5-23-10
So I still like Morocco, but for God’s sake it is doing everything to change that opinion. My i-pod was stolen this morning. Directly right out of my hand. I was going the same way I always do, the same way I always have for three months, and I was about two minutes away from my house, just off the main street in the medina, when some guy came up behind my and just snatched my i-pod out of my hand. I yelled “stop him” a lot and some other profanities that I’m not proud of, and I and another bystander ran after him- but unfortunately I’m a distance runner, not a sprinter, and he got away. The man who ran after him with me called the police, and soon there was a group of men gathered around my crying self, all flustered at this pathetic American who didn’t know to keep her electronics tucked away and out of sight where people can pickpocket them instead of taking them directly out of your hands. The very unsuspecting looking police came, neither of them were in uniforms, and I went to the police station to file a report and all that jazz. I had to go home to get my passport so my host mom came with me, and we waited forever while the police went to look for the thief. The whole time I wanted to say just forget it, obviously I have no dreams of getting my i-pod back. Then when the police officer was filling out some kind of incident report I actually got really nervous because he seemed confused by my entry date and then re-entry into Morocco and I was really worried I was going to end up in trouble because of the whole lack of VISA thing which would’ve just been a cup of tea. Luckily, I think, it’s all over, and all that remains of the incident is my increased dread of my long trip home now music-less and one headphone that broke off in my ear as my i-pod was ripped away.
I feel pretty sick about all of this, the irony alone is enough to make me nauseous. Of course, four days before I leave, back to the “safety” of America, is when this happens. Then there’s the guilty feeling, I don’t want to cause my host family any problems, and I don’t want to leave being that girl who had all these problems. I can’t help feeling like it’s my fault, like even though I have never had any issues, I should’ve known from the beginning that I shouldn’t carry valuables around. I’m angry because I feel like people were judging me unfairly, that it was almost my fault for even having an i-pod in the first place. And then I feel, too, like I almost agree with them. Who am I to come to this third world country in Africa and walk around with an i-pod like it’s no big deal. I feel unsafe now, and nervous about travelling alone. I was really mad when I was told to “stick to the main roads” because I’m not sure what more I could have done to do that when it was nine o clock in the morning, I was on a street with other people, and I was walking the same way I have every day, several times a day, for the past three months, definitely not a some deserted route.
So that’s my morocco, I had a great day yesterday, went shopping for presents with my host mom. Was going to blog about her great bargaining skills and my awkward tea time with dustin’s host dad and how he “let” me make the tea because dustin told him I like to cook. But no, instead it’s this tale of trauma, and somehow it seems an appropriate send off. See, this way I get to prove m dedication, because guess what, I still love this place, I still think the people are good, and I still think the thief can go shove it.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
I am leaving in a week, and my feelings on this change approximately every second, which is weird, because I also have mixed feelings about it all the time. There are days, hours, seconds, when I’m bored, or tired, or cranky, and I cannot wait to go home. Then there are days, hours, seconds where I realize I am home here, too, and picturing the good-byes I’m going to have to say makes me sad enough to want to just stay. One thing I decided I don’t want to do, at least in blog world, is try to summarize or attempt any type of overview of my experience here. There will be no final, “so this is what I think of Morocco” because I feel like that would be very unfair to this place. The truth is, after living here for three months, I feel like there is a lot more that I don’t understand than things that I do, so concluding thoughts would really not be appropriate because there is no finality to things here or my feelings about them. I guess that would be the only overarching lesson I could offer from my trip: you can never know enough about people.
Today was the last couscous Friday. Dustin came over and we had a wonderful and delicious lunch. I still think it’s funny how my host dad insists on knowing everything. He told me that lamb head makes the best couscous and that I was mistaken for not wanting to eat it. I emphasized it was the best in his opinion. but apparently everyone else feels the same as he does, or so I’m told. He also would not accept that Dustin would stay in a hotel the night before his flight, even though the plane leaves at 8:30 in the morning from Casablanca (a four hour train ride). There were a couple times today though that he said “sorry” after interrupting us, but then he would continue talking. Baba Ahmed knows best. Actually, Baba Ahmed is the only one who knows anything, and if you think you know something, it might be right if you agree with him but you definitely do not know how to say it properly in Arabic so it would be better if he just said it and you agreed when he asks at the end “fhmt?” (you understand?). I say all of this completely lovingly. I think his “la la” (No, NO!) interrupting whatever I try to say followed by an explanation of the way things “really” are, will be missed almost as much as my host mom telling me to “kuhlee!” (eat). My host parents asked Dustin what he had bought for his family in America and they thought it was hilarious that he bought his dad a cookbook. We explained that his dad actually owned a restaurant, so this would be helpful, and my host mom offered to write down recipes and cooking tips for him. I piped up because this whole time I’ve been telling my host mom I want to learn how to cook Moroccan dishes and she says, “You’re my daughter, I cook for you.” And I said, “But in America it will be necessary for me to cook myself!” And she looks straight at me and says, “No I’m coming with you to make you food.” As much as I would love this, I think I will still try to squeeze some cooking secrets out of her before I go, and anyone who reads this blog is invited when I attempt my very own couscous Friday in the states.
Also, I’m finally posting pictures of Fes and my host family, so, as Dustin’s mom would say, you should “do the Facebook” and check em out.
Today was the last couscous Friday. Dustin came over and we had a wonderful and delicious lunch. I still think it’s funny how my host dad insists on knowing everything. He told me that lamb head makes the best couscous and that I was mistaken for not wanting to eat it. I emphasized it was the best in his opinion. but apparently everyone else feels the same as he does, or so I’m told. He also would not accept that Dustin would stay in a hotel the night before his flight, even though the plane leaves at 8:30 in the morning from Casablanca (a four hour train ride). There were a couple times today though that he said “sorry” after interrupting us, but then he would continue talking. Baba Ahmed knows best. Actually, Baba Ahmed is the only one who knows anything, and if you think you know something, it might be right if you agree with him but you definitely do not know how to say it properly in Arabic so it would be better if he just said it and you agreed when he asks at the end “fhmt?” (you understand?). I say all of this completely lovingly. I think his “la la” (No, NO!) interrupting whatever I try to say followed by an explanation of the way things “really” are, will be missed almost as much as my host mom telling me to “kuhlee!” (eat). My host parents asked Dustin what he had bought for his family in America and they thought it was hilarious that he bought his dad a cookbook. We explained that his dad actually owned a restaurant, so this would be helpful, and my host mom offered to write down recipes and cooking tips for him. I piped up because this whole time I’ve been telling my host mom I want to learn how to cook Moroccan dishes and she says, “You’re my daughter, I cook for you.” And I said, “But in America it will be necessary for me to cook myself!” And she looks straight at me and says, “No I’m coming with you to make you food.” As much as I would love this, I think I will still try to squeeze some cooking secrets out of her before I go, and anyone who reads this blog is invited when I attempt my very own couscous Friday in the states.
Also, I’m finally posting pictures of Fes and my host family, so, as Dustin’s mom would say, you should “do the Facebook” and check em out.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Fatima
As my semester here comes to a close, I would like to highlight some moments from my gender studies class, because as bored as I was listening to Fatima’s stories for the thirtieth time each, she said some things that, fee rah-ee (in my opinion), are pure gold. I will miss Fatima; she has the strangest idea of America ever, she loves Lady Gaga, and she argues that traffic problems in Morocco stem from its patriarchy. If there is one person who could bring gender equality to this country I would definitely bet on her. She is just nuts enough to take on the challenge.
Some “Best of Fatima Quotes” :
-She was telling us about how after a surge of Islamic extremism in her university she started to challenge the Islamist students by giving them parts from passages of the Quran and teasing them when they could not complete them. She said, “One of my students came to me one day after class and said, ‘teacher, please stop, we really like you and if you continue this they are going to kill you!’ and I thought to myself, well, if it happens, it happens.”
-Fatima has only been to America once. She went to apparently the richest part of Florida and this is her picture of the country. She was surprised that none of us flew our private planes to school. She recalled one time when she was invited to tea with an elderly couple, “the place was like a hospital and a hotel… I don’t remember what it was called but there were a lot of old people there. It was very, very nice.” It’s called a nursing home, but that’s what it is, parents, a mix between a hospital and a hotel.
- “ I was amazed to learn that you still have polygamy in America. I watched that show, “Big Love” and I was amazed! Do those people really exist? How do you call them, Mormons? Are there a lot of them in your country? ”
- “Tell me, do women in your country often fall in love with gay men and they do not know that they are gay and the men do not tell them and then they are heartbroken when they find out?” We were confused, saying there would probably be signals before true love that the man was gay. She replied, “But if it is love at first sight, and she does not know, is she very heartbroken? Does this happen a lot?” Maybe…? Love means something different, I think, when marriage is arranged or dating means “exchanging words of love and sometimes kissing but not in any way that could bring up sexual feeling.”
- “I cannot understand why your country has not made it illegal for people to have guns! Don’t you feel afraid? Do people just walk around holding their guns? And you are just sitting by a person on the train and he has a gun on his lap?! I simply cannot understand how you are not terrified.”
- “We were so angry when you elected Bush for the second time and we could not understand why you would do this. And then every American I talked to said, ‘No we did not vote for him.’ So who was it that voted for him?”
- “ I saw John McCain and I thought, he is so old he cannot even stand! Were you worried that he was too fragile to be the president?”
- “There is a big Islamic feminist movement but there is no thing called a Christian feminist movement. Why has no one asked why, for example, the Pope cannot be a woman?”
So many good points, Fatima, I’ll tell you when I figure out the insanity of Americans, and you keep explaining the insanity of Moroccans. We’ll do a cultural exchange, and I will love every minute that you don’t retell the stories I’ve already heard three times.
Some “Best of Fatima Quotes” :
-She was telling us about how after a surge of Islamic extremism in her university she started to challenge the Islamist students by giving them parts from passages of the Quran and teasing them when they could not complete them. She said, “One of my students came to me one day after class and said, ‘teacher, please stop, we really like you and if you continue this they are going to kill you!’ and I thought to myself, well, if it happens, it happens.”
-Fatima has only been to America once. She went to apparently the richest part of Florida and this is her picture of the country. She was surprised that none of us flew our private planes to school. She recalled one time when she was invited to tea with an elderly couple, “the place was like a hospital and a hotel… I don’t remember what it was called but there were a lot of old people there. It was very, very nice.” It’s called a nursing home, but that’s what it is, parents, a mix between a hospital and a hotel.
- “ I was amazed to learn that you still have polygamy in America. I watched that show, “Big Love” and I was amazed! Do those people really exist? How do you call them, Mormons? Are there a lot of them in your country? ”
- “Tell me, do women in your country often fall in love with gay men and they do not know that they are gay and the men do not tell them and then they are heartbroken when they find out?” We were confused, saying there would probably be signals before true love that the man was gay. She replied, “But if it is love at first sight, and she does not know, is she very heartbroken? Does this happen a lot?” Maybe…? Love means something different, I think, when marriage is arranged or dating means “exchanging words of love and sometimes kissing but not in any way that could bring up sexual feeling.”
- “I cannot understand why your country has not made it illegal for people to have guns! Don’t you feel afraid? Do people just walk around holding their guns? And you are just sitting by a person on the train and he has a gun on his lap?! I simply cannot understand how you are not terrified.”
- “We were so angry when you elected Bush for the second time and we could not understand why you would do this. And then every American I talked to said, ‘No we did not vote for him.’ So who was it that voted for him?”
- “ I saw John McCain and I thought, he is so old he cannot even stand! Were you worried that he was too fragile to be the president?”
- “There is a big Islamic feminist movement but there is no thing called a Christian feminist movement. Why has no one asked why, for example, the Pope cannot be a woman?”
So many good points, Fatima, I’ll tell you when I figure out the insanity of Americans, and you keep explaining the insanity of Moroccans. We’ll do a cultural exchange, and I will love every minute that you don’t retell the stories I’ve already heard three times.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Side B: when gift giving is mucho appreciated and just amazing.
Went to Cheffchaoun this past weekend which is this town in the mountains where all of the buildings are randomly painted blue. It’s beautiful. On Sunday, the weather was a little crappy, though, so we were kind of at a loss for things to do other than wander around the old medina. Then, God bless him, Abraham found us. He, like everyone else, and their brother, and their dog and their brother’s dog, asked us to come take a quick look in his shop. He, like everyone else, brothers and dogs included, promised to give us good, “democratic” prices, prices for students, not tourists. Well, why not, we had nothing better, so we went and sat down so we could add Abraham to our list of people who have explained the different Berber carpet designs. Well, he did do that, but he also gave us some lessons on humanity. He hugged and kissed every one of us on the cheek multiple times, telling us how much he loved us. “Good people” he said, “I can tell you are good people.” He talked about how nice we smelled and how we were all perfect. He told us that in the whole world everyone is the same, and that all anyone wants is to be loved so he tried to give as much positive energy as possible so it would spread. He said he would tell everyone they were beautiful because they just might believe him and then they would spread that love to others. “I want to be good to you, I want you to be so happy” he kept saying. And you might be thinking that this guy was a really good salesman, which he was, all of my friends bought things from his store, but he was genuine too. He gave us all free plates (me included even though I didn’t buy anything) and we drank tea in his shop. He promised that if we ever returned he would have us over for dinner as long as we brought the wine. He hugged us all a lot more before we left and asked us to carry out his good energy. And boy did we, we all left that store feeling great. That is Morocco.
In other news, kitten number two has been dead for a while, there is now a dead rat outside my front door which grosses me out, and I saw a police officer today chasing young school children with a night stick. That is also Morocco but I like the other part better.
In completely unrelated news, I asked my host dad today if he thought I was better at ARabic now than when I first got here. He said, yes, but you are always writing and reading and you don't talk enough. Now this is kind of a delicate topic because of recent events where I felt bad about not talking to them enough since which I have made a conscious effort to talk to them more! So I said, "well I don't know what to say" and he said "well you can say anything, but like yesterday, you sit and read and write while I watch T.V." (this happens quite a few nights while the rest of the fam is out at the mosque or on the computer) So I got a little defensive and said, "well, you don't talk to me either!" and he grins at me and says, "I know, I want to listen to the T.V.!" who knows....
In other news, kitten number two has been dead for a while, there is now a dead rat outside my front door which grosses me out, and I saw a police officer today chasing young school children with a night stick. That is also Morocco but I like the other part better.
In completely unrelated news, I asked my host dad today if he thought I was better at ARabic now than when I first got here. He said, yes, but you are always writing and reading and you don't talk enough. Now this is kind of a delicate topic because of recent events where I felt bad about not talking to them enough since which I have made a conscious effort to talk to them more! So I said, "well I don't know what to say" and he said "well you can say anything, but like yesterday, you sit and read and write while I watch T.V." (this happens quite a few nights while the rest of the fam is out at the mosque or on the computer) So I got a little defensive and said, "well, you don't talk to me either!" and he grins at me and says, "I know, I want to listen to the T.V.!" who knows....
Dealing with Grace
How do you politely refuse gifts? In America, we do it secretly. “Oh, thanks so much” and then we make a holiday of the day after the holiday, taking all the crap we got from our families back to the store. I also sincerely appreciate my sister’s skill of “re-gifting” where she gives her precious crap to others, passing on the things she doesn’t want. My host family really wants me to be happy. They want very much to give me things, the problem is, I don’t want them, and while in America I would just accept them graciously, here I really don’t want them but the word “no” does not mean very much to a Moroccan who wants to do you a favor. Prime example; my host mom has been buying me clothes from some Moroccan second hand store- like Good Will but quite possibly a lot sketchier. I wear some of the stuff she gets for me, a long sleeve T, the pajamas, (still haven’t broken in the sequined “Princess” shirt), but the thing is, I don’t want Moroccan second hand clothes. I have so many old clothes in America, I could start my own Moroccan Good Will. And, I was already planning on leaving some of my now overly worn stuff here, to make more room in my suitcase for stuff I do want to take home. So now what do I do with this stuff? Each time my mom presents me with something new I try to express sincere gratitude, but I also always tell her, “really, please, you don’t need to do this.” But she always just says that I’m just like her daughter and that it’s all good. Yet, while I know that nothing she gets me is going to put this family into severe debt, I don’t feel good accepting gifts when a. I don’t want them and b. the family could use the money for other things.
It’s tiring too, because “no” does not exist in this world of beneficence. I got into a semi-heated scene with my family the other day about it. My family does this thing sometimes where if they have something they don’t really want to give me, they kind of try to hide it so it doesn’t look like they don’t want to share. It sounds worse than it is, mostly it’s just my sister- if she has some candy or something and I see it she automatically gives it to me. Actually she automatically forces me to take it even after my insisting that I in no way shape or form want it. So that’s what happened, Miriam came home from school in the afternoon with an ice cream cone she had bought and as soon as she realized I had seen it she somewhat reluctantly handed it off to me. I refused to take it and the whole family was in an uproar. Eventually, she left to go get me another ice-cream cone. I was absolutely furious because they would not accept me saying that I didn’t want it. I used every way of Arabic I knew how (which, granted, is not that many) to say that I did not want ice cream, I was incapable of eating ice cream right now, it was not possible for me to have the ice cream, it would be a big problem if they got me ice cream, etc. etc. I said that in my culture, if I say “no, thank you,” it means “I don’t want this.” My host mom replied, “In Morocco, if you say no, it means we will give it to you anyway.” I said, “But this is really important in my culture!” She got me with, “But you are in Morocco now.” My host sister returned and I was handed an ice cream cone, and I had no choice but to eat it begrudgingly, somewhat frightened at the fact that I had no control over not accepting things from these people. After the episode, my host mom came up to my room and apologized to me. I thanked her for the ice cream, apologized for my attitude and we agreed that in the future, “no, thank you” would mean “no.” Yesterday, she bought me a new pair of second hand pants.
I was talking to my gender studies professor about this, and she reminded me that I was here to learn about Moroccan culture, and that I should try to adapt. Which, I know was a needed reminder, but I also don’t like how I can be showered with gifts no problem, but they still wont take ANYTHING from me. I tried to get my host mom to use some of my lotion the other day and she absolutely refused. There was more yelling involved and I ended up leaving it in the flower pot where she keeps small packages of Kleenex. It’s hard to be the sole beneficiary of gifts and still feel like it is a show of love. I understand more than ever how difficult it can be to be gracious, it is all I want to be toward these wonderful people, but often there love is just very frustrating!!
It’s tiring too, because “no” does not exist in this world of beneficence. I got into a semi-heated scene with my family the other day about it. My family does this thing sometimes where if they have something they don’t really want to give me, they kind of try to hide it so it doesn’t look like they don’t want to share. It sounds worse than it is, mostly it’s just my sister- if she has some candy or something and I see it she automatically gives it to me. Actually she automatically forces me to take it even after my insisting that I in no way shape or form want it. So that’s what happened, Miriam came home from school in the afternoon with an ice cream cone she had bought and as soon as she realized I had seen it she somewhat reluctantly handed it off to me. I refused to take it and the whole family was in an uproar. Eventually, she left to go get me another ice-cream cone. I was absolutely furious because they would not accept me saying that I didn’t want it. I used every way of Arabic I knew how (which, granted, is not that many) to say that I did not want ice cream, I was incapable of eating ice cream right now, it was not possible for me to have the ice cream, it would be a big problem if they got me ice cream, etc. etc. I said that in my culture, if I say “no, thank you,” it means “I don’t want this.” My host mom replied, “In Morocco, if you say no, it means we will give it to you anyway.” I said, “But this is really important in my culture!” She got me with, “But you are in Morocco now.” My host sister returned and I was handed an ice cream cone, and I had no choice but to eat it begrudgingly, somewhat frightened at the fact that I had no control over not accepting things from these people. After the episode, my host mom came up to my room and apologized to me. I thanked her for the ice cream, apologized for my attitude and we agreed that in the future, “no, thank you” would mean “no.” Yesterday, she bought me a new pair of second hand pants.
I was talking to my gender studies professor about this, and she reminded me that I was here to learn about Moroccan culture, and that I should try to adapt. Which, I know was a needed reminder, but I also don’t like how I can be showered with gifts no problem, but they still wont take ANYTHING from me. I tried to get my host mom to use some of my lotion the other day and she absolutely refused. There was more yelling involved and I ended up leaving it in the flower pot where she keeps small packages of Kleenex. It’s hard to be the sole beneficiary of gifts and still feel like it is a show of love. I understand more than ever how difficult it can be to be gracious, it is all I want to be toward these wonderful people, but often there love is just very frustrating!!
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
This past weekend was Moroccan daylight savings time, kind of ironic because Moroccan’s don’t really go by any clock. The phenomenon of “springing forward, falling back” is not new to the country, but let me tell you, it is not popular. It was funny, because no one really seemed to know when the clocks would actually change, or if they would actually change at all. My host family told me it was not a good idea. My host sister was very upset that she would have to wake up an hour earlier everyday, and was not convinced when I tried to explain that no, you only lose one hour of sleep on one night. My friend Dustin’s host family is an older couple with no kids to get to school (minus him) and they are simply not changing their clocks. They will be staying on old time, which my host mom and I agree is a little bit crazy and a lot hilarious.
I talk a lot with Dustin because we both live in the medina so we often walk to and from school together. We have been talking lately about things we miss/are excited to return to in the states. His list mostly includes foods, because, as he put it today, “if someone asked if would rather be blind or lost all sense of taste, I would choose to lose taste, but it would be the worst decision of my life.” His food cravings are also quite different than mine, seeing as how most of them involve meat, or deep fat frying, or some combination of the two. The things that we do come up with, though, are sometimes funny. It’s weird to think of the things you like to have available even if you don’t take advantage of them all the time (or if you do especially). Some honorable mentions (in case you want to get me a welcome home present):
Indian Buffets- Cathy, can you FedEx me some carrot pudding desert?
Free Refills – I don’t drink a lot of soda, but how great is it that when you do drink soda you can have an unlimited amount of it?!
Ice- and cold beverages in general, fridges aren’t so popular here.
Street signs- they do have a few here, but I don’t think they count unless people actually obey them.
There is more to this list, especially foods- cheese, spinach for me, bacon for dustin, mashed potatoes, ice cream in a cone larger than one licks worth, cookie dough, etc. but right now I have to return home to my just as delicious and satisfying Moroccan dinner.
One thing not on the list anymore: Miley Cirus “Party in the U.S.A.” Thanks sissy you’re the best. I’m working on making a Moroccan version in Arabic.
I talk a lot with Dustin because we both live in the medina so we often walk to and from school together. We have been talking lately about things we miss/are excited to return to in the states. His list mostly includes foods, because, as he put it today, “if someone asked if would rather be blind or lost all sense of taste, I would choose to lose taste, but it would be the worst decision of my life.” His food cravings are also quite different than mine, seeing as how most of them involve meat, or deep fat frying, or some combination of the two. The things that we do come up with, though, are sometimes funny. It’s weird to think of the things you like to have available even if you don’t take advantage of them all the time (or if you do especially). Some honorable mentions (in case you want to get me a welcome home present):
Indian Buffets- Cathy, can you FedEx me some carrot pudding desert?
Free Refills – I don’t drink a lot of soda, but how great is it that when you do drink soda you can have an unlimited amount of it?!
Ice- and cold beverages in general, fridges aren’t so popular here.
Street signs- they do have a few here, but I don’t think they count unless people actually obey them.
There is more to this list, especially foods- cheese, spinach for me, bacon for dustin, mashed potatoes, ice cream in a cone larger than one licks worth, cookie dough, etc. but right now I have to return home to my just as delicious and satisfying Moroccan dinner.
One thing not on the list anymore: Miley Cirus “Party in the U.S.A.” Thanks sissy you’re the best. I’m working on making a Moroccan version in Arabic.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Updates and Dead Cats
I don’t think I have mentioned this before, but Fes has a cat problem. Of all the animal problems a city can have, I have decided cats are one of the better ones. If you have a cat problem, you do not have a rat problem; and cats are better than stray dogs that get rabies and bite people. Lucky for me, I’m not a big cat fan anyway, sorry Grandma, but it’s still kind of sad to see all of these starving animals roaming the streets. In particular, I have been rooting for this family of Mama and three kittens that live outside my school’s Riad in the old medina. Unfortunately, today, we are one kitten down. R.I.P black one with white tummy, may your siblings survive to roam the garbage filled streets.
Other than dead cats, Morocco is great right now. My classmate friends and I went to Rabat this past weekend and had a blast. Highlights include but are not limited too; befriending Muhammad, who was a pleasure, kind of, to talk to but a pain to try and explain that you needed to go back to the hotel to, sitting in the gorgeous garden of the Kasbah and listening to casually gathered musicians playing there, exploring the Chellah and hoping my future fertility was helped out by the eels there that supposedly help you be fertile, and realizing that there are places in Morocco that are more modern than Fes and that I might not actually mind living in for long periods of time. Overall of these things though, was my love affair with the tragic story of the Hassan II minaret. Sunday morning when my friends were surfing I ventured out on my own to Muhammad V’s tomb that is built right next to the remains of this mosque. The story is that in some century oh so long ago Hassan II was going to build this ginormous mosque bigger than any mosque at that time. Well, he died during the construction and it was never finished. Most of what was built was destroyed in a big earthquake a century or two later, and now all that remains are the foundation pillars, one piece of wall, and this gorgeous unfinished minaret. The incomplete dream in this story is really beautiful and tragic to me; standing in the ruins of what this man wanted so badly was a little heartbreaking.
I returned from my weekend travels to the best family on this side of the Prime Meridian. I had a mini-breakdown last week because I was being kind of an ungracious guest and I was worried my host family hated me. We had a semi-emotional conversation about it (emotional for me anyway) and I since then I think we’ve both been going out of our ways to understand and love each other. I’ve started “helping” my host mom in the kitchen which consists of me carrying out complicated tasks like carrying dishes to the table and putting salt and pepper on the tomatoes. But, it helps me feel useful and it’s been good bonding. Travelling really makes me enjoy and appreciate life here more, and I’m excited to go to Marrakech and Cheffchaoun these next two weekends, while still spending quality time with the fam bam during the week. As predicted, following a spell of “let’s get this month over with,” I am feeling now like my time left is too short.
This has nothing to do with anything but I just have to mention that one of my professors has two different completely corduroy outfits; one in brown and one in mustard yellow. I didn’t think fashion got any worse (better?) until he wore his denim outfit, topped with denim zippered vest. Let’s just say as soon as I find those in the medina I know what everyone is getting as a souvenir present from Morocco.
Other than dead cats, Morocco is great right now. My classmate friends and I went to Rabat this past weekend and had a blast. Highlights include but are not limited too; befriending Muhammad, who was a pleasure, kind of, to talk to but a pain to try and explain that you needed to go back to the hotel to, sitting in the gorgeous garden of the Kasbah and listening to casually gathered musicians playing there, exploring the Chellah and hoping my future fertility was helped out by the eels there that supposedly help you be fertile, and realizing that there are places in Morocco that are more modern than Fes and that I might not actually mind living in for long periods of time. Overall of these things though, was my love affair with the tragic story of the Hassan II minaret. Sunday morning when my friends were surfing I ventured out on my own to Muhammad V’s tomb that is built right next to the remains of this mosque. The story is that in some century oh so long ago Hassan II was going to build this ginormous mosque bigger than any mosque at that time. Well, he died during the construction and it was never finished. Most of what was built was destroyed in a big earthquake a century or two later, and now all that remains are the foundation pillars, one piece of wall, and this gorgeous unfinished minaret. The incomplete dream in this story is really beautiful and tragic to me; standing in the ruins of what this man wanted so badly was a little heartbreaking.
I returned from my weekend travels to the best family on this side of the Prime Meridian. I had a mini-breakdown last week because I was being kind of an ungracious guest and I was worried my host family hated me. We had a semi-emotional conversation about it (emotional for me anyway) and I since then I think we’ve both been going out of our ways to understand and love each other. I’ve started “helping” my host mom in the kitchen which consists of me carrying out complicated tasks like carrying dishes to the table and putting salt and pepper on the tomatoes. But, it helps me feel useful and it’s been good bonding. Travelling really makes me enjoy and appreciate life here more, and I’m excited to go to Marrakech and Cheffchaoun these next two weekends, while still spending quality time with the fam bam during the week. As predicted, following a spell of “let’s get this month over with,” I am feeling now like my time left is too short.
This has nothing to do with anything but I just have to mention that one of my professors has two different completely corduroy outfits; one in brown and one in mustard yellow. I didn’t think fashion got any worse (better?) until he wore his denim outfit, topped with denim zippered vest. Let’s just say as soon as I find those in the medina I know what everyone is getting as a souvenir present from Morocco.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)