Day 100: Rabat, Morocco

With less than two weeks left in Morocco I have been thinking a lot about my experience abroad this semester.

Am I different?

Has this experience changed me?

What have I learned?

Will things be different when I go home?

Thoughts like these run through my head as I wait for the tram to bring me to school in the morning or as I lay in my bed at night, my head resting on a pillow that is not my own. Only time can really answer these questions but I am too impatient for that. Instead of waiting, I decided to try to quantify my experience in some way. I needed something concrete to reference. Something I could point to and say here is what I spent the last three months doing and I am changed for it.

So, here is my list of Moroccan Firsts, a collection of experiences that I had for the first time here in Morocco and that whether big or small, happy or sad, are a definitive part of my semester abroad.

First time in Africa

First time I lived abroad

First time I lived in a Muslim country

First time I felt discriminated against and unequal because of my sex

First time I experienced that amazingly rewarding feeling you get from teaching

First time I regularly ate from a communal dish

First time I saw an animal killed

First time I ate an animal I had just seen killed

First time I rode a camel

First time I traveled without my family

First time I washed my underwear in a shower

First time I saw first hand the disparity between the developed world and the developing world

First time I really understood and appreciated the benefits and privileges of growing up in the United States

First time I read a novel in another language

First time I learned to read and write in another alphabet

First time I discovered just how much you can communicate without a common language

First time I acted as a translator

First time I realized how behind the U.S. education system is in language

First time I kept a blog

First time I was ever a minority

First time I saw a wild monkey

First time I swam on the other side of the Atlantic

First time I ate couscous

First time I milked a cow

First time I drank sugar cane juice

First time I held a baby chick

First time I played hearts

First time I made my own bread

First time I celebrated a holiday (Thanksgiving) without my family

First time I celebrated a holiday with friends and realized they are just as great as family!

First time I went to a desert

First time I wove a rug

First time I took an overnight bus (last time I will ever take an overnight bus)

First time I smelled leather tanneries

First time I ate a date

First time I successfully haggled for my purchases

First time I felt normal sitting and eating in silence with others

First time I took a cold shower

First time I used a Turkish toilet

First time I waited until seeing a guy’s teeth to judge his appearance

First time I rode on top of a 4x4

First time I ate a magnum bar (heaven!)

First time I altered my dress to be culturally sensitive

First time I really thought I might die

First time I sang happy birthday in Arabic

First time I ate a sandwich cooked at a gas station

First time I went Berber sand skiing

First time I stayed in a hostel

First time I traveled with only what I could carry and actually had to carry it

First time I drank mint tea

First time I hitched a ride on a tractor

First time I danced around a campfire

First time I lived out of a suitcase (closets aren’t really a thing here)

First time I wore a djellaba

So, on my 100^th day in Morocco I am celebrating this list. It may not be much, but it’s what I have. Here is to these firsts, the others I can’t remember right now, and the ones yet to come!

Day 86: National Library, Rabat, Morocco

With the end of the semester has come a lot of homework, so over the past few weeks much of my time has been spent at the National Library. The library is brand new, has reliably speedy wifi, can constantly provide coffee and French Fries via an attached cafe, and is conveniently located right on the tram line I take to get home. The only problem I have is this library rule that doesn’t allow any bags inside the library. All items you wish to take in must be carried. For Moroccan students, this is not a problem. For us American students, it is. Why?

Because the list of what Moroccan students need to study looks like this:
1.     Textbook (1)
2.     Writing Utensil (1)
3.     Cellphone (not necessary but frequently seen)

The list of what American students need to study looks like this:
1.     Laptop
2.     Notebook
3.     Textbook (2-3 if writing a paper)
4.     Writing Utensil (3)
       a.     Pen
       b.     Pencil
       c.      Highlighter
5.     Laptop charger
6.     Adaptor
7.     Headphones
8.     Cell phone
9.     Water
10. Snack
11. Chapstick

Obviously, rather than change our study habits, we just try to carry all of these items into the library with us, drop something on the way to our study spots (making an obscene amount of noise in the silent library and drawing attention to the fact that, in case you missed it, we’re foreign!) and look completely ridiculous. Luckily, I accepted my own ridiculousness long ago. I wouldn't have lasted this long in Morocco if I hadn't!

Day 79: Morocco

Six Reasons Why I Love Morocco

It has been quite awhile since I posted, not do to lack of material, but rather the opposite. The last few weeks have been packed with some of my best and worst moments in Morocco. I traveled across the country for a week with friends over fall break, welcomed family to the Maghreb, and experienced the fantastic kindness of Moroccans again and again. But I also witnessed the slaughtering and skinning of two sheep on my terrace, spent way to many hours on buses, slept on top of the sheets in questionable hostels, and got quite sick. The highs and lows left me exhausted, and honestly, a little homesick. My best memories were overridden with the bad and I was finding it hard to get my “balance” back. To help myself out, I wrote this list of things I love and will certainly miss about Morocco. Happily, this therapeutic exercise, time with friends, and a return of my health has put me back on track to enjoy the last month of my semester. So here it is…

Six Reasons I Love Morocco

1. Mint Tea

A staple of Moroccan culture and a sign of the country’s abundant hospitality, mint tea is everywhere in Morocco. Whether enjoyed at my homestay with my Moroccan family or at a café with friends the tea always represents a delicious and relaxing break to my day. 

2. Hanoot Guy

A Hanoot is kind of like the Moroccan equivalent to a convenience store. The store space itself is always tiny but the shelves climb all the way up the walls and are stuffed with cookies, candy, chips, soda, yogurt, tuna, jam, bread, fruit, cheese, toilet paper, deodorant, shampoo – anything you can think of really! The man who owns the hanoot next to my school is possibly the nicest and most patient individual I have ever encountered. At least once a day I buy something from him – water bottle, kitkat, Pringles – and every purchase leaves a smile on my face. Hanoot Guy, as we have come to call him, happily puts up with my shabby darija and always has exactly the snack I am looking for. On more than one occasion a student has left something (lunch, book, cell phone) amongst his produce and only to see it emerge from behind his counter on the student's next visit to the hanoot. 

3. Café Culture

Moroccans love cafes. Its one of the many holdovers of French colonialism, but one that, along with fantastic pastries, is appreciated by all. It is perfectly acceptable to linger at a café for hours after ordering only one cup of coffee, or better yet to hop from café to café all afternoon in search of wifi, plugs, or some quiet, as we students tend to do. The pull of the café is so strong that my Moroccan Literature professor has conceded and allowed our class of four to meet in the café next to school. Any of my study abroad troubles melt away with a perfectly steamed café au lait and a croissant au chocolate. 

4. Dollar Dirham Exchange Rate

One dollar = 8 dirham. Delicious rotisseries chicken, fries and bread from Atlas Chicken = 25 dirham or $3. Two nights in a charming riad/hotel in Essaouira with on suite bathroom = 250 dirham or $31. It is incredible. Not sure I will ever re-adjust to the dollar, let alone the Euro. 

5. The Language Blend

Keeping up with four languages (English, French, Classical Arabic, and Moroccan Arabic) has severely limited my ability to speak (or think) comprehensively in one. Consequently, I tend to blend all of them in crazy combinations like, “Bishel for ca?” (Bishel = how much in Moroccan Arabic and ca = this in French) or “La, shoukran (No thank you in Moroccan Arabic) juste le the pour moi” (just the tea for me in French).  Luckily, Moroccans tend to do the same. It is totally normal to here Arabic, French, English, even Berber used in a Moroccan conversation. For me, this mélange is a symbol of the cultural acceptance found throughout Morocco and a fantastic testament to the incredible Moroccan capacity for language acquisition. While the mix leaves my brain (and tongue!) constantly confused, it also gives me a unique opportunity to communicate. Moroccans are always willing to talk with me in any language or, more often, languages that work.

6. Emails From Friends and Family Back Home

I have certainly missed my family and friends here, the distance has allowed a rare form of communication to emerge – the written word. The emails I receive here, whether short notes typed in only a few keystrokes, or long epistles with the smallest details, always give me an amazing sense of joy. I relish the sense of contact with the U.S. - that strange OTHER country that at times really does feel 3,786 miles away. And typically, the act of writing forces my correspondents and myself to be more expressive. Stories get funnier, emotions get stronger, and I feel a greater sense of connection. And while the letter may have been replaced by the email, the sense of excitement when a new message arrives in my inbox has certainly been maintained. Best of all, the messages stay safely stored in my inbox – accessible at almost anytime and a lasting record to my experience in Morocco.

Day 46: Old Medina, Rabat

Happy Birthday. Joyeux Anniversaire. عيد ميلاد سعيد

Last Saturday I went to my first real Moroccan celebration, a nine-year old family friend’s birthday party.  I was a little nervous about attending. I expected to be pretty much ignored by the Moroccan guests and, therefore, a little bored. But still felt I couldn’t pass up this chance. And I am so glad I didn’t! The party was so much fun. Homemade candies, cookies, and cake were passed around and I met two American girls studying abroad with another program. But the best moment was when the music came on and the Moroccan moms, decked out in djellabas and headscarves, stood up and began to dance. To see their energy and excitement emerge from under their typically reserved demeanors was fantastic. They even pulled me and the other Americans and tried to teach us some moves!

On Sunday, Amideast organized a trip to a professor’s farm an hour outside of Rabat as an “Introduction to Rural Life.” A platter of cookies, homemade couscous, and fresh squeezed juice from fruit we picked ourselves hardly seemed “rural” to me but I wasn’t going to complain. Things got a little more realistic as we planted trees, milked cows, and made homemade bread, but mostly the day just felt a relaxing break from the bustle of Rabat. 

 

 

Day 40: Azrou, Atlas Mountains, Morocco

“Just walk assertively, but not aggressively pass the monkeys and everything will be fine.”

I had never imagined myself in a situation where this advice would be necessary, or even reassuring, but on a hike last weekend in the Atlas Mountains such a scenario emerged. Our group of nine, distracted by a herd of sheep and a Berber shepherd to our left, had slowed upon entering a forest and startled a territorial group of Barbary monkeys. While we were stopped taking pictures, three of four monkeys began to advance towards us and hysteria immediately ensued. Cries of “They look just like mini-humans!” and “They have opposable thumbs!” and “We can’t even outsmart them; they are just as smart as us!” rang through the trees. Luckily, calmer heads prevailed and we simply moved out of monkey territory and continued on our way, but, for me, the incident was emblematic of my Azrou experience.

Traveling on our own, without the direct support of Amideast, was wonderfully confusing. I was out of Rabat and independent - buying my own train tickets and setting my own itinerary. At the same time, underestimations and language confusion lead to overpaid cab rides, angry drivers, and the group walking for 55 minutes and not making it beyond the city limits of Azrou. But all of it was so fantastically Moroccan I didn’t really care. So there wasn’t an online review of the inn for me to study in detail before we left – it turned out to be an amazing Berber guest house complete with our own sitting area. So I paid four times the price of a cab to ride down a mountain highway on a tractor – it was the best form of transportation I’ve ever taken. So I didn’t bother to explore Azrou and just ate at the inn– I had the best vegetable soup and chicken and carrot tagine of my life! The ups (seeing endless country stretch for miles) AND the downs (sweating for the entire 2 and a half hour train ride back to Rabat with no A/C) were both fantastic. And when I didn’t know exactly what was going on or what to do it was ok. Instead of freaking out, I just followed the monkey advice and acted like I did, “walking assertively, but not aggressively,” and everything turned out fine. 

Day 33: Rabat, Morocco

“Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes – Knees and Toes! Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes – Knees and Toes! Eyes, and ears, and mouth, and nose. Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes – Knees and Toes!” shout my twelve teenage Moroccan students. They are doubled up in laughter as they sing – at the song, the accompanying gestures, or at me I don’t know – but I know they are happy because huge smiles are bursting across their faces.

Today was my first day teaching English at a non-profit organization in Rabat and singing this silly song is how I ended one of the best experience I have had in Morocco. Teaching was incredible. Most of my students were eager to learn and anxious to show off. They shouted answers and skipped ahead, always trying to best their friends. And even those that seemed less interested were so proud when they answered something right. They giggled, cracked jokes and – at times – ignored me and my fellow teacher Brittany, but it didn’t matter. We handed out vocabulary lists and verb charts, but our real goal was to make English fun for them. One of professors had told us that this sense of amusement and joy was the most important thing we could teach. And as their laughter and shouts of “Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes” reverberated throughout the building, I knew we had done our job. Next Thursday’s class can’t come soon enough!

Day 30: Rabat, Morocco

View From My Apartment!

Day 24: Fes/Rabat, Morocco

I am stuck in the crevice of a 700-year-old wall with one donkey piled high with merchandise coming around the bend from my right and another ahead heading straight for me. Men are yelling in a strange language all around me and the acrid smell of the nearby tanneries hangs in the air. Confusion, fear, and excitement sharpen my senses but dull my mind. I can’t even think about explaining, in any language, this logistical complication to the men around me. Instead I remain still, back pressed against the wall with an expression of complete bewilderment on my face, and wait for things to work themselves out.

This was one of many exciting (and slightly terrifying) experiences I had last weekend in Fes. Despite crazy bus rides and medina heckling, my trip to the ancient Moroccan city surrounded by the imposing Atlas Mountains was fantastic. Fes is an incredible example of Moroccan architecture and culture. The medieval medina has remained unchanged for centuries and is said to be the largest car-free urban area. Donkeys, not cars, navigate the labyrinth that is the old city. The winding streets are bustling with tourists, locals, and shopkeepers. Spices, dates, and nougat candy are offered at every turn. Incense spills from the shrine of Moulay Idirss II, the city’s founder. The tanneries are tucked back near the river and leather is made using the same method and machinery as it was hundreds of years ago. And in the silver quarter hammers pound giant metal drums and teapots pour into the street from storefronts.

But it wasn’t just this exhilarating environment that made for a great trip; it was also the city’s atmosphere. Fes is a tourist city and I had no qualms about gawking and taking photos all over town. In Rabat I feel immense pressure to fit in and act like a true city resident. I feel like I should know how to get around, where to eat, where not to go. But the language barrier, Moroccan gender roles, and simple lack of experience have prevented me from feeling fully comfortable. In Fes I didn’t feel bad about not knowing where I was or what was going on. When you’re traveling that’s all part of the fun! When you’re living it everyday…not so much.

Finally, Fes marked the end of my self-imposed three-week shopping ban (I had promised myself not to be any non-essentials until I had been in Morocco for 3 weeks in order to better gage price and true desire). So, of course, I went all out and returned with a silver teapot (to make my new favorite drink Moroccan Mint Tea), leather sandals, a small camel-leather bag, and a beautiful scarf. And to top it off, the exchange rate (and some serious bargaining) meant I got it all for under $50!

 

Day 15: Rabat, Morocco

All is still going well here. I spent a quiet weekend getting to know Rabat and my family a little better. I’ve noticed that so far I have written mostly about myself and not about Morocco so here’s a brief food tangent that should enlighten.

The food in Morocco is not quite so different flavor wise than that of the U.S. (there are a lot of pastries, stews, soups, vegetables, and pastas with hearty spices) but the cultural surrounding it is. Food holds an important place in Moroccan’s hearts. Certain foods represent certain things, like harira, a special soup that is traditionally eaten after breaking the fast during Ramadan or couscous, which 90% of Moroccans eat on Friday, their holy day. There is also a certain attitude towards food that requires it to be offered to guests and visitors all the time, in copious amounts. One cannot enter a Moroccan house without being offered something to eat or drink at least four times and when food is presented the nagging “kuli, kuli” (eat,eat) immediately begins. Thus food is a critical element of daily life, especially for women. The everyday trip to the souk for groceries and the preparation of meals is the main activity of most women’s days.

My day begins with a breakfast of meloui, a round Moroccan pancake more similar in texture to a flattened croissant than a pancake, with strawberry jam and cup of strong coffee. For lunch, which is prepared and packed by my host mother, I typically have lamb with rice or kefta (spiced meatballs), a side dish of veggies or beets, an apple or pear for dessert, and, of course, bread. Moroccans are obsessed with bread. Loaves of traditional round Moroccan bread are present at every meal (including breakfast). They scoop up stew, surround-mini hotdogs, and add carbs at every Moroccan table. One day last week I opened my lunch and was surprised, but happily so, that my usual portion of bread was not included. Maybe my family was realizing a 70 percent carbohydrate diet was not the healthiest. No sooner had I worked through the door that evening then my host anxiously proclaimed, “I’m so sorry I forget to pack your bread for lunch! It’s right here on the counter!” Bread, in a slightly altered form, appears again at kaskrut, tea and snack time. Usually occurring around 5 or 6pm kaskrut is when the traditional Moroccan mint tea is served alongside an assortment of sweet pastries. This is the sweetest element of the Moroccan cuisine, closest to our after dinner dessert in the U.S. The dessert that actually follows dinner is just delicious fresh fruit. Dinner itself is a lighter meal served between 9 and 10:30pm. From speaking with my friends, tagine is a popular dinner item, but with my small household we usually stick to smaller meals. Typically, we have a mélange of items including omelets, cheesy pasta, hot dogs, cheesy potatoes, soup, hardboiled eggs, and bread.

For the most part, I am really enjoying the cuisine. Couscous is definitely a new favorite! But the entire Amideast group has been seriously craving TexMex for the past week. I think it’s the knowledge that there is no Chipotle in the entire country that can provide nachos, salsa, guacamole, or tacos that has us so crazy!

 Meloui, Moroccan pancake

Tagine

Couscous

Navigational Aid

In case you have been curios about where exactly I am in the world, here are two maps to help out!

 

Morocco with the black star indicating the capital, Rabat, where I am studying

 Partial Map of Rabat, my house is just to the left of the Parc du Triangle de Vue (big green area in the center), right outside the Medina