For those of you who know me well, know I have a little thing for men in uniform. I am not sure what it is, perhaps it is the AMAZING abs, the cute butt, the sparkly medals on the uniform, or the assumption that they have already been vetted by the U.S. government so they must be good catches. Whatever it is, I have a thing for men in uniform.
For those of you who know me also know that I have given up men in uniform, with extreme difficulty. No more men in uniform for Cia! This was a difficult decision I had to make, but it turns out the U.S. doesn't vet them enough and my experiences have never ended well. Ok, this could have something to do with my inability to end a relationship without blowing up the bridge in a fiery ball of disaster, but that is beside the point. Lets just say the reason I don't date men in uniform anymore is a long story that I don't want to get into right now...but it has something to do with breaking the cycle.
Anyway, the point of all this is that on my recent trip to Rabat I heard of this place called the Marine House which is a house filled with Marines who also serve beer. HOLY S***! And then I remembered that I am not allowed to date men in uniform anymore...s***. Wait, but I can look, right? I can even talk to one, right? No harm done! So off I went with some fellow PCVs who know of my predicament and promise to keep me in line.
Let me just say that the Marine House is AMAZING! And not for the reasons you might think based off of what I wrote above. It is a house with five Marines who open their doors and serve beer like Sam Adams so people can have a good time. And a good time was had! We danced all night to great music that I remember from middle school, I drank Sam Adams, met some really nice people, and felt like I was back in D.C. at a house party.
So, thank you Marines at the Marine House. Thank you for playing good music, thank you for serving Sam Adams, and thank you for showing me your abs, they are very nice :)
I am an educated woman. I am a well traveled woman. I have quite a few friends (and perhaps one or two enemies). I like cheese and fine wines as well as long walks on the beach. I read, I don't read as much as I should, but I read. Usually historical fictions, poetry, and the occasional mystery book because we all need a little excitement in our lives. So I was surprised to realize one day that I am, in fact, illiterate.
When I go to the post office, I am not exactly sure what the form is I am filling out. On my walks to the Center where I work, I can't read any of the street signs (which isn't that big of a deal because I really didn't read signs in the States either). When I go to the grocery store, I am the one to ask the owner "is this salt?" and be embarrassed as they look at me like I am crazy (which isn't that big of a deal either because most people here look at me like I am crazy). But, you know, it looked like salt, but I didn't know for sure, so I had to ask, because I couldn't read the label, because it was in ARABIC.
Ok, so I am not totally illiterate. I can read anything that is based off the latin alphabet, so you know, not too shabby. But when it comes to Arabic, I am illiterate, and it is difficult being illiterate. Actually, it sucks being illiterate. It really, really sucks being illiterate.
However, for Morocco with an estimated country wide literacy rate of 39.6% for women and 65.7% for men, I fit right in (United States Department of State, 2011). I am not sure how I feel about that, but there it is, a glaring reality of a compulsory education system that is not always enforced or supported with the adequate infrastructure to make it realistic. But there is quite a bit of hope with this new government, and a lot of changes are happening in Morocco, so we will see, maybe after two years I will become the minority.
You really learn something new everyday, don't you?
United States Department of State. (2011). Background note: Morocco. Retrieved from: http://www.state.gov/r/pa/ei/bgn/5431.htm
