Letting Go

On New Years Eve, we found ourselves in a beautiful home perched on a cliff. The coastline stretched for miles on the southern edge of Morocco without a soul in sight. The night faded into darkness to the tune of the waves crashing along the shoreline. We played a game to highlight our low moments, high moments, and strange moments in this year of change, but it was more difficult than anticipated. In a year that has been marked by turmoil and consequence politically, my 2017 will be remembered as a year of change and self-advocacy.

Here are some things that made this year special:

1. Marching.
2. Learning to leave a job to advance my career.
3. Learning to leave a career to gain life experience, and remember true aspirations.
4. Saying goodbye in our own ways.
5. Watching family become adults, and enjoying smaller moments.
6. Embracing opportunities and trying everything [at least] once.
7. Dinner dates and Zweigelt.
8. Exploring new cities with old friends. Every weekend, if possible.
9. Brunches with so much love, often ending in new friendships.
10. Unapologetically embracing a lifestyle, and seamlessly letting it go.
11. Eating pizza and watching bad movies with my mom.
12. Dancing my last American evening away with Van Morrison, my dad, and best friends.
13. Moving abroad.
14. Feeling confident, for the first time, in a foreign language.
15. Celebrating holidays with new twists.
16. Trusting new people and learning new perspectives.
17. Feeling the impact of US foreign policy abroad.
18. Signing my first lease to live alone…in Arabic.
19. Teaching English. Teaching Art?
20. Letting go, and letting things happen.

The final point is one that is likely to hold through these two years, and possibly endure longer. Living in Morocco requires frequently relinquishing control; this is something I rarely allowed when living in DC, or anywhere else for that matter. Yet somehow, in this new way of living, I’ve embraced it with open arms. Most days, I let people tell me what to do and most often it has brought me to a place of new discovery, or at least a simpler navigation to living in my desert town. My town bus drivers know where I’m traveling before I arrive for the early morning trip out of town. The guys at our coffee shop start making my espresso twice as large as soon as I’ve greeted them good morning; we take our table alongside the throngs of tourists trailing through on their way to the desert, as they stare in awe of the quiet oasis situated below the meeting of two mountains. We walk with the director of our youth center, and end up in the casbah nestled in the side of the mountain overlooking our town, or drinking tea with his sweet and welcoming mother in her village opposite of the oasis.

Moving south has brought me to a different side of Moroccan culture, the dimensions of migration through the country, and open eyes. Over the holidays, Christmas Eve was spent with more than twenty volunteers sleeping on top of each other, and eating bits and pieces of food from home. We returned home Christmas Day and were greeted by the booming “Happy Christmas!” [in english] from our cafe man, Ibrahim, before we grilled kebabs and all sat soaking in the sunshine. The week to follow was filled with the beginning of English classes at the youth center, an art class that didn’t require my non-existent talents, and finally preparing a sweet little home where I’ll be living for the next two years.

It was the day before New Years Eve, and my three bus rides and a taxi had brought me to the city of Inzegane, where we’d be ushered on to another nearby town for a wedding. Two Americans slipped on their kaftans and smeared on makeup before sliding into a giant tent situated between two houses, swiftly sitting for a meal as the party continued all around through speaker systems and strobe lights. We watched as the bride was lifted in a pearl-encrusted throne, and laughed as we danced in circles around the little girls that were made up with flower crown tiaras. As the bride was helped into her third dress, the wedding guests added a new layer to the ensembles with traditional Tamazight headdresses; Americans were not exempt. The fourth hour of dancing ensued as we cheered for the bride in her fourth and final dress of the evening, and she exited the ceremony for her new married life.

As the sun set on the last day of the year, four Americans, one German, and a handful of Moroccans sat around a tagine and listened to the lapping of the waves on the cliffs below. There was dancing and laughter and cups of coffee too late in the evening, and as we as looked out on the silent seascape and began to count down to another year, it was hard to imagine being anywhere else in the world. Reflecting on the first month in my new home, it’s been a welcome end to a year of transitions. Beginning this new year means opening a door to a journey of consistent residence in an inconsistent environment. There will be new challenges and surprises this year, both politically and personally, but this year I’ll be letting go and letting things happen.