Where to start?

It started out...and then kept going and going and going.

So, I am in Morocco and it feels like I've been here for ages although i kept going and going and going. On Tuesday, I flew from Chicago to London over night (losing six hours). The next day, I flew from London to Paris and then from Paris to Rabat. My first experience on international flights was a lot better than I thought it would be. They give you tons of food and talked really slowly for me because my French kind of sucks.

Honestly, when I was getting ready to go to the airport, I was a nervous wreck. I just wanted to go home and go back to U of I and crawl into my bed. So far, that seems like it would have been a bad idea.

On the flight to Rabat, there was an Olympic athlete sitting in the row across from me so when I got there, there was a ton of suits waiting for him on the runway. I guess that's what a medal gets you. We got off the plane and walked into the airport (on the tarmac) and did hte whole customs things. (suprisingly quite easy). After being hassled by some certified-porter guy to get my luggage in, I went out to the internatinal greeting hall (which is the only other room in the airport). At first, I didn't see anyne there to meet me and I was quite creeped out, but eventually I found some guy with a handwritten sign.

I followed him out to the van and I had definite thoughts that I was getting kidnapped. He didn't speak English and was just kind of staring me down. I was thinking of exit strategies when he handed me the cell phone to talk to the program director. Safe. We drove straight to the restaurant where the rest of the program was eating.

Moroccan food is amazing. I sat down and looked at my menu (thankfully it was in French) and ordered a chicken sandwich. Amazng. Of course, the program director was trying to talk to me in French and that just hurt my head.

Went to the hotel. Went to bed.

(Cont. tomorrow/next time with reliable internet- so so so tired)

Camp (Finale)

Alright, after this post I have a new rule: no posting anything if it’s negative or if I’m in one of my undeniable emo moods. As the women who works at the credit card service center told me today, studying abroad is the chance of a lifetime. There’s no use moping when you can experience life. I’m never going to be able to afford to live in Morocco for 4 months ever again and I might as well “carpe diem”-it.

So, where do I start. I suppose an explanation of my uber-emo posts is in order. Camp has this weird affect on me. I love it when I’m not there, but I’m guaranteed to hate it at least half the time when I’m there. The atmosphere is so infectious and vibrant, but I’ve never felt like I belonged there. It’s a very lonely place when you consider that you live less than a 2 minute walk from 200 people. It drives me crazy that people act like you’re a part of camp and then exclude you five minutes later because you’re not rich/peppy/organized/smart/pretty enough. And honestly, I know that I’m not and I don’t need people reminding me about it.

Regardless, as I drove away I couldn’t help crying. It was about the same amount of tears as on the way there. I delude myself into thinking that I absolutely matter there (I don’t) or that people will realize that they miss me (they won’t.)

Sadly, I know if I can’t find something else next summer then I’ll be back and I’ll throw myself headfirst into the whirlwind again.

1. The "P" has taken over and it is amazing.

2. I hate hate hate the hill more than anything else in the entire world.

3. I'm still unsure and I'm still a little lonely, but the karma is a little off still.

Things I Bet You Didn't Know About Camp

1. I go to bed at 9:30 PM and I like it.

2. The sunset on Lake George is the most beautiful thing ever.

3. Walkie chatter is more amusing then most TV shoes you could ever watch.

4. You can't have performance anxiety over coiling a rope

5. Moving cabins and activities defines who you are.

6. Walking up cardio hill every day is more exercise than the average american gets in a week

7. Still miss my friends, but it's more of a dull pain.

Au revoir

I leave tomorrow morning and I am a total and absolute wreck. I don’t want to do this. The past few days have been awful; my stomach has been cramped, my skin has been breaking out, I haven’t been able to breathe, and I’ve had several minor panic attacks whenever I start thinking about camp.

This is such a bad idea. I miss my friends so much already and I’m going to miss the comfort of home as soon as I get through security at the airport again. I don’t want to go surround myself with trees, people who don’t like me very much, and traditions that I am not a part of. That’s not fun. I don’t want to do it.

I’ve spent the last few days plotting with my friends on all the diseases I could come up with just so I can come home: menegitis? Polio? Hepatits? It’s just so much easier now for me to go out there and be miserable than for me to back out now. I have so much control over the rest of my life, I don’t know why I let uncertainty and doubt fill my summers.

Honestly, I’m so low right now that the only place to go is up. I just really don’t think that it’s going to be okay.

An Introducton

In exactly one week, I leave Illinois until I come back during the second week of December (minus one week in August)…and apparently that’s a pretty big deal. I’m going to upstate New York for camp for 2 months and then I’m going to Morocco for four months. I know, in the long-term, that hardly seems to be very long and very adventurous, but I feel it warrants some kind of official documentation for everyone to see.

I just got back from my visit down to school. It was the last chance that I’m going to have to see most people until January or even May. We said good-bye in the usual way and now my clothes smell like card games, smoke, and wheat beer. I somehow combined almost all my vices and lots of my favorite people into one night. Excellent.

The idea of going back to New York has been stressing me out like crazy. I’m sure once I’m there, I’ll be fine, but until then I expect another panic attack and a few childish tantrums. Last year, my experience pretty much just mirrored someone with minor bipolar disorder. Some days were really, really bad and then some days were absolutely amazing. I think the fact that I have realistic expectations will make this summer better. I’ve also grown up a lot since then so I’m hoping that I’ll actually be able to take things at face value.

Morocco is still an open book. I don’t know where I’m living, what I’m taking, or what I want to get out of the experience. The only thing that is clear is what I’m leaving behind. I’m scared to death, but I’m sure it’ll be okay. I want to live my life and Morocco seems like an excellent place to start. I can get all my French and Arabic in one place.

Unusual travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God.
-Kurt Vonnegut

A good traveler is one who does not know where he is going, and a perfect traveler does not know where he came from.
-Lin Yutang