I'm slowly waking up from a dream- slowly pushing back a heavy blanket of denial, really.
I'm starting to admit to myself that I'm trying to ignore the fact that I may have only 2-3 months left of my trip before I'm pulled back to Oregon, largely against my will.
Funny- before leaving on this trip, I worried about being away for so long, feeling isolated and missing my roots. Instead, I'm finding myself mostly dreading the thought of 'home,' largely because I don't know how I will deal with Western Culture now.
The thought of so much concrete, of so many cars, of seeing people rushing off to work, of lattes and expensive cars and 9-5 jobs and the break-neck speed of life, of how wasteful and excessive and unappreciative our American culture tends to be puts a knot in my stomach. Although I don't really fit in here, I don't necessarily fit in there, either.
I'm striving to balance all those unwelcome images of the U.S. with the thought of my friends (picturing their faces in my mind), of the green, fresh smell of Portland, the natural beauty and being able to hold conversations in English every day, not struggling to communicate anymore. The thought of going on to graduate school in ethnomusicology, of setting my sights on something like a professor of Moroccan music, is the next big goal driving me.
Even though I don't really want to come home, I know that at some point I have to, even if I decide to live in Essaouira for the rest of my life. I know that there are new steps to be taken and I don't just want to 'hang out' here, I want to do something with my brain, with my heart with my thoughts and my love for this place, the music, the people, the spirit here.
So, with all these thoughts rolling around in my head- starting to come out of a state of denial, starting to force myself to think about eventually buying a plane ticket home, starting to think about what on earth I'm going to do when I get back- I'm feeling a new sense of bittersweet appreciation for everything here that has become my daily life. Like hanging out with the boys at Ma'alem Seddik's house.
Last night was a classic and mellow evening: the older men playing Dominoes and chopping kif on Seddik's wooden stump/table while Mohammed Sheriff, Hassan, me and another guy, Laraby, sat in the music room playing music, chatting and laughing.
Here's a classic recording from last night of the atmosphere.
HERE
