Party for the fight to write

I am officially a lazy-ass blogger. Man. One month of absolutely nothing. Not that the thought or inspiration wasn´t there. Mostly just that I didn´t have a computer in front of me.

I am just barely recovering from my last two trips to Morocco, with less than a day in between, which left me slightly incoherent and afraid of the world. They were actually really good trips (the second, I was actually sicker than a clam on a hot day, but massive amounts of Ibuprofen made everything okay.) Now that i am more comfortable witht he actual trip, I am starting to actually love Morocco. Not that I would want to live there, but I love hanging out.

It´s impossible to go to Morocco as a woman without thinking of gender issues and how I, as an outsider, fit into the whole scheme. Despite popular ( mass media-fed) belief, women in Morocco have many more rights than in many Muslim countries and definitely run the gamut-- some of my friends had arranged marriages, some wear mini-skirts and live with their boyfriends. Still, though, it can be a really hard experience being a woman there, and the standards set for me, as a USian woman, are different than those set for my Moroccan friends.
I think a lot about what it means to work for social justice in that context. My job is not to try and change a culture (my own will keep me busy until I die). But I also feel that if any Moroccan feels unsafe of threatened to be who they are, I should be strong enough stand next to them. It creates and interesting dynamic amongst my friends, mostly men, who have very strong beliefs about a woman´s place (or homosexuality, or class, etc...) that go very much against my convictions. So how do I realign myself to fit in that space, stay open with people that I genuinely care about, and also speak up when I can?
A slow, torturous process, to be sure. I´m almost out of time. :)

I am headed to the Alpujarra tomorrow with Ben and maybe some other stragglers who are frightened of the impending Semana Santa next week, when the entire country of Spain gets inebriated beyond recognition and re-enacts the crucifiction. For five days. Drunk, crucified Spaniards. Dropping trou in the plaza because they can´t find a bathroom. Thank god for mountains and Paco´s homemade wine.

Six more weeks here in the Med. Colorado (more specifically, sun) calls my name. I still am not sure if I can be done travelling yet, though. Just taking a breather and enjoying home and family and puppies!
More pictures soon. So much love...
Heather