Re: the previous post:

I’ve not fully processed that I’m leaving. I know, intellectually, that I’m leaving my village, my house, and my pile of books, but I leave all the time. I leave for the weekend to see a friend, I leave for a few days to help with health lessons or to run a workshop – sometimes I leave for two whole weeks because I’ve gotten the idea in my head that it would be fun to help run a camp on the other side of the country. But I always come back.

I’ve started cleaning out my house, sorting, and packing some small amount of my things. I don’t think I’ll really comprehend, though, that I’ve left for good until two or three weeks after I’m gone, when I’m not waiting for the train back south or the bus to finally arrive. And then I’m not sure just how I’ll react; probably with the emotions I’m supposed to be feeling now.

I’ll be pretty busy until that moment hits, though. I mean, I have to finish packing. And then I have to close out my paperwork in Rabat, and then…well, then I’m going to Istanbul*.

*No! Really! Five days, four nights, infinite amounts of street food.

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