Thoughts:

As you could imagine, I had a lot of things on my mind as I walked into the airport. It was definitely difficult to say “see you in a year” to a lot of people, but the strangest was saying “bye” to my home in New Jersey. After living in a place for most of your life, you get attached, but the time has come for new beginnings for me and the rest of my family.

Something really interesting happened right before I left that reflected my situation so closely. We were packing up the house in NJ and my dog, Reesa, definitely could tell. She was running around and barking at us, as if to make sure we didn’t forget her. Then we left to have dinner and when we came back she had run away. Eventually, Mommy went looking and found her and called me to tell me that Reesa had run away to look for us because she thought we had left her behind. Granted, she is a dog and quite dumb, but don’t we all have that same instinct of attachment to camaraderie and companionship and the ones we love? Wasn’t that the same reason that I was crying when I left the house and am crying now as I write about it? I suppose we all have in common an innate urge to cherish the past and the people that make it memorable or valuable, as well as the shared trouble in letting them go: Reesa was scared she was left behind, my parents are scared to “lose” me for a year and I am afraid to leave the comfortable and explore the unknown. And only one, simplistic, non-prophetic phrase comes to mind to explain these phenomena… “LIFE, MAN” (courtesy of Mary Beth King).

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Day One:

So, I made a friend on the plane (Anat, I heard your voice in my head and it said “figures…” haha). He started grilling me as soon as my food came because that was the first time I was conscious since I found my seat on the plane. It turns out, he speaks a little English but perfect Standard Arabic so we exchanged niceties in Arabic! I was very proud, but unfortunately, I would not get so lucky the rest of the day. Moroccan Arabic, the dialect, is very different from Standard and I can pick up a few words here and there that resemble the “mother tongue.” It is supposed to get easier so we shall see…

After spending the first day running around with a 6-foot-2 crazy Moroccan 55-year-old driver that knew English because he randomly lived in Astoria (yea, Queens haha) for 6 months, I went out for dinner with a 24 year-old Rabbi and his wife from Brooklyn and some of their friends. The Rabbi and his wife are in Morocco for a few weeks running a children’s day camp (for all you CJUers reading my blog right now, you will appreciate this) that originally only had 15 kids signed up, and after the 1st week had 50 children attending! I expressed to them how wonderful it is to have too many Jews at a program, and they shared my sentiments.  I also met a very nice woman and her daughter, who, upon dropping me off at my hotel, told me she would call me in the morning with a reservation for a hotel, comparable in price, but in a much better location. I have to admit, I am super grateful because that area was sooo sketchy. It definitely helps my transition to find that there are people here with my interests at heart and are willing to help. Before anyone starts to worry, it all worked out fine and my new hotel is in the “upper-east-side” of Casablanca, with approximately 4 synagogues, 2 Jewish community centers, and 2 or 3 kosher restaurants within walking distance.  Oh yeah!  And the beach isn’t that far either!  Much better than Hamilton, NY, if I might add.

The Beach in Casablanca

With posts like this, I may have to take a few days to post, but keep checking in!