Here Comes the Rain

        Thursday (Nov 25^th), my class went on a ‘field trip’ to the Souk Al Khamise (I think that’s the right name). It was in a more rural area on what seemed to be the outskirts of Rabat. It definitely was far from being a tourist market and seemed more like a great big garage sale, junk yard, and farmer’s market all in one. It didn’t smell great but it was cool to wander around and look at all the strange things that people were trying to sell. There was a group of terrible actors entertaining a crowd and a medicine man excitedly gesturing and trying to convince an interested crowd that his potions and powders worked miracles. We watched the medicine man for a while because he really was quite entertaining. He would flip wildly through his book of pictures that looked as if they’d been cut out of magazines and show the crowd a picture that was supposed to explain or enforce whatever he was saying. We all left pretty fast when he brought out a strange shaped stick and flipped to a particularly graphic picture of reproductive anatomy. The Yocine and Hassan looked rather embarrassed and claimed to have no idea he what he was talking about… hahah. We went through the food market part and crossed the street to get some air and eat oranges while we waited for the bus. I met a girl there who I haven’t seen at the school before and found out that she is an au pair for a family in Morocco. She said that they paid for her flight, her housing, her weekend trips, and much more. She told me that I should look into it because it’s a cheap way to travel and you get paid on top of it… if you find the right family to work for. 

As soon as we got back, we piled back into the van to go to the American club where they were serving a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. We all came as guests of Malaika, who is an American woman married Adil, the owner of the school.  I sat near another American woman who is married to a Moroccan man and it was interesting to hear their stories about their Moroccan in-laws, the shame of owning a microwave, and how much they missed American milk. I got to speak with Malaika’s friend about what it was like being married to a Moroccan man. She told me that she converted to Islam for him and had to give up some freedoms that she was used to having, but she insisted that their love for each-other was more important than anything that she had to give up. She said that when they first started dating he told her that she had to be home by ten o’clock and she was furious at first but then he convinced her that people who stay out later than that are really only looking for one thing. At this point, a girl sitting across the table from me exchanged glances with me and we had a nice little argument about this generalization. We knew why he would say that but really didn’t agree because we stay out much later than that because that’s when we have time to see friends. In the end we had to agree to disagree and the lady’s main point was that if you love someone you are willing to compromise. I wish I had thought to ask her what her husband compromised on to be with her. I would be curious to hear her answer.

The dinner was top notch, a little over priced but it was authentic Thanksgiving dinner and the pecan pie was almost as good as my Nannie’s ;-) After dinner, most of the group left but a few of us stayed behind to have a drink at the bar and watch the Macy’s day parade on the Air Force channel. Malaika stayed with us and told us about how she had recently taken her kids back home and the airport stopped her from taking them without the signature of their father. Apparently this happened after the new family law was passed which makes it unnecessary for the mother to get the father’s permission to take the kids out of the country. She said she knew she could have fought it, but Adil was still in the airport so she just chased him down. I’ve heard other instances where the law may have changed but it is not enforced. It’s quite disappointing that their system takes so long to switch.  When Malaika took us back to school, I just did a little bit of studying but I really wasn’t in the mood and went back to the house.  I was missing my family a little bit, but right before I went to sleep, I remembered to open a letter that my mom had put in my suitcase. It was full of love and pictures and it really made me smile (thank you mommy!!!).

Friday (26^th) is so far away ago that I’m having a hard time remembering what went on. I do know that we talked about superstitions and how most Moroccans believe in spirits or “Gins” as they are called. My favorite example is the one where he said that if you stay in the shower too long or take too many showers the Gins might get you… yikes! I had no idea there were Gins in the shower! I did a little bit of shopping that night but stayed in to get some work done on my portfolio.

Sunday (28^th), I went shopping with Mama Kaltoum and she tried to help me find boots to keep me warm and dry from the rain. She instructed me not to talk in French or English or else the price would go up immediately. So if I saw something I liked, I would tell her good or bad in Arabic and she would talk to the shop owner. Most of the places she took me to stores that had used shoes and I wasn’t quite brave enough to try them. Plus they weren’t charging much less for them than the new ones in the Medina. We didn’t find any, but we did find a bunch of large oranges to make orange juice with and lots of good fresh veggies for the cous cous so all was good with the world. As long as we have our cous cous, we will survive

:-D …After eating, I went to the train station to go to Sale for the Breakdance battle that Mourad was at. The train didn’t leave until too late so I took a petit taxi to find a grand taxi that would take me to Sale. The petit taxis aren’t supposed to cross the river into Sale but they will for the right price. I couldn’t bargain a good price with him so I just had him leave me with a Grand taxi who was heading in that direction. It was all quite complicated but somehow I made it and Mourad met me at the Sale train station and took me to where the battle was going on.

I could hear the music from outside and saw kids in fitted hats and crazy tennis-shoes walking around. It was definitely an interesting sight. When we walked in, I was hit by the smell of sweat… he introduced me to a girl who is part of his association and he claims is the best at “popping,” she was one of very few girls there. I watched a guy freestyle to old school music that blasted out of an old school boom box. He wore tight jeans, a button down shirt with a sweater on top and converse all-stars. After a little while, the competition was about to start so Mourad had me sit with him and four other guys on a big black couch where they would judge the competition from. I had a blast taking videos of the crazy things that the guys could do. It was really interesting to watch the way the competitors interacted with each other. They would hug each other before and after but still act completely macho while dancing. It was quite amusing when sometimes one of them would get a little upset at the end and a guy, who must have been dubbed the announcer for his naturally deep voice, would basically tell them to have respect and the guys would hug it out. It was great! It really made me miss dancing.

My favorite part was when they made the judges do a demonstration while the dancers rested. Mourad was the last one to be called up… the “announcer” adjusted his top hat (yes he WAS wearing a top hat… possibly a T-Pain imitation) and announced Mourad as “Diablo.” This made Mourad somewhat embarrassed I could tell. He did a couple high power flips and tricks but took it easy because his wrist and ankle are a bit messed up from his latest battle in the Sahara. I also got to see his friend do her popping demonstration and she was really quite good! I asked Mourad why they called him Diablo since his “dancing name” is really Manex. He said that it’s a reference from an American movie and they only called him that because I was there, apparently someone asked him how “Manuella” is doing and they were referring to me because I looked Hispanic or something. I really don’t understand it still so I must need to see the movie to get it.

Right before the final round we ended up leaving because someone stole another person’s bag and the atmosphere became a little tense. Plus, it was getting late and I needed to do some shopping in the Medina before I went home. Mourad and I crammed into a cab where I was practically sitting on these two ladies’ laps but it was a short ride across the river and we walked the rest of the way to the Souk. The snail stands were especially pungent that night and people crowded around the boiling pots of escargot… I can’t help but wonder what is so appetizing about these creatures that I constantly find on the ground beneath my feet…… blech! We found a nice street stand and ate there, I’m not sure what it was, but we ate it. It was a lovely mix of chopped up meat, spices and maybe peppers too that were grilled then put into bread and covered in some kind of red tomato sauce. While we were eating, we ran into some people from the competition who came up and said hi to us. One guy pounded knuckles with Mourad and turned to me to do the same thing but said that girls do it from the side… this was new to me and I completely messed it up of course but at least I know to pound it from the side in the future. What a relief! Hahah

We didn’t have much luck shopping and it rained on us quite a lot but I didn’t mind because it was at least warmer than the last few days. We took shelter in a perfume shop and Mourad started talking to a Japanese man who worked behind the counter. The man had really long hair and an American accent so I became rather interested in the conversation as well. It turns out that he has family in Japan but was raised in California and has lived all over the place. He has converted to Islam and is trying to make his life in Morocco more permanent because he loves the pace of Moroccan life and the attitude of Moroccan people. Mourad kept plying him with questions about Japan but the guy really didn’t seem to be fond of talking about his country of origin. He would only say how crazy life is in Japan and people bottle up their emotions there so they go crazy almost. It was quite interesting.

After being thoroughly soaked in the medina, we headed back for me to catch a cab and commenced yet another of our religious debates. For some reason I began crying because I was so frustrated by not just our conversation but also because I was tired and stressed out. I always get stupid and emotional when I’m tired and stressed… it sucks. Mourad was devastated that he made me cry and said that I needed to go home lol We shared the cab part way home and he got out before my neighborhood and said goodnight. I didn’t know at that time, but he ended up walking the rest of the way home (about an hour and a half walk) in the rain. I think it was because he didn’t have enough change for the cab. Now I felt awful… it wasn’t the greatest end to the night.

OH BABY!

        Monday (the 22nd of November), was a tiring day. I was exhausted and in no mood to go to class. It was a bad Arabic day for me too for some reason. Despite all the studying and the massive amounts of vocab I had learned over the weekend, I had a hard time putting even three words together. I've decided that my brain must have been in overload mode and going on strike from learning for the day. I did get some rest though and I decided to take Mourad up on his invitation to a "Baby Party" that evening. I'm not exactly sure what the actual name is for this type of party, but I had heard about it from Khadija when she was telling us about culture and traditions in Morocco. It's like a baby shower that tons of family and friends attend... and I heard that when Moroccans throw a party, they do it big :D I thought it would be a good cultural experience and a welcome break from studying while I knew I would have to practice some Arabic there so it was an easy decision. He met me in Yousseffia and we walked all the way there since we had plenty of time and the weather was nice. I asked him how long we would be there since I didn't want to be out too late because of school in the morning. He said that we could stay as long as I liked but probably about 2 hours or so. This must be what they call "Moroccan time" because the party started at 8:00 and somehow I didn't leave until almost 1:00 a.m. 

        As we got got closer to the house we saw cars parked everywhere and the amount of children playing in the street increased as we neared the door. Mourad was immediately tackled by a little girl who was the child of a cousin I think, and after receiving a plethora of kisses she happily skipped away. We walked past the door of the house and over to a big tent set up on the side of the road (on the sidewalk) where men were setting up chairs and instruments and I got introduced to more cousins than I could count. Many of them started speaking Arabic with me and were confused when I didn't understand them, Mourad said that I looked Moroccan to them. Since nobody was sitting yet, we went into the house which was apartment style and many levels where I think various branches of the family lived. After about four flights of stairs I was kissed and hugged by a line of random ladies that were leaving a small room, after passing them, we headed into the room and I met Mourad's mom, sister, aunt and some other random old lady. The brought out tea and I attempted to speak with them while Mourad went to the corner of the room to "ooh and ahhh" over the new baby. Before I had time to object, the baby was given to me and I was told to kiss it. I gave it a fake kiss and played with it's tiny feet for a minute and handed it back... baby's scare me. I must say that this baby was absolutely angelic looking and beautiful, I could look at it all day.

        After a little while, we went back downstairs and Mourad told me to go with his sister and mom. I didn't want to be away from him, but I did it anyways since I knew he probably wanted to hang out with the guys and even in family parties the men and women keep pretty segregated. I went and sat with his mom and all the old ladies. It was really rather boring since his mom only spoke darija and my darija is limited to a few numbers, "okay," "thank you very much," "cold," and "lets go." So we were more amused by watching the little boys take turns bravely running up to the microphone, saying something, and running back to the group to giggle and look around to see people's reactions to their antics. Unfortunately for the boys, the old ladies were indifferent and not very reactionary so the most attention they got was when their fathers would run into the tent and scold them from time to time. Mourad poked his head in to check on me every once in a while and I smiled and nodded like I was having a great time but secretly hoping he would give me a reason to get up and walk around. The tent began to fill up around 9:00 and the band set up at about 10:00... I was sitting for a loooong time. The band was very good; I learned later that the singer was a good friend of the baby's father and had come from Spain with the family to celebrate with them. The family with the new baby is from Spain... sorry, I forgot to mention that. I was surprised to see a few ladies get up and dance, and these women shook their stuff if you know what I mean :-P ...I had more fun watching a little boy near the front look in amazement and confusion at one rather large lady's rear as she danced near him like it was the strangest thing he had seen in his life. Hilarious! Some of the men got up and danced together and for a few short minutes the parents of the baby danced with the singer. It was very fun to watch. I also wondered what was going on when many of the women, old and young, would run up to the singer with 20 DH bills and stick them in his collar! I learned later that this is just a sign that they really enjoyed his singing... not some indecent proposition ;-)

        After quite a bit of this there was a break where Mourad's sister came and rescued me. We went to a little room in the house littered with shoes, clothes, kaftans, purses... I think they must be using it as a changing room for the party. She got me water and I talked a little bit easier with her than I did with her mother because she knew a little more Fursa and a little bit of French. Every once in a while, a family member would pop their head into the room and say hello to us and try to converse in whatever language came to mind, I had a few people come in and say "hola!" to me which really caught me off guard. When I commented on how beautiful one woman's Kaftan was, Fatiha (Mourad's sister) offered to give me her Kaftan but luckily at the time I didn't understand what she was offering and didn't take it with me. Mourad informed me later what she was trying to do and I told him to thank her for me but I couldn't possibly take something like that! Yikes! I started to get restless and wished I knew where Mourad was. It was getting really late and I wasn't sure if I could find a taxi very easily if it got much later. Eventually Mourad and his cousin that he calls "The crazy one in the family" waltzed in and talked for a while until someone said that we would eat soon. I turned to Mourad and said that I needed to go and I needed sleep to which he looked confused and asked if I didn't want to eat. It's almost unheard of for someone to visit a Moroccan home and not eat, but I had already had a full dinner with the Marouazis and was not hungry at all. I also felt bad eating and leaving right away. Mourad decided that this was a good time to tell me that the party goes on all night and nobody sleeps... wow! I told him that I had to get sleep for school and I really had to go but somehow, a little while later, I ended up in the dining room crammed between his sister and a large boisterous aunt with a Tagine and bread in front of me. I took a few bites and ate slowly to make it look like I was eating more but I was being watched too closely and my cover was blown by the boisterous aunt who ordered someone to bring me a plate because she thought I didn't want to eat from the same dish as all of them! I was SOOOO embarrassed because that was NOT the impression I wanted to give them. I knew the food was hot and good and I'm used to eating out of the same tagine as my host family but my limited darija and acting skills failed to convey to them that I had already eaten and really wasn't hungry! Boisterous aunt took it upon herself to carve up my meat for me and pile it on my plate while continuously ordering me to "eat eat!". Finally when the Tagine was finished and all scraps were stuffed in bread and the ladies' purses (I kid you not... they put leftovers in their purses!), Mourad leaned forward and with a mischievous smile, he informed me that it was time for the second course! I laughed and sarcastically said "Oh good! because I'm so so hungry!" ...I didn't think he was serious about the second course thing... but he was... and boisterous aunt made sure I ate it. I almost thought that I would die from my stomach exploding.

        Finally when they were done force feeding me the third course of fruit, I was given a gift box full of cookies and was able to escape out the door. Mourad's uncle or cousin and another girl were kind enough to drive me back to Yousseffia and despite my protests, Mourad walked me to my street to make sure I was safe. I did some homework and went to sleep around 2:00... what a night.

        On Tuesday (23rd) I was strangely alert and able to function. We also had a pretty interesting conversation in class about drugs and alcohol since we were learning food and drink vocabulary. Our teacher, Hassan, is really good at talking about interesting subjects in Arabic but in very simple vocabulary that we understand. It is really helping me learn more vocabulary because I can hear him say things in context. He told us that many Muslims believe that alcohol is forbidden, a small amount think it's not forbidden, and a good amount of them just don't know or don't care. According to him, there is room for interpretation or misinterpretation because the matter is rather unclear in general. He doesn't drink because he believes that the prophet specifically instructed his followers to steer clear of things that intoxicate (alcohol, drugs etc..) mainly for health and self control reasons. He says that the teachings are more specific that say Muslims are forbidden to enter into prayer while intoxicated because they are unable to think clearly. This makes more sense because if Muslims pray five times per day, they wouldn't have much time to actually be intoxicated if they did drink. Very interesting stuff...

        I really didn't do much that day other than catch up on work and I stayed late at school to talk to my crazy family on skype for a little while. I'm still unsure on whether I should forgive them for going to Florida to see my Nannie and Pappa without me. It's just not cool people :( ...It was so good to talk to them and hear their voices though, it has been weird to not talk to them much while I'm here.

        On Wednesday (24th) we had yet another good discussion in class but this one included everything from why they don't eat pigs to how many Muslims believe in evolution, or at least some sort of man existing before Adam and Eve. Forgive me if I completely mess this up, but they think that the Angels were begging God not to make Adam which leads them to think that there must have been man before Adam. I'm sure I'm missing part of the story here but that's about all I got from it. That evening I went out with Mourad to meet up with his cousin and his cousin's wife for the evening. They would be leaving for Spain in a few days and wanted to meet me since they hadn't gotten to really meet me at the party for their baby. The four of us plus their 6 or 7 year old boy and the baby crammed into their little car and I attempted to speak Arabic with the wife. The Arabic was immediately deemed useless when she didn't understand a word I said. Mourad said that she doesn't speak Fursa and only a little Darija because she is Spanish and not Moroccan. So I wracked my poor brain for all the Spanish I had learned when I was little so that I could talk to her. I was surprised at how much I remembered and even more surprised at how much I understood. I never thought I'd say this, but thank you dad for speaking Spanish all the time, listening to Spanish music and programming your navigator in the car to speak Spanish. I am very grateful now. I found out that they live in Toledo and we realized that we had very similar taste in actors since she LOVES American films... her favorite is Denzel Washington! New Best Friend!
        We went to the Mega Mall for a while and just talked about a million different subjects in a million different languages. We would go from Spanish to Arabic to French and then their little boy would throw in a little English here and there because he was VERY proud of the fact that he is in English classes. I got along very well with the little boy and we would take turns tapping each other on the shoulder and pretending it wasn't us. That's always a fun game ;-D We talked about religion a little bit and I learned that the wife is not Muslim but is studying it because she wants to be Muslim like her husband. It was interesting to hear her point of view though I had a feeling that she was trying to convince me that Muslims are not bad people which is not something I need to be convinced of after living with and becoming friends with so many of them :) After talking for a while, another cousin and his wife showed up and we all walked around the mall for a little bit then they decided we needed to go out to eat (even though it was 9:30). I told Mourad that I wasn't hungry but I would tag along as long as I didn't get home too late. Silly me, when we got to the restaurant I was force-fed yet again. I should have expected it though. Mourad told me that I should order something or they might order something for me. I ordered a chwarma because it was the cheapest thing on the menu and I had a feeling that I would not be allowed to pay. I still got a salad in front of me somehow because I guess the schwarma wasn't enough food for me. Even though I insisted that I had already eaten dinner, they must have been convinced that I was really starving. The shwarma wasn't very good and they passed around my plate so everyone could try it and agree on how bad it was. This launched a debate on who makes the best shwarma, I insisted that it was the Lebanese and Mourad's older cousin said that Turkish shwarma was much better. We agreed to disagree and they commenced the great fight over the bill. There was money thrown down by all people and when change was dispersed, Mourad and I got ALL our money back and eventually with much bribing of the waiter, the older cousin and his wife ended up paying the whole bill. It was quite amusing. They got me home at a decent hour this time so I was able to get a little more sleep... yayyyy :D I really do love Moroccan families, they make anyone feel welcome and like part of the family. They are so much more strongly connected and involved in each other's lives which at times is a little overwhelming but very cool.

How To Give Your Family A Heart Attack: 101

        On Saturday night, after dropping my things off at the hotel room I went to get dinner on the beach. Instead of walking down the boardwalk, I decided to walk along the beach to get there because the soccer games had finished and I could walk more peacefully there. It was lit up from the lights on the boardwalk which was nice... and mostly couples walked down on the beach which gave me relief from avoiding groups of giggling spikey-haired boys. I only got approached once but the guy gave up pretty easily and left me alone. I had a panini for dinner that really didn't taste as good as it looked but I had a really good cup of Verveine tea (which is my new favorite thanks to Mama Marouazi), and that made up for it I suppose. I texted Mo Mo to see what was up and he agreed to meet me by the restaurant when I was done eating. As I was paying the waiter, I heard a ton of noise consisting of off beat chanting, banging of drums, scuffling of feet and laughing. Down the steps to the beach and right by my table came a parade of kids looking very pleased with themselves as they followed some boys beating on drums and yelling. Nobody seemed particularly interested in the children so I just drank the rest of my tea and left to find Mo Mo. I walked a little ways down because I didn’t want to just stand around and give guys an excuse to come up to me. This did not work of course because I talked to about 4 guys in about 10 minutes and finally just sat down to call Mo Mo and see where he was. As soon as I sat down someone plopped down next to me and I just started laughing, I know he had seen me shoo away the other guys but apparently he didn’t care. My laughing confused him so I apologized and told him I wasn’t laughing at him, I explained that I just wanted to be left alone but that seemed impossible in El Jadida. He laughed and agreed with me then proceeded to try to talk to me still. Luckily Mo Mo called and I escaped pretty easily. Mo Mo had gone down the steps to the café so I went back down and was followed by yet another guy… I reached the bottom and realized that Mo Mo must have gone back up to meet me so I did an about face and walked back up the stairs while the guy also did an about face and followed me back up. Way to be obvious dude. I was just about to go crazy when finally I saw Mo Mo coming and he laughed at me because he saw me avoiding the guy following on my heels. Jerk.

        We walked up to the main street where I had been earlier that day and he pointed to a place on the corner of a street and said we were going there. I looked at the place skeptically because it was dark, smoky, full of men and I am not kidding when I say the name of the place was “Le Tit”… Yeah that looks like a winner. I was about to say hasta lavista baby and head back to my hotel but he grabbed my arm and pulled me and my skeptical expression away from the place and across the street. He looked very proud of himself and I realized (with great relief!) that he was just messing with me. I repressed the urge to slug him and asked where we were really going. He said he knew a good place to get a beer that had more foreigners and wasn’t nasty and creepy. This sounded better but I asked him if he was allowed to drink beer since it’s technically forbidden to Muslims. He informed me that he is berber, from the desert and his people aren’t Muslim (for the most part). He told me that he rarely wears the style he was wearing that day (Fitted faded jeans, t-shirt and track jacket) because he is a “blue man”. I recognized the term but asked him what a blue man was. He replied that he always wears the long blue kaftan and blue head wrap. I remembered seeing people dressed like this in Merzouga when I went there so this made sense. We arrived at the door of a hotel and walked back to a little courtyard covered by a tarp with people sitting around drinking beer and watching “footy” on TV. There were a few girls there so I agreed to hang out there for a while. We sat with an acquaintance of his, a small man eating pomegranate seeds and drinking a glass of red wine. The man was small and seemed to be very shy and soft spoken. Mo Mo went to order some beer and I attempted to talk to the man in Arabic which seemed to make him happy. He told me he used to speak English but hasn’t practiced in a long time. When Mo Mo came back I found out that this guy was a tax investigator who was very well known for being nice. The man explained that he was sitting at work one day when a man who had worked in the business for years and years came back to do something. He said that the man had been very strict and harsh with the people he investigated and nobody liked him. When he returned to the office the man received no welcome and nobody cared that he was there. Mo Mo’s friend got very emphatic at this point and said that if people he investigates are nice to him, he will let them pay less or pay at another time if they don’t have the money. He pointed out that when he saw this man come into his office, he realized that the government and coworkers don’t care about you after you’re done working and old. The people he helps and makes friends with will help him and care about him when he is old while people at his job and in the government won’t care about him or reward him. I felt the positive vibes flowing out of Mo Mo as he talked about unity, acceptance and respect. He is a very easy-going and happy person who claims to be “with all religions” and just loves people. The small tax investigator man looked very pleased with Mo Mo’s speech and kept nodding and saying “Rrrrrespect! Yes!” every once in a while. After about an hour of peace love and care-bears, he bought our drinks, informed us that we were great people and announced that he was going to bed. Mo Mo and I only stayed a little bit longer then headed out.

        The next place on our agenda was apparently a hookah café where I was pleasantly surprised to have a large hookah placed on the table instead of tea. I thought he said that we would drink tea but apparently in the Arabic language, they say that they “drink” the hookah and they call hookahs “shishas.” It’s an easy mistake to make I guess… It was good but it was apple and annis flavored. I hate annis and licorice flavoring but the apple made it bearable I guess. There was also an adorable cat that I became good friends with right away. I didn’t have any food for it but it came on my lap and just wanted attention… Sooo cute! So I was in heaven for a while, talking about peace, love and respect with my new hippie friend, smoking hookah and cuddling with a cute kitty.  After we were done there, he wanted to show me another place but it was getting late and I needed to get some studying done. He wanted very badly to give me something from his berber tribe for my brother (I won’t say what it is so I don’t ruin gift) but in order to get this gift I had to go back to the Portuguese City where Mo Mo lived so he could get it. I fought with myself quite a lot over whether or not I should go with Mo Mo. I mean, how much did I really know this guy? Could I trust him to actually want to give me a gift? Or did he want something else? Was it a trick? How could I get out of the situation if it turned bad? Did I know my way back if I had to run? Etc… Okay so I know that my family in particular is probably going to be frightened by this next part BUT I will tell it all because you all know that I am currently safe and sound typing away in my little Arabic School in Rabat. RELAX! Heheh…

        It really isn’t that exciting honestly, but as you’ve probably guessed, I went ahead with him back to the Portuguese City. On the way he told me a story about when he had been held up at knife point when he had first moved to the city from the desert. The man who held him up was extremely drunk and Mo Mo confessed that he was rather “high.” Mo Mo pointed out that he tends to get very scared when he is high and nearly soiled himself when the man asked him for his wallet. Somehow he convinced the man that he really didn’t want to go to jail for killing someone for a little bit of money and offered to buy the guy a beer if he left him alone. Mo Mo turned to me and said “man, nobody wants to kill … they just wanna get drunk or high, it’s sad sometimes but true.” Hahah ohhh the wise words of Mo Mo... I wish I had taken notes on what he said so I could repeat it all. As we entered the Portuguese City and we passed his store and the Cistern, I knew exactly where I was. He lived right down a side street from the Cistern and as we went down it, I grabbed the pocket knife that I keep in my pocket and unfolded the biggest blade. I did not feel threatened mind you, Mo Mo was still rambling on, but I knew I could get away quick if I needed to with the help of a knife. Yikes, I felt like such a violent person… then I felt a wave of guilt when we walked through the doorway and he handed me the gift from his tribe. I wasn’t guilty but I felt like I should be for not trusting him. Better safe than sorry ;-)  Anyways, His apartment was tiny and I could see all of it from where I stood at the door. He showed me how he had just painted and installed a new window and wall fixtures and was building a few beds in his living room. He said that he is going to host couch surfers when he is finished fixing it up! Here’s the link to the couch surfing website if you don’t know what it is: http://www.couchsurfing.org/   . I have friends who have done this in cities around the US but I had no idea that it was world-wide! Very very cool. After talking about that Mo Mo tried to tell my fortune with his fortune cards but most of the things just confused me. Apparently I will buy a really nice house in the next 5 years though so I’m looking forward to that, or more looking forward to the job that gives me the money for buying a nice house in the next 5 years! Hahah…We left, he called me a cab, and I went back to face my flash cards and Arabic notes. It was a lovely night and I’m glad I was brave (and slightly stupid), because I wouldn’t have so many good memories. Sorry mom!

        Sunday morning, I threw open my window to see that the weather was gorgeous and warm. I wanted so badly to extend my stay another night, go rent a surfboard and enjoy the day, but I studied some more (patting myself on the back now… I’m such a good little girl) then packed up my stuff to go home. After checking out, the friendly hotel manager offered to call me a cab and marveled once again at the “very strange henna” on my hands that he had never seen in his life. I got to the train station way too early so I sat in the little café and drank verveine tea while eating a really weird croissant filled with apricot jam or something. I realized that my train changed in a different station than it had on the trip there so I spent the time puzzling over whether the internet was correct or my ticket. The internet schedule said that the trains change in Casa Port (where I had changed before), and my ticket stated that I would change trains in the other Casa station. I decided I would go with my ticket since it would be easier to wave that emphatically in an official’s face and get another way home than waving my computer around. Good logic if I do say so myself ;-D  It turns out my ticket was right and I fortunately didn’t need to wave anything in anyone’s face, I just had to sit on the cold hard cement for an hour and a half because my train was delayed 45 minutes.

        When I arrived in Rabat, I was happy to see Mourad waiting for me and even happier to assign him to watch my stuff so I could use the bathroom without taking everything into the stall with me hahah… I ate at the pizza hut in the station and showed Mourad my pictures while he told me about his progress in planning an international breakdancing event/ battle. He already has sponsors lined up and people flying in from New York, France and other places. He said how important it is for him to get the sponsors on board because he is covering the travel, lodging, and food costs for the special people he’s bringing in. He has also booked the largest theatre in Rabat so it sounds like this thing will be pretty awesome. I wish I could be around to see it!

        We didn’t hang out too long because I was exhausted and still wanted to review some more flash cards before bed so I thanked him for meeting me and I grabbed a taxi back to the hood (Yousseffia!).  It was good to see the Marouazis and they were glad that I was still alive… I think :)

 I’m now a week behind on posts but I will catch up this week… Hopefully! BEAR with me ;-D

LAISSEZ-MOI TRANQUILE!

        Friday morning I left the house around 10 for my 11:15 train. I made it on with no trouble and there were very few people in first class so I got to spread out and enjoy the ride to Casablanca. In Casa, I changed trains and this one had even less people in it. The windows were coated with grime and the fabric on the seats and carpets was threadbare… It was clean on the inside and air conditioned so that’s all that mattered. I was even able to take some semi-decent pictures through the dirty window. When the train pulled into the El Jadida station, it was the last stop, no train goes farther south as far as I know. I walked through the tiny station and out the front doors and grabbed a taxi to my hotel, the Ibis. It took only ten minutes to get through the city and as we emerged on the other side I saw the ocean in front of me with huge waves crashing onto the shore, we turned onto a road that ran along the boardwalk and the Hotel was right there. There’s something about seeing the ocean or even a sea or one of the great lakes that just makes me excited. I feel a rush of energy and a tingly sensation runs through my body, any large body of water seems to symbolize freedom and adventure to me. I love it!

        While I was checking in at the front desk, the manager came over and asked where I was from then proceeded to marvel at the henna on my hands. He said he had seen nothing like it and it was very strange hahah… he asked where I had it done and I said that I did it myself in Rabat. He nodded and continued to shake his head and say how strange it was. I don’t think he understood that I had done it because I think he was mainly concerned with who would have done such an awful job on a foreigner. After he was done exclaiming over my hands, he checked my paperwork, grinned at me and said proudly “You have room 106… ocean view!!” When I heard this I couldn’t help but grin back at him and say “Mezzian!” (which means “good!”). He was even more excited by that and asked if I spoke Arabic to which I shook my head and explained that I was studying it in hopes of someday speaking it. He smiled and said “Mezzian, welcome to Jedida! Tell me if you want anything.” Finally free of his questioning, I almost sprinted for the elevator and took the long ride all the way up to the first floor ;-) My room was definitely an ocean view, I opened my window right away but realized there were no blinds and the whole boardwalk could see into my room. I put the curtain in front of the window but I couldn’t make myself close the window, the sound of the waves was fabulous. The room was very clean and my bathroom had a shower that was separate from the toilet! Now that is something to be happy about! The best part of the room, however, was that I had a giant bed all to myself and in front of it was a large painting of a Moroccan lady who was sporting a uni-brow and scandalously clad in a see-through white dress. Mezzian! Haahha…

        It didn’t take me long at all to find out that the website I had booked the hotel through was wrong in saying that the hotel had wifi in every room and a gym by the pool. I was disappointed, but I really didn’t mind that much. I had come to relax and study so the internet would have only been more of a distraction. The lack of a gym disappointed me more since my Moroccan high-carb diet has my body needing energy more than ever. The pool was gorgeous but I wasn’t able to work up enough courage to dive in especially since it was only about 65 degrees out… Not very tempting. I organized my things and headed out to explore a little and get some food before it got dark. The board walk got busier and busier as the afternoon turned into evening, apparently it’s the place to be. Couples strolled in the sand down on the beach or sat on the concrete wall and flirted. Groups of young men with gelled hair and faded jeans stood around smelling strongly of cologne and whispering sweet nothings to any female that happened to walk by. Middle aged men parked their shiny BMWs and Mercedes along the street and watched everyone from their cars while listening to the radio. Older couples and families walked around talking and laughing and watched soccer games that began on the beach as soon as the tide went out. I loved the feel of it and walked leisurely along in order to observe everything, I couldn’t walk too leisurely though because guys would break away from their pack of men and try to casually match their step with mine, getting closer and closer and talking to me in every language they could think of until I had to acknowledge them somehow. I had purposely worn a hat and a large scarf to look more discrete and get less attention but apparently it didn’t work. I now think that it is virtually impossible for someone to be truly alone in this country. There is a large sense of community and with that comes very little privacy.

        I didn’t feel threatened in any way, I was more annoyed that when I would politely say hello and told them I wanted to be left alone, they would keep walking with me, trying to convince me to talk to them just for a minute or just for a quick cup of coffee or something of that sort. That’s how guys do their thing in Jedida apparently. I had managed to shake off most of the guys when one guy who actually spoke decent English started asking me a bunch of questions and, stupid me, I was tired of trying to get him to go away so I answered his questions about what I study, where I’m from and blah blah blah… I then realized that I had just told him I wanted to go into diplomacy and I’m trying to learn Arabic and yet I was trying to be alone and not talk to anyone. It seemed like a slight oxymoron to me and I was in a slight moral dilemma since he was very adamant about just wanting to talk about school, politics, and work over some tea. For some reason I told him I didn’t want tea but I was going to get something to eat and he took that as “Oh hey I would LOVE for you to join me for dinner!”… So we went to a café on the beach, I ordered a Salad Nicoise and he got some tea. I must admit that I didn’t mind the company, but I was still kind-of annoyed that now I had to try to keep a conversation going with someone I didn’t want to talk to in the first place. He told me he was an agricultural engineer and asked why I was learning Arabic. I thought he was joking since most people would consider it a very important language for people in diplomacy to learn but he seemed genuinely amused that I was learning Arabic. I must have been in a very easily annoyed that night because this too annoyed me. Or maybe he was just annoying? I’m still not sure. He was a nice person but the longer we talked, I got more of the feeling that he didn’t just want to talk about politics and work. He started to talk about how much he loved America and wanted to marry a foreign girl… and that was my signal to get going.

        When we had finished and we had watched the waves for a while, I began to get antsy and look around for the waiter who was MIA. Said, my dinner companion, asked if I was ready to go. I said yes, apologized for being slightly rude and explained that I was very tired and had a lot on my mind. He asked if I was mad at him for intruding on my time alone and I bluntly told him that I was at first but I didn’t mind anymore. That seemed to satisfy him and he began to look for the waiter as well. When the waiter didn’t come, he was about to get up and pay when I realized he intended to pay for me too. I thanked him but said that I wouldn’t allow him to pay for me, I wouldn’t accept it. He got a stubborn look on his face and said that I was his guest and I would not pay. I said he could pay for my drink since I suppose he had invited me to get a drink, but I would pay for my food. He ignored me and paid for it all anyways which annoyed me more than anything. I thanked him of course but I really didn’t appreciate him not respecting my wishes. He asked for my phone number and at this point I refused to give it to him and said that I would take his number. He asked me to call him if I wanted him to show me around the next day, so I thanked him and said that I had my own plans the next day but if I would call if I changed my mind. I declined his offer to drive me home and breathed a sigh of relief when we finally parted ways.

        The rest of my night consisted of making Arabic flash cards while watching Minority Report and CNN with the ocean breeze blowing in through my window. I couldn’t have been much happier. I realized how little privacy I have had this entire trip and even though I love people and being in constant contact with them, I do need my time alone. It lets me re-charge and focus on tasks a little better. I slept well that night :)

        On Saturday I woke up late and immediately opened my window to see that clouds hid the sun and the weather looked rather wet and gloomy. The ocean was still gorgeous, but I used this as an excuse to stick around the hotel; get in a good workout, take a long shower, study a little and make a plan for exploring a little bit of the town. I finally ventured out to explore my surroundings and realized that in all my fascination with the people and the ocean, I had failed to notice the abandoned hotels along the beachfront. Two decent sized skeletons of once elegant hotels now gaped vacantly at the ocean. They looked like they had been empty for quite a while and were now consumed by overgrown trees and bushes that used to decorate their lawns. They looked like something out of a movie about the end of civilization. I realized that El Jedida had probably seen better days and wondered what they had been like. My hunger led me to a little café on the beach… this time I happily ate in peace and paid for my own meal. Feeling rather self-indulgent, I paid some guys a few dollars to let me ride their gorgeous black horse on the beach. They had camels too, but I figured I had had enough of camels for a while. Plus, no camel could ever live up to my beloved Pookie from the camel trek ;-D I was also able to go faster on the horse so my decision was easy. I bonded with the horse and let it slobber on my arm while I talked to the owners for a bit. I got to practice some Arabic with them and I was happy when they didn’t find it funny that I would want to learn their language.

         I meandered downtown not really knowing where I was going, but I knew the general direction and remembered seeing it on my cab ride through town. I was followed by a guy down the road that lead to the main street. He was similar to Said in not taking a hint when I bluntly said that I didn’t want to talk and would like to be left alone. Fortunately he asked me if I was married so I flashed my faux wedding band his way and with that, he muttered “quelle domage” and pretty much did an about face and headed back in the direction he had come. Quite proud of myself for not completely lying (I never actually said that I was married, he just assumed heheh), I smiled and kept walking. However, as soon as he had departed, a car creeped up beside me and I prayed that all they wanted was directions… but no, to 20-something men with childish grins on their faces nodded and motioned for me to come over. I looked away and kept walking and they passed me and rolled backwards to try to talk to me again. I’m starting to think this is like a serious hobby or pastime for these guys. When I still didn’t acknowledge them, the driver parked the car on the road, got out and tried walking with me. I almost started laughing, turned to him and said “S'il vous plait! LAISSEZ-MOI TRANQUILE!” (which basically means, “Please! Leave me alone!”). He looked shocked, backed away and retreated back to his car looking like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or be frightened by my unexpected outburst.

        I was definitely happy to reach the main road and duck inside a little spa with a friendly cross-eyed man who eagerly told me about all their new treatments including the age spots and wrinkle reducers. I pretended to act shocked that he would even suggest that I needed a treatment to which he grinned and told me that it wasn’t for me of course hahah… I decided to get a manicure and pretty much zoned out for an hour watching two little green and blue lovebirds preen each other in their cage outside the window. The cross-eyed owner came up and nearly scared me to death when he tapped me on the shoulder and asked if everything was alright. He asked if I was always in such deep thought to which I just shrugged and smiled. After I paid, he gave me a handful of maps and city guide pamphlets to help me get around and told me that I had to go see the Portuguese city before I left. I thanked him and feeling relaxed again, I headed out. I took a stroll through a pretty little park and sat on a bench for a while trying to figure out how to get to the Portuguese city. I walked for about 15 minutes and found the old fortress with no problems. I went in through one of the gates and stood there for a minute wondering where to go… there were no street signs… very few people… and it was very old looking. I turned to the right and stared up at a church looking building for a minute trying to decide if I should just head back or try to explore more before the sun set. A man with dread locks rushed past me and stopped distractedly asking me something in Arabic, he looked in a hurry so I shook my head and said I didn’t understand him. He broke into nearly perfect English and asked me if I had the time; I told him the time and before he could turn to go I asked him if he could point me in the direction of the cistern. I figured I could trust a guy who seemed to be short on time and took little to no interest in me. I was right because he lead me part of the way and stopped at his shop and pointed at the door of the cistern that was only about 10 yards away. He didn’t even ask me to look in his shop or anything.

       As I walked through the little doorway I thought it was closed because the lights were off inside and no other tourists were around. Luckily the lights in the little lobby flicked on and I paid a small entrance fee to the guard to get in. He pointed me towards a little old man in a white robe who was waiting for me by a giant wooden door. He pulled it open and motioned me into a dimly lit cavernous room. He closed the door behind me and motioned for me to follow him down a ramp onto the floor of the cistern. A huge well was in the middle with a hole above it to let in the rain water. Surrounding the well was a huge pool of water that had collected and branched out almost to the walls. We had to walk along the walls where the ground was highest in order to not get wet. The little white figure waddled on in front of me, stopping now and then to tell me dates and explain things. He motioned for me to look at a line on the wall that was about two or three feet above my head. This was the water line that the cistern was usually full to back when it was in full working order. The whole thing was rather creepy and marvelous all at the same time. I especially loved being down there with no other tourists around so I could hear the drip drip of the water and get better pictures of the reflections. Very cool.

        As we emerged from the cave, the old man showed me a 3D map of the fortress and told me that I should go see the corners if I could (there’s a special name for them that I can’t remember…) I thanked him with a small tip and headed on my way. As I made my way towards one of the outer corners of the fortress I was surprised to see that it wasn’t just a tourist attraction, the Portuguese city was still a little city that people lived and worked in. I had to dodge through a soccer game and cautiously walk around two little boys throwing rocks at each other, but somehow I made it up to the top and knew why the old man told me I had to see it. It had old cannons placed along it’s walls and a gorgeous view out over the water and the city. On top of that, the sun was going down in orange, pink and blue sunset that reflected beautifully off of the orange-ish walls of the fortress and the glistening clear water below. The dark blue fishing boats were anchored around the bay and seagulls squatted on the dark black rocks poking out of the shallow water. I ran around like a little kid exploring all the little outpost areas and cannon holes except for that one creepy dark doorway that lead down somewhere I didn’t have the courage to investigate. After my camera and I were satisfied and the sun was almost gone, I headed back.

        As I passed the shop of the guy who had helped me find the cistern I heard him ask if I had found everything okay. I said I had seen everything and thanked him for his help. We talked for a little bit and he told me how a bunch of his American friends just left for home but some of them had been studying Arabic in Rabat too. He said that others had been living with Berber families and learning specific Berber dialects. I somehow began exploring his shop because he had some adorable miniature hookahs that caught my eye. I didn’t get those but I did end up buying some stuff and he helped me carry it outside the fortress and called a taxi for me since it was after dark. He said his name was Mo Mo, gave me his number and said to call him if I wanted to go out later.

To be continued ;-D

Being A Vegetarian Never Looked So Good...

        Before leaving school on Tuesday, I threw together a loose plan to get away for the weekend by myself. One of the staff, an American guy, tried to help me by giving me his friend’s number who was traveling to Chefchauoen that week, but not only did I want to go somewhere I hadn’t been yet, but his friend was leaving that day or the next and I wanted to spend Eid (which was the next day) with my host family. My B1 teacher, Sarah, took me to a bookstore where I could find index cards to make vocab flash cards over break. We have learned a ridiculous amount of new vocab and this is the only way I’ll be able to keep up. I was relieved to have a break but still overwhelmed by the thought of all of the things that needed to get done and the idea of traveling alone on such short notice. I decided to not worry about it that night and met up with some school friends for dinner. The little market in Youseffia was alive and bustling with stalls selling piles of coal and men sitting at stone wheels sharpening knife blades for the next day. It was like Christmas Eve when people rush out to get whatever they need for the holiday since everything would be closed down on Eid. I wanted so badly to wander around and take pictures but I had to run home and get ready for dinner with my friends. While eating I talked with a guy named Zane who I hadn’t really met yet since he had just started classes a week or two ago. This really is a small world because I found out that he is from Bloomfield Hills and graduated in the same high school class as Kelsey at Cranbrook! So that was cool, and the evening lowered my stress level to a manageable level. When I walked part of the way home with Ciara, she told me about a blind girl at our school who is from the US. This girl sounds really cool and it blows my mind to think that despite not being able to see, she is still able to travel to a foreign country, learn a foreign language, and I believe she even has a boyfriend here! She is no stick in the mud, that’s for sure. Later that night when I returned home, Nadia agreed to walk around the market with me so I could take pictures of the hustle and bustle, it had slowed down a little since before, but I got a few good shots and that’s all that matters. I loved the excitement in the air and wanted pictures to remember it by. When we got home They got out the henna and I got to try to henna my own hands. The left hand turned out nice, but the right hand looks really weird and we were laughing pretty hard about it. On top of it being weird, I put it on too thick and it dripped down the side of my hand and it made it look even more odd. Oh well… next time I’ll be better :P

        On Wednesday the family was up bright and early and Nadia woke me up to tell me that a student from my school was here to spend Eid with us. They told me earlier that it was an American girl but all the American girls I knew were either already with host families or had plans already so I was curious to find out who this mystery American was. The school is pretty small and I was surprised to not even have an idea who it might be. Nadia rummaged through her closet and threw a pair of soft pants and a matching kaftan at me… I guess this was what I was wearing hahah… They were a black velvety material with gold stitching decorating the edges. I put a belt around it and it was actually quite pretty and very comfortable. When I came downstairs Mohammed and his wife Sana (I think that’s her name, I have the worst memory in the world!) were already there and so was Tanja (I spelled her name Tania earlier.. Oops), I guess somehow someone thought Tanja was an American despite her thick German accent… easy mistake to make ;-) …I was very happy to see her and my curiosity was satisfied.

        Mama Kaltoum had a huge spread of wonderful baked things for breakfast, we feasted on the little fried crepe things, the spongy honey pancake things, the “Moroccan Chips”, coconut cookies, apricot wafer cookie things and a bunch of other random carbs. Unfortunately I was immediately sleepy again after eating all of that and we weren’t supposed to commence the sheep slaughtering until after the King killed the first one so we lounged around like a bunch of bums and I tried very hard not to sleep. The king finally came on TV and to my amusement he looked even more tired than me. We watched him praying at the mosque with a bunch of other important people and the poor guy could hardly keep his eyes open. The hair on his chin looked like he hadn’t shaved in a day or two and he had dark circles under his eyes. I mentioned this to Mohammed who told me that if he had the chance, he would go up to the King, shake his hand and just say “THANK YOU.” I asked him why and Mohammed proceeded to tell me that he knows people close to the King and they say that he rarely sleeps. The only times he really gets a half-decent rest is when he is being driven from place to place. He also told me that the King had recently (I think it was recent) gone to a little town that was behind a bunch of mountains that few people even knew about and had found that they were dying out because their living conditions were so bad. Apparently he immediately called in aid and set up military hospitals. He also found the officials who were supposed to be helping these people and made them live under those same living conditions for a week! Apparently this lit the fire under more appointed leaders to stay involved in the needs of the people and not sit back and enjoy fat paychecks for nothing. I must say that despite some unfavorable views I have heard about the King, I have seen how much Moroccan people respect him and love him and how much he is actually working to make life better for the people and I am impressed with his work ethic. I don’t agree with him on every aspect of his reign but he does seem to be helping this country way more than hurting it.

        After watching the king kill two lambs (one for him and one for poor people), Baba Ali and Mohammed got dressed in their “killer clothes” as Mohammed called them, then proceeded to the roof to do the deed. Tanja and I reluctantly followed them since they wanted us to see it. We kind of watched and made faces at each other, the worst part was watching them slit it’s throat and see the life fading from it’s eyes and body. I could only watch for a second and had to leave. I had pet those little guys that morning and now I was watching them die… it wasn’t pleasant at all. I came back up to see how they prepared it and was a little grossed out when they poked holes in the skin at the ankles of the lamb and started blowing air into it’s carcass to separate it from the body and make it easier to skin. Whenever they would do something especially gross like breaking a bone, Tanja and I would cringe and make noises to which Mohammed would say “Don’t picture it as your leg” or “Don’t think of it as your arm,” he also said “It is not pleasant but it is time for us to be selfish.” I could understand that I guess, that was how they get in the mindset to do icky work like that. Sana came up to help them and I had to chuckle a little to see this dainty little lady walking through puddles of blood in her little heels and movie star sunglasses. Nadia held the other sheep behind the door in the laundry room because the sheep are not supposed to see each other killed. I think it knew what happened because it kept trying to get out and see the deck where it had been, either that or it just really wanted it’s friend back. Either way it was a little heartbreaking and I almost teared up a little when Tanja and I were petting it to calm it down and I realized that I was telling it “shhhh… it’s okay, it’s okay”…I was lying to the poor sheep! But what was I supposed to say?! … “shhh, calm down honey, we’ll kill you next and eat you for dinner, don’t worry!” Ahhh… This is NOT my kind of Holliday. Not cool.

        I had to leave for a while when they brought out the other sheep to kill, I knew I wouldn’t be any help and I had already seen one die. That was enough. Tanja stayed up there so I just went to my room and studied to get my mind off of it. Nadia came to check on me and asked if I wanted to come up, I said I had seen enough and thanked her. She understood and motioned that she was staying downstairs to bake bread so I went down to keep her company. When the lamb was done, they came down with a tray of freshly cut meat that Mohammed cut into small pieces and wrapped in fat to make shish kabobs. It looked delicious but when Baba put them on the coal grill, the who entire room filled with smoke from the fat and I had to run out of the room because I couldn’t see and my eyes were stinging and streaming with tears. Nadia came down to make sure I was okay and I said I would just wait down there until they were done cooking the kabobs, it was really kind-of funny that they cook them inside the kitchen and everyone just chills in there not being able to see each other hahah… When I came up, Tanja said her eyes didn’t sting because she wears contacts, apparently they protect your eyes or something? Weird. Soon after the doorbell rang and in came a girl who they referred to as “The Korean” hahah… I don’t even remember he name because they called her that almost the whole time. She had lived with them in the same way as me a few years ago and comes back every Eid to see them because she works in Morocco now.

        Over dinner, Baba Ali and Mohammed joked that this was the United Nations since we had almost every continent represented: America, Europe, Asia and Africa! Baba Ali dubbed himself Kofi Annan. I purposely didn’t ask what parts of the lamb we were eating because I knew from seeing the meat raw that it wasn’t the main part of the lamb that I’m used to eating. They were some strange looking cuts so I knew I would be better off just eating it and trying not to think about what it was. After I had eaten a few bites, Tanja asked what we were eating and I cringed as Mohammed informed us that we were currently eating the liver and we would eat the heart next! Woo Hoo! My favorite… I love eating the hearts of adorable little animals that I had pet that morning and told that everything was okay and not to be scared. Ughhhh… I must say that for being a meat lover, this was the closest I have ever been to becoming a vegetarian. I politely tried three bites of the heart, my parents always taught me to take three bites (the three bite rule!) before deciding not to eat something. They seemed to be very exited about eating heart as well so I couldn’t just NOT try it.

        After dinner we went downstairs to the salon, ate fruit and talked. Mohammed told us how Eid is becoming way overdone and less of what it should be. He said that wealthy and well off families are supposed to buy a lamb and keep just a small part for themselves while giving the rest to the poor. Now, he said that EVERYONE feels the need to buy a lamb because it’s a status thing. If the neighbor has a lamb, the others want two lambs, it has become a competition for some people and many of them keep most of the meat for themselves because they spend a fortune on the sheep and need the meat to feed their own families. He said that some wives even urge their husbands to sell their TV or furniture to make sure they have a lamb on Eid. Gee… this reminds me of a little holiday we call Christmas in the states hmmm? Yes, I do believe we have the same problem in the US. Everyone wants to keep up with the Joneses ;-D

        We also watched a protest on TV in front of the parliament building and it actually showed the police beating peaceful protesters. Mohammed exclaimed his surprise at them actually being allowed to show that on TV and my jaw was on the floor. They even had a full interview with the protesters who explained the situation. I had read that not long ago they would even chase tourists who took pictures of beatings and try to make them delete the pictures or hand over their camera. This is a very good sign that Morocco is slowly becoming more accepting of opposition. It’s only a matter of time :) Mohammed and his wife left, Mama Kaltoum and Nadia got out the henna again and had me henna Tanja’s hand and the Korean as well since apparently I’m good at it. I was surprised I had any cred after the horrible mess I made of my right hand. I made sure to make them much more simple and delicate this time, It’s also a lot easier to do it on someone else hahah so there were no catastrophes this time.

On Thursday, I had lunch with the family since I have a hard time passing up couscous. I was a little apprehensive though because I had heard that the tradition is to eat the lamb’s head the day after Eid. My fears were realized when I sat down to see the lovely mound of couscous and veggies along with more strange looking meat. Luckily it was easy to eat around and they were satisfied with me trying one small part of the brain since mama Kaltoum doesn’t even like it. She smiled slyly and started cutting another part of meat for us that was actually normal! I almost cried with happiness hahah… It was very good and all traces of vegitarian thoughts were wiped from my mind. Baba Ali got to chow down on his prized lamb brain alone and apparently this affected his brain because he found a funny looking bone in the pile of couscous and started pretending to tell the future with it. He said that I would leave them in a day since I we all knew I was leaving the next day to travel, and he said that the Korean would go back to her home etc… We were cracking up because he predicted things we all knew would happen, and he did it VERY accurately! Hahah… Gotta love him.

        After eating I went to the train station to buy my tickets to a little seaside town called El Jadida. I decided on that town because it was closer than Agadir and easier to get to. I didn’t want to worry about such a long trip and changing trains AND busses when I was traveling by myself. Mama Kaltoum said it was a nice quiet place and Baba Ali said I had to visit the old Portuguese City that it was known for. I met Valeria and Lavenia outside of the train station and went down to the Medina to shop. We found that most of the big stores were closed for Eid (the country basically shuts down for 5 days) but there were people selling things on tarps and lots of food vendors with rickety old cotton candy machines, carts piled with snails and boiling pots for escargot on the fly and people making chips that smelled fabulous. It was a whole different feel from the Medina on regular days, there were lots of people but they all seemed so carefree compared to the normal desperate hustle and bustle. People strolled up and down and vendors didn’t care if you bought things or not, people were there to enjoy the holiday. We didn’t find much we wanted to buy but we did find a guy selling gorgeous scarves for very cheap so I got like 5 or 6 of them for less than 10 dollars. I have decided that I’m going to decorate my room (my apartment room) with them when I get back.

        After a while Valeria felt sick and we got some tea before they headed home and Mourad came out to shop with me. I looked at lamps and these cool little stool things but I was just checking prices because people were not bargaining well that day since there was less competition for prices. Mourad agreed that they were not giving me good prices so I kept it moving. We went to an internet café and he helped me book my hotel in El Jadida then we walked around for a while just enjoying the night. So many people were out just wandering around so it was really nice to get some exercise and fresh air while people watching. He also feeds my need for a lively debate and conversation on politics and current affairs. I was ready to go spend some time alone though and I was getting really really excited to embark on my adventure the next day. He thought I was crazy for wanting to go alone but I didn’t care what he thought. Not in the least bit.

Counting Sheep

Last night I came home to what sounded like high heels clicking across the roof and an occasional “Baaaaaaaaa” “Baaaaaaayaaaaaaaahhhh” echoing down the stairs. Yes, I have sheep on my ceiling… not just one, but two adorable fluffy sheep above my head. Let me tell you, they have nothing to do with helping me sleep! On the contrary unfortunately… not that I really need help sleeping anyways. After dinner I went up to visit them on the roof and they were all cuddled up together on a pile of grass and hay, apparently they had cost the Marouazi family quite a lot of money so this is a pretty big deal for them. The sheep stared at me quietly with eyes that don’t seem to see anything but are still stupidly cute somehow. Mama Kaltoum came up and told me they were only 7 months old and were very attached to each other. She proceeded to tell me that they had gone to buy one of the sheep and it wouldn’t stop bleating until they brought over the other one too. She said one was for baba Ali and the other was for Mohammad… each guy gets a sheep here I guess. I asked her how they got them home and she said they put them in the back seat of the car so of course I asked her if they put on their seatbelts and she said that they indeed put on the sheep’s seatbelts. How precious… I took a pic of Mama Kaltoum fixing the tie on one of the sheep’s legs because it was too tight. They took pictures of me trying to pet the sheep but the sheep kept hiding their heads in the corner as if to say “I know you act nice now but your going to eat me on Wednesday!!!” The smaller sheep would also put it’s head on the other and the bigger one would look at me in the most menacing look a sheep can possibly give… which in reality was pretty darn cute and resembled a sullen 5 year old guarding his favorite teddy bear from the washing machine. Eventually I figured out they both hated their noses being touched but loved a good rub behind the ears (don’t we all? Hahah..).

        So I bonded with some sheep last night, no big deal. I’m going to pay dearly for it on Wednesday and somehow the lamb may not taste as good knowing I’m eating my darling little ceiling sheep. I love animals but I refuse to be a vegetarian, meat is just too good… I don’t know if I can watch them get killed though. Is it worse to kill it for fun/ unnecessary ritual or not be able to watch it die, but eat it anyway? …sigh… one of those moral struggles I may not have a conclusion to. I will admit I have fantasized about letting the fluffy things free but they would have no chance out there on the streets of Rabat where children get really excited every time they see a lamb or a goat and rush to it… there’s no way to disguise my sheepies, they wouldn’t  make very good cows… maybe poodles? …I’ll keep plotting I guess...


Speaking of plotting, I've been going around to pretty much EVERYONE at school to find someone to travel with me to Agadir this weekend but most people are going on the camel trip or spending it with their host families. I spoke to the Italian girls Valeria and Lavinia (I may have mangled their names but I think I'm close lol) about traveling the next two weekends together but this weekend they are going on the camels so that doesn't solve the problem of THIS weekend :/ ...they also want me and Jackie to meet up with them in Italy and are helping me figure out the best places to go and in what order. That has helped tremendously! It's good to have an idea of what to do there and have more people to see :) WELL, I'm going to figure out more travel plans... wish me luck!

TGIF in Rabat!

On Friday I felt a lot better, I still had that sick feeling every once in a while but my body didn't ache from head to toe and THAT was something to be happy about. I made it through class without any major catastrophes because luckily for me, the day I missed they had gone over family members and some other things that I had already learned. I met with Sarah after class and she helped me with some of my homework that I was behind on. It's really frustrating to me that a lot of the homework has vocabulary that hasn't been taught or even explained in it and I don't have internet at home to look up the words I don't know. I'm starting to get a little overwhelmed by the vocabulary we ARE learning, so I don't want to see things that I haven't even learned yet. It makes me want to explode lol... okay not literally... that would be rather messy :P
        That night I met up with Ciara and Donna in Agdal and we went to meet some fellow classmates at TGI Fridays for dinner. Yes, Rabat has a TGI Fridays! Unlike the Moroccan Dominoes Pizza, they knew what boneless buffalo wings were and made them right, and I got to enjoy a good old grilled chicken ceasar salad... Heaven on earth. Not that I don't love Moroccan food, It's just hard not to crave the things I love at home, my comfort foods. Like most Moroccan hot spots, they played an awesome selection of American 90s music that I forgot even existed. The waiters had to wear the dorky suspenders and visor hats too, it was precious. It was one of the guys' birthdays and we were sad that we forgot to tell the staff that it was his birthday because apparently the waiters come sing for you there too. I almost forgot I was in Morocco for a minute!
        The girls went home to get dressed and then we met at the guys' apartment to try Will's chewy birthday cake and some 40 DH per bottle Moroccan wines (which weren't bad at all!). Mourad and his friend met us there as well as two other guys I didn't know very well. One of them was Moroccan but raised in France and voiced great approval of the Moroccan love for Americans. He also said that he hates the French and didn't know why anyone would want to be French or live in France (this seems to be a common sentiment around here). Good thing we didn't have any of our French friends with us that night... At about midnight, we took taxis downtown to a nightclub called Amnesia that is frequented by my friends. At the door the bouncers weren't going to let us in at first (even though they're in love with Donna and Ciara) because they thought that the Moroccans with us were trying to get in with us and didn't really know us. On the contrary, we INVITED them and were largely unable to convince the bouncers of this. Luckily Mourad pulled out his business card that describes his Free Art association and somehow that convinced the bouncers that they weren't riding on our coat-tails. Each guy had to pay dearly to enter while us girls got in for free. We got our own area and bottle of some terrible alcohol like gin or something that we left for the guys to help themselves to. Mourad and his friend didn't drink since they are Muslim so I felt terrible that they had to pay so much to get into the club. They danced and had fun though so hopefully it wasn't too much of a problem to them. I think we left around 5:00... the club wasn't even closed but it was getting ridiculous and we were tired, those people can dance FOREVER! I would have been good leaving by 3! We bargained with a cab driver who was trying to rip us off, unfortunately we weren't drunk and knew how much a cab costs to get back to where the girls live. On our way home, a police car followed us then stopped to talk to our cab driver at a light then waved us through a red light... weird. Then the cop car showed up again with it's lights on and pulled us over, he tried to talk to us but we didn't understand him. I think that's all he needed to know because he got back in his car and just followed us for a while then left when we got dropped off. Donna said he was probably just making sure we weren't prostitutes and had seen her sitting in the front seat and thought she was Moroccan. Yikes...
        
Saturday, I woke up exhausted on their apartment couch reeking of smoke and nastiness. I put myself together and ran down to KFC to get some food that I could carry out because I wouldn't want to sit anywhere in the condition I was in. They were out of mashed potatoes... quel domage! So I got some panini sandwich that ended up being disgusting. I just didn't want to not have food and get back to the house and find out that I had missed lunch, I didn't want mama Kaltoum to feel like she had to make me anything either since I didn't tell her when I would be back that day. My cab driver who took me back to Yassoufia laughed at me when I hit my head on the roof trying to get in... these cars are made for midgets I think. I was happy to get home and enjoy a shower and sleep for most of the afternoon. I spent some time with the fam and did some studying but my stomach was bothering me again so it was hard to concentrate on schoolwork. I really didn't do much else on Saturday... it was a lame day.


Sunday, I got up early for breakfast since I knew that the family was planning on going somewhere for the day and I didn't want to miss it. While I was back in bed doing homework, mama Kaltoum came bustling into my room with Nadia behind her looking like they were almost ready to leave so I assumed they were coming to say goodbye. Mama Kaltoum asked if I was going somewhere that day and I told her that I was going shopping with a friend later. She then asked if I wanted to go with them to Casablanca for the day and I had no idea what to say because I knew they were leaving soon (and I wasn't ready), I really did have plans to shop in a few hours, and I had no idea what they would be doing there. She informed me that they were visiting her son Mohammad and his wife to eat and would be back around 5 and that I should call my friend and say I was going to Casablanca and would be back at 5 to go shopping later. Hahah... SO I guess my decision was made for me and I was going to Casa. I got dressed and threw some homework in my purse and squeezed into the car with my happy little Moroccan family.
        The ride wasn't bad, and probably less hectic and smelly than the train ride to Casa. Unfortunately the road was kind of bouncy and my homework had to wait since my stomach was threatening to kill me if I didn't watch the road. Then baba Ali lit up his cig and hardly had his window open so I started to get a headache and my stomach wanted to jump ship. Okay, and while I'm complaining, Nadia is adorable, I love her, don't get me wrong! But the back seat is a decent enough size to fit both of our booties but she loves to practically sit on top of me so she can see and talk and hold onto my arm when she's feeling extra cuddly lol... This was also a problem when my head started to hurt because she's one of those people who doesn't have volume control and pretty much yells whatever she has to say... and this yelling was right in my unwelcoming ear :)
        I was relieved when we arrived at Mo's house and I finally got to meet their "artiste" son and his "artiste" wife. They were very loving and welcoming people, I loved watching them interact with their family because they are really affectionate and laugh all the time. I feel so bad that I can NEVER remember the name of Mohammad's wife! She is the cutest little thing and looks just like her goofy little character on the comedy show I saw her on TV. She cannot be over 5 feet tall if that, with rosy cheeks and gigantic eyes. I swear the girl never stops smiling and laughing! I can tell the whole family adores her. She speaks a little english but I think she was timid to try with me and just decided to speak a little french with me instead. 
        I got to speak in English with Mohammad and he told me about his most recent film projects, he is doing a series of short films since he is actually trying to be a director and not just an actor. After these projects in Italy, he will be working more on a movie with another director who worked with some big names in the business. The film is based on a Moroccan slave who discovered New Mexico and apparently Denzel Washington has already agreed to play the part so I'm excited to see how that turns out. It's supposed to be very controversial though so I want to find out more about the basis of the story since it's supposed to be true. Mohammed also told me that he was in the movie Babel and they had filmed right under his old house so he had Leonardo DiCaprio and some other actors come up to rest and have tea with them in his house lol so random... We also got on a political topic somehow and he briefly mentioned that Obama is hurting the relationship of the US with Morocco somehow, I asked him how and he didn't really answer me. He just said that Morocco agrees more with the Republicans and hope that the next president is not like Obama. I have heard a lot of Bush haters here so I am really curious to understand why he said all this. I'm hoping to talk more with him when he and his wife come over for Eid this week.
        Dinner was very good, it was a more modern salad and a traditional lamb tagine. I was so excited to actually have good lamb, and lots of it! yum :) Before we left, Mohammad's wife gave gifts to me, Nadia and mama Kaltoum. Nadia and I got jewelry and mama Kaltoum got a huge jug of this rare honey from central Africa that is good for people who can't have a lot of sugar. Mama Kaltoum hugged the bottle to her like it was a heap of gold lol it was really cute. I can't wait to see them again for Eid.

Today I paid a cab to take me to school since the freaking bus made me mad. I got to the bus stop early and it was about to pull out when I knocked on the doors to let me on and he just pulled away! They never do that unless they're full so I was not in the mood to wait 15+ minutes until the next bus came and be late for class because I knew it would be too full to let me off in the right spot lol... It only cost a little over 50 cents more than if I had taken the bus, this MAY become normal for me :D
        I got a little overwhelmed in class and decided to sign up for extra tutoring other than the time I had with Sarah. That worked out well because they helped me get through most of my homework and the rest I can do at home without dying too much... it think... hahah... This week is weird though because it's a huge holiday for the Moroccans and we get wed-fri off of school for Eid. This means we only have two days of real class and the rest is going to be studying on our own (NOT COOL). But I am kinda excited to celebrate with my family on Wednesday, minus the slaughtering of the sheep which will be crying on my rooftop when I get home tonight. It's comical to see the ways people bring sheep back to their houses because all week I've been seeing sheep on the back of motorcycles and mopeds, in the back seat of cars, being carried or dragged down the street... and on top of that I hear them bleating all through the neighborhood at night in the CITY! Oh my... I wonder if those poor little things have any idea what they will face come Wednesday morning.
        Due to the short week, I don't know how much internet access I will have so I'm trying to figure out a trip for this weekend on very short notice. Since I will have extra time this weekend, I want to go to Agadir since it will be in the 80s and I really need some sun and warmth. I know there are lots of good hotels for reasonable prices so I'm just trying to find people to go with me who aren't going on the Sahara trip this weekend. I obviously don't have the funds to take a second Sahara trip :P


Wish me luck!