status quo

I haven't posted in a while, I suppose, because things have been pretty status quo around here lately. However, my new status quo might be something interesting to someone else, so I thought I'd write a few words.
I haven't traveled much recently. Instead, I've been trying to figure out Rabat and the places around here. Among recent excursions, I've walked around the walled village of the king's palace (which for some reason Moroccans cannot enter, but Americans and other tourists are allowed to see). There are actually some Moroccans who live within the walls of the small city; they are the descendants of former slaves for the palace. I guess it's Morocco's version of affirmative action. Who knows? However, it seems like a pretty good gig if you can get it.
Last weekend, I went with two other students to walk around downtown and we checked out a movie at a local theater. We just happened to be at the theater as a movie started, so we bought tickets and tried to watch it, not knowing anything about it or what language it would be in. Turns out that it was all in the Moroccan dialect with French subtitles that moved way too quickly for them to be readable. So, we basically sat there trying to figure out what was going on in the movie, including a scene where there is an attempted rape of two women by two drunken men. This scene in particular got the biggest laughs from the crowd. I really hope that we missed something big in translation!
Afterward, we found a pretty big international bookstore with titles in Spanish, English, Arabic and French but is a far cry from the over-commercialized Barnes and Nobles of the states. It had lots of biographies and cook books but was lacking in the trashy fiction I have grown to love. Clearly they have their priorities messed up here. There seems to be no grocery store checkout counter "literature" to be found. Another thing this country is missing is Gatorade. How this opportunity has been missed is beyond me in a desert country, but I have big plans to introduce my new country to the wonders of artificially salted, sugared and colored water. How they cure their hangovers is a mystery without Gatorade. Of course, the fact that most people here don't drink could be one reason.
It's always a chore to find a restaurant that serves alcohol if that's what you're into here. I've found that restaurants with darkened windows (or no windows at all) is usually a sign that they have booze. It's not illegal or anything, but I guess it's taboo to advertise too much that they have the devil's drink on hand. We have stumbled onto a couple of club/lounge places and that in and of itself is a score. Despite the fact that alcohol here is extremely expensive (I can really only speak for Meknes and Rabat on this point), the price is worth it to watch the social interactions in these places. I did not believe it at first, but I have it on good authority now that the majority of women in these clubs are prostitutes. The percentage falls when we show up of course, but for the most part, Moroccan women don't go there unless they are on the clock (I hear it's understood that non-Moroccan women are accepted as non-prostitutes...something I am glad to hear). I'm really not harassed at all, as I'm always with guys from school and they're really good about pretending to be our boyfriends/brothers etc. We've all had a great time watching this new culture in clubs and trying to figure out what exactly happens. When that gets boring, there is always the dancing to keep one entertained. I thought that middle class white guys were the worst dancers ever, but this gives new meaning to "ain't got no rhythm". Moroccans (again, a blatant generalization) are THE worst dancers I have ever seen in my life. Seriously. It's almost at the point of being painful to watch. However, it's highly amusing to behold grown men and women throw themselves recklessly around the dance floor going against the beat of really bad 90s dance music. It's totally worth the couple of dollars for the cover charge. If you've ever seen the show "Pants-off Dance-off" on the Fuse network on cable, this is the kind of horrible spectacle of which I write. It's definitely on the opposite end of the spectrum of abilities from my time in Costa Rica.
As for classes, things are going well for me. I can actually communicate (a little) in Arabic with my host family and people at school, and occasionally astound someone in public by saying something in Arabic. It's funny because I always get a double take when I speak in Arabic because from the looks of me, Moroccans expect French or English...certainly not for me to speak in their local dialect. It's kind of funny to watch their reaction and I've gotten lots of positive feedback from people who are impressed that I am studying Arabic. People here are extremely nice for the most part and very friendly. I begin the second level of my studies on Monday and we will have up to 10 people in my class. This is a huge change from the class size of 3 that I've become used to since I arrived here. Hopefully this just means more people to practice with and everyone will maintain the same pace within class. I want to be able to finish this textbook before I go back to Boston in June so I can start on the next level when I return in the summer. With any luck, I might actually be able to say something besides "My name is Katie and I study Arabic in Morocco." by the time I return to the states!
I hope everyone at home is well and I miss all of you.

Welcome to Morocco!!

Oh, where to begin? So much has happened since my arrival that it's still a jumble in my mind. I suppose I should start at the beginning.

My flights were pretty uneventful and I arrived to Casablanca on time, got all of my bags (amazing!!) and was met by Hicham and Hamouda at the airport. Luckily they recognized me since I did not really know what they looked like. For those of you who do not know, I have a friend in Somerville who I met shortly before leaving, named Hicham (also) and he has been very generous with his family. He instructed his brother (Hamouda) and his best friend (also Hicham) to meet me at the airport and take me to my hotel. They have gone above and beyond all of that and I have two new friends here in this foreign country.

Upon our arrival, they took me to my hotel, where we deposited my baggage. Then, they took me to eat. It was pretty late (around 11pm) and Casa was still wide awake. We went to an outdoor bazaar type of place where there were all kinds of dead animals hanging from their haunches or heels from the stalls. Hicham pointed out one stall in particular and I saw animal heads just dangling from a rope. Sure, it was pretty gross and I did not recognize what they were. Horses? Nope. They were camel heads. OK. Welcome to Morocco!! We ordered a kilo or so of ground up camel meat (not kidding) and took it to another stall and gave it to a guy who cooked it for us. It was served with grilled onions and tomatoes and loaves of bread. Holy shit, where the hell am I?!? So, we washed our hands and I had my first lesson on eating Moroccan style. Boy, is this the place for me! You get to eat everything with your hands!! I could hear my mom over my shoulder, "Katie, don't eat with your hands. Don't play with your food!" and I relished the fact that this was not only acceptable, but there was not a fork or knife in sight! Woo hoo! I must say that I love me some camel. Delicious.

H & H returned me to my hotel where I took a much needed shower and fell into a stupor. My god was I tired. Not only from the 40 hours of travel, but the mental power to have to switch between languages was stunning. I started off in English through London. Then, in Madrid for 6 hours was a switch to Spanish. Then, in Morocco, French. My brain was on overload and whirling with words, some of which I think I was making up and were not in any language. In addition, all around me swirled this new language, a mixture of French, Arabic and Moroccan...whew! All of that translation and listening is a workout for sure!

I awoke the next morning to get ready to meet H&H for lunch and a tour of Casa. I don't think I was jet lagged at all, perhaps because I had been up for so long the previous two days. Who knows, but I'm grateful. I had breakfast at the hotel, a buffet of every type of carbohydrate imaginable. Oh, heaven! Dr. Atkins would have a heart attack, but it was glorious. I was then met by my new friends and taken on a tour of Casa, we went to visit the famous mosque (the biggest in all of Africa) and I got some good photos of it. It's an amazing feat of architecture and amazingly beautiful. Breathtaking really. It almost makes a person want to go pray...almost mind you. We went to get a coffee at a cafe on the beach and watched people playing football and strolling on the sand. No one was swimming because that involves taking off clothes I guess. Not really sure.

We then went to eat lunch of deep fried whole fish, calamari and shrimp (good thing I started eating seafood recently) and of course, scooped it all up with bread. Ah, bread...how I love thee. They took me back to my hotel where we collected my bags because I had been invited to visit Hamouda's father and step mother in "the countryside". Cool. We drove about 110 kilometers to the middle of nowhere and ended up at this gorgeous house in the country. There were fields all around and talk of cows, sheep and dogs to see in the morning! I had dinner with Hamouda's father, Hamouda and Hicham and it was delicious.

That night, we slept at the house, all of the women in the living room and the men in bedrooms. Welcome to Morocco. In the morning, we had breakfast, then went to walk around the land to see the cows, sheep, dogs and the olive trees. Later in the day, we all gathered for couscous, the traditional Friday meal. I've never had such delicious couscous in my life and can tell now that I'm going to love Fridays! Shortly after lunch, we left to return to Casa, then onto Rabat. Tariq, Hicham's other brother, met us in Rabat and we began a long journey in a caravan of Tariq's truck and our car around Rabat, searching for my school, where I was to spend two nights. There are NO street signs in Rabat (or Casa) (just like in Costa Rica!) and no one knew where the school was. Up and down streets we drove, asking people for directions, until finally, the school director met us and showed us where to go. We unloaded my bags, then were off again, this time to Tariq's house for tea. It was the first time Hamouda had visited his brother even though it is only an hour's drive from Casa. Apparently, Hicham and Hamouda hate Rabat and never come here. It is very different from Casa, the streets are wider, there are fewer people and they are not out en force like in Casa. Still, the driving is nearly as erratic in Rabat as Casa and aiming for pedestrians seems to be the national sport around here. Think of the old video game Frogger....that is exactly what is is like here. You walk across a couple of lanes, look all around you, cross another, then run for your life. I can see where sprint drills would come in very handy around here.



After Tariq's house, I was brought back to my school and slept until the next morning when I was picked up for lunch by Hicham and Hamouda. We ate a delicious lunch at Tariq's house, prepared by his wife and her sister. The men and I sat around and talked (really, they talked and I picked up a few words of Moroccan). I mostly played with Tariq's son, Elias, who is adorable and a little hellion. So, clearly we got along well!

We went to an internet cafe after that, to check mail and talk to Hicham in the States, then off to get coffee with the group. We walked around a bazaar where I saw some beautiful pottery that I MUST buy to bring home, and then went off to dinner at an open air bazaar where we ate lamb, beef, french fries, tomatoes and onions and of course...bread. There were musicians strolling about, playing Moroccan music and people danced in their seats, children rushed around playing and the atmosphere was quite festive. Nonetheless, I was exhausted and begged for sleep. Soon enough, I was returned to the school for a much needed slumber.

The next day, I ventured out by myself for the first time since arriving and was able to get myself to an internet cafe with WiFi and drink a coffee. I went back to the school where I met some of my fellow students for the first time and we talked for a bit. I signed up for my classes and I will be taking the first week of class in the Moroccan dialect, then will study Modern Standard Arabic for the remainder of my time here. I hope that I can pick up the basics of the Moroccan dialect, so I can speak with the locals who do not speak French and be able to better get myself around this crazy place.

Hamouda and Hicham returned later in the day to bring me to meet my host family and for them to check them out to make sure I would be safe and to talk with the family. They really have gone above and beyond all expectations and I am now like their sister. I love them and am so glad I have two friends here to look after me. It was a great welcome to Morocco.