Reflection

Well, I did it! I’m home. My suitcase is looming ominously in the corner, waiting for me to unzip it and clean/organize all of my Moroccan belongings (21 kilos of such, for I threw away about 10 pounds of things before my flight home!) I have yet to schedule my OPI Arabic exam, or get in shape for cross country, or start applying to college. But who even cares?!

 I can’t even express my gratitude to NSLI-Y and Amideast for everything this trip has done for me. Not only have I only just begun my Arabic journey, but I’m positive that I want to do something related to this beautiful language, and something on this side of the world, in my future. It’s unfortunate that I have to leave, and I hate to say goodbye so soon.. Who knows if I will ever see my host family again, or even some of the people in my group? Who knew that six weeks could knit such strong bonds in a group of 15? We all have shared this amazing journey together, and I don’t think that anything can ever replace that. We have created irreplaceable memories that I will never, ever forget. I hate to be nostalgic and emotional before I even get home, but I am honestly going to miss this more than I thought possible.

I shouldn’t be sad, because this is just the beginning – and I understand that. It’s just a really difficult concept to grasp when jumping from an absolutely perfect life, back to…the norm. (warning: this post rings of nostalgia, but at least my thoughts are coherent as I’m writing it, because I just woke up from 11 hours of sleep.. woah) The type of stress I experienced in Morocco – whether related to Arabic frustrations or sleep deprivation (or both) – won’t parallel anything that I will experience back in the United States because I can’t cure it with a walk through the medina, or a night on the beach at the Kasbah de Odayahs watching the stars, or bonding with my host sister using my charades and limited Arabic. Never again will I wake up each morning after 5 hours of sleep, sprint to get ready and hail a petit taxi to get to school on time (never failing to be late, of course,) and practice my Arabic with the driver. Never again will I sit in class with some of these people who have become family to me, or meander through the streets of Agdal amongst Ramadan festivities. I’ll never get to experience the “first time with a host family” feeling again, or watch the stars all night from the beaches at the Oudayas. Yet, I still have so much ahead of me.

Landing in America, I realize how different my two worlds are. Some culture shock observations I’ve already made, in my hours in America… *What is this microwave contraption?! Why is there not a flush button on top of the toilet? Is it really true that guacamole, sweet potatoes, blueberries, raspberries, and veggie burgers are actually accessible? Why is everyone speaking English? Why is everyone dressed so inappropriately? This weather is so humid, why am I not in the middle of a desert? Why is everything so gigantic? Why is everyone rushing around so busily? Why do I not see people eating khobz, tajine, and couscous? Or drinking mint tea with every meal, for that matter? Am I actually allowed to eat and drink in public, because it’s not even Ramadan anymore, even in the U.S?* Surely those are just a few, as I have only ventured outside to go directly from the airport straight to my bed at 11:30 at night. I’m actually surprisingly ok with being home, for now. I’ll be kept busy with college apps, school preparation, cross country, working, catching up with people, Arabic studying, and lots of lots of reading. By the way, Eid Mubarak to everyone! I’ll miss you, Morocco. It’s been real. Thanks for changing my life.