July 2000. A group of 100 individuals is sitting on a plane at 30,000 feet cruising altitude. Some of them are chatting nervously, others are breaking out in a cold sweat. Everybody knows they are heading to a foreign country, but nobody knows exactly what awaits them. Outside, the sky is dark. 

A military unit heading to enemy territory? Paratroopers waiting for the hatch to open, so they can parachute into a combat zone? Nope, it's a group of Peace Corps Volunteers on their way to their destination, which is Casablanca, Morocco. Here's looking at you, kids. 

In Casablanca itself, there is a dry heat that does not subside in the terminal, either, since, unknown to us, there is no such thing as Air Conditioning in Morocco. We pick up our suitcases and are hoarded onto a bus that takes us to the capital, Rabat, where we will have basic training, or shall I say "stage." 

On the road, we are surrounded by two types of vehicles: old and older. We pass a traffic light that doesn't function, and we quickly discover that the streets are free-for-alls where everything goes, including taking a quick detour via the sidewalk or creating a new lane altogether. Does this street have two lanes? It has three now, and even four if that taxi can squeeze in. 

In Rabat, we get off at Omar-Khayam-Lycee, a high school that is empty for summer and which will be our residence for the next four weeks, or until we are released to our host families in Rabat. The genders are separated, each room has bunk beds. The place looks like a regular school building, except that there are no window panes, only the frames.

Before we all congregate at the meet-and-greet, we hear what appears to be a man yelling in distress. Shouldn't we all make a run and help the poor guy? One of the facilitators, a Moroccan native, assures us that the man is not in distress, is living in perfect peace, and is merely calling all Muslims to prayer at the mosque. That's our introduction to the call to prayer. Who needs church bells?

The Country Director greets us downstairs. A few basic rules: Be aware at all times, keep an open mind, and do NOT get dehydrated. Questions? Yes, plenty. Where is there a church? Is there a McDonald's somewhere? Are we going to live like this together for the duration of our stay, like a gang of misfit teens?

For the next three months, as advertised: classes dealing with culture, language, talking to established volunteers, or veterans, if you will. We eventually leave the school four weeks in and are picked up by our host family, where we delve further into life in Rabat. I am in a house with four boys, directly next to a mosque. For me, it's the call to prayer five times a day, up close and personal. I like it, I decide.

After two more months, we are bussed to a summer camp, then to a dar chebab, or the equivalent of a YMCA, where we will be working, wherever our town or city happens to be. There are four sectors in Peace Corps Morocco: Education, Environment, Health, Small Business. I am assigned to Education and eventually end up in the city of Beni Mellal, right next to the Middle Atlas Mountains.

After more than three months, there's a party, a talent show, then our swearing-in ceremony. About 20 volunteers left before the swearing-in ceremony, decided that the Peace Corps wasn't for them. Those who stay, however, are in for an adventure of a lifetime.