I've been meaning to write about my trips and about life here in Marrakesh for some time now, and I have a long list of all the memories I want to put into words. However, a friend advised me last month to try to live in the moment as much as I can in the short, short time I have left in this beautiful city. Rather than write about the amazing trips I went on in the past months -- the long treks through the tiny villages and river valleys of the High Atlas, fresh suntan lines from floating on my back in the calm Mediterranean, or the sound of the call to prayer rising up from the winding streets of Fes's labyrinthine medina -- I want to tell you about today.
Today was an ordinary day in Marrakesh. I woke up early and walked to school, went to Arabic class, ate lunch at school, did my homework, walked around the old city with my friends, went to the gym, and hung out with my family after dinner. However, as I started to get ready for bed a few minutes ago, I was struck by how relaxed and happy I felt, and how wonderful my day had really been. It's easy to get stuck in a routine here and forget how amazing my life here really is.
I woke up just after sunrise when I heard Yassir come downstairs, and we ate breakfast together with my host mom. I tied his shoes for him like I do every morning and made tea to take to school with me. The morning was cool, and my walk along Avenue Fessi was full of the bustle of the awakening city.
Oustada Lamia, my Arabic teacher, started class by giving us feedback on the 10-minute Arabic presentations we gave last week to the director of our school. We presented and fielded questions about the 6-page research papers we had spent the spring writing. It's easy to feel discouraged sometimes in class, since progress is often not very tangible and 8 months of daily 3-hour Arabic classes has burned me out. However, realizing that I had completed this assignment (a paper/presentation that I honestly wouldn't have believed I could complete at the beginning of this year, when I didn't even know the Arabic alphabet) was an immensely satisfying feeling. I drank tea with my friends during break and talked with Mama Khadija, the CLC's chef. She teaches my cooking class, and I've become pretty close with her through our daily interactions. After 7 months of studying, teaching, and volunteering at the CLC, I really feel like I've integrated into the community there, and that in and of itself makes this year seem worth it to me.
After class, we ate lunch and I said my first goodbye to Mama Khadija's daughter, a girl named Chaimaa. She works for the travel agency Rustic Pathways and is traveling for the next month, so I won't see her again. She is such an amazing girl, and I was sad to say goodbye to her. That goodbye made me realize that this is just the beginning, and that I need to start preparing myself for more farewells. In a lot of ways, I feel like I've only just recently developed any semblance of a social life outside of my wonderful host family and American friends, and I wish I had more time to continue developing these relationships before I have to leave.
I left the CLC around 3 o'clock and walked around the old city with 5 of my American friends. We bought gifts and wandered through the medina streets, taking in the sights and talking. I walked home along Fessi as the evening set in. When I returned home, I drank coffee with Oumaima and my host mom. We talked about our days, and I realized that I made a joke in Arabic. This might not seem very monumental, but I'm not a very funny person in English, let alone in Arabic. It's really hard to understand and make jokes in a foreign language, and I realized after we talked that our conversation had been very easy and natural for me. It's a small milestone, but I'm so happy that I can converse more equally with these people that I love so much.
Afterwards, Yassir and I went on an "adventure" to the corner store so I could buy gum (and buy him candy, of course). We ran down the street to the store, racing and goofing around. My little brother has the best laugh, and I loved hearing him cracking up as we joked on the street. Last weekend, I took him to the water park in Marrakesh, and he had an amazing time. I gave him a swim lesson (he told me "Now I can swim anywhere because I know alligator kicks, spoons not fork hands, and big arms" -- he's definitely making progress) and we went on the water slides all afternoon. He's started a jar in his room labeled "Another Day at AquaPark" and he currently has 60 dirham cents in it (approx. 6 American cents). I gave him the little change from the corner store, so now he only has about 119 dirhams left to collect...
I dropped Yassir off at home and worked out at the gym. After my workout, I talked with some of the women there. They are so open and inviting, and I have loved getting to know them in these months. One of them offered to drive me home tonight, and it's been wonderful to feel like I'm part of that community as well. I walked the short way home in the darkness, watching the lingering glow of sunset fade from the sky and the slivered moon rise up over the horizon. The night air was warm and mild, and I could see the lights of Le Palmerie and the suburbs stretching out towards the distant darkness of the hills.
At home, I gave Yassir his daily lesson on how to tie his shoes -- he's a quick learner, but we still have a lot of work to do. I sat in the kitchen with my host parents and shelled peas while my host mom cooked and my host dad did the dishes. The kitchen windows were open, spilling light out into to the mild night air, and the room smelled of freshly cut herbs. We chatted about our days and worked together in a comfortable rhythm.
After a delicious dinner of turkey and peppers, Zineb and Oumaima and I sat in the kitchen and talked over the empty communal plate. I can't even remember exactly what we were talking about, but I do know that I laughed so hard tonight that my sides hurt. We sat on my bed and looked at the jewelry I bought today. I've spent so much of my time here missing my own friends and my own family, and sometimes I think I overlook the fact that I've made two of the best friends I've ever had in my life in my house here. They are such amazing girls, and I am going to miss them so much.
In sum, that was my day today. Nothing particularly glamorous or exciting happened, but this is what my life is like here. I have a lot of ordinary routines that might seem boring to an outsider, but to me these little moments with my family and my acquaintances are what make this place so special. I can't believe how little time I have left, and I hope that my days from here on out are just as extraordinarily ordinary as today was.
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