Back in September 2021, I wrote a piece titled “That Time I let a Stranger Bathe Me – My Experience at a Moroccan Hammam”.  At the time it seemed like a bold immersion into Moroccan culture.  But now, after living in Morocco for five months, I can see it for what it truly was: a Westernized introduction. The hammam I experienced then was tucked inside a luxurious spa in the Riad where I was staying.  It was private, serene, and indulgent – what many would call “the royal treatment”.

Even in that controlled setting, the experience pushed boundaries. After all, allowing someone to bathe you – scrub you – is intimate, vulnerable, and far from anything most Westerners are used to. Still, it was more spa than tradition, an experience meant to ease foreigners in gently. You might call it “hammam-lite”.

Living here now, I understand just how different the real thing can be.

In Arabic, the word hammam means, “spreader of warmth”. A hammam is a place of bathing, and they can be public and private. When I arrived in Kelaa in January of 2025, I discovered one of my students had a spa which I visited almost immediately. I also learned they had a hammam – perfect timing, since the villa I was living in had no hot water. A warm, relaxing weekly hammam quickly became a luxury.

These days, although my hammam is still inside a spa, I have my own kessala. A kessala is the woman who performs the scrubbing ritual in the hammam. Mine is named Fatima. She’s Moroccan and only speaks only Darija (the dialect of Arabic spoken in Morocco), a few words of French – maybe even fewer than I do – and she can’t read which rules out Google translate. Still, we smile in the same language and somehow, we always understand each other.

There’s a threshold you cross when you step into the hammam. The door clicks shut behind you, and the outside world—its traffic, schedules, languages, and labels—fades. The air is thick, ancient, and pulsing with warmth. It wraps around you like a memory.

Without giving too much detail, I’ll just say this: it’s a wet room. I am unclothed, and so is Fatima, aside from the briefs she wears. Most days I am the only one there, but now and then, the room fills with three or four women. I don’t mind public hammams – in fact, I’m quite comfortable in them – but I’ve grown fond of having Fatima each week. I also take advantage of other spa perks while I am there, like massages or a quick hair treatment.

But make no mistake – this is not the Westernized, serene experience I had the first time around. It’s raw, real, and deeply human. And I’ve come to love it.

I used to think the hammam was about scrubbing – peeling away the layers of dead skin, and even a sense of foreignness. In my first post, I described the complex emotions it stirred in me, including the vulnerability of letting a stranger bathe me. It felt like surrender, like exposure. Over time, though, visits to the spa’s hammam became not just a luxury but a weekly ritual. For nearly three months, I never missed a Saturday. Then came a two-week holiday to Paris and Rome. By the time I returned to Kelaa, it had been more than three weeks since I’d had a proper scrubbing.

When I stepped back into the warm, steamy room and greeted my kessala something had shifted. The ritual no longer felt foreign or performative. My first step into the hammam felt like stepping into another world: warm and dim, with steam swirling in the air and the fragrant scents wafting around me. Fatima, the softly smiling kessela with kind eyes, led me gently through this cleansing ritual. She let me settle on the marble bench, her strong hands massaged the soap over my skin. Then, for a moment, I flinched as she scrubbed me vigorously with the coarse kessa glove. Such rough exfoliation would feel harsh back home, but afterwards I noticed the rosy flush of fresh skin and felt a surprising glow.

There is no hiding in the hammam. Not from your body, not from your heart. The scrub doesn’t just strip away skin – it uncovers the invisible layers, the ones you didn’t realize you were still carrying. My limbs were limp beneath her rhythm, and something unexpected stirred. A memory, maybe—a moment I’d forgotten. A person I haven’t forgiven. The heat opens doors I didn’t know were still closed. That quiet Saturday, I wasn’t scrubbed, rinsed, or handled. I simply dissolved. Surrounded by steam and silence, I stopped feeling like a self-conscious outsider. I became water.

Afterwards, I sat on the white leather chaise, wrapped in a towel that clung to my damp skin. My hair was slicked back, my cheeks flushed, and I felt raw in the best possible way. Maryam came in and offered me mint tea and water. I sipped in silence. I had been undone and reassembled, no longer the water I had melted into.

When I went outside, the sun felt too sharp, too fast. The world started to spin quickly again, but something inside me was slower. Emptied. Calmer.

When I leave Morocco, I know I will miss the colors, the call to prayer, the clinking of tea glasses. But more than anything, I’ll miss the ritual of the surrender – the hammam. I’ll miss the sound of echoing water and the quiet acceptance of bare skin. I’ll miss being just another body, melting into the steam, reminded again and again that letting go is its own kind of cleansing. I will miss becoming water.

Sometime last year, as I made the decision to leave Poland, a few WorkAways in Morocco caught my eye. WorkAway is the largest and safest community for cultural exchange, working holidays, volunteering, and house-sitting in 170 countries. I bid my farewells and departed Poland on December 16, 2024. Upon arriving in Marrakech, I took a few days to catch my breath as I prepared for a new chapter in my life. My original plan—though it has since changed—was to stay in Morocco until April 9th, when I would head to Paris to meet a friend.

There were a few reasons I chose April for my departure. First, since I was no longer a resident of Poland, I had to adhere to the Schengen Visa rule of 90 days within a 180-day period. Although I had reapplied for temporary residency in Poland, my application was still pending when I left, meaning I couldn’t enter any Schengen countries before March 15th. Secondly, a friend was coming to Marrakech for a yoga retreat in early April, and I wanted to see her while she was here.  Lastly, Ramadan, the ninth month of the Islamic calendar, was set to begin on March 1st or 2nd, depending on the moon sighting. I couldn’t think of a better way to immerse myself in the culture than by experiencing this sacred month firsthand.

On December 19^th, I boarded a bus with all my belongings for a 5-hour scenic ride over the High Atlas Mountains to Ouarzazate, Morocco, the Gateway to the Desert, for my first WorkAway. I was met at the bus station by two young ladies, 2 of the daughters from my WorkAway family. The Berber family with whom I would spend the next 5 weeks, but that’s another story for another time. However, they are part of the inspiration for this post.

When my time in Ouarzazate came to an end, I returned to Marrakech, where I developed an inner ear infection that sidelined me for about a week. That unexpected turn of events ultimately led me to El Kelaa on January 28, 2025, for my current, unplanned WorkAway – though that’s a story for another time.

El Kelaa is a small city in central Morocco with a population of around 100,000, known primarily for its olive tree cultivation. After spending a few weeks here, I realized it would be the perfect place to experience Ramadan.

As this month-long celebration now nears its close, I felt inspired to write this short introductory piece while walking home from the English School a couple of nights ago.

El Kelaa, isn’t a tourist destination, so there’s a good chance I’m the only person with blonde hair in town. As a result, I’m easily recognized as I go about my day. I walk everywhere since taxis are rarely necessary-living near the city center means everything is in walking distance: my school, my souk, my spa, the laundry service, and plenty of cafes and restaurants. Except for about 7-10 days near the start of Ramadan, when it rained every day, the weather has been quite temperate, even for late night walks.

For some reason, on my way to school, around 20:30 (8:30 pm) that evening, it struck me – I was walking down a street in North Africa, in a town that now felt like home. As I walked, the call to prayer echoed from the mosque and as I rounded the corner, I took a moment to really notice the 50+ men praying both inside and outside. I pass this mosque everyday, but that night, I truly reflected on how deeply woven it is into the fabric of their culture. As I continued on, turning the next corner, a group of young boys kicked a soccer ball back and forth. They greeted me, as they always do, with cheerful calls of “Hello”, “Ciao”, “Hola”, “Salaam”, and “Bonjour”. Sometimes, they even kick the ball my way. But that night it made me think about how fortunate they are to grow up multi-lingual – here, it is common for kids to speak two to four languages with ease.

 

A few moments later, I arrived at the school, ready to teach a late-night English class. Even though we don’t finish until 22:30 (10:30 pm), my students were eager to learn. Our lessons often lead to meaningful conversations, and more often than not, I find myself learning just as much as they do.

El Kelaa has little light pollution, and as I was walking home from school that night around 23:00, the sky was crystal clear, filled with stars that even the glow of the last-quarter moon couldn’t diminish. The streets were fairly quiet and as I turned onto my street, lined with orange trees, a gentle breeze rustled the  branches, carrying the intoxicating scent of orange blossom through the air.

When I arrived home, I went up to my rooftop terrace, the scent of the orange blossoms still lingering in the air as I gazed up at the night sky. I have always been fascinated by the stars, and that night, I was reminded of three other times when I was overwhelmed with emotion looking towards the heavens.

The most recent was during a two-day journey deep into the Sahara, led by the Patriarch of my Berber family. I was sitting by the dying embers of a fire, the moon had yet to rise, and the words of the Eagles’ Peaceful, Easy Feeling came to mind: “I wanna sleep with you in the desert tonight with a billion stars all around”. Out there, 50 km deep in the desert, with zero light pollution, the Milky Way stretched across the sky so vividly it felt like I could reach out and touch it. And in that moment, it truly looked like a billion stars above me.

In 2016, I camped at Mount Everest Base Camp on the Tibetan side. Around 04:00, I stepped out of my tent, and despite the biting cold at 5,200 meters (17,060 ft), I stood mesmerized for nearly 20 minutes, unable to tear myself away from the breathtaking beauty before me.

The final memory that came to mind was from the early 2000s, on a mountaintop in Fornalutz, on the island of Mallorca. A little drunk on wine and lost in love, we lay on a blanket for hours, watching shooting stars and passing satellites, feeling as if we were the only two people on Earth witnessing such magic.

So, what does all of this have to do with Ramadan?

Ramadan is a time of deep spiritual reflection, self-discipline, and a strong sense of community.

Over the past couple of weeks, friends have made a few comments that stuck with me. One told me I’ve never looked more vibrant. Another said Ramadan seems to have made me more introspective – that I was glowing. A third friend agreed. Maybe their words led me into a deeper reflection that night, or maybe it’s simply the energy of Ramadan itself.

As for self-discipline, I have been fasting for 25 days now, and by the end of Ramadan, it will be 30. And the spirit of community? I feel it every day, especially when I have been invited to share Iftar, the meal to break the fast at sunset, with students and friends in the community.

I’ll share more about my month-long expereince in Part II of this post after Ramadan comes to an end. For now, I’ll leave with a quote I’ve often turned to from Gene Wilder, “My only hope is that even for a moment, I helped you see the world a little bit different.”

The Oxford dictionary tells us: Vinous – resembling, associated with, or fond of wine.  In case you didn’t figure it out from the title alone, yes, this is a blog about two girls (I decided against “women” because we ran around Florence like “giddy schoolgirls”) searching for “Buchette del Vino”.

Since I made the decision to leave Poland and ultimately Europe at the end of this year, several friends have mentioned traveling across the pond for a holiday.  So when my friend Teri messaged me earlier in the year and asked me to meet her in Paris in autumn, I didn’t have to think twice.  She also added, “Do you think we can go to Italy, too?”  Once you get on the European continent the rest is easy.  I told her to get to Paris and I would plan Italy.  We decided on Florence with a day trip to Rome.  Once we got dates nailed down, the rest was easy.

Teri also mentioned a bucket list item – le buchette del vino or wine windows.  Hence this blog.

Before I get to the fun stuff, a little history.  The Medici family was from the agricultural Mugello region north of Florence. Sadly, there are no descendants of the Medici left today.  The family ended with the death of Anna Maria Luisa.  She died in the Pitti Palace on 18 February 1743, at the age of 76.  She was buried in the Medici Chapels, in the San Lorenzo church, where she still rests.  Okay, so what does the Medici family have to do with our quest for buchette del vino?

Not to get into their rise and fall and rise to power again, or anything like that, just know the Medici Dynasty returned to power in Florence in 1532.  I don’t know if they were good or bad but I do know that sometime in the middle of the 16^th century, Duke Cosimo I de Medici allowed wealthy landowners to sell their own wine directly to customers through the wine windows.  Anxious to take advantage of this opportunity, many noble wine-producing families began fitting their Florentine palazzos with a buchette.  They could sell their own wine to the public through this window/door.  People would knock, and it would be opened by a server who would be handed a vessel.  They would rinse the vessel, fill it with wine, hand it over, and receive money in exchange.  Florence’s nobility, while hungry for profits, weren’t thrilled with the idea of having lower classes or drunken people in their homes, so these wine windows were ideal.  When the bubonic plague hit Florence in 1630, the need for “social/physical distancing” became more important than “class distancing”.

Matteo Faglio, who in 2015 started a foundation for the preservation of these windows, states, “Right after the black plague, in 1634, historian Francesco Rondinella wrote a book in which he recounts the wine windows playing an essential function during those years, namely to allow the contactless sale of wine to prevent contagion.”

Another fascinating fact I discovered since I have returned home is that if you look at a map of Florence (I will link to a map I have created that documents the windows we visited), several buchette del vino are in one of Florence’s former Red Light Districts. Not really knowing much about them, but having fun trying to find them, on day two in Florence, Teri and I stumbled upon a wine window with a large plaque above it (in Italian of course and we didn’t translate at the time).  The window was on Via Delle Belle Donne (the street of Beautiful Women). Teri knocked and we were disappointed that no one answered.  It was either closed at that time or possibly permanently closed.

 

Before I tell you what I discovered about this particular window, let me add that there are over 180 windows in Florence (158 in the historic center) with over 100 in about 30 other localities throughout Tuscany.  These unique architectural features did not exist anywhere else in the world until….drum roll…first, who knew that like the bubonic plague, a global pandemic would make them popular again in Florence, secondly, they would become Instagram famous…good ole social media.  New, fake wine windows are now showing up in places like Buenos Aires, Argentina; Brooklyn, New York; Phuket, Thailand; and Los Angeles, California.

Okay, back to the window with the plaque. On the corner of Via delle Belle Donne and Via della Spada is what was one of the red light district’s most popular buchette del vino with the original marble signage noting the selling time and the period open, “The cellar is open for sale from November first till April from 9 am to 2 pm and from 5 to 8 pm.  From May first till October from 8 am till 3 pm and from 6 to 9 pm.  On holidays open until 3 pm. “  I also learned that business had become so good that it became necessary to stop customers from knocking on the doors at all hours of the day and night.  According to Matteo Faglia, “Only soldiers departing for battle or women who had just given birth had the right to purchase wine after hours. It was considered an important source of food.  ‘Wine makes blood,’ as they used to say.”

Hopefully, you have enjoyed reading a bit about the wine windows of Florence.  Teri and I visited 10 windows which we knew were in service.  However, two were not open when we visited.  The following is our “vinous adventure” to discovering Florence’s hidden gems.  We didn’t follow a set route but searched them out as we strolled the streets of beautiful Florence, Italy. Here is a link to the map I created should anyone want to check them out on a visit to the city.  The windows we visited have a pin in burgundy with a wine glass.

1. Osteria San Fiorenzo – Borgo dei Greci 1R 50122  This was the first wine window we visited.
2. Osteria Belle Donne – Via Belle Donne 16R  50123 
3. Caffe Duomo – Piazza del Duomo 29 50122

4.  La Buchetta Food and Wine – Borgo Santa Croce 11R 50122  I got to visit this wine window from the inside as well as the outside.

5.  Babae – Via Santo Spirito 21R 50125  Featured in In Episode 5 of CNN’s “Stanley Tucci: Searching for Italy”

6.  Giunti Odeon Library and Cinema – Via Degli Anselmi, Piazza Degli Strozzi 3-5-7 50123

7.  Cantina de Pucci Bar – Via de Pucci 5R 50122  The server loved to make you ring the bell here.

8.  Ristorante Pietrabianca – Piazza dei Peruzzi 5R 50122

 

9.  Il Latini – Via dei Pachetti 6R 50123  Closed when we were there.  It opens at 19:30 (7:30 pm)

 

10. Fiaschetteria Fantappie – Via dei Serragli 47 50124  Closed when we were there.  Opens at 17:00 (5 pm)

 

 

 

There you have it.  Our trail of buchette del vino.  Yes, the wine is a Euro or two or three higher than in some other places, but the experience…priceless.  Soon we were noticing many now defunct wine windows.  Some had been turned into mailboxes or business signage.  Some are just graffiti collectors, but all are fascinating to find.  We even discovered one serving gelato!

“Here’s to the nights we will never remember with the friends we’ll never forget.” Author Unknown

Saluti and a favorite quote from The Age of Adaline:

According to Lee SU Kim, lecturer in ESL, “There is a common perception that all learning should be serious and solemn in nature, and that if one is having fun and there is hilarity and laughter, then it is not really learning.  This is a misconception.  It is possible to learn a language as well as enjoy oneself at the same time.  One of the best ways of doing this is through games.”

This week at Zenira Camp, my students range from 9-12 years old with A1 and A2 language levels.  Our weekly theme is Detectives and Whodunits.  Wanting to engage and motivate my students while developing cognitive and problem-solving skills I decided to challenge them to an “escape the classroom in time for lunch” English language game.  They had 10 language challenges which would give them a number to the “keypad” to leave the room for lunch.  Of course, there was no real keypad and the door wasn’t locked, but they had a picture of a keypad to insert the missing digits.  Because of the different ages and levels, I allowed them to work together as needed, to ask me questions to help and I wrote some hints on the whiteboard.  We had great fun with this and yes, we escaped in time to go to lunch.  A couple of campers were surprised they didn’t know quite as much as they thought they did.

I now challenge you to test your language skills and Escape My Blog.

Clue for Digit #1:  How many of these words can be used with the word snow to form a real compound word?

bean, ball, cup, storm, yard, flake, bow, man, fire, light, board and shine

 

Clue for Digit #2:  Make each of these singular words plural.  How many of the plural words use the suffix –es?

dog, wish, peach, boy, box, card, church, bowl, teacher, chair, frog and basket

Clue for Digit #3:  Each of these sentences are missing a piece of punctuation at the end.  How many of them are missing a question mark?

It is scary being stuck in a classroom

How long will I be stuck here

What an unfortunate event this is

I must tell Miss Calvin about this tomorrow

Will the caretaker notice that I am here

How worried will my mother be

I should never have come back into school on my own

 Clue for Digit #4:  Each of these sentences is missing a conjunction.  It is either and or but.  How many sentences are missing the conjunction but?

I will be home late ____ my dad will be worried.

I know I shouldn’t have come back ____ I wanted to do my homework.

The caretaker might be cross ____ I’m sure she will understand.

The classroom is dark ____ it is quite scary.

Mrs. Calvin is my teacher ____ she comes to school quite early.

I have finished my homework ____ I have read my reading book.

I know that it is late ____ I think some teachers might still be here.

Clue for Digit #5:  Some of these words are missing an apostrophe to show that letters are missing.  How many words are missing an apostrophe?

Should, will, cant, must, Im, could, when, shouldn’t, didn’t, Ive, wont and sure

Clue for Digit #6:  The following story is missing some commas.  Add in the commas and count the number that were missing.

Linda Frank and Norman went on a school trip.  They had packed crisps chocolate and sweets for the journey and they shared them with Pat Barney and Kyle on the coach.  When they were halfway there, Linda started to feel a little bit sick.  So did Frank Norman Pat and Barney.  There weren’t enough sick buckets to go around!  Mrs. Calvin Mr. Diaz and Miss Ross told the children that they weren’t allowed to eat any more crisps chocolates or sweets on the coach from now on.

Clue for Digit #7:  Read the clue and write the answer with one letter in each box.  Spell the answers correctly to reveal the hidden number in the pink squares.

–ful and –less are both one of these.

PINK

 

Long and sad are both one of these.

PINK

 

Slowly and quickly are both one of these.

PINK

 

Run, hop and jump are all one of these.

PINK

Clue for Digit #8:  Read the sentences below and decide what tense they are written in.  How many of them are written in the present tense?

I am stuck in the classroom.

I came back into the school on my own.

I didn’t tell anyone what I was doing.

Now I’m alone and feeling scared.

I am running out of things to do.

I read my book and finished my homework.

I’m wondering how long I will be here for.

Clue for Digit #9:  Some of these root words can be given the opposite meaning by adding –un to them.  How many?

happy, wrong, do, load, fair, lock, honest, well, true, jump, dress, and cry

Clue for Digit #10:  There are lots of capital letters missing from the story below.  Add them in and count how many were missing.

Last thursday, betty went on a trip to london.  She had always wanted to see buckingham Palace and perhaps even see the King!  Betty rode on a big, red bus and went shopping on oxford street.  she had a wonderful time.

There you have it, the language game my students played today.  Before I give you the answers so you can check to see if you are able to “Escape My Blog”, I hope this gives you a better understanding of how incorporating games into an ESL classroom for young learners not only makes learning more enjoyable but also enhances language acquisition, social interaction, and cognitive development in a well-rounded and effective manner.

Let’s see how you did!

It’s somehow the first Friday in August.  I once wrote a blog called “Time Passages”; how time is a paradox.  I titled the post with Al Stewart’s song in mind.  The lyrics go like this:

“Well I’m not the kind to live in the past

The years run too short and the days too fast

The things you lean on are the things that don’t last

Well it’s just now and then my line gets cast into these

Time passages”

As I mentioned in my earlier blog, which was also a “first Friday”, time moves differently at camp.  One minute it’s day one and the campers are excitedly arriving looking for familiar faces and scanning the crowd to take in the new ones.  Staff are anxiously waiting and bursting with great ideas for activities and lessons.  Suddenly, “BAM”, ← (nice use of onomatopoeia, it is an English Camp after all) we’re wrapping up week 5.  We’ve moved beyond the halfway point and the above lyrics could read, “ The weeks run too short and the days too fast”.

After a hearty breakfast, most camp mornings start with a trip to the beach or once in a while we may just hang out at the pool.  Today happens to be one of those days.  My idea for today’s blog was to spice it up a bit and link you to some music to help you visualize our day.  Even though today is a pool day, I want you to imagine a sandy beach on the Bulgarian Black Sea with the waves rolling ashore and kids playing in the sand or frolicking in the waves.  When you have that vision in your mind, you can click this link to the Beach Boys’, “Catch a Wave”. I hope you enjoy your morning at the beach as much as we do.

After the beach/pool, it’s time for an English lesson. Mind you, we have 25 hours of English classes and English immersion activities per week.  Each week has a theme and I’ll get to that in a minute.  I’m probably going to show my age here, but I was taken back to the mid-80s and the American Rock Band Timbuk 3.  You’re probably asking yourself what could this possibly have to do with Zenira Camp and English.   Well, when you have a group of kids coming to summer camp to learn or improve their English and the camp is located at the seaside of the Bulgarian Coast, their “Future’s So Bright I (They) Gotta Wear Shades”.

After a late morning English class, it’s off to lunch followed by the ever-popular “Buba Bank”.  This is when kids can get some cash to purchase some pre-approved snacks.  When Buba Bank closes for the day, it is time for an afternoon of English classes.

As I mentioned above, each week of camp has a theme.  Coinciding with the 2024 Olympics in Paris, France, this week’s theme is the Olympics.  Because tonight is “Project Night” we spend much of the afternoon working on our projects.  You might think that if we are working on projects we aren’t as focused on English, but you would be wrong.  This gives us a chance to use our imagination, be creative, and still work on our English.  Let me explain, for tonight’s project we will hold a Zenira Olympics.  Camper’s invented their own countries and designed a flag which they will present to the whole camp during “Opening Ceremonies”.  For the younger, less advanced campers this was a great opportunity to teach vocabulary such as population and currency.  They also invented games to be played during the Project Olympics.  Campers will present their countries and games to the rest of the camp, all done in English.  It’s a huge breakthrough for a young child who was basically a non-English speaker when they arrived at camp to get in front of a group of kids, introduce themselves, and give 4 or 5 sentences of information.  It’s also a great time for more advanced campers to increase their vocabulary and work on their pronunciation and delivery. Project night always seems to fly by with lots of laughter and fun.  Then it’s off to bed and the best we can hope for is that the kids are not only having fun while learning English, but they are also making memories that last a lifetime.

In conclusion, I am writing this blog for Roscoe who had to leave camp early.  Since it was his day, I asked for his input.  He asked me to add a quote about time from T.S. Elliot, “Time present and time past are both perhaps present in time future, and time future contained in time past.”

Happy Camping!

Playlist:

Time Passages – Al Stewart

Catch a Wave – The Beach Boys

The Future’s so Bright I Gotta Wear Shades – Timbuk 3

Money – Pink Floyd

Olympic Fanfare – John Williams and the Boston Pops Orchestra

Theme from Chariots of Fire – Vangelis

Photograph – Nickelback

I arrived in Kiten, Bulgaria on Wednesday, June 26, 2024, for my fourth year at Zenira Camp.  Kiten, Bulgaria is a seaside resort town on the Bulgarian Black Sea Coast.  When I first agreed to spend the summer at a youth language and sports camp in Bulgaria, I was somewhat surprised to find out it was hosted at a hotel, Hotel Green Park.  Memories of summer camp in my youth, many, many moons ago, were cabins in the woods in the mountains of Pennsylvania with toilet and shower facilities in a separate “cabin-like” building.  We had to bring flashlights in case we needed to use the bathroom in the middle of the night.  I discovered camps housed in hotels are quite common in Europe.  I also thought it would be nothing like the experience I had as a youth at summer camp.  How wrong I was.

How can camps be so drastically different in appearance, yet be cherished by campers and staff alike?  Why do kids love camp?  Because camp is fun, right?  Sure, we have a lot of great things to do…beach days, windsurfing, basketball, volleyball, football, etc.

We have specialty clubs like engineering, science, music, British vs American, British slang, drama, debate, and journalism.  Evening activities include the staff vs campers challenge, movie night, board game night, murder mystery, karaoke, project night, award night, and a campfire, to name a few.  We go on amazing off-site excursions each week.

The campers visit Beglik Tash which is a prehistoric rock sanctuary.  They take a boat ride down the Veleka River, visit a camel park and the historic cities of Nessebar and Sozopol.  There is a trip to an Aqua Park and a chance to play mini golf and test their skills on high ropes.   So, the reason kids love summer camp must be because it’s fun???

Ahhh, but we also have 25 hours of English classroom lessons and immersion activities per week.  I should also add that screen/phone time is limited to about 30-40 minutes per day.

 

If it isn’t the fun of the activities that bring kids back every year, what is it?  I am sitting in my room this morning after 08:00.  I am at the end of the boys’ corridor and hear loud singing and laughter coming down the hallway.  It is a group of boys just happy to be here and headed to the morning beach activities.  What is the key ingredient that sparks so much laughter, singing, dancing, and excitement throughout the days and leads to rivers of tears on that last night if it isn’t fun?

Camp is more than just fun.  Through fun, kids unknowingly develop skills they will need later in life.  At Zenira, they spend 2 weeks (sometimes more) in a close-knit community that forces them to cooperate, communicate, and compromise.  Within their day, as they interact with staff, mentors, and fellow campers, they encounter caring, kindness, and understanding.  As the days go by, during “phone time”, you notice campers making that call to mom, dad, grandma, or grandpa, and then they put their phone away instead of using up all their allotted time.  Instead of using screen time as entertainment, they are kept physically active and entertained through creativity and interpersonal engagement. Zenira Camp is a place without the social pressures and expectations to “be” a certain way.

When I say Zenira Camp has heart, you may think it refers to the camp’s emphasis on creating a nurturing, supportive, and enriching environment.  And you would be correct.  We also try to foster a sense of community and prioritize the emotional well-being of campers.  Character-building activities are designed to teach core values like teamwork, respect, responsibility, and kindness.  Campers are encouraged, but not forced, to try new things and take risks in a positive environment without fear of judgment or failure.  Through inclusive activities, Zenira strives to ensure that every child finds something they can enjoy and excel at.  Most of all, we try to create lasting memories through meaningful and fun activities, traditions, and shared experiences. Memories that will last a lifetime and positively shape their future attitudes and behaviors.

All those things shape the heart of Zenira, but to me, when I say Zenira has heart, it is something far more personal. It’s when a camper from a previous year comes up to you and asks if you remember them.  You smile and say, “Of course”.  Then they proceed to tell you their story;  that time the summer before they told you their dream was to go to the USA and live and work.  At the end of that camp, you gave them a one-dollar bill and told them not to give up on their dream.  Then they continue and say they have the dollar taped to their computer and anytime they want to give up on their dream, they look at the dollar and think of you and your words.

At the end of the last session of camp, on the last night before they head off to bed, one of your students (the one who seemed disinterested, and you didn’t think you got through to) comes up and hugs you and says thank you with wet eyes.  Then you look over and see one of the biggest kids in camp bawling his eyes out and giving a giant bear hug to one of your colleagues, who happens to be 6’ 10”.  The start of this session, a camper came up to me and asked if remembered her.  Again, I answered with, “Of course”.  She then reminded me that we had talked about the book, “Le Petit Prince”.  She told me every time she reads that book she thinks of me and Zenira Camp.  Today at lunch, a young lady sat at my table and reminded me she was in my class 3 years ago.  She said, “I’ll never forget, you gave us mango and that was the first time I ever ate mango.

Zenira has heart because you never know what effect you have on these kids just by being you.  Zenira “Camp is where you discover the ‘you’ you never knew existed.” Author unknown

 

 

In a few short months, not only will I celebrate that milestone birthday that makes me eligible for social security, but I will have spent 10 years living outside of my country of birth.  I sat here today staring at maps, calendars, WorkAway options, Visa requirements, and things I will need to consider as I embark on the next chapter.  There are thousands of blogs, articles, and stories about “What Long-Term Travel Has Taught Me”.  I have seen this planet we live on referred to as “The World’s Biggest Classroom”.  For the last ten years, I have mostly had a “home base” and often a job somewhere.  As I was contemplating my next chapter, I started thinking about what I have learned in those years that will help me in what could be a radically different journey.  So, like thousands before me, here are a few, who am I kidding, here are more than a few things long-term travel has taught me.

About five years ago, I wrote a blog called “No Cheese in China”.  It coincided with my leaving China, and I always say that when I write a book, that will be the title.  As I look back, I remember how much I thought I missed cheese.  There may not be any cheese in China, and I have more cheese than I can eat living in Europe, but I have discovered more than enough wonderful people, places, and experiences in this world to replace it.  I have learned I don’t need cheese.

I have learned to listen to understand, not to respond.  How many times have you been talking with someone, and they say something that makes you want to reply with your own story?  The rest of the time they are talking you go over what you want to say in your head and miss most of what they are saying.  Or, in the worst-case scenario, you interrupt to have your say.  If someone is telling you of their experience unless they ask, don’t tell them how you had the same thing happen to you.  Listen to understand, to learn.  If they want you to reply, they will ask.  Don’t “one-up” their story.   When traveling, communication is important, and more often than not it is with people whose first language is not English.  Sometimes accents are hard to understand, therefore you must listen carefully to understand, or it could lead to big misunderstandings.  You would be surprised how many non-native speakers have pronunciation trouble with “beach” and “bitch” and “six” and “sex”.  Imagine the direction those conversations could go.  Before entering a conversation, I try to silence myself, clear meaningless thoughts and if necessary, calm any emotions.  Listen to understand.

I have learned patience and flexibility.  You will need to trust me on this one.  I can’t think of any specific stories but long queues at airport security, long waits for Visa approvals, no ATMs, canceled flights, language barriers, getting lost in a strange city, navigating public transportation, and local customs and traditions will all at some point try your patience and force you to be flexible.

Food takes on a new meaning when you are outside your home country.  Amy Choi tells us in her article, “What Americans Can Learn from Other Food Cultures” that food is the single great unifier across cultures.  It also tells us that how and why you eat your food is very cultural.  In China, people eat food not necessarily for taste, but for texture. Food in France is about pleasure and food in Italy is love, while food in Arabic cultures is about community. While I have experienced this about these cultures, my food lessons are a bit different.  I have always had a thing for street food.  Tom always told me one day it would bite me in the ass.  Knock on wood, I have avoided, Bali Belly, the Thailand Trots, Costa Cramps, Montezuma’s Revenge, or anything else it may be called.

My first food lesson is cheap food (i.e. street food) tastes the best!  My cheap bowls of Lanzhou LaMian in China or my 2€ crepe fromage in Paris, the $1 ear of roasted street corn in Istanbul…simply delicious.

Before moving to China I never encountered, let alone heard of durian or dragon fruit.  I discovered many new fruits and vegetables in Asia.  I have learned that you have not really tasted an avocado or a mango or a guava, etc. until you have tasted it picked fresh off the tree.  When I was in Wasso, Tanzania at Bright English Medium School, they spent approximately 280,000 shillings ($120) to feed 300+ students, teachers, and volunteers 3 meals per day.  Can you imagine feeding that number for $120?  The teacher’s and students’ meals consisted of porridge for breakfast and beans and rice for lunch and dinner.  It was the same 7 days per week.  We as volunteers got chapati, fresh fruits, rice, spaghetti, and sometimes stew. It was difficult not to feel guilty, but I learned that food can be used to show appreciation. 

Living abroad teaches you that traveling is a privilege.  I am not inferring wealth with privilege.  You don’t have to be rich to travel.  You do need a certain amount of freedom, especially for long-term travel and you need a passion for it.  I have also learned that you shouldn’t feel guilty about this privilege because I hope that I can use my privilege to inspire and educate others and maybe even change lives.

I have learned to always carry toilet paper or tissues.

I have learned to appreciate the beauty of language.  I don’t mean the ability to say hello or order a coffee in multiple languages.  It is the beauty of hearing someone say “foot fingers” because their language doesn’t have a word for toes or calling an apostrophe a “flying comma” or saying they work “elastic” hours because that is how it translates in English.  The “sweetness of doing nothing” is much more beautiful in Italian, “dolce far niente”.  It’s much sexier to hear, “Anni, amori e bicchieri di vino.  Non si contano mai, than Years, lovers and glasses of wine. These are things that should never be counted.

 

I have learned that my problems are small when compared to other people and parts of the world.

When I lived in Dong’e, China my co-workers were amazed when they happened to see inside my wardrobe.  I had more clothes and shoes than all of them put together. I am learning to simplify my life.  I’m not quite there yet, but my plan when I leave Poland is to go with a small roller carry-on and a small backpack.

Some of the happiest people I have encountered had no television, no cell phones, no tablets or handheld electronic devices.   They kicked a smashed-up water bottle around the yard when they didn’t have a soccer ball.  They used overturned 5-gallon buckets for drums.  Although I think I already knew this, my experience in Tanzania reinforced that things do not equal happiness.

We all smile in the same language.

The dictionary tells us that ordinary means with no special or distinctive features; normal.  A few synonyms are usual, common, standard, and routine.  It also tells us that extraordinary means very unusual, remarkable, amazing, spectacular, and sensational.  I often hear folks say that I live an amazing life.  I will admit that I do, but living abroad for ten years, every day isn’t a “WOW”.  Some days are even humdrum.

Friends think it is extraordinary that I jump on a plane and go to Paris on a Friday evening and home on a Sunday evening, or I can surprise a friend in Rome with a 36-hour visit.  That’s the beauty of life in Poland (Central Europe), it’s ordinary.  I have learned that my ordinary can be someone’s extraordinary and vice-versa.

I have learned never to feel guilty about wasting a whole day.

Last week I wrote about becoming a C.O.W. (Citizen of the World) and the concept of home.  You can read my thoughts in the preceding link, but I have learned that “home” takes on a new meaning when you travel long-term, and often, people just don’t get it.

I spent 53 hours on a train going to Tibet.  I took an uncomfortable nine-hour journey on a local overcrowded, hot, dusty bus with more people than there were seats, some chickens, giant bags of rice, plus everyone’s luggage. It once took me over 50 hours to get from SE Asia to the United States because of a visa error and missed flights.

One of my homes in China only had a squat toilet. Alone, I broke my back and needed a six-hour surgery in rural China.  I have learned that long-term traveling isn’t always easy and it isn’t for everyone.  In my case, I have also learned that in the end, it is worth the hardships I’ve encountered.

I’m going to try and wrap it up here because I could go on and on.  The world is indeed the biggest classroom.

This next one, although I was taught this as a child, travel has reinforced it. I have learned I can do anything I put my mind to.

Travel has taught me to accept and appreciate differences because, in the end, we are more alike than we realize.

I, alone, am responsible for my happiness!

This last one is hard to admit.  It’s a real learning experience seeing your home country from afar and through the eyes of other people and cultures.  Back in 2019, I was living in a communist country and I wrote a blog called “Living Abroad, Why I Sometimes Get Mad at America”. It had nothing to do with the political climate.  I love my country and most of the time, when asked, I am proud to say, “I am American”. The American Dream is still out there in the minds of so many around the world.  I hear it all the time, “My dream is to go to the United States”.

To be honest, there’s nothing like getting off your plane after several years abroad seeing the American flag, and hearing the immigration officials say, “Welcome home”.  Now for the hard lesson…the more I travel and the longer I am away, I have learned that it’s scary to think about going home.  When I next return, it will probably be around six years since I have last set foot on American soil.  I think about reverse culture shock.  My friend Cathy sent me a Giant Eagle supermarket flier.  It was just WOW when I compared it to the cost of things in Poland and other places I have traveled.  I see the prices my friends are paying when they go out for dinner and drinks.  I haven’t driven a car since February 2020.  I didn’t renew my license, mainly because America, or at least Ohio needs to play catch-up in the technology field.  I currently rely solely on public transportation which won’t be an option when I return. Even though we have video chats and people text and email, I am not a part of daily life in Warren, Ohio.  Sometimes it’s scary to think about sliding back into that life and how long it will be before I get the itch to set off again.

I can’t change Warren, Ohio, USA, or the world with my blog posts, but I can share my thoughts and experiences, good and bad.  I can share a smile with a stranger.  I can live more simply and I can continue to learn because as Rick Steves said, “Travel is rich with learning opportunities, and the ultimate souvenir is a broader perspective”.