...I'm already gone.
The title tune is sung by Tim McGraw. He narrates a letter from a soldier to his wife, giving her instructions about his burial should he meet his fate; that she is reading this letter means he is dead.
Fear not, I'm alive and well. Those of you who have followed this blog since I began writing weekly last August might have thought I must have met my maker since I stopped posting entries 2 months ago. I simply wasn't doing any traveling or anything else I thought was especially interesting. I was just focused on ending the year here in good fashion, looking forward to a summer at home, as well as beginning a new year here in the fall, moving into an apartment in the city.
A year and a half ago, the only thing I knew about Casablanca was that some 70 years after its release is that it is regarded as perhaps the finest American film ever produced. Oh, you meant the real-life city in Morocco? Ummm...
My gut told me that moving by myself to an Islamic state 4,000 miles away somehow was the way I could begin to rebuild my life. It turned out to be very easy to fall into the culture. However, the job didn't go so well at first; as the holiday season approached I v-e-r-y seriously considered not returning. No, not next fall, but for January.
All hell was breaking loose in the 6-inch space between my ears. I was not only trying to rebuild my life, but rebuild me, too, on the fly. It ain't easy trying to teach a dog new tricks. I was going to cut bait, but finally I said F*** it, and doubled down my bet. I took faith that I was doing the right things and that I would win in the end, and I did.
How did I make this year a successful one? Not without a lot of help. I'm not sure how I could thank some people in this space without embarrassing them. Let's just say I owe some people BIG time. I'll gamble on absolutely anything, but opening myself up to these total strangers here was a risk I was not keen on taking. I spend, literally, 98% of my time on this walled campus, at school or in my apartment. And a lot of people around this place are straight up weird. I kid. A little.
I probably should explain. A huge majority of the staff here are, in my words, very religious. I don't know a whole of people like that back in the States. I didn't know I was walking into this kind of environment. It's cool, to each their own; as long you push your beliefs on me, we'll be alright. They welcomed me with open arms. Couldn't wrap my head around it at first. People aren't this nice, they must be up to something. It's just been a never-ending source of bemusement. Many of colleagues talk in a way that makes my head spin. I don't even know how people think like that, speaking with such a certainty of things that I can't fathom. Must be nice. Wish I could. Tried. Lotta nice people, though.
Of course, on this campus, and anywhere else in Morocco, the official religion is Islam. 99% of the people are Muslim, and the 1% who aren't hassled as long as they keep their activities private. If I preached my Catholicism publicly, I'd be put promptly on a plane outta here. Not a problem for me. In my adult life, religion has usually been very far from my mind. Have gone to confession a few times. Otherwise haven't darkened the doorway of a church very often. Having a lot of time on my hands these days to think about things, faith has often been on my mind. I don't think since I attended Holy Cross High School over a quarter-century ago has being Catholic been in the front of mind, and I like it. Who in the hell would've guessed that?!
In a 7-month stretch during this school year I found time to eat a lot of tajine and couscous, enter one of the largest mosques on the planet, go to "the blue city" of Chefchaouen in the Rif Mountains, the ancient imperial capitals of Rabat, Meknes and Marrakech, Roman ruins at Volubilis, Beni Mellal, Mazagan, the Atlas Mountains and the Sahara Desert. Oh yeah, I flew to Italy to see Florence, The Last Supper in Milan, the canals of Venice, the Tower of Pisa, the Roman Colosseum, The Sistine Chapel at the Vatican City, and I attended a papal blessing by Pope Benedict XVI.
What is in store next year? Wish I knew. For now, just tying everything up here for the summer, flying Thursday to stay in Lisbon overnight to get home to NJ on Friday for 8 weeks.
The title tune is sung by Tim McGraw. He narrates a letter from a soldier to his wife, giving her instructions about his burial should he meet his fate; that she is reading this letter means he is dead.
Fear not, I'm alive and well. Those of you who have followed this blog since I began writing weekly last August might have thought I must have met my maker since I stopped posting entries 2 months ago. I simply wasn't doing any traveling or anything else I thought was especially interesting. I was just focused on ending the year here in good fashion, looking forward to a summer at home, as well as beginning a new year here in the fall, moving into an apartment in the city.
A year and a half ago, the only thing I knew about Casablanca was that some 70 years after its release is that it is regarded as perhaps the finest American film ever produced. Oh, you meant the real-life city in Morocco? Ummm...
My gut told me that moving by myself to an Islamic state 4,000 miles away somehow was the way I could begin to rebuild my life. It turned out to be very easy to fall into the culture. However, the job didn't go so well at first; as the holiday season approached I v-e-r-y seriously considered not returning. No, not next fall, but for January.
All hell was breaking loose in the 6-inch space between my ears. I was not only trying to rebuild my life, but rebuild me, too, on the fly. It ain't easy trying to teach a dog new tricks. I was going to cut bait, but finally I said F*** it, and doubled down my bet. I took faith that I was doing the right things and that I would win in the end, and I did.
How did I make this year a successful one? Not without a lot of help. I'm not sure how I could thank some people in this space without embarrassing them. Let's just say I owe some people BIG time. I'll gamble on absolutely anything, but opening myself up to these total strangers here was a risk I was not keen on taking. I spend, literally, 98% of my time on this walled campus, at school or in my apartment. And a lot of people around this place are straight up weird. I kid. A little.
I probably should explain. A huge majority of the staff here are, in my words, very religious. I don't know a whole of people like that back in the States. I didn't know I was walking into this kind of environment. It's cool, to each their own; as long you push your beliefs on me, we'll be alright. They welcomed me with open arms. Couldn't wrap my head around it at first. People aren't this nice, they must be up to something. It's just been a never-ending source of bemusement. Many of colleagues talk in a way that makes my head spin. I don't even know how people think like that, speaking with such a certainty of things that I can't fathom. Must be nice. Wish I could. Tried. Lotta nice people, though.
Of course, on this campus, and anywhere else in Morocco, the official religion is Islam. 99% of the people are Muslim, and the 1% who aren't hassled as long as they keep their activities private. If I preached my Catholicism publicly, I'd be put promptly on a plane outta here. Not a problem for me. In my adult life, religion has usually been very far from my mind. Have gone to confession a few times. Otherwise haven't darkened the doorway of a church very often. Having a lot of time on my hands these days to think about things, faith has often been on my mind. I don't think since I attended Holy Cross High School over a quarter-century ago has being Catholic been in the front of mind, and I like it. Who in the hell would've guessed that?!
In a 7-month stretch during this school year I found time to eat a lot of tajine and couscous, enter one of the largest mosques on the planet, go to "the blue city" of Chefchaouen in the Rif Mountains, the ancient imperial capitals of Rabat, Meknes and Marrakech, Roman ruins at Volubilis, Beni Mellal, Mazagan, the Atlas Mountains and the Sahara Desert. Oh yeah, I flew to Italy to see Florence, The Last Supper in Milan, the canals of Venice, the Tower of Pisa, the Roman Colosseum, The Sistine Chapel at the Vatican City, and I attended a papal blessing by Pope Benedict XVI.
What is in store next year? Wish I knew. For now, just tying everything up here for the summer, flying Thursday to stay in Lisbon overnight to get home to NJ on Friday for 8 weeks.
If you're reading this, I'm (almost) gone...
