In the last update I mentioned that I was moving the following Sunday. I am proud to report that I have now been living in the same apartment since that day. Eight weeks in a row, a new personal best for the year It really has proved to be a good location and the roommates are good company.

In these last two months I have been working furiously on a redesign of Malaga Media Centers (MMC) Arabic outreach site, toiling endlessly to perfect the user experience of the media portion of the site. It’s getting really fluid, I’m proud of what has been accomplished, a few details remain that need working out, but they should be finished this week. That said, I am presenting the new design tomorrow morning at the department meeting.

Once I finish the media site I need to align the forum design to match, which promises to be an arduous process thanks to the archaic architecture of the vBulletin forum software.

Also, I have been making preparations for a work trip to West Africa in January. The Avant Recruitment Director and I will be scouting some new territory for Short Cycle Church Planting Teams and I will be recording video and taking photos to send back to North America to be used in recruiting materials.

As part of preparations there are visas to acquire, inoculations to acquire, and a myriad of other concerns to address. Last Friday (American Thanksgiving, which I was forced to celebrate, I mean enjoyed) in the morning I went to see the Department of External Health here in Malaga (the place where you can get needles full of tropical viruses) and received three inoculations, most importantly the one for yellow fever, I’ve been ill ever since. Actually, to be perfectly honest, of the last 36 hours, more than 24 of them have been spent in bed.

The doctor said side effects like this could last up to four or five days, meaning I should be coming up on the end of it. Let’s hope so.

The day before I had gone to the bus station in Madrid to buy a ticket for the following days night bus to Malaga and I still had it that morning when I stuffed it my jacket pocket along with my camera and iPod. And now, while the camera and iPod where still in the pocket, the ticket was nowhere to be found. It must of fallen out of my pocket at some point while I was taking the camera out to take a picture, somewhere in central madrid, sometime within the previous 12 hours. There wasn’t realistically any hope of finding it, it was only a little more than an hour until the bus left.

So I went back to the ticket window and told the clerk there that I had lost my ticket and asked if there was anything that could be done. He said not really.

I got the visa card and he asked me if I knew what seat my old ticket was. I thought, Oh great … this bus is going to be full. My thoughts must have become audible because he assured me that there were still seats left. I told him I thought it was maybe number 18, he told me definitely not.

He asked me where I bought the ticket, I said right in very same ticket window in which were talking. He asked me when I bought the ticket, I said  the day previous in the afternoon. He asked me if I had bought it from him, I told him I sure didn’t recognize him.

I got out my credit card and he got out a hand written ticket. He gave me the newly created ticket and said I didn’t owe him anything.

I couldn’t believe it. I was certain I was going to have to pay twice (which still only amounts to half what a train ticket would cost) and he was letting me on the bus with not much more than my word! Amazing! I did not expect so much grace from a bus station ticket clerk at eleven pm on a Saturday night.

At any rate, I believe there is a lesson here to be learned. My advice to myself is that in the future, I should use my little pocket camera to make a quick and disposable copy important papers, such as bus tickets, in case I once again find my pockets quite hole-y.

Ultimately though, I just want to thank Daibus for being helpful and not making me pay for my seat twice. That really made my day.

I am tired doing software updates to the website and tumblr.com is capable of doing what I want it too so there you have it. This is the last post you’ll see her and once my hosting subscription expires this site will disappear from the web.

This week, the first accomplishment was that I found a place, signed a lease, and now have keys in hand. I had sent out an email update saying that I was moving a few days ago, but as nothing happens too quickly in Spanish culture that has been postponed until Sunday. Moving won’t be difficult, I have naught but a backpack full of essentials and a box filled with non-essential books, clothing, kitchen supplies, and etc..

Secondly, I did my first ever round of english tutoring last night. I gave an hour lesson to the son of my former Spanish teacher. She’s even rounded up a second possible client for me if I feel I have time.

Thirdly, there have been meetings to attend, software updates to apply to the websites I “master” and glitches in the software that powers the websites that have needed to be diagnosing and repair. I am trying to get onto doing some redesigns, but as our web presence grows more and more of my time gets consumed in maintaining what we have.

And as it’s been a while since I’ve made any sort of Public update, I’ll include an event from last Friday. Myself and Mikell (The Assistant Director) hosted an all night video game party for the youth of my church (ICE Renacer) as well as a few other friends. We had almost 20 people show up and connect to the LAN to play Counter-Strike between 22:00 and 08:00 Saturday morning. It was a lot of fun and most people made it straight through the night and some of the kids even made it right through the next day.

A few days later I was leaving for the alps for two weeks and I still didn’t have any credit on my phone but it was too late, I was out of the country and had to make do with €2.20 that I had. It was enough for the trip, but now I’m back and I only have €.20. Enough to make a 40 second phone call or send one text message.

So last Saturday I went to try again and put some money on the phone but after six attempts with the machine at the local bookstore all ending in “Error General (19)” I gave up and said I’d come back on Monday and give it a go.

Yesterday was Monday. I went to the book store and tried another six times all ending in the same error. So I decided I would try at a different place downtown. I thought surely it will work there. So I hoped on my recently acquired bicycle and proceeded to downtown.

Halfway down the hill one of the pedals fell off. Anger.

I never the less made it with one pedal to the phone store where I had previously bought credit for my phone. They tried twice. Error. ERROR. They told me go. Great.

I decided to eat and had fast food for the first time in two months. It was moderately satisfying.

I then called my phone service provider and asked them to fix the problem. They told me they could do nothing for me. Great. You guys are awesome Yoigo (with all due sarcasm).

I took my broken bike to the bus stop and waited 15 minutes for it to show up, only to be denied entrance. Apparently (but not really to my surprise) you can’t take a bike on the bus. I explained my situation. Still I was denied entrance.

So I walked my bike an hour up the hill still not having any credit on my phone with which to make a call and I can’t find the receipt to prove that there is something wrong. It was a very frustrating evening but I hope you can laugh about it.

That said, I have several websites, a video, photography, and translation to do with a big conference coming up, so I am kept busy.

Also, I am contemplating continuing to update this site at my current pace and using email as my main platform for major updates and facebook as the way to find out what’s going on otherwise. If you want to get onto my regular mailing list send a message to the address listed on the contact page.

So it came time for me to decide if I still wanted to go and I decided that I make a go at it and see what could happen. I still had a possibility for accommodations, an american girl I had meet on the train Tangier offered me to stay with her some friends for the festival. I made the call and the result was inconclusive, but not being one to hesitate I went to the train station to get a ticket.

I already knew that trains were only available as far as Marrakech and after that I would have to switch to a bus. And I guess in the back of my mind I didn’t expect that there would be an available bus to Essaouira that night because I didn’t feel in the least bit shocked that my request for a first class passage to Essaouira turned into a second class passage to Marrakech.

What they hey? I thought to myself. Let’s go to Marrakech. So I boarded the train and got into a cramped un-air-conditioned cabin bound for the edge of the Sahara desert. There were some interesting Moroccans in the compartment who were very surprised to learn that I knew some arabic and made every effort to convert me to Islam. I declined as politely as I could.

As the train was pulling into Marrakech, I just couldn’t let go of the awe I was feeling. The scenery could only be described as other worldly. It was wicked hot (42 degrees Celsius or better) and the scenery reminded me most of some of the Mars photos I’ve seen. I had been to Marrakech before, but somehow this time was different.

And for the record I don’t think that Marrakech is a fun place to hang out in by ones self.

I went and found a cheap hotel without air conditioning or even a fan on noisy side street on one of the hottest nights I’d even experienced. I really didn’t think that hell could be much different. And early the next morning I went to the bus station to see if there was an available bus to Essaouira.  There wasn’t until nine that evening. I was ready to give up. I wanted to leave the heat and the uncertain state of lodgings for cleaner, cooler, quieter Southern Spain (I didn’t honestly think I’d ever utter those words in reference to Southern Spain), but an american guy and his girlfriend convinced me and some French/Moroccan to catch a grand taxi with them to the Festival.

It was on the taxi ride at the last possible moment when I got a text message from my acquaintance (really, to say anything more than acquaintance would be exaggerating) from the train that I could indeed stay with them for the two nights of the festival that remained. The only thing was that she wasn’t going to be there until the following day and someone I totally didn’t know was going to be there to let me in.

So I got to the apartment we all were going to be staying at and introduced myself to the group and realized quickly that I in every way an anomaly. Firstly, I was the only guy, secondly I was the only one that didn’t have a masters in something or other, and lastly I was the only one who didn’t know anyone else from a hole in the wall. The only common factor was that everyone was 24. Pretty random eh?

So in the end I did get to end the festival, the city, the beach, live Moroccan hip-hop music until four in the morning, fresh Moroccan khobz straight out of the oven shortly there after and just some beautiful sea-side summer weather. The only other really weird thing that happened was hearing my name called out while wading through a crowd of fellow concert goers only to find out that it was some Moroccan guy that I really didn’t remember. Yet he knew enough about me without me volunteering information that I accepted him as a friend and we hung the whole afternoon. He also tried to convert me to Islam but to no avail.

Wait. I am almost forgetting the strangest part of the trip. 

After leaving the festival I took an air conditioned bus (thank goodness, I almost never get to travel with A/C in Morocco) to Marrakech where I got to see the half of the Euro Cup game between Spain and Germany and then caught an overnight train to Tanger where I was going to catch the ferry into Spain.  

When the train arrived in Spain I had only a half to get from the station to onboard the ferry, not a lot of time, but I still managed to make friends with a hurried Moroccan man who also desperately wanted to catch the eight o’clock ferry. I boarded the boat with him and as we were looking for good seats a hawaiian man randomly starting conversing with me and I shared a little bit about where I’d been and he where he was at.

He told me he was traveling with an Egyptian man who was living in Spain and that they had been seeing his friends. I said that was nice and continued to talk with my newest Moroccan friend. But then I saw this Hawaiian guys egyptian friend and realized that I had met him before on a small and far away Mediterranean Island over a year ago. I got out of my seat and gave the man a hug. That’s just how good of friends we are.

So I spent the morning with those two and they gave me a ride from the port in Tarifa to Malaga. I was really grateful for that, but it really is a small world.

Getting “Rugged”

Some people have demonstrated to me a serious aversion for this place on the grounds of personal safety and while I’m not saying that their fears are entirely unfounded the worst thing the average tourist will encounter is a rugging.

Definitions of this common occurrence can vary but to me it usually refers to getting deceived into entering an “artisans cooperative” or “art exhibition” where people will try and sell you carpets you may or may not want. For the record this is pretty much unavoidable. You will get “rugged” in Morocco.

So my advice for when this does happen to you, drink the tea they give you, listen to what the proprietor has to say and enjoy the ceremony. When they start talking about price don’t let them fool you into paying more then you would want. I find that when I really want out sticking to really insulting low price is a great way to ejected from the premise without having spent any money I didn’t want to.

What’s most important is that you treat this as a lesson on how to deal with these people. They will be pushy and you need to know to ignore or be rude to them when you have to. Also you should know that if anyone rendered you even a small service they will want a tip, which you do owe them (just don’t let them embellish you).

Train vs. Bus vs. Grand Taxi vs. Grand Taxi vs. Petit Taxi vs. Bus

Another important thing to learn about Morocco is how to get around. I do not include air travel in this list because I have never flown in Morocco.

Train: In my opinion this is the best way to get between cities, but not by far. The train network isn’t nearly as extensive as the bus network nor is it quicker in many cases. However, when you ride first class train, you don’t pay a quarter of what you would for the same ride in Europe and you get all the amenities: The freedom to get up and use the toilet, snack carts during the trip and cabins with A/C (usually). Locals will usually try to convince that you shouldn’t take the train and I don’t know why this is, but if there is a train that departs at a convenient time for you take it. You won’t be disappointed. Remember: Buy first class tickets, they’re not that much more expensive and you get an assigned seat.

Bus: What Morocco does have is a cheap, extensive bus network that will get you from nearly anywhere to nearly anywhere. I recommend the CTM buses for the reasons that they do check your bags to make sure that people only walk away with the bags that are theirs (rather than thieving the baggage holds) and the A/C on their buses usually works. Bus is by no means quick or comfortable way to travel but they do stop every two hours so you can refresh yourself with some Moroccan BBQ and mint tea and for the Record this is usually how I travel.

Grand Taxi: Occasionally you may find yourself in some small Moroccan hick-town with bus service and it’s at this point where you’ll be looking into getting a Grand Taxi to get you to your destination. There are however two distinct ways in which these taxis work which is why they make the list twice. There are Grand Taxis that follow fixed routes for a fixed price and then there are Grand Taxis that you charter for specifically your purposes. The latter being the more expensive and the former being more or less exactly like a small bus. Something to remember is that when you’re chartering a Grand Taxi is that you need to arrange a price beforehand and Grand Taxis in general will take six passengers or more.

Petit Taxi: These you will find in nearly every Moroccan city and each city has it’s own color for it’s fleet of Petit Taxis. They’re great in that they’re cheap but they are very limited in how far they will take you; they won’t drive beyond their city limits, which in some occasions can be very cumbersome as some cities really have started blending into each other.

Bus: As a tourist it is very unlikely that you would ever take one of these city transit buses as their stops are generally unmarked, their routes hard to decipher and the financial savings marginal, but if you ever wanted to wind up in some unknown end of a foreign city you could hop on. Chances are where ever you get off you’re just a cheap petit taxi ride away from where ever it was that you came.

There is more that could be written about, but as I am not very prone to finishing what I’ve started in regards to writing, I stop here, leaving you with some (hopefully) useful information for your next trip to Morocco.

It’s uncomfortable and difficult in that your life is not your own. You give up any personal desire you might have for a cause that is incredibly all enveloping. I am not saying it’s not worth it but it is a huge commitment. It’s uncomfortable constantly relying on others for your daily sustenance and it’s uncomfortable being in a constant state of transition. I don’t always get to know where I am going next, and most certainly not where I am going to stay.

But most difficult thing for me has to do with relationships. It’s not easy to decided to leave friends and family behind for an undetermined period of time. And I think it might be even more acute in my case in that I most decidedly do not have a significant other with whom to share experiences. I consider myself to be a very personable person but it really does get wearisome to go through the getting-to-know you phase umpteen times a week. Making new friends isn’t difficult for me but not ever getting to have old friends around is.

I think what best sums up what I want to say is the old proverb “be careful what you wish for.” life for me is  not all sunshine and roses.

I guess I am a terrible person, but I just couldn’t help it. It seemed to be the epitome of irony and for the record these orphans weren’t starving. I just had to store this.

The Meme Rules

I’m supposed to post rulz, but I just don’t feel like it. Refer to aforementioned instigating post if you want to know the rulz.

Eight things you (maybe) didn’t know about me.

1. I drink tabasco sauce. But as clarification, I use it as a sore throat remedy. I put on some hot water and add a liberal amount of Tabasco to the glass burn off any hint of a cold.
2.  Come this may I will have celebrated my last three birthdays on three different continents.
3. My friends refer to tether cables as “Jamie Cables” as a result of an incident during a youth group camp out many years. Let me just say that the teether cable won.
4. I move a lot. This isn’t a secret but I think if one did the math it would show that I have averaged less than five months per dwelling since I graduated high school six years ago.
5. I went to college twice (NAIT and PRBI). I pride myself in the fact that once was not enough even though it does come off like repeating a grade in Elementary school.
6. I used to be an incredibly fussy eater, now I’m just a fussy eater. Strangely enough though, weird foreign cuisine like squid cooked in it’s own ink or boiled brains doesn’t bother nearly as much as something mundane like a tomato.
7. I don’ publicly disclosed absolutely every fact of my life on the Internet. I have a number of stories that I haven’t posted for the specific reason that my mom and Grandma don’t worry about my safety during my adventures.
8. I can’t really say I believe in finishing what someone else started. Which is why I am ending the meme right now.

I try to never start writing, feeling guilty about not have written something for a while, but now after having been nearly a month in North Africa surely there must be something to report? People have been asking. Yet the truth is that I don’t have that much exciting news. I have stayed between the same city and sister city since I got here nearly a month ago (tomorrow will be one month precisely).

But to be perfectly honest I do have a few mundane details I can share.

1. I have started class, but the classmate shuffle doesn’t seem to end. I really think that next week I am going to pony up the cash necessary for private lessons because other people just seem to drag me down.
2. I am living in a huge house with pretty much just me and a barely literate North African man, who also just happens to be in town because his daughter is in the hospital. The conversation we share is far from deep.
3. I have ventured out into the city on photographic excursions, of which, the above photo is a result.

My biggest frustration with my new surroundings have very little to do with a language barrier. The fact is that I utilize the cheap public transit to get around but there is no such thing as a bus route map! So two weekends ago I just got on a couple of buses to see where they went and it’s been confirmed to me by several people that that is the only way to know where a certain bus number will go. But that’s not all, just because a bus followed a certain route to get somewhere doesn’t mean that it will follow even remotely the same route back. For example I can take the number 8 bus downtown but I need to take the number 2 bus back. Oh, and just because the bus is labelled with the number you want doesn’t mean it’s the right bus, some buses go on entirely different sub-routes. Getting around has really been a challenge and for a lot of it I have depended on my own two feet.

In conclusion, getting around is difficult, language learning is happening (I can even utter a few error-free sentences), and I do have a bit of schedule/routine in my new place. It is hard to motivate myself to integrate myself into the local society considering I will only be here a brief stint but the effort I have made has been totally worth it. And the new Wordpress 2.5, which is the system that powers this site, is totally awesome.

The first four days of class have been fun and I looking forward to some more learning.

Normally, I would try and deliver some sort of status update on Friday, but today and this week have had a very different tone for me and warrant a different more journal like entry into my public thought space.

In the last weeks I have been reading through the Gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke (I haven’t made it up to John yet) and just today I again watched The Passion of the Christ and I’ve just been struck by the love and compassion of Jesus. Jesus indiscriminately performed miraculous healings, he ate and hung out with his societies lower caste, and above all bore incredible pain as an innocent man on our behalf. I find it impossible not to be moved by the Gospel account of his life.

But he didn’t just die on the cross, he resurrected himself. And it’s that detail that commands me to action. Christians are to be the salt and the light but even more so Mark 16:17-20 says that miraculous sings and wonders should accompany believers. As a matter of fact, as far as I can tell from my reading of the Bible, it should be unquestionably clear when someone is a Christian.

Yet it’s so hard. I struggle taking even small steps of faith and am easily distracted by the lure of affluence. How can I eat so much more than I really need to on a regular basis when there are so many hungary people? How can I justify the purchase of new clothes when it wouldn’t take me minutes to locate someone dressed in tatters? I really feel compelled to be more personally involved in the lives of those in a state of physical need.

Anyway, it’s nearly past the hour at which I no longer permit myself to proof read and publish and I want to conclude saying that in accordance with God’s imperative given to the Israelites on countless occasions I really feel compelled to begin a (personal) Spirit Revelation Journal/Faith Portfolio of sorts. Providing me a firm historical reference of how I’ve seen God active in this world.

I knew of the existence of this word pretty much describing how things work in my hometown but I forgot exactly what it was. So last night when I was talking with some spanish people about exactly this concept, my memory was triggered. They call it El Echufe or being plugged-in, as in an like an electrical outlet.