So it’s not really been the best past few days—mostly because the weather is beyond awful. Monday was gorgeous but we must have jinxed it because since then it’s been raining and freeeezing. Probably 20 degrees less than what it’s been! And I simply do not have the appropriate apparel for this weather! I only have tennis shoes that are not water proof and no rain jacket or umbrella. Who knew I should have packed an umbrella! I surely didn’t. But, then again, I had no idea how much walking outside I would do on a daily basis. (I do love that aspect of living in the medina of a big city though. Everything is so dense, that although it’s lots of twists and turns, we can walk practically anywhere or take a taxi for a few dollars… it’s a new way of life I’ve never experienced in my normal routine.) Anyway… today was just an awful, depressing day because we had to do so much walking in the rain and I was soaked. AND we’re leaving for the village stay on Saturday and apparently it’s going to be even colder there... it MAY SNOW! Ugghhh I will be such a cranky bitch if it snows.
Ok, a few weeks ago, I was really excited for this trip, but it’s just too close, time wise, to our last trip. Plus I won’t have a toilet, we have to get our water from a well and I’ll not be able to communicate with the people I’m living with whatsoever. The Berbers have their own language entirely, and it’s not like I speak Arabic anyway. Except this time there’s no way these people with speak French or English. That should be a fascinating aspect of how all this is supposed to work. We have also been guaranteed that we will be sick and have some digestive/stomach/diarrhea issues no matter what. God, I can’t wait to have diarrhea in the middle of the night when I have to walk into the snow to use the bathroom… God knows what we’ll do for toilet paper! (Well that post should be soo delightful for you all to read!)
AND to top it all off, I have no physical cash to use to buy long sleeve shirts and socks for the trip so I have to borrow money from friends which isn’t that big of a deal because many people have offered to help me, I just hate having to ask and be a pest. I have also decided that borrowing money from my host family will probably be a bad idea even though they offered as well. Money can just be such a touchy subject in a different culture and I might not even get my new card until I move out of their house anyway. But hopefully I can borrow a small sum from a few different friends so they don’t all feel overwhelmed.
I wasn’t the only one who felt this way today either. We had Arabic “office hours” again today and in my group there were 4 of us and our teacher of course. (This story is going to hard to explain but…)My very funny, articulate, bright and somewhat cynical friend Elana, who I’ve come to really really like was trying to tell Fatiha (our teacher) why we were all so grumpy. She doesn’t speak English and none of us spoke French so the way we communicate without words always ends up involving a lot of laughing. At one point we were all just laughing so hard and then all of a sudden we were all kind of crying too! Elana was laughing so hard and was just like “oh my god I’m going to start crying” and she did! Then, my eyes swelled up—all the while we were laughing so so so hard. I couldn’t even tell if I was crying b/c I was laughing so hard or if I was really crying. It was this bizarre, somewhat surreal moment but it was nice because I knew I wasn’t alone in how I felt. It was the perfect way to express the emotion I was feeling. Laughing SO HARD and crying at the same time. It was actually the most amazing relief! Fatiha totally felt our pain and we only did a little Arabic and then she taught us how to “dance like the village people” (hahaha pun not intended but that’s funny!!) Apparently the Berbers/Moroccans who live in the rural areas have their own way of dancing—this includes keeping your arms straight at your sides and just dancing with your shoulders. It was really funny and it cheered me upJ
Anyway, all day we all kept talking about how lovely it would be to be in our own beds, eating our own food, watching our own movies… ugh I miss food. But tomorrow is Friday and we leave for the village on Saturday morning, but we have the entire afternoon tomorrow free so my plan is to do some skyping, buy some warm clothes, SHOWER (b/c I won’t do that for another week that’s for sure) and go have dinner with some friends before we are either vomiting or immediately pooping everything we eat.
Enjoy your week! Because while you all have warm beds and sunshine, I’ll be milking goats and having diarrhea in the woods…
Friday, October 24, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Moroccan/ American dialog
Today we had a discussion session with some students from the big Moroccan university in Rabat. The discussion was based around “Moroccan perceptions of the US election.” So many many things were brought up, but I mostly wanted to write to say how interesting it was! First of all, we don’t really have any type of discussion in this program—that’s something it really lacks although overall it’s really been an amazing program. I guess I’m just used to a) being a sociology major and b) going to a college that THRIVES off dialogggg. So it was really refreshing simply to have a classroom discussion on any topic. And because that topic was something of a lot of substance, importance and that is just plain dynamic, thus interesting, it made it all the better.
So in our SIT group, we are firstly 90% female, and secondly 99.9% liberal (one guy claims to be socially liberal yet fiscally conservative) so that doesn’t really give any room for debate because we all pretty much agree! Haha I sometimes find myself playing devil’s advocate on things that I don’t agree with simply to heat things up!! I’m apparently addicted to debate—something Kansas left me with I supposeJ.
Although, the discussion we had today wasn’t necessarily in disagreement, it was just really interesting to hear the Moroccan perspective. First of all, they know more about what’s going on and what the candidates are really about than a LOT of Americans, but they are also a unique group of educated young Moroccans of a new, more progressive generation. So they didn’t necessarily represent the average Moroccan, just like we don’t represent the average American. But nonetheless, it was nice not only to have a real discussion on the election but to hear what they had to say and the questions they had for us as Americans.
One of the most interesting points brought up was the fact that none of them vote in their own domestic elections because they technically live in a monarchy and, understandably, find no meaning behind their individual vote. Granted, it’s a pretty progressive monarchy in the midst of flirting with democratization, the king still has grand authority over practically everything. So, in the end, what I really brought away from that discussion was how important even the act of voting is. Even in the US, many people, including myself, really question the importance behind my one miniscule vote in the general election. BUT talking about US history and the progress that has come from Barrack Obama even being up there as a front runner proves that standing up to something, to anything, IS meaningful and absolutely has an impact. We would not be hearing his name today had it not been for civil right movements generations ago. I think we too often dwell on the NOW and the short term effects of things. There is this idea that whoever the next president is will be considered a failure no matter what because they are being put into an office with already so many issues that it’s impossible to make them go away in just 4 years if even in 8. BUT, again, that’s if we look at the short term—which inevitably, in 4 years that is what we’ll be forced to do. But ya know, the reason I voted for Barack Obama, (in the state of Florida I will proudly add), is simply because even if he is unable to pull us out of this economic crisis, or worse, I’m still positive the attitude and hope he has inspired in young people and people of color all over the country will have a continuously positive effect way past his or my time. If anything, he’s truly an inspiration and honestly, if that’s all he is that’s still more than most human beings can say they’ve accomplished. Simply by him running, I personally am less pissed off at “politics” and there seems to actually be a reason to why we have a president again. I think too often inspiration and positive reinforcement is overlooked and underestimated. I believe the quote from Tuesday’s with Morrie is something along the lines of: “a teacher affects inerity: he can never tell where his influence stops."
So that was me thinking critically for the semester! Enjoy!
So in our SIT group, we are firstly 90% female, and secondly 99.9% liberal (one guy claims to be socially liberal yet fiscally conservative) so that doesn’t really give any room for debate because we all pretty much agree! Haha I sometimes find myself playing devil’s advocate on things that I don’t agree with simply to heat things up!! I’m apparently addicted to debate—something Kansas left me with I supposeJ.
Although, the discussion we had today wasn’t necessarily in disagreement, it was just really interesting to hear the Moroccan perspective. First of all, they know more about what’s going on and what the candidates are really about than a LOT of Americans, but they are also a unique group of educated young Moroccans of a new, more progressive generation. So they didn’t necessarily represent the average Moroccan, just like we don’t represent the average American. But nonetheless, it was nice not only to have a real discussion on the election but to hear what they had to say and the questions they had for us as Americans.
One of the most interesting points brought up was the fact that none of them vote in their own domestic elections because they technically live in a monarchy and, understandably, find no meaning behind their individual vote. Granted, it’s a pretty progressive monarchy in the midst of flirting with democratization, the king still has grand authority over practically everything. So, in the end, what I really brought away from that discussion was how important even the act of voting is. Even in the US, many people, including myself, really question the importance behind my one miniscule vote in the general election. BUT talking about US history and the progress that has come from Barrack Obama even being up there as a front runner proves that standing up to something, to anything, IS meaningful and absolutely has an impact. We would not be hearing his name today had it not been for civil right movements generations ago. I think we too often dwell on the NOW and the short term effects of things. There is this idea that whoever the next president is will be considered a failure no matter what because they are being put into an office with already so many issues that it’s impossible to make them go away in just 4 years if even in 8. BUT, again, that’s if we look at the short term—which inevitably, in 4 years that is what we’ll be forced to do. But ya know, the reason I voted for Barack Obama, (in the state of Florida I will proudly add), is simply because even if he is unable to pull us out of this economic crisis, or worse, I’m still positive the attitude and hope he has inspired in young people and people of color all over the country will have a continuously positive effect way past his or my time. If anything, he’s truly an inspiration and honestly, if that’s all he is that’s still more than most human beings can say they’ve accomplished. Simply by him running, I personally am less pissed off at “politics” and there seems to actually be a reason to why we have a president again. I think too often inspiration and positive reinforcement is overlooked and underestimated. I believe the quote from Tuesday’s with Morrie is something along the lines of: “a teacher affects inerity: he can never tell where his influence stops."
So that was me thinking critically for the semester! Enjoy!
Monday, October 20, 2008
My money crisis
Day 1 (Saturday afternoon): Everything’s going so well. I have the entire day to check e-mail and spend time on the internet. I casually stop by an ATM on the way to the internet café because I’m out of cash. My one and only debit card that has worked 10 times already in the same city, at the same ATM, decides it’s done giving me money. I put the card in the machine and it simply does not give it back. I have a quick panic attack and an out of body experience. I just kind of froze next to the machine. The only other thing I have is an emergency credit card my parents gave me—but even in an emergency, credit cards don’t work as automatic cash. Credit cards are also not taken by the man selling oranges and t-shirts out of a basket in the Rabat medina—believe it or not. I have no cash money, and no way to get any.
I walked, in an absolute daze, to the internet café, called my parents an instantly broke down into obnoxious tears. They probably thought I had been mugged or something much worse (Mom and Paul: I apologize for the drama by the way). We figured out together that I can either use the credit card when that’s available, or they can wire money to me if I am unable to get a new card.
I e-mailed my bank and asked what was going on, and what I need to do to get that card or another card to me as soon as possible… hopefully they e-mail me back asap.
Day 2: I can hardly sleep because I’m totally freaking out about this issue. Although I realize much MUCH worse could have happened, I just hate that this added stress is all of a sudden in my life!!! I was lying in bed thinking “my life is suuuuucks” when I remembered my friend CB getting that call about her brother when we were on the train back from Tangier and I wanted to slap myself in the face. My money is still there at least! This isn’t really the crisis I turned it into yesterday. I just have to go out of my way to retrieve my money. MUCH worse could have happened. And, thankfully, I told my host family and they were very sympathetic, as well. My sister is going to go with me tomorrow afternoon to the bank that took the card and hopefully they might have some answers. I also added up in my head how much money I probably need for the rest of my trip, if my parents need to wire it to me, and that was actually a very soothing activity that made me feel a little bit less out of control. If I’ve learned anything from this thus far, it’s that I really hate not being in control. As much as it may not seem on the outside, organization—especially MY individual organization of self—is such an important factor to my sanity.
I have 50 dirhams that has to last me a while? (That’s like 7 dollars) My host family told me they would also lend me money until I could pay them back which was very generous and very nice of them as well.
Ughhhh this is simply annoying!
Later this evening I checked my e-mail and Bank of America wrote back saying that “there has been a hold placed on my card” but to get another one sent to me I simply need to verify my new address and a new card will be sent in 4-16 business days. (By the way, 4-16 is a big difference! I hope I’m closer to the 4 side or it might not actually get into my hands until December) fingers crossed…
Also... on a very different, brighter note, last night I went with a few friends to a “Tex Mex” restaurant in the rich part of Rabat—a part of the town I had yet to actually go to—and my burrito and margarita was literally to die for. I mean the rice was saffron rice not Spanish rice, but it was muy delicioso nonetheless. When I got home tonight, I big plate of spaghetti was waiting for me. But I was so excited to eat SPAGHETTI I didn’t really stop and think about how much was on the plate. I remember thinking once I dove in that I should, under no circumstance, actually eat this entire plate. But 3 and ahalf minutes later it was gone… I had no self control. But this is really making the spaghetti sound more spectacular than it was. It had a texture more similar the play-dough version we used to make in grade school and it somehow actually tasted like play-dough too. (Seriously though, what could have possibly been put into it that made it literally taste like play-dough?! I’m flummoxed really!) But apparently neither of those factors was enough to stop me from consuming 3 servings of it. I complain about all the bread but somehow allow myself that many noodles? I make no sense I agree…
ALSO I discovered what it was that I thought was so so so delicious (I believe I said “the best thing I’ve ever eaten”) the first week I was here. It’s called pastilla. I understand this is not a new concept outside Morocco, but it was new to me, and I had a little mini chicken pastilla pastry for a snack today which was also incredible.
I walked, in an absolute daze, to the internet café, called my parents an instantly broke down into obnoxious tears. They probably thought I had been mugged or something much worse (Mom and Paul: I apologize for the drama by the way). We figured out together that I can either use the credit card when that’s available, or they can wire money to me if I am unable to get a new card.
I e-mailed my bank and asked what was going on, and what I need to do to get that card or another card to me as soon as possible… hopefully they e-mail me back asap.
Day 2: I can hardly sleep because I’m totally freaking out about this issue. Although I realize much MUCH worse could have happened, I just hate that this added stress is all of a sudden in my life!!! I was lying in bed thinking “my life is suuuuucks” when I remembered my friend CB getting that call about her brother when we were on the train back from Tangier and I wanted to slap myself in the face. My money is still there at least! This isn’t really the crisis I turned it into yesterday. I just have to go out of my way to retrieve my money. MUCH worse could have happened. And, thankfully, I told my host family and they were very sympathetic, as well. My sister is going to go with me tomorrow afternoon to the bank that took the card and hopefully they might have some answers. I also added up in my head how much money I probably need for the rest of my trip, if my parents need to wire it to me, and that was actually a very soothing activity that made me feel a little bit less out of control. If I’ve learned anything from this thus far, it’s that I really hate not being in control. As much as it may not seem on the outside, organization—especially MY individual organization of self—is such an important factor to my sanity.
I have 50 dirhams that has to last me a while? (That’s like 7 dollars) My host family told me they would also lend me money until I could pay them back which was very generous and very nice of them as well.
Ughhhh this is simply annoying!
Later this evening I checked my e-mail and Bank of America wrote back saying that “there has been a hold placed on my card” but to get another one sent to me I simply need to verify my new address and a new card will be sent in 4-16 business days. (By the way, 4-16 is a big difference! I hope I’m closer to the 4 side or it might not actually get into my hands until December) fingers crossed…
Also... on a very different, brighter note, last night I went with a few friends to a “Tex Mex” restaurant in the rich part of Rabat—a part of the town I had yet to actually go to—and my burrito and margarita was literally to die for. I mean the rice was saffron rice not Spanish rice, but it was muy delicioso nonetheless. When I got home tonight, I big plate of spaghetti was waiting for me. But I was so excited to eat SPAGHETTI I didn’t really stop and think about how much was on the plate. I remember thinking once I dove in that I should, under no circumstance, actually eat this entire plate. But 3 and ahalf minutes later it was gone… I had no self control. But this is really making the spaghetti sound more spectacular than it was. It had a texture more similar the play-dough version we used to make in grade school and it somehow actually tasted like play-dough too. (Seriously though, what could have possibly been put into it that made it literally taste like play-dough?! I’m flummoxed really!) But apparently neither of those factors was enough to stop me from consuming 3 servings of it. I complain about all the bread but somehow allow myself that many noodles? I make no sense I agree…
ALSO I discovered what it was that I thought was so so so delicious (I believe I said “the best thing I’ve ever eaten”) the first week I was here. It’s called pastilla. I understand this is not a new concept outside Morocco, but it was new to me, and I had a little mini chicken pastilla pastry for a snack today which was also incredible.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
pictures from the SoExcr
the best chocolate milkshakes ever made...
there were kittens and a momma cat living in the hotel ion Marrakesh
the women making hte Argan oil products
the spice souk
Essouira...freaking beautiful
our classic picnic. Of course BREAD jsut add some peanut butter, jelly, frosting, tuan fish and SPREADABLE CHEESE... and its STILL white bread
but at least theres an awseom view while we eat the bread
the notorious tour bus
OLIVES!!!!! i wish i liked them...
thank goodness we found a bar!! hahah we had so much fun all hanging out:)
it sooo didn't matter that the booze was increadibly over priced.. these bars make a damn killing off tourists desperate for a drink!
souks! those are a million kinds of dates with some apricots and nuts and probably some figs
overwhelming!! but awesome nonetheless
we found an antique shop hiddne in the middle of the medina... it was amazing
the hotel that later began to melt when the rain came... it was so pretty and seemed so sturdy!! looks can be deceiving!
a musical performance in the desert...
THE Sahara Desert
what a small Moroccan villiage/town in bewtween the major cities looks like
Alice is so brave! although this picture plus another cost 20 dirham, it was so worth it! THAT THING IS HUGE!!!
the view for the entire trek back from the desert= serious car sickness
land rovers in the desert!!!
very fun/bumpy/probably unsafe ride
blury camels...
me and Laila
the monkeys were fearless.. (5 seconds after i took this, that monkey swiped a bag of chips and opened it in the trees)
BABY MONKEY!!!!
goats/a small moutnain/ large iron crown... totally normal
frightening... but delicious once you get past avoiding the bones
this is what class is like (thats our "teacher on the right)... we had "class" in someone's room after dinner...? (note the seriousnes in everyones face)Southern excursion
So we just spent a week traveling to every city of major importance in the entire south part of the country. This meant we got to see lots of cool and different places at the same time that obviously also meant a lot of time spent traveling—and traveling in our case meant sitting on a bus. So this will probably be a very very long post but bear with me because a lot happened!!
So we left Saturday morning bright and early and drove to a city called Azrou. We drove all morning and for lunch we had a picnic with some barbery apes. These monkeys were soo cool. They were a little scary because they were in no way scared of us and we had lots of food. But the fact that they weren’t scared of us also meant I got lots of close pictures. But I willll admit, I was very terrified of them. There were so many of them! And they’re smart! In my mind, they could have easily arranged an attack and we would have, without a doubt, been defeated. The good thing though is that they saw each other as competition for food as they did us. Even the very very very cute baby monkeys were hit away—even by their moms—when they tried to go for food that was in front of a bigger monkey. They were pretty ferocious… but no one was bitten, eaten or attacked by a monkey, so we survived the picnic.
So Saturday night we stayed in Azrou at hotel Panoramique. In between lunch and dinner we had free time to wonder around the town. The educational point of stopping in this town, besides it also being the half way point to the desert, was to see all the development in the city and paying attention to that ended up being really neat. There was craaazy dichotomy between the rich and poor in this small city. Literally, there were shanty towns—as in pieces of fabric thrown over poles within the confines of the town dump—right down the street from brand new condos. All this new development going up was the closest thing I’ve seen to suburbanization in Morocco. Anyway, I also bought two necklaces made of really pretty stone and we climbed a big rock in the middle of the town that had a huge iron crown sitting on it…? How it got there or why it’s there, no idea—but it was cool!
When we came back from wondering through the town, we played botchee ball (how do you spell that?) and then took a nap before dinner at the hotel. Once it started getting dark we noticed that no lights worked throughout the entire hotel. We’ve stayed in some hotels in the past that turn off the power during the day when it’s unnecessary to turn on the lights to conserve energy. I though that’s what was going on here, but no. Apparently the entire town was in a black out because—rumor has it—someone stole something from the city’s power box. (I use the term “power box” because I don’t know the real term, but the town was missing a vital electric component to giving energy to the entire town, so this stolen item was important! Why someone stole it or, more importantly, HOW, I have no idea.) So it was also freezing cold because we were away from the coast and in the mountains, so we all sat in the dark by the fire in the lobby before we were served dinner at candlelight. Dinner was really great, except for the fact that I experienced my first “full fish on the plate” meal without any warning. All of a sudden an entire fish—head, tail, skin and scales—was staring at me and I was kiiiind of freaked out. Once I figured out how to maneuver around the bones and chew slowly as to spit out the stray bones that made it into my mouth, it was a very delicious meal. The lights came back on in the middle of dinner and being that there was a disgusting fish looking at me on my plate, I preferred the dim lighting. But it was nothing the lettuce garnish couldn’t cover up while I finished! haha
Sunday was a very very very long day on the bus. Although we saw lots of great views on the way, getting all the way to the desert took a very long time. We drove through what’s called the Ziz Valley which is an “oasis” because, although there is a lot of drought throughout this part of the country, there is one flowing river that makes this one valley through the mountains flourish immensely. It was actually a pretty surreal sight being able to see these dry mountains on either side of a lush valley full of thousands of palm trees. BUT here’s the great part, there was this weird fog/haze business happening too, and the guy who briefly spoke to us about the valley said it was weather he has only seen 3 times in 25 years. THREE TIMES IN TWENTY FIVE YEARS?!?! What are those odds! Hahaha of coooouuurse. Why wouldn’t that happened the one time I go to the Sahara Desert?! Well, we finally stopped for lunch somewhere and had this meat pie type thing. It was kind of like a huge hot pocket, except it wasn’t delicious like a hot pocket. This pie later becomes the main suspect in a series of illnesses which I will soon describe. But anyway, after lunch we got our overnight bags off the bus and got into land rovers to take us one hour to this small village on the edge of the Sahara Desert called Merzouga. In Merzouga we first stopped at this NGO for women and children. A woman there gave us a small talk about what they did, and the moral of the story was that they were most importantly a school for children during the day and they also helped women learn specific trades like making carpets or clothes or shoes, so that they could do something to support themselves or their families while living in this very desolate place. Then we took the land rovers to the camels! I was so excited to ride camels into the sunset, but there ended up being two factors that really killed the mood. One being this fog/haze thing (it was not made of water they told us so it wasn’t technically fog, but I don’t know what it really was) and the second factor being that we were running really late, so when we got out of our land rovers we were instantly dragged by the camel guides and thrown onto camels. They just kept saying “come on come on!” It was literally 30 seconds from when I stepped out of the car and was sitting on a camel. And by the way camels are TALL! They are sitting down when you sit in the saddle and when they stand up they get their hind legs up first which almost throws you off forwards, then they get their front legs up which almost throws you off backwards. All the while they groan and make this awful noise like “I haaaaate taking tourists into the sand dunes. Whyyyyy are you making me do this!” Camels are very grumpy animals, but if I were one of these camels, I would be grumpy, too. But it was really funny and I laughed very hard watching everyone get on, and at myself because I was actually pretty positive I was going to fall off. (I didn’t by the way). They Saharan men/camel guides /self proclaimed nomads walked alongside us for like 30 minutes into the desert. I felt really stupid riding camels while they just walked alongside us, but they were very nice. I asked what my camel’s name was and they informed me that they don’t name their camels and I was sooo surprised by this! I was so excited to know my camel’s name! That’s one of my favorite parts of horseback riding, but ya know, why is it that we name our horses really? It’s kind of dumb and the only point is to entertain the people riding them. So even though my camel was a boy, I named him Laila because it’s my favorite Arabic name. We parked our camels after 30 minutes and ran to the top of some sand dunes to, in theory, watch the sun set. But at his point it was almost black so the sun was long gone, but the fog would have prevented us from seeing it anyway. Some brave souls rolled down the sand but sand in my pants, in the dark, in the middle of nowhere was not appealing to me so I played it safe and just enjoyed the view I couldn’t take pictures of. We took the camels back to our hotel in the pitch black, and this was kind of disappointing, but we made plans to come out again to watch the sunrise in the morning to take better pictures of the dunes. We were also at this point only about 30 kilometers away from Algeria which just kind of felt cool.
So, I kind of think it’s really important to talk about the infrastructure of this town and other Berber village towns. Our hotel was really cool, and the classroom we saw was really well maintained, but it was all made out of this mud/hay paste. I’m told the word for this concoction doesn’t translate to English but it was amazing to see every building, when you looked at it close up, was made of mud! I mean I knew this type of structure existed, but it was just done so well, it surprised me! From far away it looked so perfected it seemed like the only thing it could possibly be made out of is plaster, and I guess when I think of mud as the main component of a building, I don’t think of the building as looking well maintained. I was wrong. It was so cool. BUT here’s the fun part, even though from afar it looked very sturdy, it was still made out of dirt. And when dirt gets wet, it turns back into mud. The mysterious fog we had been seeing happened to transform itself into a thunderstorm later that night. And when there’s a storm that apparently happens once every 10 years, the buildings are not really prepared. AKA our hotel began to melt. Seriously, melt is sooo the right word it’s not even funny! One group of girls had to totally switch rooms because their ceiling caved in when a dripping leak quickly turned into what is better described as a pouring faucet. We had two small leaks too although they didn’t force us to switch rooms. One of my roommates couldn’t sleep in her bed though and leak number 2 was only discovered the next day when my jeans were soaking wet. Hahahah it was so ridiculous! Hahhaha the stairs were literally spongy! I thought the whole this was going to collapse! But we did survive the night and we woke up very very early to walk back out into the dunes to watch sunrise and I got a few blurry pictures before my camera died L But my roommate got lots of good pictures I’ll make sure she sends me.
I couldn’t go back to sleep before breakfast so I got like 5 hours of sleep that night, ick. Monday was, then another very long long day of bus time. And it was also a day of everyone getting very sick and having to be sick in Turkish toilets. Let me just say, I.hate.turkish.toilets. They are so gross and usually smell sooo awful I want to vomit. BUT I am getting pretty good at mastering the not peeing on my pants or my shoes part (some people haven’t totally gotten that down yet). But, anyway, the real thing to talk about here is diarrhea. Oh my gosh diarrhea. I was somehow very very lucky and did not get this illness, but I was a rare breed on Monday. We had to pull over and stop the bus, I think 7 times NOT at rest stops so people could either vomit or poop behind cactuses. It was sooooo funny. At one point, my friend Tommy was walking back to the bus from behind a cactus and I was like, did he have boots on before? No, he had flip-flops that were now covered in thick mud. Apparently rainstorms in the desert also make for bad pooping behind cactuses. He just came walking back to the bus looking so defeated! AAHAHAHA it was literally one of the most hilarious moments I’ve ever seen. He was also laughing at himself, so I’m not being a total bitch. I believe his quote was something along the lines of “What’s the best thing that can happen to you while you’re shitting your brains out behind a cactus? 5 inches of mud!” After him, I know of at least three people who had to do an emergency poop outside the bus. Ugh.. I felt so bad for them! But more, importantly I was sooo grateful it wasn’t me!!! We were also on a very windy road and a lot of people got motion sick, too. Dramamine has officially become the single most important thing I brought to Morocco—works like a charm!
Ok so after lunch we are just going down windy road after windy road and then we come across, what else? A mudslide! A real life, dangerous mudslide that, by the time we got there, had already pretty much taken out the road we needed to cross. We were stopped there for about an hour. It was actually a really cool sight, but it was also scary! The water eventually slowed way down and a few cars forged themselves successfully across so we were torn whether or not to try to get the big tour bus across. Here’s a great example of how our SIT program is so not actually school. At one point our director (who is not really our teacher more like our friend), in all seriousness, said, “ok , let’s vote on whether or not we should take the bus across.” WHAT?! I mean I’m all about a fair democratic vote, but it’s not like we are at all at liberty to make that judgment call! Hahahaha Oh my god I just couldn’t believe what was going on. I think the executive decision of whether or not to cross ended by being made by our academic director that we called on the telephone! He talk to our program director and the bus driver and I guess said go ahead. It was so bizarre and I actually thought we might be stuck in this tiny town in the middle of nowhere for days. BUT we crossed successfully and without being washed away! I did feel awful for this little village that will probably have to wait years before this road is fixed. All approximately 200 people who live in this village stood by and cheered us on while we crazy tourists crossed the mudslide in a humongous bus. It’s probably a story that will be told for generations… (joke)
A few hours later we stopped at a rest stop to use the rest room and, to prove our insanity at this point in the day, we actually physically raced a group of old Germans who pulled up their tour bus at the exact same time. I was confused at what was going on at first and why everyone was running, but then I looked across the lot and bunch of 50-60 year old Germans were running, too! Hahaha it was so funny, we showed no mercy to the fact that they were our elders! After this day, we just needed to pee! BUT good thing this rest stop had like 20 toilets so the line moved quickly anyway. Also, why is it that the only people who visit Morocco are 20 or 60? There must not be a Moroccan calling to anyone of any age in between. It’s a rule: you must be in college, or retired to travel in Morocco.
So obviously, with the many stops of the day we made it to our final destination of Ouarzazat very late. Here we stayed in a dormitory of a girl’s school. The school was actually really cool and we had dinner with about 60 of girls themselves. We sat at tables with about 3 of us and 5 of them and spoke in an Arabic/French/English mess. And mostly it took 5 minutes to get one sentence through, but I got to kind of use some Arabic which was very exciting. We all slept on one big dorm room with lots of bunks but the beds were so comfortable and we got to sleep in until 8:30 which felt like heaven! OHHH my goodness I almost forgot to talk about the milk incident. Ok so, I have long ago accepted the fact that milk varies too much from country to country for me to expect my cravings for cold, skim milk to ever be satisfied. But in Morocco, where a lot of the economy revolves around farming, milk sometimes is a very important part of someone’s meal—especially in these small towns. Most of the girls at this school live in the dorms because they are from these small Berber villages that are miles away and they can’t make the trek home every day. So for these girls who live in farms, fresh and therefore THICK milk is an everyday thing. Wellll let me just say I have possibly never acted so immature as when the canister of warm, thick, sour cream-selling milk got delivered to our table RIGHT under my nose. I was sitting at a table with two other Americans and then 7 Moroccan girls. None of the three of us really spoke French so we couldn’t legitimately communicate with them even though we tried. So Camille and I hurried up and poured water into our glasses but Sue wasn’t fast enough and someone poured her a big glass of this milk. Oh, my I thought I was going to die laughing watching her just LOOK at her milk. We had already had such a long day and we were just ancy and giddy and delirious and I just thought it was possibly the funniest thing to happen, especially because it didn’t happen to me. Sue did end up getting one full sip into her mouth without spitting it back out. BUT the rest of the pitcher, for some reason, was sitting right next to my plate and I just kept smelling it! And smelling it may have been just as awful as tasting it, although I wouldn’t know. It literally smelled like sour cream, and the idea of maybe pouring sour cream onto the couscous may not have been horrible, but drinking it was simply repulsive. And Camille and I may have had the most immature moments of our lives, but we got a very solid laugh out of the whole situation
Ok so by this point it’s still only Monday!!! It had already been such a long trip! Ahhhh I slept so so so well that night! (This is already 4 full single-spaced pages on Microsoft Word… fell free to take a break and read the rest later)
Ok so Tuesday morning we drove to Marrakesh which ended up being an awesome awesome city and I loved being there. On the way there, though, we stopped at a micro-credit organization because this excursion has to be a little bit educational as wellJ. We have been talking a lot of about micro-credit in class because I think this concept has been especially successful in Morocco as I believe it has in a lot of places all over the world. The concept behind it is to give very small loans to people or groups of people (ranging from 500-15,000 dollars) so they can start small businesses or do start doing some sort of small investment. The majority of these loans also go to women. BUT, I have to say I don’t totally buy it. This organization is pretty much JUST a bank. They do NO training, NO help with actually using the money they give, and they do nothing for people who can’t pay their loans back. Apparently there are laws that ensure these organizations simply remain a financial part of these people’s lives for one reason or another that was very unclear, but I feel like these organizations could be so much more efficient in what they do if their goal is really to help poor people…?
Anyway, that’s obviously not the fun part. The fun part is called Marrakesh. We got to the city in the late afternoon with plenty of time to wonder around. Our hotel was right in the medina, across the street from the very famous shopping/souk/people trying to rip you off square. I was really prepared to dislike the city a lot and not want to buy anything because I assumed it would be way over priced because it’s such a touristy location. BUT I had no trouble at all spending money! Haha It was actually a spectacular view to see all the snake charmers and men with pet monkeys and women dying to rub henna all over you. I was really excited to see the snake charmers but they were actually really lame. I had to pay 3 dirhams just to take a picture, and it wasn’t even impressive. They just had like 10 snakes lying all over each other and the man playing a loud clarinet for no reason. It was definitely not legit, but it was still kinda cool. The men with monkeys scared me a little because they would just kind of throw a monkey on your back and I was still terrified of them from the picnic a few days earlier. But my friend Alice is fearless and she let this HUGE monkey sit on her, and we took some pictures even though we knew he’d charge way too much for each picture we took. But my goodness, these guys probably makes serious money off that! Although I felt so bad for the monkeys on those chainsL
That night after dinner in the hotel we all went and found a bar close by and got to order a few drinks and finally relax and be CLEAN and the same time. It was really nice. I think everyone in our entire group went out, except the 3 people still recovering from illness. The thing about alcohol in Morocco… well it’s obviously not very prevalent in a Muslim country, but when it is around, it’s totally geared towards tourists—specifically Europeans being that they are the largest tourist group that comes to Morocco. Therefore, drinks are absurdly expensive compared to what everything else costs in this country. A drink, on average costs $10. And somehow, we are very willing to pay it! hahaha I don’t feel bad because we had a lot of fun and went to a very nice place and enjoyed ourselves a lot!
On the way back, Pat and I were desperate for food being that it was 1:30am and that we had just spent the evening at bar, that’s pretty self-explanatoryJ. So we wondered into the square and very bravely just sat down at one of the many mini restaurants that just set up a grill on the middle of the street. We were actually warned not to order food from these places because it’s just hard to tell if the food will make you violently ill or not. But being that we were where we were and the time of night, let’s just say we braved it. We sat down and had no idea what to order and the guy said, in broken English, “you want mixed kabob?” We said ok. We had no idea what or how much we ordered, but we were just being adventurous and did it. So we ended up getting two plates of fries, two plates of the classic Moroccan tomato/ onion /cilantro salad, a plate of olives, a small water bottle, a small kabob of vegetables, chicken, what we think was lamb, and what we think was beef. All for 85 dirhams (about 5 bucks each). That beats late night Jack-in-the-Box any day. It was also delicious. It was probably extra delicious for many reasons, but either way I enjoyed myself immensely. On the way back we were contemplating how sick we would be in the middle of the night, and admittingly, it was a serious risk to take. The sticks of meat they put in the grill had most likely been sitting out all day and god knows how many flies made that their home throughout the day. BUT it was worth it because guess what… I didn’t even get diarrhea! (after so many people diarrheaed themselves on the side of the street the day before, talking about it is like talking about getting a headache, I have nothing holding me back, so be prepared for free-range diarrhea talk at any point hahaha).
So the next day we just had a free day in Marrakesh which was awesome! I bought so much stuff for some reason. I just got this overwhelming sensation to buy ALL my gifts right then and there that I just couldn’t be stopped! And there were lots and lots and lots of great shops and, actually, because there was so much competition, prices were really low! And I have become an expert bargainer. I used to be so scared to bargain, but now, I must say, I rock. Actually, I’m still probably getting ripped off in a serious way, but I feel good about it and in the end, that’s all that matters! So I won’t say anymore as to ruin the surprises but I have to say Dallas’s gift is the cutest thing ever made and it cost me approximately 8 dollars.
After some shopping in the morning, we went to check out some gardens in the newer part of town. We went to this garden that was supposedly funded in a big way by Yves St. Laurent the famous fashion designer…? Who knows but it was gorgeous and I took so many pictures of so many plants!
THEN we had the best chocolate milkshake of my entire life (the first time I’ve craved something American and that craving was really really satisfied... this milkshake was god sent and I got another one later that night). For dinner Wednesday night we had decided to check out this Thai restaurant the guidebook had suggested. We knew it would be pricy, but we were willing to pay for good food. And yes it was deliiiiiiiiiiicious. I miss going out to dinner in a big way—especially because overall, the food here had been majorly disappointing. So there were 11 of us and the total bill was 4,000 dirhams. That just seemed like the most absurd amount of money! Alice alone spent like 450 because she had an appetizer and two drinks, and she was like omg, omg, I just spend so much money. Turns out, 450 durham=51 dollars. HAHAHA put into perspective like that was just so crazy because we have been so trained to want to pay 20 dirhams for everything. Hahha it was just such a surreal moment. We were at maybe the nicest restaurant I’ve ever been to, definitely the highest-range restaurant in the country and it was still about average for dinner in the US. The psychology of money is fascinating…
Thursday morning we left Marrakesh and went to our last stop of the trip which was Essaouira (pronounced esso-wera). Essaouira is one of the many coastal cities and it’s close to Agidir which is where we went a few weeks ago. I ended up loving this city too! But actually, on the way there we drove through a part of the country that grows Argan trees. Argan trees produce this nut that makes amazing oil and other food and beauty products and it’s very famous in Morocco. It’s famous because this region in Morocco and one region in Algeria are the only regions in the world with Argan trees so the products that come from this area are very uniquely Moroccan. (Algeria doesn’t make the same products from their trees.) They have also kept the products and the production of the products from being seriously capitalized and mechanized because it employs so many local women in the area. We stopped by one of the “factories” and these old women still use stones and sticks throughout the whole process which I just thought was so cool! It’s amazing that anyone has enough power to keep production from changing. The country could be making a lot of money if they better exported this stuff, but they don’t because then these women would lose their jobs, and certain women’s groups protect them. It was a very unique situation—especially compared to any business in the US. Argan trees are also famous because they are the home to a species of tree-climbing goats. I’ve heard about these supposed goats but never knew if it was true. But apparently it is! We never stopped the bus to take pictures of the goats in trees which was disappointing, but there were indeed many goats sitting on top of these trees! Hahaha It was such a funny sight. I’ll have to at least get a post card of it before I leave.
So I really liked Essaouira because it was a very small, pedestrian friendly town, on the beach. We wondered through the medina. This city is best known for its cedar wood products and for the spice souks. I really wanted to buy some spices so we went into one guys little shop and he was a. very cute and b. spoke excellent English. He told us he had a degree as a medicinal herbalist and he also had lots of funny concoctions to solve things like baldness and cancer. Don’t worry, I didn’t totally buy into that side of the store, but the spices he mixed smelled so goooood. I definitely bought some of those and he also made us Berber tea which had like 10 different ingredients and was delicious.
Later, our SIT group had a soccer game on the beach that I did not participate in, BUT it was just very nice to all relax together on the beach and kind of wind down from the long week of traveling. Essaouira is also a port city and when I think of a “port city” I think of huge cargo ships bringing train cars full of toys from China, but then again, not everyone lives in LA. This was a fishing port and it was just beautiful to see all the boats coming back in in the evening and the fishermen actually selling the fish they had spent all day catching. There were lots of seagulls flying around, too. It was just really nice scenery.
We left the next morning and headed the 7 hours back to Rabat. The majority of people stayed in Essaouira for the weekend but I just wanted to get back, and I didn’t want to pay for a bus back when we had a free one to take us instead! Now I have the weekend to chill out, check my e-mail and hopefully talk to my mother on the phone.
I can’t believe you made it through this entire post! You’re committed to my blog and I so appreciate itJ
So we left Saturday morning bright and early and drove to a city called Azrou. We drove all morning and for lunch we had a picnic with some barbery apes. These monkeys were soo cool. They were a little scary because they were in no way scared of us and we had lots of food. But the fact that they weren’t scared of us also meant I got lots of close pictures. But I willll admit, I was very terrified of them. There were so many of them! And they’re smart! In my mind, they could have easily arranged an attack and we would have, without a doubt, been defeated. The good thing though is that they saw each other as competition for food as they did us. Even the very very very cute baby monkeys were hit away—even by their moms—when they tried to go for food that was in front of a bigger monkey. They were pretty ferocious… but no one was bitten, eaten or attacked by a monkey, so we survived the picnic.
So Saturday night we stayed in Azrou at hotel Panoramique. In between lunch and dinner we had free time to wonder around the town. The educational point of stopping in this town, besides it also being the half way point to the desert, was to see all the development in the city and paying attention to that ended up being really neat. There was craaazy dichotomy between the rich and poor in this small city. Literally, there were shanty towns—as in pieces of fabric thrown over poles within the confines of the town dump—right down the street from brand new condos. All this new development going up was the closest thing I’ve seen to suburbanization in Morocco. Anyway, I also bought two necklaces made of really pretty stone and we climbed a big rock in the middle of the town that had a huge iron crown sitting on it…? How it got there or why it’s there, no idea—but it was cool!
When we came back from wondering through the town, we played botchee ball (how do you spell that?) and then took a nap before dinner at the hotel. Once it started getting dark we noticed that no lights worked throughout the entire hotel. We’ve stayed in some hotels in the past that turn off the power during the day when it’s unnecessary to turn on the lights to conserve energy. I though that’s what was going on here, but no. Apparently the entire town was in a black out because—rumor has it—someone stole something from the city’s power box. (I use the term “power box” because I don’t know the real term, but the town was missing a vital electric component to giving energy to the entire town, so this stolen item was important! Why someone stole it or, more importantly, HOW, I have no idea.) So it was also freezing cold because we were away from the coast and in the mountains, so we all sat in the dark by the fire in the lobby before we were served dinner at candlelight. Dinner was really great, except for the fact that I experienced my first “full fish on the plate” meal without any warning. All of a sudden an entire fish—head, tail, skin and scales—was staring at me and I was kiiiind of freaked out. Once I figured out how to maneuver around the bones and chew slowly as to spit out the stray bones that made it into my mouth, it was a very delicious meal. The lights came back on in the middle of dinner and being that there was a disgusting fish looking at me on my plate, I preferred the dim lighting. But it was nothing the lettuce garnish couldn’t cover up while I finished! haha
Sunday was a very very very long day on the bus. Although we saw lots of great views on the way, getting all the way to the desert took a very long time. We drove through what’s called the Ziz Valley which is an “oasis” because, although there is a lot of drought throughout this part of the country, there is one flowing river that makes this one valley through the mountains flourish immensely. It was actually a pretty surreal sight being able to see these dry mountains on either side of a lush valley full of thousands of palm trees. BUT here’s the great part, there was this weird fog/haze business happening too, and the guy who briefly spoke to us about the valley said it was weather he has only seen 3 times in 25 years. THREE TIMES IN TWENTY FIVE YEARS?!?! What are those odds! Hahaha of coooouuurse. Why wouldn’t that happened the one time I go to the Sahara Desert?! Well, we finally stopped for lunch somewhere and had this meat pie type thing. It was kind of like a huge hot pocket, except it wasn’t delicious like a hot pocket. This pie later becomes the main suspect in a series of illnesses which I will soon describe. But anyway, after lunch we got our overnight bags off the bus and got into land rovers to take us one hour to this small village on the edge of the Sahara Desert called Merzouga. In Merzouga we first stopped at this NGO for women and children. A woman there gave us a small talk about what they did, and the moral of the story was that they were most importantly a school for children during the day and they also helped women learn specific trades like making carpets or clothes or shoes, so that they could do something to support themselves or their families while living in this very desolate place. Then we took the land rovers to the camels! I was so excited to ride camels into the sunset, but there ended up being two factors that really killed the mood. One being this fog/haze thing (it was not made of water they told us so it wasn’t technically fog, but I don’t know what it really was) and the second factor being that we were running really late, so when we got out of our land rovers we were instantly dragged by the camel guides and thrown onto camels. They just kept saying “come on come on!” It was literally 30 seconds from when I stepped out of the car and was sitting on a camel. And by the way camels are TALL! They are sitting down when you sit in the saddle and when they stand up they get their hind legs up first which almost throws you off forwards, then they get their front legs up which almost throws you off backwards. All the while they groan and make this awful noise like “I haaaaate taking tourists into the sand dunes. Whyyyyy are you making me do this!” Camels are very grumpy animals, but if I were one of these camels, I would be grumpy, too. But it was really funny and I laughed very hard watching everyone get on, and at myself because I was actually pretty positive I was going to fall off. (I didn’t by the way). They Saharan men/camel guides /self proclaimed nomads walked alongside us for like 30 minutes into the desert. I felt really stupid riding camels while they just walked alongside us, but they were very nice. I asked what my camel’s name was and they informed me that they don’t name their camels and I was sooo surprised by this! I was so excited to know my camel’s name! That’s one of my favorite parts of horseback riding, but ya know, why is it that we name our horses really? It’s kind of dumb and the only point is to entertain the people riding them. So even though my camel was a boy, I named him Laila because it’s my favorite Arabic name. We parked our camels after 30 minutes and ran to the top of some sand dunes to, in theory, watch the sun set. But at his point it was almost black so the sun was long gone, but the fog would have prevented us from seeing it anyway. Some brave souls rolled down the sand but sand in my pants, in the dark, in the middle of nowhere was not appealing to me so I played it safe and just enjoyed the view I couldn’t take pictures of. We took the camels back to our hotel in the pitch black, and this was kind of disappointing, but we made plans to come out again to watch the sunrise in the morning to take better pictures of the dunes. We were also at this point only about 30 kilometers away from Algeria which just kind of felt cool.
So, I kind of think it’s really important to talk about the infrastructure of this town and other Berber village towns. Our hotel was really cool, and the classroom we saw was really well maintained, but it was all made out of this mud/hay paste. I’m told the word for this concoction doesn’t translate to English but it was amazing to see every building, when you looked at it close up, was made of mud! I mean I knew this type of structure existed, but it was just done so well, it surprised me! From far away it looked so perfected it seemed like the only thing it could possibly be made out of is plaster, and I guess when I think of mud as the main component of a building, I don’t think of the building as looking well maintained. I was wrong. It was so cool. BUT here’s the fun part, even though from afar it looked very sturdy, it was still made out of dirt. And when dirt gets wet, it turns back into mud. The mysterious fog we had been seeing happened to transform itself into a thunderstorm later that night. And when there’s a storm that apparently happens once every 10 years, the buildings are not really prepared. AKA our hotel began to melt. Seriously, melt is sooo the right word it’s not even funny! One group of girls had to totally switch rooms because their ceiling caved in when a dripping leak quickly turned into what is better described as a pouring faucet. We had two small leaks too although they didn’t force us to switch rooms. One of my roommates couldn’t sleep in her bed though and leak number 2 was only discovered the next day when my jeans were soaking wet. Hahahah it was so ridiculous! Hahhaha the stairs were literally spongy! I thought the whole this was going to collapse! But we did survive the night and we woke up very very early to walk back out into the dunes to watch sunrise and I got a few blurry pictures before my camera died L But my roommate got lots of good pictures I’ll make sure she sends me.
I couldn’t go back to sleep before breakfast so I got like 5 hours of sleep that night, ick. Monday was, then another very long long day of bus time. And it was also a day of everyone getting very sick and having to be sick in Turkish toilets. Let me just say, I.hate.turkish.toilets. They are so gross and usually smell sooo awful I want to vomit. BUT I am getting pretty good at mastering the not peeing on my pants or my shoes part (some people haven’t totally gotten that down yet). But, anyway, the real thing to talk about here is diarrhea. Oh my gosh diarrhea. I was somehow very very lucky and did not get this illness, but I was a rare breed on Monday. We had to pull over and stop the bus, I think 7 times NOT at rest stops so people could either vomit or poop behind cactuses. It was sooooo funny. At one point, my friend Tommy was walking back to the bus from behind a cactus and I was like, did he have boots on before? No, he had flip-flops that were now covered in thick mud. Apparently rainstorms in the desert also make for bad pooping behind cactuses. He just came walking back to the bus looking so defeated! AAHAHAHA it was literally one of the most hilarious moments I’ve ever seen. He was also laughing at himself, so I’m not being a total bitch. I believe his quote was something along the lines of “What’s the best thing that can happen to you while you’re shitting your brains out behind a cactus? 5 inches of mud!” After him, I know of at least three people who had to do an emergency poop outside the bus. Ugh.. I felt so bad for them! But more, importantly I was sooo grateful it wasn’t me!!! We were also on a very windy road and a lot of people got motion sick, too. Dramamine has officially become the single most important thing I brought to Morocco—works like a charm!
Ok so after lunch we are just going down windy road after windy road and then we come across, what else? A mudslide! A real life, dangerous mudslide that, by the time we got there, had already pretty much taken out the road we needed to cross. We were stopped there for about an hour. It was actually a really cool sight, but it was also scary! The water eventually slowed way down and a few cars forged themselves successfully across so we were torn whether or not to try to get the big tour bus across. Here’s a great example of how our SIT program is so not actually school. At one point our director (who is not really our teacher more like our friend), in all seriousness, said, “ok , let’s vote on whether or not we should take the bus across.” WHAT?! I mean I’m all about a fair democratic vote, but it’s not like we are at all at liberty to make that judgment call! Hahahaha Oh my god I just couldn’t believe what was going on. I think the executive decision of whether or not to cross ended by being made by our academic director that we called on the telephone! He talk to our program director and the bus driver and I guess said go ahead. It was so bizarre and I actually thought we might be stuck in this tiny town in the middle of nowhere for days. BUT we crossed successfully and without being washed away! I did feel awful for this little village that will probably have to wait years before this road is fixed. All approximately 200 people who live in this village stood by and cheered us on while we crazy tourists crossed the mudslide in a humongous bus. It’s probably a story that will be told for generations… (joke)
A few hours later we stopped at a rest stop to use the rest room and, to prove our insanity at this point in the day, we actually physically raced a group of old Germans who pulled up their tour bus at the exact same time. I was confused at what was going on at first and why everyone was running, but then I looked across the lot and bunch of 50-60 year old Germans were running, too! Hahaha it was so funny, we showed no mercy to the fact that they were our elders! After this day, we just needed to pee! BUT good thing this rest stop had like 20 toilets so the line moved quickly anyway. Also, why is it that the only people who visit Morocco are 20 or 60? There must not be a Moroccan calling to anyone of any age in between. It’s a rule: you must be in college, or retired to travel in Morocco.
So obviously, with the many stops of the day we made it to our final destination of Ouarzazat very late. Here we stayed in a dormitory of a girl’s school. The school was actually really cool and we had dinner with about 60 of girls themselves. We sat at tables with about 3 of us and 5 of them and spoke in an Arabic/French/English mess. And mostly it took 5 minutes to get one sentence through, but I got to kind of use some Arabic which was very exciting. We all slept on one big dorm room with lots of bunks but the beds were so comfortable and we got to sleep in until 8:30 which felt like heaven! OHHH my goodness I almost forgot to talk about the milk incident. Ok so, I have long ago accepted the fact that milk varies too much from country to country for me to expect my cravings for cold, skim milk to ever be satisfied. But in Morocco, where a lot of the economy revolves around farming, milk sometimes is a very important part of someone’s meal—especially in these small towns. Most of the girls at this school live in the dorms because they are from these small Berber villages that are miles away and they can’t make the trek home every day. So for these girls who live in farms, fresh and therefore THICK milk is an everyday thing. Wellll let me just say I have possibly never acted so immature as when the canister of warm, thick, sour cream-selling milk got delivered to our table RIGHT under my nose. I was sitting at a table with two other Americans and then 7 Moroccan girls. None of the three of us really spoke French so we couldn’t legitimately communicate with them even though we tried. So Camille and I hurried up and poured water into our glasses but Sue wasn’t fast enough and someone poured her a big glass of this milk. Oh, my I thought I was going to die laughing watching her just LOOK at her milk. We had already had such a long day and we were just ancy and giddy and delirious and I just thought it was possibly the funniest thing to happen, especially because it didn’t happen to me. Sue did end up getting one full sip into her mouth without spitting it back out. BUT the rest of the pitcher, for some reason, was sitting right next to my plate and I just kept smelling it! And smelling it may have been just as awful as tasting it, although I wouldn’t know. It literally smelled like sour cream, and the idea of maybe pouring sour cream onto the couscous may not have been horrible, but drinking it was simply repulsive. And Camille and I may have had the most immature moments of our lives, but we got a very solid laugh out of the whole situation
Ok so by this point it’s still only Monday!!! It had already been such a long trip! Ahhhh I slept so so so well that night! (This is already 4 full single-spaced pages on Microsoft Word… fell free to take a break and read the rest later)
Ok so Tuesday morning we drove to Marrakesh which ended up being an awesome awesome city and I loved being there. On the way there, though, we stopped at a micro-credit organization because this excursion has to be a little bit educational as wellJ. We have been talking a lot of about micro-credit in class because I think this concept has been especially successful in Morocco as I believe it has in a lot of places all over the world. The concept behind it is to give very small loans to people or groups of people (ranging from 500-15,000 dollars) so they can start small businesses or do start doing some sort of small investment. The majority of these loans also go to women. BUT, I have to say I don’t totally buy it. This organization is pretty much JUST a bank. They do NO training, NO help with actually using the money they give, and they do nothing for people who can’t pay their loans back. Apparently there are laws that ensure these organizations simply remain a financial part of these people’s lives for one reason or another that was very unclear, but I feel like these organizations could be so much more efficient in what they do if their goal is really to help poor people…?
Anyway, that’s obviously not the fun part. The fun part is called Marrakesh. We got to the city in the late afternoon with plenty of time to wonder around. Our hotel was right in the medina, across the street from the very famous shopping/souk/people trying to rip you off square. I was really prepared to dislike the city a lot and not want to buy anything because I assumed it would be way over priced because it’s such a touristy location. BUT I had no trouble at all spending money! Haha It was actually a spectacular view to see all the snake charmers and men with pet monkeys and women dying to rub henna all over you. I was really excited to see the snake charmers but they were actually really lame. I had to pay 3 dirhams just to take a picture, and it wasn’t even impressive. They just had like 10 snakes lying all over each other and the man playing a loud clarinet for no reason. It was definitely not legit, but it was still kinda cool. The men with monkeys scared me a little because they would just kind of throw a monkey on your back and I was still terrified of them from the picnic a few days earlier. But my friend Alice is fearless and she let this HUGE monkey sit on her, and we took some pictures even though we knew he’d charge way too much for each picture we took. But my goodness, these guys probably makes serious money off that! Although I felt so bad for the monkeys on those chainsL
That night after dinner in the hotel we all went and found a bar close by and got to order a few drinks and finally relax and be CLEAN and the same time. It was really nice. I think everyone in our entire group went out, except the 3 people still recovering from illness. The thing about alcohol in Morocco… well it’s obviously not very prevalent in a Muslim country, but when it is around, it’s totally geared towards tourists—specifically Europeans being that they are the largest tourist group that comes to Morocco. Therefore, drinks are absurdly expensive compared to what everything else costs in this country. A drink, on average costs $10. And somehow, we are very willing to pay it! hahaha I don’t feel bad because we had a lot of fun and went to a very nice place and enjoyed ourselves a lot!
On the way back, Pat and I were desperate for food being that it was 1:30am and that we had just spent the evening at bar, that’s pretty self-explanatoryJ. So we wondered into the square and very bravely just sat down at one of the many mini restaurants that just set up a grill on the middle of the street. We were actually warned not to order food from these places because it’s just hard to tell if the food will make you violently ill or not. But being that we were where we were and the time of night, let’s just say we braved it. We sat down and had no idea what to order and the guy said, in broken English, “you want mixed kabob?” We said ok. We had no idea what or how much we ordered, but we were just being adventurous and did it. So we ended up getting two plates of fries, two plates of the classic Moroccan tomato/ onion /cilantro salad, a plate of olives, a small water bottle, a small kabob of vegetables, chicken, what we think was lamb, and what we think was beef. All for 85 dirhams (about 5 bucks each). That beats late night Jack-in-the-Box any day. It was also delicious. It was probably extra delicious for many reasons, but either way I enjoyed myself immensely. On the way back we were contemplating how sick we would be in the middle of the night, and admittingly, it was a serious risk to take. The sticks of meat they put in the grill had most likely been sitting out all day and god knows how many flies made that their home throughout the day. BUT it was worth it because guess what… I didn’t even get diarrhea! (after so many people diarrheaed themselves on the side of the street the day before, talking about it is like talking about getting a headache, I have nothing holding me back, so be prepared for free-range diarrhea talk at any point hahaha).
So the next day we just had a free day in Marrakesh which was awesome! I bought so much stuff for some reason. I just got this overwhelming sensation to buy ALL my gifts right then and there that I just couldn’t be stopped! And there were lots and lots and lots of great shops and, actually, because there was so much competition, prices were really low! And I have become an expert bargainer. I used to be so scared to bargain, but now, I must say, I rock. Actually, I’m still probably getting ripped off in a serious way, but I feel good about it and in the end, that’s all that matters! So I won’t say anymore as to ruin the surprises but I have to say Dallas’s gift is the cutest thing ever made and it cost me approximately 8 dollars.
After some shopping in the morning, we went to check out some gardens in the newer part of town. We went to this garden that was supposedly funded in a big way by Yves St. Laurent the famous fashion designer…? Who knows but it was gorgeous and I took so many pictures of so many plants!
THEN we had the best chocolate milkshake of my entire life (the first time I’ve craved something American and that craving was really really satisfied... this milkshake was god sent and I got another one later that night). For dinner Wednesday night we had decided to check out this Thai restaurant the guidebook had suggested. We knew it would be pricy, but we were willing to pay for good food. And yes it was deliiiiiiiiiiicious. I miss going out to dinner in a big way—especially because overall, the food here had been majorly disappointing. So there were 11 of us and the total bill was 4,000 dirhams. That just seemed like the most absurd amount of money! Alice alone spent like 450 because she had an appetizer and two drinks, and she was like omg, omg, I just spend so much money. Turns out, 450 durham=51 dollars. HAHAHA put into perspective like that was just so crazy because we have been so trained to want to pay 20 dirhams for everything. Hahha it was just such a surreal moment. We were at maybe the nicest restaurant I’ve ever been to, definitely the highest-range restaurant in the country and it was still about average for dinner in the US. The psychology of money is fascinating…
Thursday morning we left Marrakesh and went to our last stop of the trip which was Essaouira (pronounced esso-wera). Essaouira is one of the many coastal cities and it’s close to Agidir which is where we went a few weeks ago. I ended up loving this city too! But actually, on the way there we drove through a part of the country that grows Argan trees. Argan trees produce this nut that makes amazing oil and other food and beauty products and it’s very famous in Morocco. It’s famous because this region in Morocco and one region in Algeria are the only regions in the world with Argan trees so the products that come from this area are very uniquely Moroccan. (Algeria doesn’t make the same products from their trees.) They have also kept the products and the production of the products from being seriously capitalized and mechanized because it employs so many local women in the area. We stopped by one of the “factories” and these old women still use stones and sticks throughout the whole process which I just thought was so cool! It’s amazing that anyone has enough power to keep production from changing. The country could be making a lot of money if they better exported this stuff, but they don’t because then these women would lose their jobs, and certain women’s groups protect them. It was a very unique situation—especially compared to any business in the US. Argan trees are also famous because they are the home to a species of tree-climbing goats. I’ve heard about these supposed goats but never knew if it was true. But apparently it is! We never stopped the bus to take pictures of the goats in trees which was disappointing, but there were indeed many goats sitting on top of these trees! Hahaha It was such a funny sight. I’ll have to at least get a post card of it before I leave.
So I really liked Essaouira because it was a very small, pedestrian friendly town, on the beach. We wondered through the medina. This city is best known for its cedar wood products and for the spice souks. I really wanted to buy some spices so we went into one guys little shop and he was a. very cute and b. spoke excellent English. He told us he had a degree as a medicinal herbalist and he also had lots of funny concoctions to solve things like baldness and cancer. Don’t worry, I didn’t totally buy into that side of the store, but the spices he mixed smelled so goooood. I definitely bought some of those and he also made us Berber tea which had like 10 different ingredients and was delicious.
Later, our SIT group had a soccer game on the beach that I did not participate in, BUT it was just very nice to all relax together on the beach and kind of wind down from the long week of traveling. Essaouira is also a port city and when I think of a “port city” I think of huge cargo ships bringing train cars full of toys from China, but then again, not everyone lives in LA. This was a fishing port and it was just beautiful to see all the boats coming back in in the evening and the fishermen actually selling the fish they had spent all day catching. There were lots of seagulls flying around, too. It was just really nice scenery.
We left the next morning and headed the 7 hours back to Rabat. The majority of people stayed in Essaouira for the weekend but I just wanted to get back, and I didn’t want to pay for a bus back when we had a free one to take us instead! Now I have the weekend to chill out, check my e-mail and hopefully talk to my mother on the phone.
I can’t believe you made it through this entire post! You’re committed to my blog and I so appreciate itJ
Friday, October 10, 2008
on and on and on...
Ok so class today was possibly the most long-winded experiences of my liiiiife. One third of the non-Arabic section of the program includes doing a few field studies research projects. Our first one (on the topic of Ramadan… specifying it as we wished) was due today. There were 6 groups of about 4-5 people that presented their final project and it just took sooo long. We’ve been giving updating presentations each week so pretty much everything everyone said had ALREADY been said. Ughhh it was awful, but kind of funny because this was our first paper that was due and our first real assignment so most people were so OBSESSED with doing it really really well, and being very committed to the project. This just cracked me up because obviously in a normal semester we have lots due all the time and when there’s ONE thing that’s due after 5 weeks, the commitment level of some very good students is so extreme it’s just kind of funny. Maybe I’m just a bad student, but I just feel that there’s a different kind of commitment level to this kind of semester. We still spend 8:30am-5pm, sometimes more, 5 days a week at the center. And although there’s not much outside of the classroom work, that’s still a lot of time to commit to ANYthing. But nonetheless, they chose to be uber students and I wanted to shoot myself in the foot…
So it ended up taking an hour longer than planned (2 1/2 hours to be exact) so we had to cancel the movie we were going to watch afterwards. Then I had office hours for Arabic (office hours in Morocco actually just mean an extra hour of class once a week in smaller groups) and my teacher told me that I was really improving. “I started slow, but she’s very proud of the progress I’ve made.” Although, she had to tell me this in French and the French-speaking students had to translate haha. And ok this is a complement… I guess? Except it means she thought I was slow at first? Haha My excuse is that we have finally moved onto using a real text book and there are real rules and themes to what we are learning. I apparently am not good at that whole ‘the teacher just spews out phrases we should transliterate it using English letters and then memorize it’ way of learning. She also still calls me Alice on a regular basis. Oh yeah, Fatiha and I have such a special bond. (To better explain this bond: today she accidently spilled water all over my pants and just kind of looked at me very apologetically and shuck her head in a “this would only happen to you Jacey” kind of way hahahaha. And it’s true, if she were to spill water on someone, it would be me.)
Also, before I left my hose this morning my mom, I think, told me that no one would be home before 7 so I shouldn’t come home until then. (Really all she did was hold up 7 fingers and this is what I translated that as…) Sooo I went to go get dinner with some friends. We went to Pizza Hut and I am not at all embarrassed to say that. It was the most delicious thing my mouth has tasted in what feels like years. Also, now that Ramadan is over, dinner is at like 10 aka right before I go to sleep and I just haaaaate eating then. I already feel gross and unhealthy about everything fried and white bread-based but then to ad digestion issues… it’s just frustrating and makes me feel icky. So Pizza Hut at 6 pm, I realize was not an answer to the greasy, white bread issue, but it was nice comfort food and exactly what I needed. So then we had to study for our Arabic test for tomorrow morning, so, naturally, we went to a hookah bar to do that. Now here is an interesting story: There’s another American program in Rabat along with SIT and it’s a CIEE group. Anyway, one of the boys in this other program, Zach, somehow got a job at this hookah bar? Yes, this is very illegal and against so many rules BUT how cool is that?! All he does is seat people and make sure they have what they need. He’s like a makeshift host/waiter. I think he had already taken a good amount of Arabic before he got here but apparently this job has been totally helpful in that aspect. He said he’s learned so so so much more working illegally and for less than 2 dollars an hour than in class. I’m jealous, and wish I had thought of that first.
ALSO, another very funny Morocco story: My friend Madeline has such a cool family story. First of all, she has two moms. Polygamy in Morocco is almost totally obsolete but this is a recent change, so families of men who are legally married to more than one woman do exist. Anyway, she has two moms and that’s fun all on its own, but yesterday she said she walked into her house and there was a live, full grown cow in her living room. Yep, a cow was lying down in the middle of her living room. She asked about it, obviously, and the answer she got (she communicates in French which she is not totally fluent in…so language barrier may be an issue in this case) but she thinks she was told that the reason for the cow is for next Aid (the holiday that celebrates the end of Ramadan). That date is more than one year away, so what this cow will be doing for a year I have no idea, neither does she. Again, I’m so jealous these cool things don’t happen to me instead. In my house, fitting a cow in our doorway would be nearly impossible and then where we’d put it I have no idea. Our idea of exciting is finally having couscous for the first time. (This meal also lasted approximately 8 minutes, none of which were spent including me in any of the conversation… yay family time)
So tomorrow we leave for one week for the southern excursion. I’m very very excited. We got a quick orientation about it and it’s going to be very cool. We’re going to see a lot and learn a lot more. Hopefully many many picture to come!
So it ended up taking an hour longer than planned (2 1/2 hours to be exact) so we had to cancel the movie we were going to watch afterwards. Then I had office hours for Arabic (office hours in Morocco actually just mean an extra hour of class once a week in smaller groups) and my teacher told me that I was really improving. “I started slow, but she’s very proud of the progress I’ve made.” Although, she had to tell me this in French and the French-speaking students had to translate haha. And ok this is a complement… I guess? Except it means she thought I was slow at first? Haha My excuse is that we have finally moved onto using a real text book and there are real rules and themes to what we are learning. I apparently am not good at that whole ‘the teacher just spews out phrases we should transliterate it using English letters and then memorize it’ way of learning. She also still calls me Alice on a regular basis. Oh yeah, Fatiha and I have such a special bond. (To better explain this bond: today she accidently spilled water all over my pants and just kind of looked at me very apologetically and shuck her head in a “this would only happen to you Jacey” kind of way hahahaha. And it’s true, if she were to spill water on someone, it would be me.)
Also, before I left my hose this morning my mom, I think, told me that no one would be home before 7 so I shouldn’t come home until then. (Really all she did was hold up 7 fingers and this is what I translated that as…) Sooo I went to go get dinner with some friends. We went to Pizza Hut and I am not at all embarrassed to say that. It was the most delicious thing my mouth has tasted in what feels like years. Also, now that Ramadan is over, dinner is at like 10 aka right before I go to sleep and I just haaaaate eating then. I already feel gross and unhealthy about everything fried and white bread-based but then to ad digestion issues… it’s just frustrating and makes me feel icky. So Pizza Hut at 6 pm, I realize was not an answer to the greasy, white bread issue, but it was nice comfort food and exactly what I needed. So then we had to study for our Arabic test for tomorrow morning, so, naturally, we went to a hookah bar to do that. Now here is an interesting story: There’s another American program in Rabat along with SIT and it’s a CIEE group. Anyway, one of the boys in this other program, Zach, somehow got a job at this hookah bar? Yes, this is very illegal and against so many rules BUT how cool is that?! All he does is seat people and make sure they have what they need. He’s like a makeshift host/waiter. I think he had already taken a good amount of Arabic before he got here but apparently this job has been totally helpful in that aspect. He said he’s learned so so so much more working illegally and for less than 2 dollars an hour than in class. I’m jealous, and wish I had thought of that first.
ALSO, another very funny Morocco story: My friend Madeline has such a cool family story. First of all, she has two moms. Polygamy in Morocco is almost totally obsolete but this is a recent change, so families of men who are legally married to more than one woman do exist. Anyway, she has two moms and that’s fun all on its own, but yesterday she said she walked into her house and there was a live, full grown cow in her living room. Yep, a cow was lying down in the middle of her living room. She asked about it, obviously, and the answer she got (she communicates in French which she is not totally fluent in…so language barrier may be an issue in this case) but she thinks she was told that the reason for the cow is for next Aid (the holiday that celebrates the end of Ramadan). That date is more than one year away, so what this cow will be doing for a year I have no idea, neither does she. Again, I’m so jealous these cool things don’t happen to me instead. In my house, fitting a cow in our doorway would be nearly impossible and then where we’d put it I have no idea. Our idea of exciting is finally having couscous for the first time. (This meal also lasted approximately 8 minutes, none of which were spent including me in any of the conversation… yay family time)
So tomorrow we leave for one week for the southern excursion. I’m very very excited. We got a quick orientation about it and it’s going to be very cool. We’re going to see a lot and learn a lot more. Hopefully many many picture to come!
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Skype for life
So, I know this is a duh moment. But I loooove skype! I was so scared it would be too complicated for my technologically impotent self. But, imagine my surprise, it’s actually so so simple! If even my mom can figure it out and, together, we can talk online for free, I say it may be the best invention of my life (or at least of my life via Morocco). Last night, I was able to talk to my best friends AND see their beautiful faces and it was so lovely… It just made me feel like I was there with them and it did WONDERS for my homesickness. Okay, honestly, I haven’t been feeling too homesick—nothing like the way I felt in Costa Rica (I learned a lot during that trip; I know how to combat most of those feelings this time around). But nonetheless, there’s still always going to be a since of “ugh what am I missing, and whhhhy am I not there to be a part of it?”—at least for me. But being able to talk with my core-fourness yesterday was simply fabulous! I really wish I had invested in a webcam prior to leaving, but I can probably buy one here or use one at an internet café. And I will do that next time for sure!
I’m starting to really think about the Individual Study aspect of my semester because in reality, it’s right around the corner. I need to chose a topic that interests me enough so that I can be happily occupied with it for 3 solid weeks, BUT I also want to make sure I’m doing something that still takes advantage of being in Morocco (not something I could just as easily write in my school library) and that is a subject somewhat outside my comfort zone. I feel like I’ve done a lot of research about education, social class, and politics over the past few years at Oxy and that’s because those are the topics that interest me! I tend to avoid the subject of gender in the US because, on the contrary, it doesn’t interest me. I usually find that topic unnecessarily overacted and frankly, extreme feminism annoys the poo out of me. BUT the subject of gender in Morocco is muuuuch more interesting and dynamic. So, right now I’m thinking of doing research along the lines of women’s rights/liberty in Morocco—possibly concentrating on dress and the head scarf. We had a lecture today about traditional Moroccan dress, and the hijab—or head scarf—has a fascinating history and the reasons women wear them differ from person to person. I think it might be interesting to dig into that. Maybe dig into certain reactions different “looks” get. I sure know already that the fact that my head is not covered and that my t-shirts show my arms, I get more cat calls than a woman covered from head to toe in a hijab and jilabba. (A man tonight followed me all the way home—speaking in French the entire time although I was very clear in telling him I did not speak French—and then asked to take me to a café. When I said no thank you, he tried to settle with at least taking a picture with me. I obviously said no again, this time not being able to help laughing in the same note. A picture? I think he thought he earned a picture because he stalked me ALL the way down the street… hahahah Don’t worry it sounds more sketchy that it is. This is honestly the way men and women meet in Morocco… the taboo that is associated with this kind of behavior in America is definitely non-existent here. The phrase “sexual harassment” did not even exist in Arabic until like 5 years ago. As a plus, though, the amount of French I am somehow now able to comprehend on a daily basis is improving at an incredible rate!) Anyway, it might be fun and very telling to do my own little experiment wearing different outfits that range from scandalous to completely covering my face….hmmm so many options! It’s hard when I’m literally given nothing to even start with! Haha Who knew I would WANT more direction and for my professors to give me limitations.
I’m starting to really think about the Individual Study aspect of my semester because in reality, it’s right around the corner. I need to chose a topic that interests me enough so that I can be happily occupied with it for 3 solid weeks, BUT I also want to make sure I’m doing something that still takes advantage of being in Morocco (not something I could just as easily write in my school library) and that is a subject somewhat outside my comfort zone. I feel like I’ve done a lot of research about education, social class, and politics over the past few years at Oxy and that’s because those are the topics that interest me! I tend to avoid the subject of gender in the US because, on the contrary, it doesn’t interest me. I usually find that topic unnecessarily overacted and frankly, extreme feminism annoys the poo out of me. BUT the subject of gender in Morocco is muuuuch more interesting and dynamic. So, right now I’m thinking of doing research along the lines of women’s rights/liberty in Morocco—possibly concentrating on dress and the head scarf. We had a lecture today about traditional Moroccan dress, and the hijab—or head scarf—has a fascinating history and the reasons women wear them differ from person to person. I think it might be interesting to dig into that. Maybe dig into certain reactions different “looks” get. I sure know already that the fact that my head is not covered and that my t-shirts show my arms, I get more cat calls than a woman covered from head to toe in a hijab and jilabba. (A man tonight followed me all the way home—speaking in French the entire time although I was very clear in telling him I did not speak French—and then asked to take me to a café. When I said no thank you, he tried to settle with at least taking a picture with me. I obviously said no again, this time not being able to help laughing in the same note. A picture? I think he thought he earned a picture because he stalked me ALL the way down the street… hahahah Don’t worry it sounds more sketchy that it is. This is honestly the way men and women meet in Morocco… the taboo that is associated with this kind of behavior in America is definitely non-existent here. The phrase “sexual harassment” did not even exist in Arabic until like 5 years ago. As a plus, though, the amount of French I am somehow now able to comprehend on a daily basis is improving at an incredible rate!) Anyway, it might be fun and very telling to do my own little experiment wearing different outfits that range from scandalous to completely covering my face….hmmm so many options! It’s hard when I’m literally given nothing to even start with! Haha Who knew I would WANT more direction and for my professors to give me limitations.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Agadir
The trip to get to Agadir from Rabat on Wednesday was very, very long. We knew it would take all day to get there and back, but we had 5 days off so that’s why we chose this break to go all the way down there. The train from Rabat to Marrakesh was 4 ½ hours then we had to get onto a bus for another 4 hours to finally get to Agadir. We left Rabat at 7:45 but didn’t actually get to Agadir until like 7 pm because the bus was an hour and half late and then it broke down in the middle of nowhere and another bus had to come pick us up. Hahaha it was crazy, but that break down issue really didn’t end up being too time consuming. It definitely could have been worse. We also made a friend out of that epic bus trip. A man in his mid thirties was waiting with us for the bus and we began chatting with him. His English was great and we were talking about the US economy and the election and Morocco and, ya know, everything. He went to school in Geneva and now lives part time in Switzerland and part time in Morocco—in Agadir—running his own business. He helped us find a taxi and get to our hotel. We also got his digits and met up with him for a drink on Thursday night.
On Thursday we stayed in Agadir and just wondered and relaxed along the beach front. We talked and walked and saw a lot of Europeans in speedos. In many ways, it was the total reverse of what we had assumed to be Moroccan culture. The idea of us wearing a BIKINI in Morocco seemed absurd! But I was walking on the beach alone for a bit because the others had to go back to the hotel to get a few things and I didn’t get chattered at almost at all! It was kind of amazing. I’m very used to innocent, but nonetheless annoying “cat calls” because that’s just how it works here—and especially because we’re western, the girls in our program get a lot of unwanted attention. BUT the point being, in Agadir it was very different and kind of nice! So like I said, Thursday night after we ate dinner we met up with our new friend Saad and his other new friend, Ned. Ned was an English man who sails boats for a living. Currently he’s in a very long, worldwide race and he’s just stationed in Agadir for a few months before his crew then sets out for the Caribbean after hurricane season. He’s by himself right now living on the boat at the port. A true nomad AND he doesn’t like soccer or living in England! Hahaha anyway, I think it was nice for him to hang out with us and get to speak English and have some company. It was also nice for us to meet new people.
On Friday, our plan was to go to either the nearby national park or waterfalls but apparently neither one is easy to get to and because we didn’t have a car and didn’t want to pay a million dollars for a taxi, we ended up staying in Agadir and seeing the sights there. There were a few museums that were nice and we also wondered down the very southern part of the beach and saw all the huge hotels. The beaches were truly very beautiful and I can understand why it’s a hot spot for European tourists. It was very sunny and warm but nice and breezy so it ended up being a perfect temperature. We walked along the coast all afternoon and ended back up at the top. The water was nice and warm and with a beautiful view, Agadir ended up being a perfect place for us to have a relaxing weekend. Even after paying for the hotel, transportation there and back for the 9 hour, cross country trip and every meal, we only spent about 200 dollars in four days. No wonder Europeans come to Morocco for vacation…
Overall, the trip to Agadir was nice and relaxing and I got to see a part of Morocco I wouldn’t have otherwise been able to see. Like I said before, Agadir is the beach resort of the country and, especially during summer, it sees a host of tourists come through. There were sooo many hotels and restaurants. Along the boardwalk, there were truly at least 100 places to eat. Café after café just right next to each other. It was crazy. There were also lots of nicer, classier restaurants that you wouldn’t see anywhere else. Most people here spoke English which was refreshing. But still, although it was nice to be in a restaurant and in an area with menus and some type of organization to its chaos, I was glad to come back to “real Morocco.” Honestly, the fact that I could walk by myself down the street and hardly be whispered at was not the Morocco I’m used to, and honestly Agadir reminded me, in a sad kind of way, more of what it’s like at home—yet it wasn’t home, I was still in Morocco, and those are kind of conflicting feelings.
The hotel was very nice and ended up being a very good find. We had satellite TV (which consisted of only BBC and one movie channel in English) but I got to catch up on some news, for once, and got to lay down and watch a movie—a pastime I’ve come to dreadfully miss. But the one large lesson I learned on this trip was to be more and more careful and cautious about people ripping me off!!! It’s so hard because there are some very genuinely nice and good-intentioned Moroccans—like Saad or this other man who sat with us on the train ride back—who are very friendly and want to be of help to us and WANT us to enjoy our experiences in Morocco. BUT there are also those who want to blatantly rip us off or trick us into buying something we don’t want. This trip really highlighted the fact that both types of Moroccans exist and both are prevalent anywhere we go. First example came from taxi drivers. We took lots of taxis to and from our hotel over the trip and all the taxis had meters so we knew exactly how much to pay. And, because there were four of us, we always had to take two taxis because one taxi could only take three at a time. So on Thursday night, on our ride back to our hotel from dinner, the taxi driver tried to charge me and Madeline 50 dirhams for the ride when we knew (from having taken the same trip 10 times already) that the trip should be at most 15 dirhams. So we of course through a fit and we said absolutely not here’s 15 (which was plenty generous) and started to get out, then he turned off the engine and got out, too. Then Pat and Leah’s taxi pulled up behind us and we asked them how much they paid, and they paid 10! Then their taxi driver got out, too and we pretty much started a taxi driver brawl in the middle of the street. Kidding… there was no fighting of course, just a lot of yelling and us being very very upset. In the end, some other people joined the drama in the street and we ended up paying 30. They kept saying you’re American you’re American you can afford it. THAT’S NOT THE POINT! But also, our taxi driver was sooo upset, like on the verge of tears upset, like we were stealing from him or something!! I couldn’t believe it. But all we learned form this was to be untrusting of everyone which is also unfair because not all taxi drivers are jerks like that. (The next day Leah and I took the same route in a taxi and he charged us 8—we gave him 12 just because we were so happy he was so nice. As a rule, tipping generally doesn’t happen either so that was extra nice of us) So then the next day we were so scarred and untrusting we automatically replied NO anytime someone wanted to try to help us because we assumed they were trying to sell us something! And most of the time they were just trying to be friendly and helpful. So when we were walking on the beach on Friday, that’s when we ran into the doughnut man. Ugh… the doughnut man. So yes, there was a man with a tray of doughnuts walking along the beach by all the nice expensive hotels. We walked past him and he said hello then started speaking English, and I’m not really sure what happened but I turned around he had given Leah a doughnut she said oh no no and he said oh no problem for my English friends! Then he insisted we all take a doughnut even though we all really didn’t want one and had just eaten. But he pretty much physically forced them into our hands and we thought we were being polite. THEN he asked, they are good, no? insisting we take a bite. Hahaha I’m sure you all can guess where this was going but we were apparently oblivious. He then said ok 100 dirhams. ONE HUNDRED DIRHAMS?!?! That’s soooo much more then you would even pay in the states for some crappy deep fried bread with a little sugar sprinkled on top. But we had all taken a bite and we so overwhelmed and taken aback, I’m not even sure what happened but I think Madeline just gave in and gave him the money and we walked away. The doughnut was totally gross too…
But of course we got over those instances, as they weren’t life ending or really a detriment to the overall trip, just annoying! So we came back on Saturday and it again took all day to get back. The bus did not break down BUT it was still memorable. So we have been told, as a rule of thumb, not to sit in the back of buses if it can be helped just because it’s hotter and people tend to vomit (all types of driving, whether it be a little car or a huge bus is absolutely INSANE here and I’m not sure why people don’t die more often…its scary!). But of course the only opens seats on this bus were in the very very back where, believe it or not, there was already nice stench of old vomit waiting for us. I wanted to cry or vomit myself, but I knew that wouldn’t help so we wrapped scarves around our faces (which in Morocco turns heads less than not having a scarf around your head anyway) and just laughed and laughed. The whole situation was just so absurd and once we got going the breeze came through and the smell disappeared—thank god! I would not have survived 4 hours of that otherwise.
So the moral of this story is that I survived another week in Morocco… I think that’s 5 weeks down and 10 to go. October will go by very quickly though and it should be a very exciting month. We have one week of class, then a week long excursion in the south—where we will, at one point, be riding camels through the desert, get excited for those upcoming photos—then one more week of class followed by a weeklong village stay where we live with families in a rural village in the middle of the mountains. By that time it’s less than one month until the Individual Study part of the program where I’ll be moving away from Rabat to do by own research project for a few weeks. After that, I’m done! I can’t believe it really!
PEACELOVE
On Thursday we stayed in Agadir and just wondered and relaxed along the beach front. We talked and walked and saw a lot of Europeans in speedos. In many ways, it was the total reverse of what we had assumed to be Moroccan culture. The idea of us wearing a BIKINI in Morocco seemed absurd! But I was walking on the beach alone for a bit because the others had to go back to the hotel to get a few things and I didn’t get chattered at almost at all! It was kind of amazing. I’m very used to innocent, but nonetheless annoying “cat calls” because that’s just how it works here—and especially because we’re western, the girls in our program get a lot of unwanted attention. BUT the point being, in Agadir it was very different and kind of nice! So like I said, Thursday night after we ate dinner we met up with our new friend Saad and his other new friend, Ned. Ned was an English man who sails boats for a living. Currently he’s in a very long, worldwide race and he’s just stationed in Agadir for a few months before his crew then sets out for the Caribbean after hurricane season. He’s by himself right now living on the boat at the port. A true nomad AND he doesn’t like soccer or living in England! Hahaha anyway, I think it was nice for him to hang out with us and get to speak English and have some company. It was also nice for us to meet new people.
On Friday, our plan was to go to either the nearby national park or waterfalls but apparently neither one is easy to get to and because we didn’t have a car and didn’t want to pay a million dollars for a taxi, we ended up staying in Agadir and seeing the sights there. There were a few museums that were nice and we also wondered down the very southern part of the beach and saw all the huge hotels. The beaches were truly very beautiful and I can understand why it’s a hot spot for European tourists. It was very sunny and warm but nice and breezy so it ended up being a perfect temperature. We walked along the coast all afternoon and ended back up at the top. The water was nice and warm and with a beautiful view, Agadir ended up being a perfect place for us to have a relaxing weekend. Even after paying for the hotel, transportation there and back for the 9 hour, cross country trip and every meal, we only spent about 200 dollars in four days. No wonder Europeans come to Morocco for vacation…
Overall, the trip to Agadir was nice and relaxing and I got to see a part of Morocco I wouldn’t have otherwise been able to see. Like I said before, Agadir is the beach resort of the country and, especially during summer, it sees a host of tourists come through. There were sooo many hotels and restaurants. Along the boardwalk, there were truly at least 100 places to eat. Café after café just right next to each other. It was crazy. There were also lots of nicer, classier restaurants that you wouldn’t see anywhere else. Most people here spoke English which was refreshing. But still, although it was nice to be in a restaurant and in an area with menus and some type of organization to its chaos, I was glad to come back to “real Morocco.” Honestly, the fact that I could walk by myself down the street and hardly be whispered at was not the Morocco I’m used to, and honestly Agadir reminded me, in a sad kind of way, more of what it’s like at home—yet it wasn’t home, I was still in Morocco, and those are kind of conflicting feelings.
The hotel was very nice and ended up being a very good find. We had satellite TV (which consisted of only BBC and one movie channel in English) but I got to catch up on some news, for once, and got to lay down and watch a movie—a pastime I’ve come to dreadfully miss. But the one large lesson I learned on this trip was to be more and more careful and cautious about people ripping me off!!! It’s so hard because there are some very genuinely nice and good-intentioned Moroccans—like Saad or this other man who sat with us on the train ride back—who are very friendly and want to be of help to us and WANT us to enjoy our experiences in Morocco. BUT there are also those who want to blatantly rip us off or trick us into buying something we don’t want. This trip really highlighted the fact that both types of Moroccans exist and both are prevalent anywhere we go. First example came from taxi drivers. We took lots of taxis to and from our hotel over the trip and all the taxis had meters so we knew exactly how much to pay. And, because there were four of us, we always had to take two taxis because one taxi could only take three at a time. So on Thursday night, on our ride back to our hotel from dinner, the taxi driver tried to charge me and Madeline 50 dirhams for the ride when we knew (from having taken the same trip 10 times already) that the trip should be at most 15 dirhams. So we of course through a fit and we said absolutely not here’s 15 (which was plenty generous) and started to get out, then he turned off the engine and got out, too. Then Pat and Leah’s taxi pulled up behind us and we asked them how much they paid, and they paid 10! Then their taxi driver got out, too and we pretty much started a taxi driver brawl in the middle of the street. Kidding… there was no fighting of course, just a lot of yelling and us being very very upset. In the end, some other people joined the drama in the street and we ended up paying 30. They kept saying you’re American you’re American you can afford it. THAT’S NOT THE POINT! But also, our taxi driver was sooo upset, like on the verge of tears upset, like we were stealing from him or something!! I couldn’t believe it. But all we learned form this was to be untrusting of everyone which is also unfair because not all taxi drivers are jerks like that. (The next day Leah and I took the same route in a taxi and he charged us 8—we gave him 12 just because we were so happy he was so nice. As a rule, tipping generally doesn’t happen either so that was extra nice of us) So then the next day we were so scarred and untrusting we automatically replied NO anytime someone wanted to try to help us because we assumed they were trying to sell us something! And most of the time they were just trying to be friendly and helpful. So when we were walking on the beach on Friday, that’s when we ran into the doughnut man. Ugh… the doughnut man. So yes, there was a man with a tray of doughnuts walking along the beach by all the nice expensive hotels. We walked past him and he said hello then started speaking English, and I’m not really sure what happened but I turned around he had given Leah a doughnut she said oh no no and he said oh no problem for my English friends! Then he insisted we all take a doughnut even though we all really didn’t want one and had just eaten. But he pretty much physically forced them into our hands and we thought we were being polite. THEN he asked, they are good, no? insisting we take a bite. Hahaha I’m sure you all can guess where this was going but we were apparently oblivious. He then said ok 100 dirhams. ONE HUNDRED DIRHAMS?!?! That’s soooo much more then you would even pay in the states for some crappy deep fried bread with a little sugar sprinkled on top. But we had all taken a bite and we so overwhelmed and taken aback, I’m not even sure what happened but I think Madeline just gave in and gave him the money and we walked away. The doughnut was totally gross too…
But of course we got over those instances, as they weren’t life ending or really a detriment to the overall trip, just annoying! So we came back on Saturday and it again took all day to get back. The bus did not break down BUT it was still memorable. So we have been told, as a rule of thumb, not to sit in the back of buses if it can be helped just because it’s hotter and people tend to vomit (all types of driving, whether it be a little car or a huge bus is absolutely INSANE here and I’m not sure why people don’t die more often…its scary!). But of course the only opens seats on this bus were in the very very back where, believe it or not, there was already nice stench of old vomit waiting for us. I wanted to cry or vomit myself, but I knew that wouldn’t help so we wrapped scarves around our faces (which in Morocco turns heads less than not having a scarf around your head anyway) and just laughed and laughed. The whole situation was just so absurd and once we got going the breeze came through and the smell disappeared—thank god! I would not have survived 4 hours of that otherwise.
So the moral of this story is that I survived another week in Morocco… I think that’s 5 weeks down and 10 to go. October will go by very quickly though and it should be a very exciting month. We have one week of class, then a week long excursion in the south—where we will, at one point, be riding camels through the desert, get excited for those upcoming photos—then one more week of class followed by a weeklong village stay where we live with families in a rural village in the middle of the mountains. By that time it’s less than one month until the Individual Study part of the program where I’ll be moving away from Rabat to do by own research project for a few weeks. After that, I’m done! I can’t believe it really!
PEACELOVE
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