Christmas in Berkane

I took an epic trip up to Berkane for Christmas with loads of friends. There were Moroccans, Americans, and Frenchies.

We spent an entire day baking a Christmas feast. There were a team of boys who were sent out incessantly to buy more garlic or butter, shifts of dish washers and bakers flurrying about. I learned how to cook chickens in a tiny butagas oven: break them into several sections, slather in an herb rub and bake in a pan half-filled with a sugar/salt/water brine. It actually worked. It's amazing what one can make when you are resourceful. Apple and pumkin pies, stuffing, mashed potatoes, green bean casserolls, baba ghanoush, etc. Then came the secret santa and white elephant gifts.

On Christmas Day I saw the Mediterranean Coast and Algeria (just the border) for the first time. Beautiful place.

And of course.. we found ways to entertain ourselves...

Merry Christmas in the sand..

Kareem, our Secret Santa himself. (I promise he's a volunteer and that is his real name.)

Andrew couldn't decide if he should keep his old duct-tape/cardboard camera case or accept the new one his secret santa brought him.

A melange of nationalities celebrating together.

We really did see snowflakes on the window pane!

My dear friend Jesse. Her site is 26 hours, so this will probably be my only visit during my service to Berkane. All her Moroccan friends kept laughing when she would introduce me, claiming that we must be twins. Two freckled blondes in Morocco, speaking Arabic.

We cranked Christmas tunes and then realized that we actually appreciated them. In America the radio stations wear out the tunes for a month before the holidays actually arrive. Guess you have to come to Morocco to appreciate "Walkin' in a Winter Wonderland".

Anass, Hajar, Zarah, me.

On the way home, I stopped in Khenifra to see my old host family. It was certainly a treat to see them over a year later. They kept marveling, "she can speak now, she can speak!" We just chatted and laughed for hours, played around on the internet at their house, cooked, ate, quoted poetry to each other. I love them all dearly and feel blessed to have so many loving "families" in this country. Also certainly allowed for contemplation on all that had passed in the year since I last stayed under their roof - how I was paranoid about cultural issues or communicating or not wanting to eat cow brain. These are happy days.