Wedding Crashers!!!!!!

I have so much to say. Its been quite a while since my last post and so much has happened. I apologize for the lack of images; however, it is difficult to upload them from the public cyber cafes in my tiny town. Hopefully my word are sufficient enough for your entertainment. If not I suggest moving on to another web page, such as Stumbleupon. There you may experience the joys of images, videos, and interesting anecdotes.

However, they will not tell you about a Moroccan wedding... at least I do not think they will. And that my friends will be the topic of this post. A mere four nights ago I was invited to a wedding and my life in my town has not been the same since. I really had no idea what I was getting myself into when I agreed to attend this wedding. I really enjoy weddings though. They are always fun. People are happy; people are a little buzzed; people lose inhibitions; people dance; people retire at around 1 a.m. Thos have been my experiences at American weddings. My brother and I usually carry the party. We start the dancing, lead the the congo line, and serve as the best unpaid entertainment you could ask for.

I knew that there would be no alcohol at this wedding... thats about all I knew. I was ready to go at six p.m. Thats a reasonable time for an evening wedding to start, eh? Well I was much mistaken and ended up sitting on the couch for about three and a half hours. We did not leave until 9:30 p.m. When we arrived at the site of the wedding we entered an enclosed field. In the field were two tents. It was explained to me that one tent was for the men and the other was for the women. However, I saw only men around. There were no women to be seen. I felt a little unhappy as I was expecting to meet some Moroccan women at the wedding... Again, it was explained to me that the women were currently eating dinner. I sat around in the tent for a while and then was told to get up. THE WOMEN WERE RETURNING. THE WOMEN WERE RETURNING. I stood up and left the tent as the women were entering. Apparently, since the women were finished eating it was now time for the men to eat.

I sat around a small table with 8 people I did not know. However, this was alright since nobody talked. Even the people who knew each other did not speak a word. The purpose of this meal was clear: EAT; as FAST as you can; and as MUCH as you can. Our table finished two chickens and half of a lamb in about ten minutes. Immediately when the food was gone everbody stood up and proceeded back to the tents.

I walked to the mens tent and sat down. I was handed a cup of coffee and practically forced to drink it. They said I would need it. At this point it was just about midnight. No sign of the bride or groom yet. However, there are a ton of Moroccan women sitting in their tent. All of the men were in our tent. I could feel that something was going to happen soon. Then the music starts blasting... something was happening. Everybody rushed outside the tents. The bride was being paraded in a throne that rested on the shoulders of four men in maroon suits and fez hats. Once the bride and groom entered the tent the dancing started. However, the bride and groom did not dance. Nay! They sat on a large couch and watched everybody else dance.

My friend Jason and I decided we should start dancing. At Moroccan weddings; however, the dancing is separated by the sexes. Men dance in one area and women in another. There is really no mixing. So, needless to say I danced with dudes for about five hours stright. Yep. Jason, me, and a bunch of Moroccan dudes we met danced from midnight until five a.m... It was a ton of fun, but took a while to get accustomed to. When I was breaking it down the father of the bride came over and started dancing with me. The big Marriage Camera followed him. We danced for about ten minutes... and I am positive that I am on their marriage video.

It was a fun night. And now everytime I see the father of the bride around town he does a little dance as a form if hello. Heres to making friends with the locals!

Salaam

THE CBT

CBT stand for Community Based Training... and that is what Im engulfed in currently. This consists of 5 hours of language in the morning and then community activities in the afternoon. For only having 3 language lessons we have already covered a lot of ground. Past, present, and future verbs. Infinitives and imperatives as well. Our noun database is growing exponentially with each day. We also have a good grasp of personal pronouns and adjectives. Its great though because the language classes in the morning are always comlemented by talking to the host family in the afternoon and at night. Despite the long dinner conversations, television is also big here. During dinner we will watch candid camera, soccer, sitcoms, or the quran.... there are whole channels devoted solely to the reading of the quran.

In the afternoons we have visited the gendarmes, got lost in the town, and gone to the cyber cafe. Im in a small village near fez and am having an amazing experience. The people here are so welcoming and accomodating. For example, as you may know it is ramadan. During this holiday muslims fast during the day and eat at night. I myself have been fasting the past couple days and it is pretty difficult. However, when we first arrived in the town it was impossible to fast. Everyone was offering us food at all hours of the day. In fact my first host family practically forced me to eat before they broke the fast. While I was eating they sat around and watched repeating the word kul, kul, which means EAT. This was one of the first words I learned here as it is probably the most used. After having experienced fasting, I do not think I would have the will power to watch somebody else eat. I suppose they were just very excited to have a new face in there house.

We are not quite sure what we will actually be doing here. The dar chebab in this town, according to the gendarme, is closed. So our first task might be to open it and draw people to it with a series of events: sport, theater, english classes, etc. We are meeting with the person who runs the dar chebab on Monday so I think we will have a better idea what kind of work we will be doing after that meeting. However, it appears that some members of the community are aware or our presence. On my walk to the language session this morning I met a local who is probably around my age. His english was excellent. He apparently knew what I was doing. He told me, out of the blue, that he was excited I would be teaching english at the dar chebab. He works as a mason in town and his favorite language is english. He looks like he could be a great asset to the dar chebab and someone who could teach english in the future, in shaallah. And so it appears we have at least one task ahead of us.

Currently, Im most excited for the end of Ramadan. Not because the fasting will end, although this will be a huge perk, but because Im going into the old medinat in Fez for the Eid el Fitr on either Sunday or Monday. Since we not yet sure when Ramadan will end, as it is based on the phases of the moon, the eid could fall on either day. My host family is taking me along with them for the huge feast and to meet the rest of the extended family. If their family is anything like mine this is bound to be an interesting, exciting, facinating, and wild experience. Anyway, I will try to update my blog after that with some pictures and hopefully funny, but most likely embarrasing, anecdotes.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

In that case I won't bore you with long paragraphs. Essentially, there is not even much to write about or elaborate on. We have been sitting inside for most of the day listening to people speak about safety, commitment, and evaluations, etc. etc. etc. The most interesting part of today was talking to some active volunteers about our Community Based Training which begins on Tuesday. The Youth Development folks are going to a region in the High Atlas mountains. There we will be divided into groups of five. We will each live with our host family and undergo hours of language, cultural, and technical training throughout the day.

This afternoon we went back to the beach for a swim and some exercise. We have a very active group (which I expected from a Peace Corps crowd) so the free time is always filled with heart-pumping, exhilarating activity. I wouldn't be surprised if someone suggests skydiving soon...

I must note, as I'm sure my mom would be pleased to hear, that the protection enlisted to make sure we are safe at our hotel is incredible. There are officers stationed at both ends of the street that the hotel is on. I believe there are guards stationed at posts all day and night; a very comforting thought. And considering it is Ramadan, this feat is even more unbelievable. The hospitality we have received here is exceptional. Everybody is very welcoming. I guess I did not do a very good shop at keeping this post short on words... but anyway, without further adieu, here are the photographs.

Sarah, Ryan, and I in the hotel post afternoon beach adventure.

An attempt at an artistic self portrait. This is what most of the buildings we've encountered so far look like. This was taken at about 8 a.m. The shadows in the bottom right corner are Ben and I.

A sunny picture of the beach.

Emily, Cara, and I at an airport Martini bar before our flight. If you ever stumble into JFK and have a chance, they make a good drink.

A break. I'm drinking the famous Moroccan mint tea. It is extremely delicious and loaded with sugar. Consequently, it provides a great energy boost late in the afternoon.

Ants in Pants

Just in case anyone is actually following my blog I felt like I couldn't let you down on my promise to discover the origin of the phrase "I have ants in my pants". As I have a bit of free time before dinner this seems like the perfect opportunity to let you, my loyal followers, in on the little secret.

I guess its not very secret and positively straight forward. Wiki answers actually makes me appear sort of foolish looking it up. It derives from the constant movement one makes when ants are crawling in one's pants. Of course. On a side note, when I was searching for this answer I ran across an urban dictionary entry for the word "Nabilesque" which is an adjective that relates to a strong leader, with an open mind, willing to get the job done. Apparently, this word has an arabic origin meaning "noble" and "of or relating to Nabil".

See you learn something new everyday!

There is really nothing too exciting to take pictures of at this moment considering we've been listening to lectures all day. I did get to swim in the Atlantic this afternoon which was refreshing. The water was perfect!

Pictures

The view from my room. Notice the sweet Atlantic waves. The water seems a bit cleaner here than the New Jersey Atlantic.
Air Maroc in Casablanca. PCT's walking down the steps.

Marhaban from Mehdia!

First day in Morocco. We flew into Casablanca arriving at 7:30 this morning. Gathered our luggage and hopped on a bus up to a coastal town called Mehdia. Its just a bit north of Rabat and has beautiful views of the coast.

We had our first round of lectures and were presented with a large medical kit, a mosquito net for sleeping, and a huge folder with a notebook, schedule, and extra papers. I have no idea where this stuff is going to go as I have no room in my bags at the moment.

After the lectures a bunch of us hit the coast and went for a jog on the beach. Its really beautiful: the water looks great and the sand is awesome; however there is an enormous amount of trash all over the beach. Its quite a shame too because we are in Africa which is so much more legit than New Jersey. The jog was cool and we stumbled upon a huge jelly fish that was probably two feet in diameter. What a beast. Apparently everything is a bit bigger in Africa.

Schedule for tomorrow includes shots, a long talk about diarrhea, and medical interviews. It should be a blast. Pictures to follow.

a salaam wa aleikum!

BODYGUARDS!!!!

The most interesting piece of information that I found out at training last night, is that every Peace Corps volunteer is paired with their own personal gendarme. Essentially, the King of Morocco wants to make sure that all of the volunteers are safe and nothing happens to them. So, he has enlisted these gendarmes specifically to watch over the volunteers.

The format of the relationship we will have with these gendarmes has not been thoroughly discussed. We might meet them, or they might be that shady character we see around our village following us... who knows. For comedic value I think the latter would be hilarious. To be honest though, I have no idea how this is going to work.

Its good to know that the King of Morocco is thinking about our safety and has a special force to make sure we remain safe.

SHUKS! (A shortened form of "shukran" (thank you) that my arabic professor used. He is actually a berber from Morocco.)

Time to GO!

Its finally time to leave. I head down to Philadelphia for staging tomorrow and then get back on a bus and head up to JFK for our flight to Casablanca on the 9th. This requires a bit of back-tracking for me... driving down to Philadelphia only to drive right back up to New York a day later. I can't really bring myself to complain, though. I'm extremely excited to leave; one might say I have "ants in my pants". You know, the ones that make you squirm around because they are crawling everywhere and you can't seem to get them out. (As a side, I've never actually had ants in my pants. This could be a new experience I have in the Peace Corps. Who knows? I can't imagine it to be too comfortable though, which makes me wonder how that expression originated. AHA! I've found a topic for my next post!)

Regardless, I haven't sat still once yet today. I just returned from a trip up to Vermont. I did some hiking with the family and visited the Magic Hat Brewery. Above is a picture of my mom, brother, me, and family friends Jane (Janiel) and Dan on top of Mt. Mansfield.

I've also included my address below. This will work for the first 9 weeks when I am a trainee. The Peace Corps asks that no packages be sent to this address... letters are fine though.

Peter Kitlas

s/c Corps de la Paix

2, Rue Abou Marouane Essaadi, Agdal

Rabat 10100, Morocco

As you can see the French influence is still abundantly present in Morocco. More to come on that I'm sure.

Thanks to everyone who helped get me to this point. I'm forever indebted to you guys. But now I'm on my own, a new adventure on the horizon.

Peace