My new stompin' grounds.

The street I'm currently living on along with the view of the city from the train station.

Alone but constantly surrounded.

Things are going well here! I bought the ticket and am enjoying the ride. The pace of life has changed considerably from the six days a week of language classes to now being basically my own teacher only American friend in town. For the next three months I will be slowly becoming integrated into my community by doing a lot of meet and greets and attending meetings and little get togethers that come my way. The majority of all of this integration is done through Darija, although there have been a few people I've met who know a little English. It has slowly been striking me as the days have gone on in my new town; I am the only American for perhaps an hour or so. I haven't seen or talked in person with another native English now for five days or so and this will be the norm for my two years. In a strange way this has not seemed to bother me. I have welcomed the challenge of learning the new language in order to communicate thoughts and desires with people I meet. Though it is always like a breath of fresh when I get on the phone with another volunteer and can talk in English. On another note, I have just finished my sixth book since being in the Peace Corps and this is turning into a really nice side hobby.

First train ride

Onto the next stage

So I have arrived in my new city, up near the border by Algeria. I traveled on a train for the first time in my life, and although it wasn't exactly the Hogwarts Express as I had hoped it was very nice and I enjoyed riding the eight hours with other volunteer friends of mine. Yesterday was my birthday and I couldn't have asked for a better day, the other volunteers were great and offered me many congrats on the day and some even sang Happy Birthday at the train station. About ten minutes into the train ride some little kids next to the train threw a rock which shattered the window next to Matt and I, and it splintered but didn't all break onto the floor. I just like to think that this kid was wishing me a happy birthday and the rock was my present and this had been the only way to try and get it to me. All is well here though, and I'm livin' up every moment!

Eid Kabir!

Move over Rachel Ray!
This guy is cooking up a liver storm.

Some cultural exchange happening.

Today kicked off the holiday of Eid Kabir, and proved to be quite eventful. (I recommend to google the meaning behind it all to get a better understanding of how my few days are going now.) We started the morning with slaughtering our own ram and then went on to eat what felt like most of it the rest of the day (when in fact it was maybe about 10%). I ate liver wrapped in fat, the heart, most of the nose and cheeks, and intestines and some other parts I'm slightly unsure of. It was actually quite tasty, but sometimes chewy. Salt and kummon made it taste better and also always drinking the coca cola they offer. (The coke here is a lot better for some reason and then I found out it's because they do not use corn syrup and just use pure sugar which makes it taste a little sweeter but I'm sure my teeth will pay for it soon.) 

Tonight I also had the priveledge of explaining to my host father in broken Darija why Michael Jackson's doctor was being hancuffed on the television. Basically to translate I said this, "Michael Jackson. Doctor. Doctor said, "take medicine." Medicine bad. Michael Jackson died. Doctor now (handcuff motion)." and that was our cultural exchange for the day.

Host mother.

This is my host mother, Fatiha, and I could not have asked for a  kinder and nicer person to take care of me in this new country for the first couple months. And I am not exaggerating when I say "take care of me." She will do laundry with any clothes she can find of mine and she will find me anywhere in the house that I am studying or reading to bring me the coziest blanket imaginable. She found my long john's pants with the huge holes in them while I was gone for a few days, and when I returned I found them folded in my room, stitched and easily mistaken as brand new. She calls me her "son" and has been amazing for making this transition to a new country and a new culture a very smooth one.

Our CBT group!

This is my Community Based Training Group. Here we are eating lunch, the five of us and our teacher.