You know you are far from home when you have to go through two other translations before you finally hear English. Still, you’re discouraged that you can’t understand a word of your native tongue, which is hidden behind a very thick Arabic accent with a significant French influence. And then there’s the signage, as beautiful as it is curious.
The journey to Rabat was long… not because it was all that far (a “short” two hour flight from Paris), but because the most significant part of the flight, Boston to Paris, felt more like a Kansas City to Albany run given the size of the plane…knee to knee, elbow to elbow, bad food and generous pours on cheap wine, all adding up to a not so great experience, short of a lovely French woman sitting next to me (seriously, are we ever so intimate with strangers but on a plane?) who was interested in what I was knitting and pulled out her phone to share photos of her recent knitting projects. Sometimes words aren’t necessary. I love that.
The house where I’m staying is small but very charming and efficient. It’s also immaculate, and I would feel totally comfortable eating off any part of the floor, where, by the way, shoes are not allowed. Barefoot all the way. I will be sharing my small room with two bunk beds with another girl, whom I haven’t yet met, as she is away this weekend. I’ve taken cues from her neatly stacked belongings and have tried to organize my things with that in mind. I’ve copied her and am using the top bunk to lay out my clothes, as there isn’t another spot to put them. I couldn’t help but think back to my college dorm days, waiting to meet my roommate, whom I didn’t know and whose bed was mere feet away from mine.
Tomorrow, the four volunteers who arrived today and I will have our orientation, when I will learn more about what I will be doing during my time here. Mohamed, our house manager, said I may be the only one from the house placed at the women’s center, as it sounds like everyone else will be working at the orphanage. The unknowing, going to bed with new sounds, new smells, and new sensations, reminds me of why I love this so much, which surprises my orderly, Virgo side. It takes me back to so many first nights in new countries when I teetered between waking up in the middle of the night with feelings of what the hell am I doing?, to not being able to fall asleep because I was so anxious for it to be morning when I’d be able to get a closer look at my new temporary home and learn more about where I’d be volunteering.
There were only four of us in the house tonight as the rest of the group was traveling for the weekend. We had a lovely light supper of lamb, rice, fruit salad, roasted fennel, Moroccan soup, homemade bread, dates, pomegranates, and a combination of sautéed vegetables. Not only was it a beautiful spread, but it was also delicious.
For now, I’m tucked in my lower bunk, ready to sleep off some of this jet lag. I’m soaking in the smells and sounds of this new city, new country, new continent, and it’s feeling pretty fantastic. I can smell a hint of jasmine that is coming through the billowing curtains of my open deck door. Perfection.
I need to add a disclaimer regarding editing. I’m not used to my new iPad combined with my blog site that’s totally gone French on me ( I definitely need to learn how to say “delete” in French and quit pushing that button.) This was quite a challenge for me to complete this tiny task of typing tonight. I’m hoping I can blame most of it on jet lag, but that may be overly hopeful. So ignore the obvious, including the creative indents that insist on being present regardless of what I do.
Salaam from Rabat!
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| Laurie Sunderland, reading from right to left. |