to spend the majority of the evening alone.  What a gracious, giving family--so willing to share their time when they have so many errands, appointments, and family needs of their own.

Also, even in the half hour I've been home, I feel a bit of peace.  Sure, it's frightening (and sure the revving engines outside at 10:30 are obnoxious), but I've been blessed by 3 postings on facebook:

1.) "Elroi. . . the God who sees me." (from Mary Deming--shout out to my girl in Maine!) How wonderful to remember that God sees me, even when I feel lonely and far away from everything that I know, that is comfortable, that I understand. He sees my fears, my failures, my triumphs, my tears (both happy & sad). . . He is the God who sees me.

2.) A verse posted by my dear friend Ariel--"Submit to God, and you will have peace; then things will go well for you. Listen to His instructions, and store them in your heart." Job 22:21-22. What a great reminder of the promises that God gives to us.

3.) The Psalm dad is planning to preach on soon--Psalm 139 (especially verses 9-10). "If I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast." Once again, a blessing to know that even here, over the sea, so far from home, He is guiding me and holding me in His arms.

Love to you all! Miss you very much!

The Medina

When I’m at home in my little apartment, it’s easy to forget that I’m living in a strange and foreign land (minus the annoying rooster that crows 24/7). Obviously the buildings are much different compared to those “high rise” homes in Defiance, Ohio (or even Memphis), but there are typical grocery stores, typical clothing stores, and even a store that takes its inspiration from Ikea (and the name even sounded similar. . .Kitea??).  However, today we trekked to the Medina for a glimpse at a tannery, the Fes al Bali panorama--thousands and thousands of houses stacked on top of each other, and a few other odds and ends for my room.  Stepping into the medina is CRAZY different—like stepping-out-of-a-time-machine different.  Modern is gone; old-fashioned is in style; time has literally stopped.  The sights, smells, and sounds are like no other place I’ve been (or probably ever will be).  There’s the shopkeeper beckoning to us so he can have money for food for f’tour.  There’s the call to prayer and so many men and women flocking to the local mosque to send prayers up to Allah.  There’s the tannery and its five floors of tiny, cramped steps up to the top so tourists like us can look over the pits of dye and everything else that is necessary to make the purses, coats, shoes, and belts hanging on the shop walls.  There is the carpet store, found in a room covered with the most beautiful mosaic tile; hundreds of carpets are hung and piled around the large room as the shopkeeper and his helpers unroll carpet after carpet for our viewing pleasure.  Although overwhelming, it’s amazing to see the detail and hard work that has been put into these hand-woven and -designed Berber and Arabian carpets.  There are the food vendors and meat market—the most strange of all sights and smells.  There is the fresh lamb hanging in the doorway; there is the camel head on the wall; there are the live chickens waiting to be killed and plucked; there is the case of fresh, stinky fish; there are the dates, oranges, peaches, hobs, & sweets that will be purchased for dinner and f’tour.  But wait, we must move quickly. Up ahead there is a donkey carrying bottles of. . .water?. . . just wide enough to pass through the narrow alleys.  The tourists and inhabitants of the cramped houses and alleyways smoosh up against the walls to let the animal and his driver pass. What a different way of life here! Although it is fun to experience this exotic and medieval way of life, I am relieved and exhausted when we return home.

3 a.m.

3:15 and I’m still awake. I guess that’s what happens when you drank mint tea that probably had caffeine in it at dinner, were still sweating at 11p.m., and then proceeded to intake more caffeine accidentally in order to get rid of body pains. Stupid Midol!

It’s amazing what thoughts spew through your head when all you want to do is sleep. You lay awake in the pitch blackness, staring up at what you know is the ceiling, praying that the rustling of the sheet against your leg is just that, rather than some bug (or God forbid, a roach) that has managed to reach the top of the bed. After exhausting the possibilities of your wardrobe for tomorrow, ruling out all the long-sleeved, sweater-like, too-thick-of-cotton outfits, you move on to your minimally furnished bedroom.  The crafty person inside you wants to paint fantastic designs on the bedside tables and walls, including verse-adorned mirrors that will eventually be on the wall. They’re lofty thoughts, but it’s 2 hours before sun-up, so what else would be running through your head?  Your thoughts turn to the natives in the street.  The raucous noise has died down since Fatur, but every once in a while you hear the muffled and indistinct strains of a conversation passing by, the squeal of smashing breaks as a hurried driver misses (possibly barely) a pedestrian, and the roar of his engine as he races down the remaining road, thankful for the peace again.  You wonder what the world looks like in the dark—the unfamiliar streets, parking lots, flats, and garbage-laden sidewalks that you saw during the day would all be a blanket of darkness--except of course, for the few (or possibly many) street lamps that penetrate the darkness.  For the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness doesn’t understand it.

In an attempt to grow weary, you put in an earbud and listen to the sounds of your favorite iPod playlist.  It’s titled Bathtub—a title only you understand, but you enjoy the relaxing mood it conjures up, and pray that this will be the sheep to put you over the edge--the last number before falling asleep.  The voice of Brandon Heath actually keeps you awake longer.  His song about love prods your thoughts to turn to another road as a cock crows in the distance—how is 3:22a.m. even a time that people should be waking???  Love is not proud, love is not rude. . . love after all matters the most.  Love never fails you.  You’re in this distant land, awake in a strange bed with an even stranger pillow.  You’re hot but the fan’s too breezy.  You’re cold but no air makes you sweat.  You’re hungry but there’s nothing to snack on.  You’re thirsty but making tea or warm milk would wake your mother.  How will you survive tonight let alone hundreds of them?  A voice whispers in your ear “You are my child whom I love.  Even though you’re awake when most are asleep, I see you.  I know your fears.  I knew you would be here before you were even born.  I know the plans I have for you. Plans to prosper you in Morocco and not to harm you—plans for a hope and a future.  I know what you desire; I see what you want for your future. If you open up to me, you will be putting your future in the best hands.  Don’t be afraid of what I have to offer.  I will not let you down like the others have.  Place me in the front, make no other idols before me, and see what I will accomplish for you.  Test me and see what I won’t do.  There is nothing I won’t do for you, no door that won’t be open to you.  I will give you the grace to accomplish the tasks you see as mountains before you.  You are my child, my daughter whom I love.  In you I am well-pleased.  You have followed me to this strange land, and I will use your open and willing heart.” Thank you for your truths. Thank you for your peace.  It’s 3:26. . .perhaps now I can fall asleep in the arms of Isa—the one who brings a peace that passes understanding. 

A new friend!

Whew! Today was a hot one. I think it got up to at least 104!  What a blessing to have kind friends with air-conditioning.  I had a rough night of sleep last night, and when I got up at 9, it was already ridiculously hot.  After breakfast, I felt like I weighed 500 lbs. and it was difficult to pull myself out of the chair.  I slept on the couch for an hour or so, and Mark W. called and offered a visit to the air-conditioned studio.  We quickly agreed!  Mom and I spent the rest of the afternoon with the Wieds and their boys, reading, playing games, chatting, eating fruit—all while enjoying the cool feeling of a.c.!  For dinner, we were invited to Ginger’s house for chicken and vegetable couscous, hobs (bread), and fresh fruit.  Dinner was finished off with some Moroccan delicacies specific for Ramadan (which I have no idea how to say let alone spell) as well as mint tea. Mmmmmmm. (Yes, dad, I did like it this time. . .Probably because the leaves weren’t jammed in the glass! J) Ginger is the elementary and middle school principal at Amicitia.  She taught at Amicitia previously for a year, worked in Casablanca for two years, and moved back to Fes just last year to accept the position as principal.  Having been in Morocco for 5 years, she is very knowledgeable about the culture and Amicitia School and answered many questions for Mom and me during our 3-hour visit.  It’s wonderful to have another friend in the city!

I definitely have to focus on the blessing of air and couscous at Ginger’s, and try to forget about the little things I’m missing from home.  Today I realized that I can no longer access Hulu or Netflix online, and I was even more disappointed when I found out I can’t listen to Pandora Internet Radio either!  Oh the joys of moving abroad.

Sorry for no pictures of the day’s events. I foolishly forgot my camera this afternoon.  More stories and pics coming later!

Salamu Alikum!

Salamu alikum! We (Mom and I) have made it to Morocco!  The entire trip took 33 hours, and we were exhausted by the time we finally arrived at my apartment at 4a.m. Sunday morning—Moroccan time. What a blessing it was to finally walk through the airport customs door and see Mark waiting to greet us.  But I should probably start from the beginning. . . 

We arrived at DTW around 5:30 Friday and were surprised to find so many people standing in line waiting to check their bags!  Good thing it was a different airline.  After finding the CORRECT line, we were happy to find out home weighing system proved accurate, the four suitcases all falling ½-1 pound under the 50 lb. weight limit.  We were provided with an unexpected blessing with no charge for our second checked bags (as we had originally thought it would be $200 for an extra, then heard $70, and finally settled on $50 each. What a blessing to not have to spend an additional $100 for our luggage!). After tearful goodbyes, Dad left, and Mom and I safely made it through security.

All the flights were uneventful.  We flew from Detroit to Chicago to Frankfurt, Germany to Casablanca, Morocco.  The planes were on-time, but of course were too uncomfortable to provide adequate sleep (at least for me). J Another blessing occurred when we were able to meet up with Cori Kissner and Caroline Echterbroch, Caroline’s mother, and a friend. Living only an hour from Frankfurt, they drove to the airport and we were able to spend a few hours with them, eating lunch, and being distracted from our 8-hour layover.  There had been some confusion about where exactly we were meeting, and as Frankfurt’s airport is one of the largest in Europe, we were truly grateful for the miracle that we were able to locate them.  

Flying into Casa was a beautiful sight.  I could see the coast of both Spain and Morocco with many beautiful, twinkly, amber town lights dotting the countryside.  The 3-hour drive from Casa to Fes was filled with laughs, language practice, and long silences in which all of us had glassy, tired stares.  What a blessing that Mark was willing to drive all that way to pick up two tired, luggage-laden travelers.  

The apartment was all set up by the time we arrived, thanks to the Wiederwohl’s generosity in getting some food staples, setting up the beds, and fixing a few things around the place.  Both Mom and I slept well (only a few weird noises during the night that woke me) for 8 hours.  Now the unpacking begins—as well as a deliciously described turkey and green bean tagine that Amy is cooking for dinner!

Although I’ve only been here for less than 24 hours, the excitement hasn’t set in yet like I had hoped it would.  I’m still anxious, definitely not ready to call this strange place home.  It was an unnatural feeling when Mark wished us a “Welcome Home” before he left for his own home.  I feel like an intruder in someone else’s apartment but hope the feeling will pass when my two roommates arrive.  Pray that I begin to adjust (and adjust quickly), and that the three of us will become fast friends. Thank you in advance for all your warm thoughts. More pictures and info will follow. Much love to you all!