okay...i need to be a little sassy for a minute.

dear host sister,

i'm literally chewing right now. i will eat some more after i swallow.

wakha?

i feel better now.

updates.

1. i am halfway through the grapes of wrath. steinbeck is a genius. also, i am on to my second journal!

2. for some reason, the world of morocco decided to give almost every student in my program severe food poisoning...including myself. (not. fun.) al-Hamdullah i did not go to the hospital like some of my friends.

3. tomorrow morning = adventure time. here are the dirty deets: 6:45 am. 5 hr train ride to Tangier. JAZZ FESTIVAL. exploring. return sunday.

4. i broke down and bought american food. cereal and peanut butter.

5. mama amina is going to teach me how to make bread. therefore, i am excited.

6. arabic quiz AND presentation next week. therefore, i am not excited.

7. also next week, village stay. therefore, i am excited, nervous, etc.

8. pictures and stories to come later. until then, lots of love.

Meow. This is for Allison Waters.

Allison is ASB Prez. She is also a lovely friend. Allison loves cats. I love Allison. therefore, this blog.

"What does the other side of the world look like, smell like, sound like?"

That's what my dear friend Garrett Richardson asked me on facebook the other day.
Here is my attempt at answering.

It looks like...

Boxes of fruits and vegetables waiting to be bought and cooked and served with cous cous
Shop owners standing on the street waiting patiently for someone to come in and strike up a bargain
Narrow alleyways that may or may not take you where you need to go and plastered walls painted different colors
Splashes of teal
Wizened old men sitting outside the mosque
Women walking down the street arm in arm
Framed pictures of the king in every public setting
Kids playing futbol in the narrow streets
Seedy guys wearing designer t-shirts who stare at you for a little too long

It smells like...

Fresh mint and parsley
cigarettes
Freshly baked pastries wafting from the corner bakery
A mix of spices found along every street, paprika, saffron, cumin, cinnamon
Instant coffee
Frying bread and cooking sausages from the street vendors
The earthy smell of unwashed vegetables
The trash on the corner waiting to be taken out
Exhaust fumes from the little mopeds and peugeots that dare you to cross their paths
Hints of the ocean
Leather

It sounds like...

Muezzins each singing their unique call to prayer
Mama yelling to people on the street from the kitchen window
Magical moroccan pop music streaming from little music shops and cell phones
Street vendors yelling out sales and showing off their latest items
Those same guys on mopeds and peugeots honking and beeping for you to dodge out of their way

updates

more stories will come soon, i promise.

but here are some updates:

1. fus'ha arabic is difficult bezzef

2. i am taking a belly dancing class. it is a) really fun and b) necessitates a shower afterwards

3. cous cous friday is my new favorite thing

4. i really like quality time, and coffee

5. roman ruins are cool, but vomitoriums? really?

6. Fez = awesome. i'll try to show you, but i haven't looked at my pics yet..

7. in two weeks...village stay. boo yah.

8. nice try morocco, but rice + potatoes does not constitute a salad.

that's all for now.

stream of consciousness

So I’ve been here two weeks now. And here are some things that I’ve noticed/have been convicted by:

My (western?) desire for instant gratification: We westerners have almost eliminated the need for patience. We want things- and we want them fast, easy..you know, NOW.
I want communication to be easy. I want to learn these languages fast, now. I want to know my way around the medina, now. Why is this bus taking so long to arrive? Why is this internet so slow?
These problems and questions can all be solved with one thing: patience.

Entitlement. I do what I want, when I want, because I can. Because this world is mine and I have a right to exploit it, right? I n c o r r e c t.
I must be constantly reminded that I am a part of something so much bigger than myself.
This can be seen at the dinner table, but even trying to type a description makes me realize how petty my dinner time annoyances are, and so I will leave this unexplained.
Solution: humility. I am the stranger, the one being welcomed. I am here to learn, not to be accommodated.

Money. Consumerism. Etc.
One of the first phrases learned while in this new country? “Besh-hal hadda?” “How much is this?”
Among other instances, such as the first time I brought out my laptop at home, and the look from my sister as I unloaded my (too many) pairs of shoes.
Don’t even get me started on this.

Among these arrogant characteristics: helplessness. “I don’t know how to ask that” “I can’t find my way to that place” “ I don’t want to go there alone” blah blah blah.
Solution: bravery. Take small risks every day (not real risks, dad/mom...just the safe kind) ie, ask questions, say the wrong words, maybe get a little lost. Do. It.

Wealth vs poverty
This weekend I discovered the bidonville/shantytown of Rabat...right next to these large/lavish/seemingly unoccupied buildings...on my way to the La Jolla of Rabat.
Conflicted? Count on it.
I haven’t finished processing all of this, so I apologize for the weird/short descriptions
Other updates:
I went to the hammam with Mama Amina and I 1) have never been this clean/exfoliated, and 2) never thought I would be this comfortable with nudity

Other brother’s name: Samir. We still haven’t spoken, but that’s on my to-do list for the next week or two.

Also, the family has taken to sending me out to do small errands. I have no idea if I am getting what they want me to get, but I’m doing it. Yay!

Ramadan is over.

The tiny sliver of a moon in the sky marked the end of Ramadan. In other words, no more fasting, no more staying up late.

The end of Ramadan is celebrated with the holiday Eid Al-Fatour (that’s not actually how it’s spelled, but...english vs arabic...what can you do?)

My thoughts on Ramadan always bring me back to thoughts of Christmas.
On one side: a time for genuine community
Time is made to visit one another intentionally
Everyone is eating basically the same thing at the same time...all over the country
Those who are poor and hungry are considered/remembered each day

On another side:
Mass amounts of food/things are bought and consumed
Media/commercialism have a monopoly on the world

This weekend, I was a tourist.

Two friends and I decided to go explore the touristy parts of Rabat on Thursday. Our day went something like this:
Wander around Mo-V for awhile
find three restaurants we’ve been looking for since we’ve been here (french crepes, lebanese, and greek/mediterranean)
Successfully cross the street with multiple lanes of traffic numerous times (p.s. I’m a pro at j-walking now)
Visit Hassan Tower/mosque- the tallest structure in Rabat, with the square minaret (of what was supposed to be the 2nd largest mosque in all of the Muslim world before Hassan died and plans were stopped) stretching up to the sky
Wander around the Palace walls, asking every guard we see where the gate for tourists is...haha
Walk to the super cool Roman ruins...of which we learned nothing because we 1) did not have a guide and 2) cannot read arabic. The ruins were beautiful, though. Complete with a lovely garden, still being maintained today
Visit the suburb of Agdal...realize that I am in wayyyy to American of a place when I see 1) McDonald’s and 2) Christmas socks on display at a clothing store
Discover public transportation...I said, “let’s get on this bus and see where it goes” so, we did...and it took us home.
More exploring ensued, but this blog is too long.

Followed by a short stay at the beach in Harhoura, which is much too long of a story to tell here.

i still want a chocolate chip cookie.

pick a color. tell me what you want.

today i want a chocolate chip cookie. alas.

let us have some tea.


walking.

hello little one
baby kitties everywhere!
meow hipster cat

food. yay.

figs!!

dates!

it's ramadan time
we eat this to break the fast
every single night

sunsets bring endings
look up, hear the call to pray
listen from rooftops

I would just like to say that I have mastered the bucket shower. Turkish bathrooms have nothing on me.

Mama Amina showed me how to do my laundry by hand today. You know, wooden washboard and clothespins style.

Also, I am a really good Moroccan dancer according to Houssin’s gf.

Goal for this week: visit the hammam (bath house) and get a massage.

Now...time for a music show/ concert? At Mohammed V

Salaam.

Today was a no-school day!

I was planning to fast with my family, but mom made me a pot of mint tea, so...how could I say no? There are times when appreciating hospitality takes precedence, you know?

Favorite part of the day: sitting in my friend’s living room simultaneously watching 1) a Mexican telenovella, dubbed in Darija, set in New York, and 2) a pirated copy of Step Up 3D dubbed in French with someone translating the important parts into English.

Least favorite part of the day: waking up to realize that I have a cold...boo.

Some friends and I decided to talk a walk around the medina, and apparently everyone else in the medina did too because there were sooo many people, and it was super hot. I had planned to take a ton of pictures, but failed. So tomorrow I will try again...and maybe I will go to to the park!

I’ve taken to writing down every new Darija word I learn in an attempt to remember some of them. We’ll see how this works.

As I write this I am finding out that brother Houssin took a year of English...i knew he was hiding something.

life.

Meet the family

So I’ve been living with my host family in the medina for a few days now. They are great! Shall we meet them?

Mama Amina: She speaks Darija and French and she is precious. I quite enjoy helping her prepare al-fatour (breakfast) in the afternoons before the sunset call to prayer. I peel the apples for the apple-milk juice. She is a lovely cook. Most used word? Couli! (Eat!)

Baba Mohamed: He is a tall, thin man who is very sweet. He likes to speak to me in Darija, but I never really know what to say back except “salaam” and “le bez”. He wears plaid shirts and white crocs...AKA he’s super punk rock like Justin Coyle.

Sister Nadia: She speaks French, Darija, and a little English...which is great, because she helps me understand what is going on...sort of. We share a room and watch t.v. Together, and laugh at the dog...and the whiney kitten who thinks the pooch is its mom.

Brother Badr: He has his own family and lives downstairs, but he speaks English pretty well. He is the one who came to pick me up from the CCCL. We laugh together because I never know what is going on. I think this weekend he is going to show me the famous cemetery In Rabat...which happens to be on basically the best ocean-front land in Rabat.

Brothers Hassin and...shoot...I can’t remember his name: I am putting these to together, but they definitely have some differences. Hassin is my age (I think)...so far he is very sassy, and loves soccer. Other brother is not a fan of wearing shirts. He is pretty quiet, and I don’t see him much (hence me not remembering his name)

Other Hassan: I don’t think he is a family member, but he is here every day, which is wonderful because he speaks English and always teaches me words in Darija. His favorite fashion statement: argyle socks and chuck taylors (high tops, of course)

There you have it, the Sefar family

as promised

good morning, sunrise. what will your new light bring?


dear hotel majestic, you are not majestic. but your views are...

butterflies in my tummy

September 1

Tomorrow is the day, everyone.
The day we meet our homestay families. Eek! I have all sorts of nervous-excited-scared-deer-in-the-headlights sort of emotions rumbling through me. For a couple of reasons:
I will be introduced to my brand new family tomorrow afternoon. And I won’t actually be able to communicate with them in words.
Tomorrow this gig becomes REAL. (!!!)

But now for today:
First day of arabic class!! We spent the two hours at the Annexe learning Darija (moroccan arabic)...which by the way is really different from MSA (modern standard arabic). Darija is combined with Berber and French, so basically it’s magical sounding. Let me tell ya.

In the afternoon my friend Tulsi and I walked around the medina once again, I took some photos, etc.

Tonight’s dinner was actually really special: we were able to break the fast with the traditional Fotour meal. It was delicious! Soup, boiled eggs, dried dates and figs, delicious honey-soaked treats, bread, and a something resembling spanikopita. One of the program directors also interpreted the prayer for us up on the terrace as we heard the call to prayer. Getting a peak at this tradition was really special...i’m excited to share some of it with my host family this next week. (even though waking up at 4 am to eat breakfast will be a semi-struggle)

OH YEAH...we also stumbled upon this carnival on the riverside! It was great, really. A bunch of us walked through the medina to this carnival we had heard about, and had a blast walking around and going on rides...well, okay, I went on one ride..but it was great!
The end.

Pictures to come...promise, promise, promise.