The New Cheese

Its interesting what travel can do to a man. Undoubtedly there's an overwhelming sense of novelty that comes with the territory of being involved in service work in a foreign country whose language I do not speak (aside from basic greetings that ALWAYS draw a smile and sometimes hugs and kisses from complete strangers). Certainly there's a sense of longing for the good ol' days when kids respected their elders, politicians didn't philander, gas was cheap (even though I walk everywhere), and I had a job where I could bank on having thought-provoking conversation with my students. But, there's definitely an excitement derived from the above-mentioned novelty and for the nebulous nature of not knowing what awaits me nor knowing how to communicate about it.

Although I am living on a different continent, trying to speak a different language, surrounding myself with people I don't know, some things never change. For example, I caught a teenage girl picking her nose the other day and that's still funny. My host mother started breast feeding right in front of me the other day and that's still a little awkward. I smile and wink at a lot of people and they smile and wink back. Body language is a powerful tool anywhere.

I've yet to adjust to certain elements of the new cheese, however. I'm shocked (and a little angry) when I'm startled awake by the 4:30 A.M. call to prayer from the mosque that's right next to my house. I find it one of the most beautiful sounds when I'm relaxing with my new family, drinking tea late at night, but somehow at 4:30 in the morning its not as pretty...yet. I still feel a bit different after my bucket bath than I do when I take a steamy American shower. The conservationist, "if its yellow let it mellow, brown flush it down" side of me deeply appreciates said baths, but I still need to convince the hedonistic Dane that they're ok, too.

Overall, I'm convinced that I'm in for a richly rewarding few months here in Morocco. Inshallah. (God Willing)