I thought I knew the extent of Moroccan kindness… and then I started on the adventure of moving into my own apartment. In any culture, city, or situation moving is difficult especially when you are doing it on your own. In the good old college days each time I moved in/out of school the family scrambled and tried to push the responsibility to someone else, but regardless of the inconvenience there was always someone there to help me move.

The amazing thing is that once I mentioned the need for help my Moroccan community jumped to my aid. The whole escapade started on Monday when I officially signed my contract with my adorable, probably 90 year old landlord “Haj”. We signed the papers then went and had them legalized at the association across the street. Then I was handed the keys and my doorman showed me all the ins and outs of how to open and lock my door (harder than you would assume). Then I was told that for the electricity I would need a copy of my passport. I nodded and explained I had it and went on my way. Panic only set in later that night when I realized I had no idea how to set up my electricity account!

Luckily on Tuesday with the help of about 3 convenience store owners I was ushered into an office with a very friendly man who had known the PCV before me and took care of everything. He insisted that the electricity meter would be put in that day and my electricity turned on.

After asking a few people about where the building was to turn on my water and receiving different answers each time, I gave up and called it a day. Wednesday my host mom, insisted that she escort me to the building of the water company. She took me in the taxi but had to carry on to a doctor’s appointment so there I was again, standing outside of an office that looked fairly like a house without the faintest idea how to explain where my address-less apartment was and what exactly I needed for it. Then I met ‘Hmed.

Turns out I was brought to the regional water department, not the city, but that didn’t deter ‘Hmed, the director of all water in the province. Rather, he took my information and called down to the city office. He then took his helpfulness to a whole other level. He walked me across town and sat with me as they changed the bill to my name. He then took me to the bank to pay for the meter they had to install, then back to the office to personally choose a mechanic to come with us that moment and install the meter for me. I took him to my apartment and within 10 mins he and 2 other technicians had the water on and running in my apartment.

So there I was, with electricity, water, a lot of clothes and not much else. When I told a girl from my youth center that I was moving in with nothing, she offered to come help me Wednesday afternoon. So at 2 ‘oclock after a quick lunch from the morning water adventures I met *Fatima. She came up looked at the apartment and we decided the most important things I needed were a bed, a few Moroccan couches and a stove top. So out we went. I bought a bed and 2 couches at the first store we went to I also got a stove top, and some kitchen and cleaning things. Then we returned to my apartment and before we could pick up the big furniture Fatima insisted we clean the apartment. She rolled up her pants and went to it. We scrubbed all of the floors in record time and then got a man to deliver all the big furniture.

So here I am Thursday, 2 days early from my move-in date and all I have are a few more bags to move in. I am going to make one more 20 min walk with the rest of my stuff and then I am in. I am, for the first time, going to spend tonight in MY apartment.

A reality that I realize wouldn’t have been possible without the kindness of so many of my community members. The men who walked me around for hours setting up my water and electricity, the countless hanut (convenience stores) owners who directed me in what I needed to do, my amazing doorman, the girl who literally scrubbed my floor, and the others who offered, and especially to the man who carried my queen size bed and 2 couches across the busy street and up the countless stairs to my third floor apartment.

Integration... what is that exactly?

Peace Corps has slated our first three months at our site as being a time solely for integration. And over the past few days I have been wondering how one goes about actually doing that. How do you integrate into a city of 50,000+ ? I have accepted that in a city of this size I am never truly going to become a part of the city, but what does integration mean for me?

Well after a week of walking around aimlessly, stopping at cafes and blindly saying “hi” to people on the street, today I felt one huge jump in my comfort level in this town. My “perfect day” began with breakfast with my host mom and sisters and then I invited them all to do yoga with me. As we rolled around on the floor, I realized that I’m comfortable here. Not sure exactly when that moment happened, but it did and there is no going back. Visa versa I have told the girls (my new host sisters, Khowla 9 and Chaima10 years old) to correct my Arabic and today we reached a point where they are pulling apart my every sentence, baby steps but good progress for just under 2 weeks.

After an afternoon of card games and silliness with the girls, I took off downtown, hit the internet for a few minutes and then took the long way home. As I passed my future apartment I waved to my doorman (yes, I have one, can you believe it?) Then salaamed my way down the road smiling and responding to each of the “bonjours” with an Arabic greeting of my own. On my way up a scenic road that gives one a panoramic view of the mountain valley I now call home; I bumped into a small girl I had stopped to talk with on a previous walk. After greeting her and her timid younger sister who stared at my blond hair and blue eyes all the way down the road, I continued on my way toward my cozy host apartment for teatime.

Even though I live in a city and will never get the sense of community a lot of PCVs get in their smaller towns, I can sense that I am beginning to form my own community here. Each day I run into someone I know on the road and almost everyday I meet and talk with someone new. I am at a point where the screaming little boys make me laugh, the double takes give me a second chance to smile at nearly everyone I pass and each “salam” is an opening for a new friendship.

“Little by little” (my personal motto here) everything is coming together. My first week here: I found a tutor, got all my residence/working papers together, found an amazing downtown apartment, and started working with my counterpart on a SIDA (AIDS) project. Sounds like a lot, but in reality I spend most of my days trying to figure out how to waste the rest of my week while looking productive. Just counting down the days until the first of the year when I get my own house, a real schedule and real work to do!