See You Later, See You Soon

November 15, 2013 marks exactly 2 years since we, the September 2011 Youth Development stajj, swore-in as official Peace Corps volunteers. I can’t believe how much has gone down in that time frame– extreme highs and lows, projects and disappointments, loneliness and incredible friendship, burning trash and melting flesh in the summer, drinking more tea than I thought possible…okay, that list is for another blog entry. But you get what I’m saying– it’s been incredible in every sense of the word.

Despite the anniversary,  it’s a little anti-climactic over here in Morocco, since I find myself with only four people left from my original group: Sairah (Taznakht), Mike (Kelaa Saraghna), Cait (Kelaa Saraghna), and Carrie (Bejaad). We’re the five mighty extendees, and this past week, we all had to say goodbye to, well, everyone else. My official countdown to departure began with Michelle‘s arrival in Tameslouht. Until then, I had been able to separate myself from this whole notion of “people leaving forever”, as I only had to hear about it over the phone and could therefore pretend it wasn’t real. However, when Michelle came, I had to start believing. She left her little town of Nkob on Sunday, meeting me in Marrakech with like 39201839210 tons of baggage (just kidding! It was really just like, 1 ton!) We haggled with a petit taxi driver to take us + luggage to Sidi Mimoun, the bus stop for transportation to Tameslouht, and ended up paying him 20 dh for a 7 dh ride just because he was cranky. (He was demanding 40 dh, but the use of many “God phrases” got us out of that pickle). After landing in Tameslouht, guess how Michelle and I got her stuff to my house?

It’s the answer to everything in Morocco– donkey! For just 10 dh, this very kind sir carted Michelle and her belongings to my front door. We spent Michelle’s last day in Marrakech wandering through the souk, attempting to complete some last-minute shopping and exchange out some faulty glasses. The excursion in itself was full of its own highs and lows, from snagging a fantastic deal on a Moroccan carpet bag to watching some mesakin (poor) tourists get completely swindled for 3 pashmina scarves that probably weren’t even made in Morocco (3 for “just” 700 dh. What is wrong with people?). Upon returning to Tameslouht, Michelle got a final meal of delicious beef couscous and a night of sitting around, watching TV we didn’t understand. A perfect and genuinely Moroccan way to bid farewell.

The next morning, it was Rabat or bust for Michelle and what was left of our stajj. We put our heads together with Eric, whose host family was driving him and his luggage to the train station, and left Michelle’s heaviest bags with him. This made our journey to Marrakech exponentially easier. Eric, Michelle, 18 bags, and I all reconvened at the train station. I was very interested to see how this would go. Trains are the most unpredictable form of transportation in Morocco in that they can be the best or the worst with very little in between. Some days, it’s easy to find seats, the air conditioning is working, windows can open for air flow, and people are kind and understanding. Other days, no one will let you onto the train or down the very narrow aisles, you end up standing for the duration of your trip, there’s no air movement and the toilet has overflowed….it can get a little, um, scary. But the stars of Moroccan transportation aligned and allowed us a very pleasant trip with an open window, air conditioning, and a car almost to ourselves. Rabat was a sad but comforting goodbye. I hung out in the PCV lounge while all of the COS-ing volunteers scurried around, having interviews with Ellen (our country director) and getting staff to sign off on random requirements for ending their service. Our days passed like this, and our nights involved a lot of delicious food and not so delicious wine.

The stamping-out ceremonies were great, too. Each PCV stood on the platform outside of the PC office, signed and stamped his or her name in the official book, said a few words about his or her service, and then PC staff piped in with some comments on that person’s service. Afterwards, we rolled around in the grass and took pictures. But seriously.

Wednesday night was my first round of goodbyes, with people leaving in taxis for Casablanca to make their 2am flights to ‘Murrica. It’s so weird that the people I’ve become so close to and talk every single day on the phone to (cough Michelle) or can meet up with in Marrakech at a moment’s notice (cough Lucia) are now en route back home/ are already eating cheese and enjoying America’s freedoms. Meanwhile, I’m still sitting on my ponj in Tameslouht, haggling with artisans over their latest order and dodging small children’s affections in the streets. It’s just another day, minus my usual schedule of a phone call to Michelle and a visit from Lucia.

My soulmates.

I cannot thank my fellow PCVs enough for their support, kindness, humor, understanding, insight, and love for the past 2 years. As we know oh so well, it’s hard to quantify what we’ve been through and how we’ve changed (and how many youth we’ve developed….), but I think we can at least count the 40 of us who made it through training and look at the immense changes that have happened to us, at least. Here’s to Michelle, Lucia, Lauren, Justin, Bryant, Eric, Cait, Mike, Carrie, Bethany, Maggie, Meredith, Erin, Lindsay, Gary, Kathy, Anteus, Mimi, Sairah, Kim, Erica, Shannon, Hubbell, Ally, Rachel, Matt B., Matt V., David, Jen, Kristen, Sarah Elise, Stephen, Kelly, Barbara, Cindy, Taylor, Robin, Dan, and Bo– we’ve come a long way from needing a tutorial on how to use a Turkish toilet.

Best of luck to the September 2011 stajj. You all are always in my heart and, of course, on my blog <3