Eye Opening Reminders

After one of the longest, most arduous and lay-over filled flights (Marrakech to Lisbon to Munich to Boston over a period of about 36 hours) of my life I made it home from Morocco one week ago today.

Along with the anticipated jet-lag, I came down with a nasty, phlegmy cold that I still haven't been able to completely shake.  I got home late Tuesday night and was immediately up and back at it with my daily routine Wednesday morning.  Somehow, I made it through the rest of last week - likely running solely on adrenaline - and crashed completely over the weekend.  (As in, I put on actual pants only once over a period of 48 hours...and even then, they were sort of, technically, 'jeggings.')

So while my body has been working to get itself righted again and back on the proper time zone, my brain has been processing my trip and the crazy, wild, intense, and interesting experience that was Morocco. 

So.  Morocco.  The Colored Pencil Project did a lot of good on this trip, reaching over 1,200 kids in just over a week.  My travel companion and I partnered with several Peace Corps volunteers throughout various regions to get into local schools and youth and women's centers.  It is something wonderful and exhilarating to be able to explain to a child - even with an intense language barrier - that no, in fact, they don't have to give me that package of colored pencils back after working on their self-portrait and thinking about a unique way to express their place in the world.  It is something amazing to see their eyes light up as they comprehend that yes, really...this is yours to keep, always; that you can continue to express yourself through art and color long after we have left your school, your village.

It is humbling and inspiring and I am so grateful for so many of the opportunities that came our way during our ten days in country.

And yet.

Africa is some hard travel, gang.  This trip was truly exhausting and completely unyielding in every sense.  I have never - ever - been as grateful to touch down on American soil, back home in the grand old US of A, as I was last week when my plane finally, finally, graciously, wonderfully, finally(!) landed at Logan airport.

I kept remarking to my friend throughout our trip that "nothing about this trip surprises me, and yet...everything about this trip surprises me."  It is one thing to know going in, thanks in part to one's pre-trip research as well as a lifelong habit of flipping through National Geographic magazines now and again, what will likely be in store for you - a desert Islamic State, one that in several spots - particularly in the remote villages feels like the place time forgot - is still a challenge to mentally wrap your brain around when you're actually there.  It is an experience unlike any other to be standing in the heart of Marrakech with a woman covered head to toe in a Burka on your right, a male vendor yelling in your face about bargaining for a leather bag while a man riding a donkey moves past you on your left,  while another man zips by on a scooter at the same time, all while the call to prayer sounds in the distance from the nearby, always prevalent mosque.  Morocco was as wild as I expected - and then some.  Before my departure a friend who had traveled there last year remarked that the biggest thing she took away from her time there was that there simply was so very much to absorb.  And I didn't understand what she meant, really, until I got there myself.  A week after my trip has come to a close I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the experience, still struggling in some sense to find the right words to express just exactly what the whole ten days felt like.

I have found that when one returns from a trip, a lot of people are keen to ask how it was.  I do this myself with friends too, of course.  We're always curious - at least I hope we are - about one another's travels, right?  But what I have also found, particularly when I've been asked "how was Morocco?" that people aren't quite sure how to respond when you don't just sigh and say "oh my God, it was amazing."  Because truthfully, I haven't been able to say that about Morocco.  In fact, I haven't found just one word to wrap up the adventure, one that will appease people's questions and let them move on with their day.  We have "fine" for how we're doing day in and day out, (even when we're not fine) but what about a trip that left you exhausted yet energized, grateful and humble, aware and cognizant, and also truly wanting a return toward your own personal existence?


At times there seems to be this sort of unspoken judgement passed when people miss or complain about the lack of everyday modern conveniences.  This is not to say I couldn't survive in Morocco - obviously I did - and perhaps it makes me "less" of a person to willingly admit that I actually really, really, really enjoy taking a hot shower every morning before I start my day.  Or that I do not enjoy crouching over a hole in the ground to use the bathroom, without toilet paper and only a bucket of cold water to "flush" things away.  I can pull on dirty, dusty clothes and start my day off with greasy unshowered hair, I can survive with only a "bucket bath" every two or three days.  Of course I can.  But I'm not going to lie and tell you that I actually enjoyed any of that.  And while maybe some would roll their eyes while listening to me, telling me I'm superficial for not really wanting to change my own personal every day routine, I'm also not going to apologize for liking nice things, for enjoying my job in the corporate world, for liking the idea of daily showers, hot running water, fashion and make up and the chance to actually style my hair. 

The Dali Lama has a quote: "Once a year, go someplace you've never been before."  It's one I think of often, as I find any sort of travel to be the ultimate humbler.  You could go to another state, you could fly to Europe, you could travel to Africa or any other corner of this far-reaching Earth and you should - at least I do - always return with a new found appreciation for what a vast and amazingly complex and different planet we live on; how each and every one of us is nothing but a speck in the grand scheme of the world. 

While I hope to always treasure the opportunities I have to travel and roam the world, I will also be forever grateful that I'm lucky enough to live where I do, to exist as I do.  As Dorothy and her ruby red shoes reminded us all those years ago, there's no place like Home.