i am home.

warm and safe. after many adventures and misadventures on the European continent.

with missed trains, emotional breakdowns, history lessons, gluwein and bratwurst, wonderful visits with family, frozen toes, naps on the metro in paris, techno shows, chocolate, waffles, playing with kids, and not a lot of sleep,
I filled the last ten days of my journey abroad.

now I am sitting in my dining room, making tomato soup from scratch, crocheting some hand cozies, listening to sufjan christmas, and looking forward to a day of cookie making with grandma and wedding dress fitting with the wonderful Krista. (she's getting married! say yay!)

my mom gave me a sunflower apron. and my dad is teaching me how to make bread from scratch. and i got to talk to three wonderful people on the telephone.

it's good to be home.
yay!

tomorrow is my last day in morocco.

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

crazy.

wish me luck.

nuremburg, brussels, paris

cousins, courtney, steve aoki and uffie

get ready for this.

two weeks. save up all the days.

in the past four days,

i have managed to lose:

1. my moroccan cell phone
2.a plastic bag containing
a. one kilo of tangerines
b. East of Eden by John Steinbeck
c. ?
3.a 50 dirham bill
4.any ability to write anything coherently
5.my mind


have you seen any of these things?

warning: there is blood in these pictures. sorry.

a true cultural experience:
step one: get the sheep inside your house

step two: find the guy to kill it for you

step three: let it hang out in your house for awhile

step four: eat its liver.

what. what? it's december?

I will be home in 20 days.
this. is. crazy.

In the meant time, I will:
write approximately 20 pages on the cultural aspects of food and meals in Morocco (not quite sure what i'll be saying exactly...)
present said paper to my fellow students, professors, and advisor
find gifts for the rest of the important people in my life
learn to make cous cous (for realz, this time)
travel to three different european countries visiting family, friends, places once visited (and loved) already
also, try not to FREEZE in said european countries

20 days. four countries. one paper. almost home. ready. go.

Happy first day of Advent.

here in morocco we like to stick to the four main food groups

bread
potatoes
pasta
and
sugar

ya dig?

sharing.

I wish I could tell you what's been going on in my mind lately.
I mean, that's essentially what this space if for, right?
A medium in which we share things that could not otherwise be shared (you know...because I'm in a different country)

However, I'm afraid if I tried it would just end up being a mish-mash of half-thought-out questions, fragment sentences, starts, stops, and stutters.

I have a page in my journal of key words to use when people ask (which, the inevitably will) "What was Morocco like?" after I return.
I'm not sure these words do these past three months justice, but I think they may allow for greater explanation if time allows and the person listening has the patience.

At times I've found my mind completely wandering, and completely disconnected from the place I am in at that moment.
But I must force myself to stop, remember where I am, and throw myself back into this life that has become familiar and yet is still so foreign.
I am celebrating new holidays and trying to remember old ones.
The fall season comes here as in any other place, but it seems to be missing something.
maybe it's the smell of cookies, maybe it's the oak leaves.
I don't know.

I went to a café with some girls at Dar Taliba today.
We shared a conversation in four different languages.
We learned how to say "to share" in 3 of them.
I could say something cool and profound about that, but I'll let you make up your own.

that's all for now.

except for this:
I'm not expecting anything fantastic to come from this research paper I'm attempting to write (or...will attempt to write). So...you shouldn't either.

i will remember you well, impasse doura
your green diamond walls always led me home.

i made brownies for my family.
yay.
i like to think it was a success.

updates

hi. i'm alive. i promise.

here's what's up:
1. just spent a fantastic weekend with courtney pate and andy wade
2. spent last night in marrakesh in a hostel with an australian and a bulgarian.
3. took a four hour bus ride today to Ourzazat. the hollywood of morocco. i'm staying at a place called Dar Taliba for the next few days to do my research! yay.
(dar taliba: a boarding house type place in the city for girls from surrounding villages who want to finish school, super cool, right?)
4. i officially have less than one month left until I return back to the states. crazy!! 2 and a half weeks left in Morocco, and 10 days in germany/belgium/france. craziness.

pictures and other stuff to come.

peace.

hello, my name is cassandra

My name is Cassandra. The Arabic equivalent is Hadija. She was one of (I repeat, one of...)the prophet Mohamed's wives.

I live off of peanut butter and cafe au lait's.

I wash my clothes in a pink bucket in the bathroom.

The only place I feel like I fit in in this country is the hammam.

Yesterday was Eid el-Kebir
We gave thanks to God as we remembered when God spared Ibrahim's son Ishmael from being sacrificed by providing Ibrahim with a ram.
therefore, we (my host family and I) slaughtered two rams, in our house, in the hallway. and then ate some liver. and a lot of kefta.

on saturday, this song will be true. but only the first line of it:

i'm all about the USPS

today i received some mail. REAL mail. like, from the post office.

it was the best feeling ever.

and watching the sort-of-unfriendly post office woman open my package and look through it in front of me was almost as good as opening it myself.

thank you friends, and brother and sister susan.

i took my arabic final today. i can now say that i have attempted to learn two languages in my life and am proficient in neither of them. that's accomplishment.
therefore, this is my plan:

when school is over, my degrees are earned, and my loans paid off, i will take off.
for a year. somewhere. live on a farm. learn a language. experience more of the world.
because the world is big, and there is too much empty space in this average-sized brain of mine.

This morning as I was walking to class (late...eating my breakfast as i walked...typical) I was greeted with a number of "bonjours" and "sbaah-lkheers". It was quite nice, and in my head I thought "cool, Morocco...be nice to me during the last week of my home stay...right before i leave you forever"

and then i realized this was one of the only days that i didn't have my headphones on as i walked to class in an attempt to avoid cat calls and awkward conversations. way to go, cass...next time let's not block out the world that just wants to tell you good morning.

next subject:
last weekend my dear friend courtney pate came to visit for the weekend.
such a breath of fresh air. so nice to have someone familiar in my life (even if it was only like...2 days)
i failed at taking pictures this weekend, and she wrote about all the things that feel normal to me and that i probably forgot to tell you about, so...

go read this:
courtneypateisawesome

lastly:
next week i start my 3 week long research adventure
so far it looks as if i will be visiting a few different villages and figuring out what food they grow, what they sell in the markets, what they eat at home and how those are different and what that means for the people living in these villages.

i realize that's really vague. (that's because i don't really know what i'm doing yet...also typical)

it should be exciting. and it should stretch me. 3 weeks of independent research... independent aka by myself.
scared.scared.scaredy.scared.

until next time...beslaama.

downstairs neighbor

upstairs neighbor

a few things.

courtney pate comes in 3 days. iamsoexcitedicouldvomittearsofjoy. - that's not my phrase...it's hers.
i now have 20 years of life.

i forgot to show you this:


and this is morocco:

i don't know where i am

sunrise, sunset. obsession.

let's go.

stop desertification

share your water

turn that music uppp

i saved a seat for you

take your pick

good morning, moon.

i'll tell the stories later.

sometimes i think about settling down

i want a house with no fence and a door with a broken lock whose hinges are well accustomed to swinging and an oven that knows the feel of a sheet of cookies baked with the intent of sharing and a table that has served meals and conversations much more valuable than the wood it was made out of. rooms that have felt the heartbeats of friends, strangers, visitors, and family members as they have drifted off to sleep and a tea kettle that sits on the stove ready to take part in the ritual of shared tea and shared story. and a row of sunflowers in back that greets me as i sip coffee in the morning. i want to make bread and cinnamon rolls and have dance parties in the kitchen that carry on to the living room and backyard. the walls are an art gallery of stories waiting to be told and family is whoever is at the dinner table. it smells of mint and orange and cinnamon and lavender and pound cake turning golden brown and vanilla incense. a shelf dedicated to children's books that should be remembered and reread. and a place where single people don't feel awkward hanging out with married ones and young adults sit with wise old ones and listen with the intent of learning something worthwhile and taking part in story...
a place where story happens.

I'm leaving in the morning for the south of Morocco!

Adventures will ensue!
goals:
1. memorize copious amounts of Arabic vocabulary on our bus rides
2. tac down my topic for my independent study project
3. do something crazy
4. write lots of letters to people
5. learn how to speak camel
6. take too many pictures
7. come back with some epic stories to tell you.

countdowns:
1.5 hours until my paper is due
9 days until my birthday!
13 days until Courtney comes to visit!!
22 days until I begin my ISP...ahhh...

bye!

my least favorite thing is dishonesty

if i can keep an honesty it is all i can expect of my poor brain...if i can do that it will be all my lack of genius can produce. for no one else knows my lack of ability the way i do. i am pushing against it all the time

steinbeck.

if Steinbeck were guiding, he would have pointed to the North.

Chapter 14, Grapes of Wrath, written in my journal

"The two men squat on their hams and the women and children listen. Here is the node, you who hate change and fear revolution. Keep these two squatting men apart; make them hate, fear, suspect each other. Here is the anlage of the thing you fear. This is the zygote. For here "I lost my land" is changed; a cell is split and from its splitting grows the thing you hate -- "We lost our land." The danger is here, for two men are not as lonely and perplexed as one. and from this first "we" there grows a still more dangerous thing: "I have a little food" plus "I have none" IF from this problem the sum is "We have a little food", the thing is on its way. The movement has direction. Only a little multiplication now, and this land, this tractor are ours. The two men squatting in a ditch, the little fire, the side meat stewing in a single pot, the silent, stone-eyed women; behind, the children listening with their souls to words their minds do not understand. The night draws down. The baby has a cold. Here, take this blanket, it's wool. It was my mother's blanket -- take it for the baby. This is the thing to bomb. This is the beginning -- from "I" to "we"

......

For the quality of owning freezes you forever into "I" and cuts you off forever from the "We" "

when i was editing my myspace page, this girl was being awesome.

http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2010/10/24/magazine/nepal-aid.html





reblogged from Charlie Merritt

updates

1. great weekend in el-jadida
2. my ability to procrastinate has reached a new level
3. i hate writing papers no matter what country i am in
4. i still hate the smell of sardines
5. i still open my books the wrong way
6. i am currently pulling my first all nighter in morocco
7. this weekend is our southern excursion (yay!)
8. pictures and stories later
9. for now, wish me luck on my first arabic test. insha'allah, i will pass.

bread honey butter tea

So...you've seen the pictures. and you've heard some ambiguous haikus. now for the story:

The week started with a five hour bus ride south east of Rabat to the village that would be our home for the next few days.
We met our host families just as the last light of the day was leaving, and we stumbled home through the twilight with Mama Fatna on the donkey.
one thing: the STARS. were so bright, beautiful, and unlike anything i'd ever seen...mostly because they were stars I had never seen...you know..different hemisphere.
we met the family, had the best chicken tajine i'd had since i'd been here, and experienced the delicious home made khobz (bread) that would be the foundation of our stay.

we even made it home in time to watch diablo...after noting my surprise that we had a television...
bedtime: 9 pm and we all (me, ericka, mama, sister, little girl, little boys) got down our blankets and went to sleep on the floor.

Next, hiking alll day throughout the area where we learned about deforestation issues and land disputes and then ate some rghyf (bread) with butter and honey...and i want some so bad right now. we had a discussion with some of the village women where we asked them questions, and then they asked us questions.
they would like a health clinic.

and in my journal i wrote this question, i'm not sure why: why do we tend to either romanticize or demonize the other?
then i got to see how couscous is made from scratch. awesome. delicious. i love cous cous fridays. but you know that already.

next day, more bread, more honey, more butter, more tea
we met with the village men
we learned how to weave.
we played with Sana and she pretended she was a donkey
we watched the sunset up on the hill top and watched the clouds begin to roll in

these are the questions i wrote in my journal this day: what is progress? is being 'poor' bad if you have all you need? are you poor if you have all you need?
(obviously there are things like medical needs, education that are super important, but...)

next day, rain.
i woke up around sunrise time to the sound of rain on the beaten dirt outside
it felt like fall, finally. the rain and the trees smelled lovely.

we wove more.
i was thankful for ericka.
we shared peanut butter with our family: success

next day, i asked Badredine, "why does Mama Fatna only use hand motions to communicate with us? I mean...we know some words..."
to which he responded, "Fatna is very shy..."

we taught the kids at the school "head, shoulders, knees, and toes"...toes and nose are very hard to pronounce. we cleaned out the schoolyard, and painted the trees with this white, explosive rock that keeps bacteria from killing the trees. yay. natural solutions! the sustainability nerd within me was happy.
more bread butter honey tea
sister fatima called me a maghribia :)
it was windy, and a little cold
we took an adventurous short cut back home from school, and it wasn't ANY shorter,
but my little brother held my hand the whole way home. cute, but also sweaty.

next day,
woke up, brushed my teeth in the yard as i watched the sun come up over the distant mountains
i learned how to make bread.
we went to school again. education is key. i was told i could eat acorns...you really can. i watched little kids with joy as they entertained themselves with this game: one kid rides the bike up the hill, while the other kid runs alongside, and then they ride back down the hill and do it again.
i felt uncomfortable with some things that i saw that i don't want to talk about here. ask emi about it.
we took refuge in the trees.
ericka and i got our hands covered in henna...then we slept with it on all night, in our clothes that we had been wearing all week...and the henna is still here today. gotta love it.

that's what we did, basically. sorry that it's not very deep, that i didn't give you a detailed analysis of my feelings and magical revelations, but i didn't want to write a book.

but i will tell you that i want to go back, that it has caused me to ask questions about poverty, about development (wait..i was already asking those questions.)
and i had some good conversations with people.

more pics...i'm obsessed.

on the last day my sister Fatima taught me how to make bread. it. was. so cool.


structure of a house in the village: open square in the middle..rooms all around, animals on the outside

loutichina.

sana, sana girl
crazy, crazy, crazy girl
but too cute for words

brother, strike a pose
hold my hand all the way home
learn, and grow up strong

cous cous fridays are:
my most fave day of the week
tradition is intricate

mam fatna is
hospitality defined
with very few words

we are both strangers
mutual staring contest

how different we live

place: loutichina
water is a scarcity
use it sparingly

little chicken friend
your journey from yard to plate
is much shorter here