Monday, April 6, 2009
Had a little issue and woke up before my alarm. I changed out of my pajamas, grabbed my notebook, and headed back up to the rooftop terrace. I did some journaling while I watched the city wake up. (That sounds so much more poetic in Spanish, for the record.) The light filtered in and the roosters started crowing, but in general all was still quiet. I saw a guy sitting on the roof having his coffee while looking out over the city like I was. It was really peaceful being up there by myself and enjoying my last morning in Morocco.
I came back down and got ready then we met the other group and hiked to site with ruins of a Spanish mosque. It was quite the hike and I was so sad I didn’t have my camera because the view was amazing. You could see the whole city all blue and white, especially from the minaret. We had breakfast and hung out for quite a while just enjoying the scenery. We climbed back down, got our stuff, then got back on the bus.
We drove to Ceuta but the driver had to let us off at the border since it’s Spanish territory. We got out and walked to customs where I probably had the most shocking experience of the whole trip. The place was packed with people (mostly men) pushing their way through to get their passports stamped at the various windows and cars trying to get by. We went to the window for foreigners which was closed and the next one we tried shut right as we got there even though Rick tried to bribe him. Apparently they used to collect all of our passports, show the Morocco Exchange paperwork, and get them stamped all at once; but recently they’ve requested to see each person individually. It was hot, smelly, dirty, and I felt like I was doing something wrong. One by one we pushed our way to a window (all 35 of us) and got stamped. As soon as a police officer nearby saw what was going on, he directed everyone else near us to step aside and let us through since we were Americans. I felt awful that I got priority over these people just because I was born in a certain place - some of them come every day in hopes that they will be granted permission to pass into European territory. It’s the “European dream” if you will (the whole American dream is definitely a disappearing thing). I could see that corruption is a big problem, and Rick said sometimes police brutality can be an issue. The whole process took about an hour and the guides told us it’s the worst experience they’ve had trying to cross back into Ceuta – they weren’t sure why there were so many people, possibly because of Semana Santa. We zipped through customs, got in taxis, and headed to the port where we jumped on our ferry right away.
The ride back was much quicker – only 35 minutes and we each got something to drink for free. We filled out some paperwork then said goodbye to Ben and Rick. It was sad to really be off African soil, I had such an amazing time there and wish it could’ve been longer. Back in Algeciras we had a few hours to kill before our bus left so I tried to call Mom and Dad then went to an internet café. I had some trouble getting through then they weren’t there L I had an email from Mandy saying that Grandma Peter was in the hospital for her heart. It sounded like everything was ok, but she had to get it shocked! We got on the bus for our 3+ hour ride, then back to Granada. I called Mom and Dad right when I got there and they were trying to call me at the same time but were having some troubles with their calling card. It was SO good to talk to them! Unfortunately I was informed that there was a huge earthquake in Italy that killed 150 people (later 200+ were reported). Why is there always so much drama when we travel?!
We took the 10 back to Palencia then Taylor and I got to meet Julia’s family: Rafa(el), Mundi, Cristina, and Sylvia. They were really sweet but definitely different than what I expected. I guess I’m not sure what I imagined them to be like, but they were different. I will admit that I like Francisco better than Rafa.. Mundi had short, dyed hair and she smoked in the kitchen! Sylvia was sick most of the time but was tall, thin, and really sweet. Cristina was a little ball of fire with short, curly hair. She was all over the place! We didn’t get to spend much time with them since we both had to unpack and repack right away. We had dinner, I took a shower, then had three hours of sleep…
Random thoughts about Morocco that I didn’t fit in anywhere else:
· The oranges were HUGE. Once you peeled them they were normal sized, but the peel was definitely an inch thick
· We drank bottled water the whole time
· Moroccans eat lots of red meat and no pork (obviously Islamic influence) which is more or less opposite of Spain
· According to the Qur’an, men are allowed to have four wives. The historical reasoning is because at the time men of every religion had as many wives as they wanted to Islam was the first to put a limit on the exact number and reduce the mistreatment of women. Five is a holy number in Islam so that’s probably one of the reasons it was chosen. The actual verse in the Qur’an states, (loosely translated, of course) “A man may have four wives if he can love them and support them all equally…which is impossible” So for centuries, and in some places today, men disregarded the second and third parts of the verse and grant themselves the right to have four wives. I suppose it’s up to your each individual’s interpretation but there’s a lot of controversy about it right now. The girls we talked to at DARNA explained that it’s technically legal but now the man must have the consent of his wife. It’s only culturally acceptable to have another wife if your current one is unable to have children or has a terminal illness.
· Morocco is 99.9% Islam but is very tolerant of other religions.
· People seemed very happy and smiley in general. It’s probably partially because I’m a tourist, but I was surprised how different their demeanor is from Andalucians.
· Just 15 years ago Spaniards were still immigrating to Morocco because the country was in such ruins. Throughout history the desired country has alternated between Spain and Morocco numerous times.
· Whiney and Christine’s señora told them when they got back from the trip they had to leave their bags outside until they could be properly cleaned, put their clothes straight into the washing machine, and shower immediately. She said something about bugs in her house and kept telling them how dangerous/dirty Morocco is. Somehow I doubt she’s ever been there so why do people like this think they know what it’s like? Moroccans never did anything to her.
4-5-09
Sunday, April 5, 2009
We woke up around 7:00 to make sure everyone had enough time to get ready. There wasn’t a plug-in in the bathroom – the only mirror in the house – which I should’ve realized since the women wear the hajib. Anyway, I did my hair in the room where we slept using my compact mirror. We had the delicious breakfast again which included Moroccan napolitanas today! They weren’t quite the same or as good but I was excited nonetheless. We said goodbye to the family and did our best to express our gratitude. I hope they got the message through the language barrier…
We met the groups outside our house where I found out that Kelsey had bought a tiny turtle. Seriously – what was she thinking?! It was adorable, but her plan was to literally put it in her POCKET when we went through customs. And when we got back to Spain, if she still had it, she was going to put it in a shoebox and hide it from her señora. I won’t waste my time going into depth about how ridiculous this idea was, but thankfully she gave it to her host family as a “gift”. Wow.
Out groups got in the vans and we drove across the river through Saleh, Rabat’s sister city and Morocco’s second biggest city. There is a huge concentration of shanty towns – more like cities – all throughout Saleh. They had a pretty complex system and I was amazed. Obviously it’s not the ideal way to live and they have very difficult lives, but Ben said that some of them have cable with 200+ channels! The new king has a goal to put running water in all shanty towns in the immediate future. We drove through the countryside again, this time for about 3 hours to a little pueblo in the Rif Mountains. We saw sheep, horses, cows, green grass, small hills that turned into big mountains, burros, trees, farmers plowing fields by hand, cactus walls, and aqueducts. For a little while it reminded me of interstate driving in Iowa which was very comforting. We made a pit-stop at a tiny place to have some Coke/Fanta and use the bathroom. When we walked in there was a big screen TV showing camel races – yes, camel races! They looked so awkward and it was hilarious to see the instant replays. Apart from my first camel racing experience, it was also my first time with a Turkish toilet. I’m still not sure why it’s called that, but it’s more or less a square of porcelain with hole in the ground with two bumpy places for your feet. (Note to reader – girls need to place feet farther apart than this. Just saying…) So after squatting and doing your duty, you fill the bucket with water and wash it down the hole. If it doesn’t “flush”, fill the bucket again and this time drop it from higher up. Repeat until successful. I forgot to mention this earlier, but the whole country is more or less BYOTP. I’m getting good at shakin’ dry, but I’ll stop with the details now.
The rest of the drive was really windy and bumpy. Justine threw up in the other van and boy am I glad I don’t get carsick! The scenery looked more and more like Granada (probably because we’re getting closer) and I think I even spotted some olive trees. Ben told us that they do a lot of farming there, particularly of cannabis, being that they supply 95% of the marijuana in Europe. It’s illegal to grow and farmers can face jail or huge fines but they continue to grow it because it’s guaranteed income. Ben sees it this way, “if there wasn’t a demand, there wouldn’t be a supply”. It’s interesting because I’ve never really looked at the drug trade this way. I guess it’s true though! He warned us that while we were on our hike through the farm later on that we might see some far away (they definitely wouldn’t lead us near it for their own safety) and that we definitely shouldn’t ask about it or comment.
We picked up our translator and made our way to the house. It was a young couple with lots of adorable little kids all around. They are subsistence farmers (don’t grow for profit) and the guy and his dad built the house they live in themselves in one month. They invited us in and we sat in this room with long couches all around while we had our “snack”. It was make-your-own pitas with laughing cow cheese, peppers, carrots, parsley, onions, tomatoes, aka delicious. We sat around talking with him through our translator for a long time about all kinds of things. The most memorable was when we talked about “gins” which many people believe are spirits that live among us but can’t be seen. They can bring good or bad things upon your life if you disturb them or are particularly good to them. Gins have their own lives – they marry, work, have families, etc. and they can see us but can’t be seen (or very rarely). From what I caught, they’re a mix between leprechauns, genies who don’t grant wishes, the Holy Spirit, and ghosts. Our interpreter, Ben, and the guy all said they believe in them and we spent a little while listening to their stories. We also took turns using their Turkish toilet but there was no running water (the bucket was outside – I didn’t really catch what the problem was). Oh, and as if the pitas weren’t enough, we had another meal. Couscous this time – one huge plate for each table! It was so good but tough to eat it all. After that Ben and our translator led us on a walk through their property and up to this beautiful peak. We saw their bread oven, donkeys/mules/horses/burros, sheep, chickens, cows, and the fields of wheat and citrus and LOTS of wildflowers. I felt like we were in a scene from The Sound of Music with the tall grass, gorgeous mountains, and the most amazing view. We took lots of pictures and the little girls who followed us up picked bouquets of wildflowers J
Unfortunately, we had to get back in the van and this time we were headed to Chefchouen which took about an hour. There was a lot of traffic and we ended up just getting out and walking to our hotel from outside of the city. We were near the river that flows down from the mountain under a really pretty bridge. It’s somewhat of a meeting place where lots of women used to go/still go to do laundry. It’s a beautiful place with blue paint everywhere! Quite a few people spoke Spanish there, and the geographical difference was pretty evident. Actually, all of the places we went were really unique from one another. Anyway, we paraded all through the narrow, winding streets (the whole city is like a blue Albaicín) with people whistling and speaking English to us.
I was completely lost by the time we got to the hostel which our entire group almost filled up. I roomed with Cassandra and Taylor in a twin and double bed room. It was a really cute place! We did some paperwork/got situated/got some info from Ben, then he took us back into the market to show us some good souvenir shops. We shopped for a couple hours and I got some really cute stuff for pretty cheap. Some of the girls got henna at the medina in Rabat but I was hesitant to get it there since the ladies just grab your arm and start painting. It didn’t seem very authentic and quite frankly, some of them didn’t turn out so great. So during our souvenir shopping, Taylor and I asked a guy who Ben knows pretty well and owns the shop where we bought a bunch of stuff. He said he didn’t know of any good places but his wife, an Australian woman offered to show us a spot. She led us through the twisty, narrow streets again to this little shop near where they live. It was an old woman who she thought would do a pretty good job even though she wasn’t familiar with her work. We decided to go for it since it was only 30 DRH for my hand and halfway up my arm. She went to work with the syringe filled with dye and did the most intricate design. It took quite a while to prepare it and fix the air bubbles that came out, but the actual artwork was a breeze. I was really impressed by how fast she worked. She wrote my name in Arabic at the top but I doubt it was a direct translation – considering they have different sound combinations and a different alphabet and all. The Australian woman stayed with us the whole time and I was just fascinated by what she had to say. She asked us if we wanted a little dot on our fingernails to remember our time here but warned that it wouldn’t wash off in a couple weeks – we’d have to wait for it to grow out. We both said sure and instead of a little dot she globbed a huge chunk onto all five fingernails. The lady instructed us to dab some water with lemon onto the henna and pick it off before we went to bed. We were a little nervous about how it would look later but were glad we did it even if it wasn’t the prettiest one we’d seen. (Random facts - Red henna is for tourists, brown is Moroccan, and black is Egyptian. Lots of young girls play with it and do it in their free time since tattoos aren’t allowed. It’s also used during weddings.)
We met the group back in the main plaza then went to dinner with the group. The whole time I ate with my left hand so I wouldn’t bump it and I kept dousing it with water. The meal was delicious – I had chicken kebabs, Moroccan soup, and fruit salad. Taylor was still pretty sick and didn’t eat any of her meal. We came back to the hostel and climbed up to the roof for a little powwow. It was a great view of the city and the mountains and Ben lit a candle on the table. He gave us each two presents – one was a small square that looked like candy but thankfully he warned us that it’s good smelling stuff to put in our bag or closet to remember Morocco. The other is called desert rose and it’s formed in the Sahara from the intense temperatures. It’s so pretty and really has the design of a rose. He picks them up each time he goes to the south of Morocco and says he’s helping out since the Sahara Desert is getting bigger, we’re transferring the sand little by little to the US. Someday thousands of years from now some archaeologist is going to be scratching his head when he finds a huge concentration of African sediments in Pella, Iowa. J We had a really good time reflecting on our experiences and it even got a little emotional. I guess that’s what you get with an all-girl group. I absolutely loved the whole trip and wouldn’t give it up for anything. I learned so much and can already tell that it’s changed me. I hate to be one of those cheesy people who say stuff like that, but it’s true. Personally, intellectually, culturally, it really opened my eyes to a lot of things and I’m so thankful that I had the opportunity to go. We had a great group, a great leader, and a great time.
Before bed, Taylor and I picked off our henna and weren’t overly pleased with the result. Oh, well.
We woke up around 7:00 to make sure everyone had enough time to get ready. There wasn’t a plug-in in the bathroom – the only mirror in the house – which I should’ve realized since the women wear the hajib. Anyway, I did my hair in the room where we slept using my compact mirror. We had the delicious breakfast again which included Moroccan napolitanas today! They weren’t quite the same or as good but I was excited nonetheless. We said goodbye to the family and did our best to express our gratitude. I hope they got the message through the language barrier…
We met the groups outside our house where I found out that Kelsey had bought a tiny turtle. Seriously – what was she thinking?! It was adorable, but her plan was to literally put it in her POCKET when we went through customs. And when we got back to Spain, if she still had it, she was going to put it in a shoebox and hide it from her señora. I won’t waste my time going into depth about how ridiculous this idea was, but thankfully she gave it to her host family as a “gift”. Wow.
Out groups got in the vans and we drove across the river through Saleh, Rabat’s sister city and Morocco’s second biggest city. There is a huge concentration of shanty towns – more like cities – all throughout Saleh. They had a pretty complex system and I was amazed. Obviously it’s not the ideal way to live and they have very difficult lives, but Ben said that some of them have cable with 200+ channels! The new king has a goal to put running water in all shanty towns in the immediate future. We drove through the countryside again, this time for about 3 hours to a little pueblo in the Rif Mountains. We saw sheep, horses, cows, green grass, small hills that turned into big mountains, burros, trees, farmers plowing fields by hand, cactus walls, and aqueducts. For a little while it reminded me of interstate driving in Iowa which was very comforting. We made a pit-stop at a tiny place to have some Coke/Fanta and use the bathroom. When we walked in there was a big screen TV showing camel races – yes, camel races! They looked so awkward and it was hilarious to see the instant replays. Apart from my first camel racing experience, it was also my first time with a Turkish toilet. I’m still not sure why it’s called that, but it’s more or less a square of porcelain with hole in the ground with two bumpy places for your feet. (Note to reader – girls need to place feet farther apart than this. Just saying…) So after squatting and doing your duty, you fill the bucket with water and wash it down the hole. If it doesn’t “flush”, fill the bucket again and this time drop it from higher up. Repeat until successful. I forgot to mention this earlier, but the whole country is more or less BYOTP. I’m getting good at shakin’ dry, but I’ll stop with the details now.
The rest of the drive was really windy and bumpy. Justine threw up in the other van and boy am I glad I don’t get carsick! The scenery looked more and more like Granada (probably because we’re getting closer) and I think I even spotted some olive trees. Ben told us that they do a lot of farming there, particularly of cannabis, being that they supply 95% of the marijuana in Europe. It’s illegal to grow and farmers can face jail or huge fines but they continue to grow it because it’s guaranteed income. Ben sees it this way, “if there wasn’t a demand, there wouldn’t be a supply”. It’s interesting because I’ve never really looked at the drug trade this way. I guess it’s true though! He warned us that while we were on our hike through the farm later on that we might see some far away (they definitely wouldn’t lead us near it for their own safety) and that we definitely shouldn’t ask about it or comment.
We picked up our translator and made our way to the house. It was a young couple with lots of adorable little kids all around. They are subsistence farmers (don’t grow for profit) and the guy and his dad built the house they live in themselves in one month. They invited us in and we sat in this room with long couches all around while we had our “snack”. It was make-your-own pitas with laughing cow cheese, peppers, carrots, parsley, onions, tomatoes, aka delicious. We sat around talking with him through our translator for a long time about all kinds of things. The most memorable was when we talked about “gins” which many people believe are spirits that live among us but can’t be seen. They can bring good or bad things upon your life if you disturb them or are particularly good to them. Gins have their own lives – they marry, work, have families, etc. and they can see us but can’t be seen (or very rarely). From what I caught, they’re a mix between leprechauns, genies who don’t grant wishes, the Holy Spirit, and ghosts. Our interpreter, Ben, and the guy all said they believe in them and we spent a little while listening to their stories. We also took turns using their Turkish toilet but there was no running water (the bucket was outside – I didn’t really catch what the problem was). Oh, and as if the pitas weren’t enough, we had another meal. Couscous this time – one huge plate for each table! It was so good but tough to eat it all. After that Ben and our translator led us on a walk through their property and up to this beautiful peak. We saw their bread oven, donkeys/mules/horses/burros, sheep, chickens, cows, and the fields of wheat and citrus and LOTS of wildflowers. I felt like we were in a scene from The Sound of Music with the tall grass, gorgeous mountains, and the most amazing view. We took lots of pictures and the little girls who followed us up picked bouquets of wildflowers J
Unfortunately, we had to get back in the van and this time we were headed to Chefchouen which took about an hour. There was a lot of traffic and we ended up just getting out and walking to our hotel from outside of the city. We were near the river that flows down from the mountain under a really pretty bridge. It’s somewhat of a meeting place where lots of women used to go/still go to do laundry. It’s a beautiful place with blue paint everywhere! Quite a few people spoke Spanish there, and the geographical difference was pretty evident. Actually, all of the places we went were really unique from one another. Anyway, we paraded all through the narrow, winding streets (the whole city is like a blue Albaicín) with people whistling and speaking English to us.
I was completely lost by the time we got to the hostel which our entire group almost filled up. I roomed with Cassandra and Taylor in a twin and double bed room. It was a really cute place! We did some paperwork/got situated/got some info from Ben, then he took us back into the market to show us some good souvenir shops. We shopped for a couple hours and I got some really cute stuff for pretty cheap. Some of the girls got henna at the medina in Rabat but I was hesitant to get it there since the ladies just grab your arm and start painting. It didn’t seem very authentic and quite frankly, some of them didn’t turn out so great. So during our souvenir shopping, Taylor and I asked a guy who Ben knows pretty well and owns the shop where we bought a bunch of stuff. He said he didn’t know of any good places but his wife, an Australian woman offered to show us a spot. She led us through the twisty, narrow streets again to this little shop near where they live. It was an old woman who she thought would do a pretty good job even though she wasn’t familiar with her work. We decided to go for it since it was only 30 DRH for my hand and halfway up my arm. She went to work with the syringe filled with dye and did the most intricate design. It took quite a while to prepare it and fix the air bubbles that came out, but the actual artwork was a breeze. I was really impressed by how fast she worked. She wrote my name in Arabic at the top but I doubt it was a direct translation – considering they have different sound combinations and a different alphabet and all. The Australian woman stayed with us the whole time and I was just fascinated by what she had to say. She asked us if we wanted a little dot on our fingernails to remember our time here but warned that it wouldn’t wash off in a couple weeks – we’d have to wait for it to grow out. We both said sure and instead of a little dot she globbed a huge chunk onto all five fingernails. The lady instructed us to dab some water with lemon onto the henna and pick it off before we went to bed. We were a little nervous about how it would look later but were glad we did it even if it wasn’t the prettiest one we’d seen. (Random facts - Red henna is for tourists, brown is Moroccan, and black is Egyptian. Lots of young girls play with it and do it in their free time since tattoos aren’t allowed. It’s also used during weddings.)
We met the group back in the main plaza then went to dinner with the group. The whole time I ate with my left hand so I wouldn’t bump it and I kept dousing it with water. The meal was delicious – I had chicken kebabs, Moroccan soup, and fruit salad. Taylor was still pretty sick and didn’t eat any of her meal. We came back to the hostel and climbed up to the roof for a little powwow. It was a great view of the city and the mountains and Ben lit a candle on the table. He gave us each two presents – one was a small square that looked like candy but thankfully he warned us that it’s good smelling stuff to put in our bag or closet to remember Morocco. The other is called desert rose and it’s formed in the Sahara from the intense temperatures. It’s so pretty and really has the design of a rose. He picks them up each time he goes to the south of Morocco and says he’s helping out since the Sahara Desert is getting bigger, we’re transferring the sand little by little to the US. Someday thousands of years from now some archaeologist is going to be scratching his head when he finds a huge concentration of African sediments in Pella, Iowa. J We had a really good time reflecting on our experiences and it even got a little emotional. I guess that’s what you get with an all-girl group. I absolutely loved the whole trip and wouldn’t give it up for anything. I learned so much and can already tell that it’s changed me. I hate to be one of those cheesy people who say stuff like that, but it’s true. Personally, intellectually, culturally, it really opened my eyes to a lot of things and I’m so thankful that I had the opportunity to go. We had a great group, a great leader, and a great time.
Before bed, Taylor and I picked off our henna and weren’t overly pleased with the result. Oh, well.
4-4-09
Saturday, April 4, 2009
We woke up EARLY so we could take showers and get ready before we met with the group. The shower was definitely one of the worst parts of the whole trip. It was a hand-held one like we have in Spain but it was just a tiny room with a curtain and a hole in the middle. I had a lot of trouble with the hot and cold since they were backwards from what I’m used to and they were really touchy. I burned my hand and had a sore spot for a couple of days! The other bad part was the bugs. Earwigs to be specific. It was not a pleasant experience to say the least.
As soon as I was done we had our feast of a breakfast with Chefia. There were four kinds of bread: toast, biscuits/rolls, and two kinds of what probably translates to “pancakes” but were flatter, had more flour, and were flaky. Delicious! We had them with butter and strawberry jelly and of course, tea. Chefia insisted on seconds of tea for everyone (even though we didn’t want more) and when Brigitte tried to cover her glass a couple drops fell on her hand! We also had a couple of the sweets from the day before. Taylor still wasn’t feeling good and Brigitte eats like a bird so I took care of their servings for them J Breakfast took FOREVER and finally I just had to politely excuse myself and rush around like crazy to get my stuff together. I ran out with wet hair and no makeup, and just threw all my stuff in my bag for later.
We met the group outside of our house and drove to a French school where we had a discussion with a professor. Our group talked with a lady who works in the English teacher preparation program so I thought I would be really interested in what she had to say. Wrong-o. She went around the room and had us introduce ourselves and ask her a question. I didn’t have anything to ask (my questions arise during the discussion) and she seemed a little annoyed that some of us seemed disinterested. Anyway, she basically talked at us for an hour or more about nothing concrete. She briefly touched on maybe three of our questions and only paused to take a breath a handful of times. Some people weren’t feeling so hot, everyone was exhausted, and considering the effort it takes to listen to a non-native speaker, nobody was listening. I enjoyed watching a few people do the head bob. I bought a book written by the other professor who talked to Rick’s group which is called Requisition of the Arab and Islamic Mind: An assessment of relevance. He has done these talks for several years and loosely based the book off of his previous discussions. I haven’t read it yet but I hope it’s more interesting than the title (I think it will be).
Back to the bus for more food (príncipes and other snacks) and more information from Ben. Each time we got on the bus he had some interesting facts or stories for us. This time we were headed to Chellah, a Roman ruins site. It was the furthest outpost to the east of the Roman Empire and we learned that 60% of the grain was produced in North Africa so this site was pretty important. There were columns, epigrafía (design with writing on it), a minaret, tombs of ancient emperors, and lots and lots of storks. Apparently Chellah is some sort of refuge and they all come to make their gigantic nests there. We passed by what I thought looked like a few stalks of corn and when I asked Ben what they were I was really surprised to learn that they were bamboo! I was glad to hear that I’m not the only Iowan who thought that – a bunch of the other girls agreed with me. In the mosque he showed us these tiny, flat oval-shaped stones that used to form the floor of the mosque. I thought about taking one as a souvenir but someone mentioned that I should think twice about it and see the movie “Mummy”. From near the mosque we could see Rabat’s sister city, Saleh, across the river. Ben led us to this pool with an eel where legend has it that if you throw a boiled egg in and he eats it, you’ll be blessed with fertility. So obviously he bought a couple and encouraged us to give it a try but we were all hesitant being that nobody’s really looking for a baby anytime soon. Luckily, he clarified that his understanding is you can specify when you want to be granted this gift so apparently you can wish to the eel God to put it off for ten years or whatever. Interesting.
So back on the bus and you guessed it – more snacks. We all went back to our houses for lunch which turned out to be pretty delicious. Chicken and potatoes, bread, Moroccan salad (chopped tomatoes, onions, cucumbers, and loads of pepper), fruit cocktail (bananas, apples, strawberries – things Julia claims “aren’t in season” therefore we can’t eat them. Lies…) As expected, I ate for all three of us. Our host mom told us to, “culo” which apparently is the second person plural command form of eat. In Spanish, this is a not so nice way to say butt. Cul – we eat,culi – you eat, culo – you all eat. We all had a good laugh about that J
After the meal, we met Ben and the group and he paired us off into small groups with Moroccan students. They all spoke English astonishingly well! I was with Taylor, Cheffia, two other Moroccan guys, Tosha, Brigitte and some other girls. We walked through this cute café with a great view of the city and the water, through the medina, then to a pool hall. Every single time we saw a bathroom we had to stop and I felt horrible for Taylor. The Medina is the central market where there were tons of stands selling everything from touristy stuff and jewelry to shoes (pointy, shiny, colorful, and lots of slippers), tapestry, and woodwork. At the pool hall there were tons of pool tables, people smoking, and the lights were dimmed. It was fun but sort of odd since it was the middle of the day. We played a couple games and had some tea/pop/batidos then went back to our houses. My camera ran out of batteries around this time and I was pretty sad about it. I know Mom is bringing me more in Italy but I was mad that my calculations were a couple days short L A little while later we met at the girls’ house upstairs for a meeting for both our group and Rick’s group with a Fulbright Scholar and a Peace Corps Volunteer. I loved hearing about their experiences and just talking with them. The girl was doing research on abortion in Morocco and said her first days there were in Fez during Ramadan – talk about culture shock! She talked about the actual Fulbright Scholar program and how tough it is for her to find any information. She spoke so eloquently and directly but was witty and bubbly at the same time. You could just tell from being around her that she was very intelligent and passionate about what she does. I was jealous, to say the least… Same goes for the guy – he talked about how he was in the most remote parts of Africa for his first year doing all kinds of amazing things. I would love to do something like that someday but I doubt I would last.. I think a lot of people were really inspired by our discussion.
From the house we went straight to the Hamm am (public bath). My host mom gave Brigitte and me the most beautiful thing to wear. I wish I could remember the name of it, but it’s a relative of the muumuu but has a hood, wide sleeves, and is hand-stitched. So we got to the Hamm am and everyone seemed a little hesitant since we heard that tops were optional ... actually, they were not encouraged. We followed our leader (one of the girl’s host sisters) into the big tiled room and all sat in a row along the wall. There was a square fountain in one corner with boiling hot water constantly running and it heated up the room like a sauna. We each got big buckets of hot water and used our cups/beach toys that our host moms gave us to dump water over our heads. We were given a packet with exfoliating liquid that we put on, let soak in, and then scoured off with our scrubbers that looked like boys underwear. It was disgusting how much dead skin came off! We got to spend a whole hour in the room and only a couple ladies and their little son came in at the end. I had such an amazing “bath” and felt so clean and smooth afterward! Brigitte and I walked Erin home and thank goodness we did because we were pretty far away and she didn’t exactly remember her way. Since the Arab baths really dehydrate you, Taylor didn’t go but went out with Chefia for a while.
We had dinner when we got back – the special soup they eat during Ramadan, biscuits filled with chicken and cheese, bread, hardboiled eggs, and sweets that looked like octopi. We used the computer for a little while and Zineb gave us her email address and we found Chefia on Facebook. I was bummed though because I opened my email all the way but it wouldn’t load L I did buy the silk dress muumuu thing though, for only 250 DRH! It’s a beautiful black and white one with animal print and flowers. My host mom apparently sells them to vendors or something so she gave me a really good deal on it, especially considering the fact that it’s hand-sewn.
We woke up EARLY so we could take showers and get ready before we met with the group. The shower was definitely one of the worst parts of the whole trip. It was a hand-held one like we have in Spain but it was just a tiny room with a curtain and a hole in the middle. I had a lot of trouble with the hot and cold since they were backwards from what I’m used to and they were really touchy. I burned my hand and had a sore spot for a couple of days! The other bad part was the bugs. Earwigs to be specific. It was not a pleasant experience to say the least.
As soon as I was done we had our feast of a breakfast with Chefia. There were four kinds of bread: toast, biscuits/rolls, and two kinds of what probably translates to “pancakes” but were flatter, had more flour, and were flaky. Delicious! We had them with butter and strawberry jelly and of course, tea. Chefia insisted on seconds of tea for everyone (even though we didn’t want more) and when Brigitte tried to cover her glass a couple drops fell on her hand! We also had a couple of the sweets from the day before. Taylor still wasn’t feeling good and Brigitte eats like a bird so I took care of their servings for them J Breakfast took FOREVER and finally I just had to politely excuse myself and rush around like crazy to get my stuff together. I ran out with wet hair and no makeup, and just threw all my stuff in my bag for later.
We met the group outside of our house and drove to a French school where we had a discussion with a professor. Our group talked with a lady who works in the English teacher preparation program so I thought I would be really interested in what she had to say. Wrong-o. She went around the room and had us introduce ourselves and ask her a question. I didn’t have anything to ask (my questions arise during the discussion) and she seemed a little annoyed that some of us seemed disinterested. Anyway, she basically talked at us for an hour or more about nothing concrete. She briefly touched on maybe three of our questions and only paused to take a breath a handful of times. Some people weren’t feeling so hot, everyone was exhausted, and considering the effort it takes to listen to a non-native speaker, nobody was listening. I enjoyed watching a few people do the head bob. I bought a book written by the other professor who talked to Rick’s group which is called Requisition of the Arab and Islamic Mind: An assessment of relevance. He has done these talks for several years and loosely based the book off of his previous discussions. I haven’t read it yet but I hope it’s more interesting than the title (I think it will be).
Back to the bus for more food (príncipes and other snacks) and more information from Ben. Each time we got on the bus he had some interesting facts or stories for us. This time we were headed to Chellah, a Roman ruins site. It was the furthest outpost to the east of the Roman Empire and we learned that 60% of the grain was produced in North Africa so this site was pretty important. There were columns, epigrafía (design with writing on it), a minaret, tombs of ancient emperors, and lots and lots of storks. Apparently Chellah is some sort of refuge and they all come to make their gigantic nests there. We passed by what I thought looked like a few stalks of corn and when I asked Ben what they were I was really surprised to learn that they were bamboo! I was glad to hear that I’m not the only Iowan who thought that – a bunch of the other girls agreed with me. In the mosque he showed us these tiny, flat oval-shaped stones that used to form the floor of the mosque. I thought about taking one as a souvenir but someone mentioned that I should think twice about it and see the movie “Mummy”. From near the mosque we could see Rabat’s sister city, Saleh, across the river. Ben led us to this pool with an eel where legend has it that if you throw a boiled egg in and he eats it, you’ll be blessed with fertility. So obviously he bought a couple and encouraged us to give it a try but we were all hesitant being that nobody’s really looking for a baby anytime soon. Luckily, he clarified that his understanding is you can specify when you want to be granted this gift so apparently you can wish to the eel God to put it off for ten years or whatever. Interesting.
So back on the bus and you guessed it – more snacks. We all went back to our houses for lunch which turned out to be pretty delicious. Chicken and potatoes, bread, Moroccan salad (chopped tomatoes, onions, cucumbers, and loads of pepper), fruit cocktail (bananas, apples, strawberries – things Julia claims “aren’t in season” therefore we can’t eat them. Lies…) As expected, I ate for all three of us. Our host mom told us to, “culo” which apparently is the second person plural command form of eat. In Spanish, this is a not so nice way to say butt. Cul – we eat,culi – you eat, culo – you all eat. We all had a good laugh about that J
After the meal, we met Ben and the group and he paired us off into small groups with Moroccan students. They all spoke English astonishingly well! I was with Taylor, Cheffia, two other Moroccan guys, Tosha, Brigitte and some other girls. We walked through this cute café with a great view of the city and the water, through the medina, then to a pool hall. Every single time we saw a bathroom we had to stop and I felt horrible for Taylor. The Medina is the central market where there were tons of stands selling everything from touristy stuff and jewelry to shoes (pointy, shiny, colorful, and lots of slippers), tapestry, and woodwork. At the pool hall there were tons of pool tables, people smoking, and the lights were dimmed. It was fun but sort of odd since it was the middle of the day. We played a couple games and had some tea/pop/batidos then went back to our houses. My camera ran out of batteries around this time and I was pretty sad about it. I know Mom is bringing me more in Italy but I was mad that my calculations were a couple days short L A little while later we met at the girls’ house upstairs for a meeting for both our group and Rick’s group with a Fulbright Scholar and a Peace Corps Volunteer. I loved hearing about their experiences and just talking with them. The girl was doing research on abortion in Morocco and said her first days there were in Fez during Ramadan – talk about culture shock! She talked about the actual Fulbright Scholar program and how tough it is for her to find any information. She spoke so eloquently and directly but was witty and bubbly at the same time. You could just tell from being around her that she was very intelligent and passionate about what she does. I was jealous, to say the least… Same goes for the guy – he talked about how he was in the most remote parts of Africa for his first year doing all kinds of amazing things. I would love to do something like that someday but I doubt I would last.. I think a lot of people were really inspired by our discussion.
From the house we went straight to the Hamm am (public bath). My host mom gave Brigitte and me the most beautiful thing to wear. I wish I could remember the name of it, but it’s a relative of the muumuu but has a hood, wide sleeves, and is hand-stitched. So we got to the Hamm am and everyone seemed a little hesitant since we heard that tops were optional ... actually, they were not encouraged. We followed our leader (one of the girl’s host sisters) into the big tiled room and all sat in a row along the wall. There was a square fountain in one corner with boiling hot water constantly running and it heated up the room like a sauna. We each got big buckets of hot water and used our cups/beach toys that our host moms gave us to dump water over our heads. We were given a packet with exfoliating liquid that we put on, let soak in, and then scoured off with our scrubbers that looked like boys underwear. It was disgusting how much dead skin came off! We got to spend a whole hour in the room and only a couple ladies and their little son came in at the end. I had such an amazing “bath” and felt so clean and smooth afterward! Brigitte and I walked Erin home and thank goodness we did because we were pretty far away and she didn’t exactly remember her way. Since the Arab baths really dehydrate you, Taylor didn’t go but went out with Chefia for a while.
We had dinner when we got back – the special soup they eat during Ramadan, biscuits filled with chicken and cheese, bread, hardboiled eggs, and sweets that looked like octopi. We used the computer for a little while and Zineb gave us her email address and we found Chefia on Facebook. I was bummed though because I opened my email all the way but it wouldn’t load L I did buy the silk dress muumuu thing though, for only 250 DRH! It’s a beautiful black and white one with animal print and flowers. My host mom apparently sells them to vendors or something so she gave me a really good deal on it, especially considering the fact that it’s hand-sewn.
4-3-09
Friday, April 3, 2009
We left the hostel around 8 and Ben led us to the port. We had a delicious breakfast inside – I had Minute Maid orange juice and a chocolate chip muffin. Looking back, this should’ve been a sign as to how wonderful the food would be throughout the trip… We crossed through customs where I had my passport looked at for the first time since I left the states. The guy even looked at me to double check the picture – amazing! We got on our huge ferry for the 15 km journey across the Strait of Gibraltar. On clear days you can see the coast of Africa from Algeciras (Spain)! The ferry was really nice and we relaxed in the comfy seats while our group leaders piled on the information. We filled out the customs cards, got our packet and itinerary, and learned some key phrases in Derija. (The dialect of Arabic spoken in Morocco, also called “Moroccan Arabic”) When we were done we went to the deck for some cute pictures but it was super windy and going really fast so we rode the rest of the way inside.
A few of us talked with Ben and learned about his life and Moroccan culture. He’s from Connecticut and studied through the Central program 5 years ago – and lived with Sara and Kristin’s señora, actually – so he knew plenty about Granada and what we were going through. He’s been a guide for Morocco Exchange for over two years so considering each trip is only 4 days long, he has had plenty of experience even though I didn’t quite get that vibe the first night. Currently, he lives in Tangier (also spelled Tanger – sorry if I switch back & forth) but is leaving in a couple of months to spend some more time in Colombia and Ecuador working with high school tour groups. He had so much interesting information, tips, and experiences to share with us throughout the trip and I was really thankful to have him with us. Our group was all female so we discussed women’s rights and issues quite a bit. I learned that the third group that left a day after us spent almost the entire time focusing on politics, I’m glad I wasn’t in that group! We all covered basically the same issues but depending on our experiences in Morocco each group took a different twist. Ok, I’m getting ahead of myself here – back to the boat.
When we got off we went through “customs” again (like the airport monitor and beeper gate that you walk through but a play version with only one guard) and went to the parking lot. I didn’t have any astounding first impressions, it really didn’t dawn on me that I was in AFRICA until I saw the signs labeled in Arabic and French. (A strange combination, but they’re the first and second official languages of Morocco). Even then, it didn’t seem like AFRICA. I guess I was imagining the Serengeti with lions or zebras or something but as you’ll later find out – that’s definitely not what I encountered. I also imagined that the people would be black, but I saw fewer black people there than I do in Granada! They actually look a lot like the people from the Andalucia and at one point Ben told us, “where do you think the typical Sevillana (beautiful Spanish flamenco dancer) woman gets her look? (long, wavy dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark complexion) Not from the Reyes Catolicos, that’s for sure!” Morocco and the South of Spain were one empire centuries ago and the Moorish influence is still prominent today, especially in the architecture. Every building we saw was straight out of my Art History book and looked just like the Alhambra. Even inside our host family’s house there were ceramic tiles on the walls and arches with mocárabes. Yep, I’m getting ahead of myself again. Let’s take it back to getting off the ferry.
We met our bus driver and dropped our bags off in the van we would be spending the better part of 4 days in, then went to exchange money. The currency is the Dirham and I got 438DRH for €40, so roughly 10 to one US Dollars. It made my mental math conversion pretty easy, even though I’ll never claim it as a strength of mine. It was weird to get used to the money, it seemed fake at first but by the time we were heading back to Spain, the Euro looked foreign to me! Jumping ahead – in Italy Dad had some American dollars in his wallet and it was the craziest thing, they seemed like Monopoly money or something. They were a weird texture and size and SO green! It might take me a little while to get used to that when I get home…
The whole group piled into the van and headed into Tangier, the biggest city in Morocco (I think?). It’s very multicultural since it’s on the border of Africa and Europe, and I found that most people speak multiple languages. The news is given and written in Classical Arabic (what the Qur’an is written in) so most people will understand, but it’s not spoken in Morocco. In school, students are taught both Dirija and French so if they have a high school degree they will certainly be fluent in both. English is the third most popular language and Spanish the fourth. However, the Berber people (first inhabitants of the land – called “barbarians” by settlers) have three dialects of their language which are nothing alike, or similar to Arabic or French for that matter. In the South of the country, close to the Sahara Desert, the culture, land, people, and language are completely different than the North. During the trip someone explained to me that the North of Morocco and Andalucia are Spanish, while the South of Morocco and the North of Spain are more French. It’s hard to explain, but by the end I could definitely see how that’s true. Wow, I keep getting off on tangents. Hopefully the next entries are better than this one.
Our first stop was an open-air market. The fruit and vegetables were so colorful and fresh – I was glad Ben bought some for us to snack on later. There were stand with spices, flowers, and even a couple of convenience stores with stuff like Pringles and Cola Cao. My favorite stands were the olives (even though I don’t eat them), they were so beautiful! They were piled up into perfect pyramids and the vendors shined them with vinegar. The worst part was definitely the meat section. Brigitte is a vegetarian so thankfully Ben warned the group that they don’t waste ANY part of the animal. We saw vendors slicing, dicing, and hanging everything I’m talking cow tongues, goat heads, brains, I think you get the picture… Well, at least we know it was fresh!
Our next stop was DARNA women’s center. It’s a place where women who have been deserted by their husbands, widowed, etc. can go to learn practical skills needed to get a job and get back on their feet to survive in society. It’s funded by a Spanish NGO and they teach sewing, reading and writing (Arabic and French), cooking, and most likely lots of other things that we didn’t see. We went into a classroom where we talked with three Moroccan students who study English. They were SO interesting and we talked about all kinds of different things ranging from politics, religion, and women’s rights to food, education, and their families. They each had different backgrounds (therefore, native languages!) and experiences which made it even better. I was happy that they were so excited to share with us and answer all of our ignorant questions. We were served a HUGE plate of traditional sweets that were full of sugar. I tried one with powdered sugar and one with a date inside. They were good, especially with the mint tea we had. Moroccans drink this ½ sugar ½ tea mixture all day long – it tasted good but I definitely won’t need any more for a long time. I got my fill of it during the trip!
After our talk, one of the girls gave us a tour of the building where we saw classrooms, workshops, sewing rooms with either the huge looms or sewing machines, and the kitchen. We ate lunch with the three students – couscous! That was probably the only meal I wanted to try since it was the only traditional food I knew of in Morocco and it was the first thing we were served. It kind of reminds me of paella, not just the ingredients, but because it’s something you eat with your family on special days. Here, it’s usually on Fridays because it’s the most holy day of the week and since it’s the weekend, most of the family is home. It had a chicken breast (I tried my best to forget about the market), veggies, garbanzo beans, and something sweet on top. It was also a little spicy, which I found out is typical of Moroccan food – totally different than Spain where they don’t use any spice besides olive oil or the occasional garlic. Don’t get me wrong, I love Julia’s cooking but it was nice to mix things up a bit. During the meal we sort of extended our big group conversation but made it a little more personal since we were in a small group with only one of the students. She talked about how it’s almost impossible for Moroccans to travel out of the country because a) they’re not exactly welcome with open arms into most places in the world and b) getting a passport and ticket out of the country is too expensive for 99% of the people. Hanging out with foreigners and welcoming in tourists is almost like their way of traveling. They get to see different things, hear about other places, etc. I also liked when she tiptoed around the subject of the King. I could tell that she really doesn’t like him or what he’s doing for the country, but of course she didn’t say that. (He’s completely different from his father and is making some serious transformations. Obama’s “change” has nothing on him.) She explained that there’s a verse that says “You shouldn’t speak bad about the Qur’an, the king, or the country” and if you do, there are serious repercussions. For example, one kid put this on his facebook page, substituting “king” for his name, and went to jail for several years! After that, I understood why she was hesitant to say anything concrete about the topic. The other main thing we talked about was religion. She was as interested to learn about our views as we were hers. At one point she asked about the trinity and how God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit are one and what the difference is between Catholicism and Protestantism. To put these complex ideas, which seem so natural to me, into their simplest form was a lot more difficult than I expected! I definitely realized that I don’t know as much as I thought about Christianity. Believe me, we did our best, but I don’t feel like I gave her a true sense of what it really is. We touched on the fact that the Old Testament is common in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam and she said something that I absolutely loved. “You know, that makes me feel good about my religion, that we all have the same basic beliefs and pray to the same God.” I never really thought about it that way but I’d have to agree. (For the record, Muslims and Jews both believe in Jesus, but they see him as a prophet - not the Savior) After lunch we went through the gift shop and saw the most beautiful pillows, clothes, and tapestry all hand-sewn by the women of DARNA.
We all piled back into the bus and drove along the Atlantic Coast to Asilah, our next stop. After driving for a while, we started to pull off to the side of the road and everyone, a little groggy and disoriented starts shrieking, “CAMELS!” On the ferry when we got our itinerary, we asked Ben if we would be riding camels. (Lots of us know people who have gone on the trip before and the pictures on the website show it.) He got a little defensive and insisted that we wouldn’t be doing anything of the sort. They’re not native in the area – they’re brought up from the South near the Sahara for tourists. Well, needless to say, we were definitely surprised J He had it up his sleeve the whole time! Rick’s group was just finishing up, then it was our turn for a fantasy camel ride on the beach of Morocco. The water was sparkling, the sun was shining, and everyone had these big, goofy grins painted on their faces. Between the giggles and squealing, all I could hear was, “Take my picture! Take lots of pictures please!” There were probably 6 camels and one baby who was just a couple of months old. The worst part was getting on and off because they completely straighten their back legs then the front ones, and opposite when they lay down, so it feels like you’re going to slide right off. I definitely would’ve gone flying if Ben wouldn’t have warned us to “hold on tight otherwise you’ll fall on your face…and I’ll laugh at you”. Solid advice, oh trusty tour guide. And for the record, I thought caravans were created by Disney, but it turns out that they really exist! I didn’t see any of them spit which was a little disappointing, but one did drink the other one’s pee so I guess that’s just as noteworthy.
Back in the bus where we enjoyed the fruit from the market on our way to Asilah. When we got there Ben led us through the Jewish quarter first which was painted blue and white. (Blue is the color of Judaism and green is the color of Islam. Not sure why. Also confused why the Moroccan flag is red and green - I’m guessing it’s not for Christmas though.) It reminded me so much of the Albaicín with its narrow streets and cute little balconies lined with flowers. We made our way to a rock pier that jutted out over the Atlantic. It had an awesome view so we sat and enjoyed the scenery and listened to some performers’ music while we tried to take in everything that had happened so far. (Yes, the whole trip was this overwhelming – in a good way). I talked to a guy who came up and simply said, “English?” Obviously we said yes and when he responded by asking, “Are you from London?” I felt so stupid when I had to explain that we were, in fact, not English, but American. Whoops. After that we pit-stopped at a little café to use the bathroom and while we were waiting to get back onto the bus, the owner asked me if I spoke Arabic. I looked helplessly at Ben and he kindly explained to the guy that I most definitely do not. (Taylor taught me quite a few phrases but the only ones I remember are hello, my name is, I’m American, thank you, and eat – more about the last one later. The problem is that they learn classical Arabic so it didn’t help them too much except to read signs) I don’t know what it is about my appearance, but nobody in the world can guess my nationality! I’ve been mistaken for pretty much everything in the world besides Irish and Asian. Even the girl at lunch asked if I was Mexican and Ben asked if my parents were French.
When Ben told us at our first group talk that he was going to “stuff us like a Spanish señora” he was not joking. We got back in the van and on our way to Rabat, we had more fruit and he whipped out a 20 pound bag of trail mix. The countryside was so beautiful, and not at all what I expected - rolling hills full of farms and pottery stands alongside the road. We got to Rabat, the capital city, and went straight to a building where we met out host families for the next two nights. We got to split ourselves up into groups of three then he assigned us to the families who were waiting for us. I stayed with Taylor and Brigitte and it turns out that the building we were in was our host family’s house! I was surprised because the middle was more or less a tiled courtyard with just the frame of a roof above the three floors. There were three long rectangular rooms around the outside which had gorgeous long couches with pillows. The other wall was the entryway which led to the bathroom and the kitchen which led to sink/shower. Nobody gets their own room with a lock and door, we just moved the pillows aside, put down sheets, and slept on the couches. The decoration was so pretty, it’s hard to describe but it was totally different than our piso in Granada. There were a couple of tv’s, a western toilet and no bidet, and lots of open space. Whenever you enter a room, you have to take your shoes off, which is why they wear slippers from room to room. I forgot a couple of times and got either a funny look or pointed at. Janelle, Jessica, and Brittney lived above us on the second floor so they could look down into the “courtyard” for lack of a better word, where our dining room table was. The family consisted of a mom, dad, older son, 18-year-old daughter named Zineb, 4-year-old daughter named Aya, and their cousin Chefia. He spoke really good English so he sat and talked to us with Zineb (who also speaks pretty good English) while Aya provided the entertainment. I later learned that Zineb really likes Spanish and wants to be a journalist someday. She would also love to travel to Spain but probably will never get the chance. It was very awkward at first because we didn’t know what to do or what to talk about so I was glad Aya was the icebreaker. She had a notebook and we found out that was learning to write her letters and numbers. I quizzed her/taught her some more. The whole family was so nice and welcoming to us, even if they do this all the time I felt like their culture is so much inviting than Spain. We had dinner and I was happy to see we were doing it the traditional way – eating with your hands (actually hand, as in singular – specifically the right hand because the left is for “cleaning” aka wiping) We had meatballs, bread, macaroni noodles with red sauce, and Moroccan sweets similar to what we had during tea. Luckily they gave us forks for the pasta because that could’ve been messy! Taylor wasn’t feeling so hot and Brigitte wasn’t super hungry and is a vegetarian so we didn’t make a dent in the huge family style plate in the middle of the table! After dinner we sat around talking some more and Chefia asked if we wanted to go out. We weren’t totally convinced since it was pretty late and we’d had a pretty overwhelming day, but we agreed as long as we wouldn’t be gone too long. We later found out that he thought we were lazy since we agreed to go but he had to ask us three times if we were ready. I guess we’re turning into Spaniards! He said his parents were laughing because they knew he was waiting for us but we were just sitting there. Wow, 15 km separates Spain from Morocco but they could not be more different in that aspect. Anyway, we headed to his American friend’s apartment which was not somewhere I’d like to go again. We sat while they chain smoked and his friend enjoyed a little too much wine. We kindly turned down offers on both and their look of surprise probably matched ours. (Smoking isn’t accepted and drinking is completely against Islam so to find both on our first night in Morocco which is 99.9% Islam was a shock.) We finally left and thankfully met up with the girls who live above us and their host brother and jumped into some taxis. We didn’t have any nice clothes to wear so we were pretty disgusting and when we showed up at the discoteca, he was probably embarrassed that we were so scrubby. Once again, a nightclub, especially one named “Privilege” was not what I was expecting to find on my first night in Africa. We looked so out of place but had a good time anyway. There wasn’t a cover but we had to buy a drink. I laughed when I saw how many non-alcoholic drinks there were. I ordered a “PussyCat”, which also made me laugh and think of The Replacements. It was supposedly a smoothie but I’m gonna call it a mix of pineapple and some citrus fruit. Either way, it was good and I was glad I didn’t have to drink the glow-in-the dark cocktail they gave all the girls. His crazy American friend took care of that one for me – thanks creepy dude. When we got there the music was pretty good but by the time we went out to the dance floor, it was full-blown techno. Ughh. I thought it was just this horrible phase that was happening in Europe but I guess it’s more widespread than I imagined. Seriously, how are you supposed to dance to that? Cheffie had some pretty sweet moves, though. We did some sort of circle action for a while where one person goes to the center and busts a move then it’s someone else’s turn. Oh, boy. I need to take a time out and give some more background on this Chefia character real quick. First, I could NOT remember/pronounce his name. I usually called him Zafir and at one point I think I referred to him as Jafar. Aka, nothing that resembled his real or nickname. Second, I think he got some sort of commission for taking us to that club. Tons of vendors make offers like that to tour guides and since he has so many students come stay with him, I wouldn’t be surprised. Third, he knows EVERYONE. No matter where we went, day or night, he would stop and talk to 2/3 people we passed on the street. It was unbelievable. I didn’t believe his weird American friend when he was like a surfing God but apparently it was true. Which brings me to number four – he’s one of top 3 or 4 surfers in the region. I guess the waves are world-renowned and are comparable to those in California and Hawaii because of the open ocean to the east. Who knew? As a job he’s a surf instructor but he just got a good job somewhere else so he’ll be moving in a few months but hopes to come back after a few years. Imagine a famed multilingual Moroccan rebel with braces and a surfer dude attitude. An odd mix, to say the least. Back to the discoteca – we were dancing and having a good time but I needed a break. Long story short, I fell asleep with my head in my hands. Wow. We finally left around 1:45 even though he promised we’d be back “in a couple of hours”. Overall, it was an amazing day but exhausting! Especially considering the fact that we went through a two hour time change..
We left the hostel around 8 and Ben led us to the port. We had a delicious breakfast inside – I had Minute Maid orange juice and a chocolate chip muffin. Looking back, this should’ve been a sign as to how wonderful the food would be throughout the trip… We crossed through customs where I had my passport looked at for the first time since I left the states. The guy even looked at me to double check the picture – amazing! We got on our huge ferry for the 15 km journey across the Strait of Gibraltar. On clear days you can see the coast of Africa from Algeciras (Spain)! The ferry was really nice and we relaxed in the comfy seats while our group leaders piled on the information. We filled out the customs cards, got our packet and itinerary, and learned some key phrases in Derija. (The dialect of Arabic spoken in Morocco, also called “Moroccan Arabic”) When we were done we went to the deck for some cute pictures but it was super windy and going really fast so we rode the rest of the way inside.
A few of us talked with Ben and learned about his life and Moroccan culture. He’s from Connecticut and studied through the Central program 5 years ago – and lived with Sara and Kristin’s señora, actually – so he knew plenty about Granada and what we were going through. He’s been a guide for Morocco Exchange for over two years so considering each trip is only 4 days long, he has had plenty of experience even though I didn’t quite get that vibe the first night. Currently, he lives in Tangier (also spelled Tanger – sorry if I switch back & forth) but is leaving in a couple of months to spend some more time in Colombia and Ecuador working with high school tour groups. He had so much interesting information, tips, and experiences to share with us throughout the trip and I was really thankful to have him with us. Our group was all female so we discussed women’s rights and issues quite a bit. I learned that the third group that left a day after us spent almost the entire time focusing on politics, I’m glad I wasn’t in that group! We all covered basically the same issues but depending on our experiences in Morocco each group took a different twist. Ok, I’m getting ahead of myself here – back to the boat.
When we got off we went through “customs” again (like the airport monitor and beeper gate that you walk through but a play version with only one guard) and went to the parking lot. I didn’t have any astounding first impressions, it really didn’t dawn on me that I was in AFRICA until I saw the signs labeled in Arabic and French. (A strange combination, but they’re the first and second official languages of Morocco). Even then, it didn’t seem like AFRICA. I guess I was imagining the Serengeti with lions or zebras or something but as you’ll later find out – that’s definitely not what I encountered. I also imagined that the people would be black, but I saw fewer black people there than I do in Granada! They actually look a lot like the people from the Andalucia and at one point Ben told us, “where do you think the typical Sevillana (beautiful Spanish flamenco dancer) woman gets her look? (long, wavy dark hair, dark eyes, and a dark complexion) Not from the Reyes Catolicos, that’s for sure!” Morocco and the South of Spain were one empire centuries ago and the Moorish influence is still prominent today, especially in the architecture. Every building we saw was straight out of my Art History book and looked just like the Alhambra. Even inside our host family’s house there were ceramic tiles on the walls and arches with mocárabes. Yep, I’m getting ahead of myself again. Let’s take it back to getting off the ferry.
We met our bus driver and dropped our bags off in the van we would be spending the better part of 4 days in, then went to exchange money. The currency is the Dirham and I got 438DRH for €40, so roughly 10 to one US Dollars. It made my mental math conversion pretty easy, even though I’ll never claim it as a strength of mine. It was weird to get used to the money, it seemed fake at first but by the time we were heading back to Spain, the Euro looked foreign to me! Jumping ahead – in Italy Dad had some American dollars in his wallet and it was the craziest thing, they seemed like Monopoly money or something. They were a weird texture and size and SO green! It might take me a little while to get used to that when I get home…
The whole group piled into the van and headed into Tangier, the biggest city in Morocco (I think?). It’s very multicultural since it’s on the border of Africa and Europe, and I found that most people speak multiple languages. The news is given and written in Classical Arabic (what the Qur’an is written in) so most people will understand, but it’s not spoken in Morocco. In school, students are taught both Dirija and French so if they have a high school degree they will certainly be fluent in both. English is the third most popular language and Spanish the fourth. However, the Berber people (first inhabitants of the land – called “barbarians” by settlers) have three dialects of their language which are nothing alike, or similar to Arabic or French for that matter. In the South of the country, close to the Sahara Desert, the culture, land, people, and language are completely different than the North. During the trip someone explained to me that the North of Morocco and Andalucia are Spanish, while the South of Morocco and the North of Spain are more French. It’s hard to explain, but by the end I could definitely see how that’s true. Wow, I keep getting off on tangents. Hopefully the next entries are better than this one.
Our first stop was an open-air market. The fruit and vegetables were so colorful and fresh – I was glad Ben bought some for us to snack on later. There were stand with spices, flowers, and even a couple of convenience stores with stuff like Pringles and Cola Cao. My favorite stands were the olives (even though I don’t eat them), they were so beautiful! They were piled up into perfect pyramids and the vendors shined them with vinegar. The worst part was definitely the meat section. Brigitte is a vegetarian so thankfully Ben warned the group that they don’t waste ANY part of the animal. We saw vendors slicing, dicing, and hanging everything I’m talking cow tongues, goat heads, brains, I think you get the picture… Well, at least we know it was fresh!
Our next stop was DARNA women’s center. It’s a place where women who have been deserted by their husbands, widowed, etc. can go to learn practical skills needed to get a job and get back on their feet to survive in society. It’s funded by a Spanish NGO and they teach sewing, reading and writing (Arabic and French), cooking, and most likely lots of other things that we didn’t see. We went into a classroom where we talked with three Moroccan students who study English. They were SO interesting and we talked about all kinds of different things ranging from politics, religion, and women’s rights to food, education, and their families. They each had different backgrounds (therefore, native languages!) and experiences which made it even better. I was happy that they were so excited to share with us and answer all of our ignorant questions. We were served a HUGE plate of traditional sweets that were full of sugar. I tried one with powdered sugar and one with a date inside. They were good, especially with the mint tea we had. Moroccans drink this ½ sugar ½ tea mixture all day long – it tasted good but I definitely won’t need any more for a long time. I got my fill of it during the trip!
After our talk, one of the girls gave us a tour of the building where we saw classrooms, workshops, sewing rooms with either the huge looms or sewing machines, and the kitchen. We ate lunch with the three students – couscous! That was probably the only meal I wanted to try since it was the only traditional food I knew of in Morocco and it was the first thing we were served. It kind of reminds me of paella, not just the ingredients, but because it’s something you eat with your family on special days. Here, it’s usually on Fridays because it’s the most holy day of the week and since it’s the weekend, most of the family is home. It had a chicken breast (I tried my best to forget about the market), veggies, garbanzo beans, and something sweet on top. It was also a little spicy, which I found out is typical of Moroccan food – totally different than Spain where they don’t use any spice besides olive oil or the occasional garlic. Don’t get me wrong, I love Julia’s cooking but it was nice to mix things up a bit. During the meal we sort of extended our big group conversation but made it a little more personal since we were in a small group with only one of the students. She talked about how it’s almost impossible for Moroccans to travel out of the country because a) they’re not exactly welcome with open arms into most places in the world and b) getting a passport and ticket out of the country is too expensive for 99% of the people. Hanging out with foreigners and welcoming in tourists is almost like their way of traveling. They get to see different things, hear about other places, etc. I also liked when she tiptoed around the subject of the King. I could tell that she really doesn’t like him or what he’s doing for the country, but of course she didn’t say that. (He’s completely different from his father and is making some serious transformations. Obama’s “change” has nothing on him.) She explained that there’s a verse that says “You shouldn’t speak bad about the Qur’an, the king, or the country” and if you do, there are serious repercussions. For example, one kid put this on his facebook page, substituting “king” for his name, and went to jail for several years! After that, I understood why she was hesitant to say anything concrete about the topic. The other main thing we talked about was religion. She was as interested to learn about our views as we were hers. At one point she asked about the trinity and how God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit are one and what the difference is between Catholicism and Protestantism. To put these complex ideas, which seem so natural to me, into their simplest form was a lot more difficult than I expected! I definitely realized that I don’t know as much as I thought about Christianity. Believe me, we did our best, but I don’t feel like I gave her a true sense of what it really is. We touched on the fact that the Old Testament is common in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam and she said something that I absolutely loved. “You know, that makes me feel good about my religion, that we all have the same basic beliefs and pray to the same God.” I never really thought about it that way but I’d have to agree. (For the record, Muslims and Jews both believe in Jesus, but they see him as a prophet - not the Savior) After lunch we went through the gift shop and saw the most beautiful pillows, clothes, and tapestry all hand-sewn by the women of DARNA.
We all piled back into the bus and drove along the Atlantic Coast to Asilah, our next stop. After driving for a while, we started to pull off to the side of the road and everyone, a little groggy and disoriented starts shrieking, “CAMELS!” On the ferry when we got our itinerary, we asked Ben if we would be riding camels. (Lots of us know people who have gone on the trip before and the pictures on the website show it.) He got a little defensive and insisted that we wouldn’t be doing anything of the sort. They’re not native in the area – they’re brought up from the South near the Sahara for tourists. Well, needless to say, we were definitely surprised J He had it up his sleeve the whole time! Rick’s group was just finishing up, then it was our turn for a fantasy camel ride on the beach of Morocco. The water was sparkling, the sun was shining, and everyone had these big, goofy grins painted on their faces. Between the giggles and squealing, all I could hear was, “Take my picture! Take lots of pictures please!” There were probably 6 camels and one baby who was just a couple of months old. The worst part was getting on and off because they completely straighten their back legs then the front ones, and opposite when they lay down, so it feels like you’re going to slide right off. I definitely would’ve gone flying if Ben wouldn’t have warned us to “hold on tight otherwise you’ll fall on your face…and I’ll laugh at you”. Solid advice, oh trusty tour guide. And for the record, I thought caravans were created by Disney, but it turns out that they really exist! I didn’t see any of them spit which was a little disappointing, but one did drink the other one’s pee so I guess that’s just as noteworthy.
Back in the bus where we enjoyed the fruit from the market on our way to Asilah. When we got there Ben led us through the Jewish quarter first which was painted blue and white. (Blue is the color of Judaism and green is the color of Islam. Not sure why. Also confused why the Moroccan flag is red and green - I’m guessing it’s not for Christmas though.) It reminded me so much of the Albaicín with its narrow streets and cute little balconies lined with flowers. We made our way to a rock pier that jutted out over the Atlantic. It had an awesome view so we sat and enjoyed the scenery and listened to some performers’ music while we tried to take in everything that had happened so far. (Yes, the whole trip was this overwhelming – in a good way). I talked to a guy who came up and simply said, “English?” Obviously we said yes and when he responded by asking, “Are you from London?” I felt so stupid when I had to explain that we were, in fact, not English, but American. Whoops. After that we pit-stopped at a little café to use the bathroom and while we were waiting to get back onto the bus, the owner asked me if I spoke Arabic. I looked helplessly at Ben and he kindly explained to the guy that I most definitely do not. (Taylor taught me quite a few phrases but the only ones I remember are hello, my name is, I’m American, thank you, and eat – more about the last one later. The problem is that they learn classical Arabic so it didn’t help them too much except to read signs) I don’t know what it is about my appearance, but nobody in the world can guess my nationality! I’ve been mistaken for pretty much everything in the world besides Irish and Asian. Even the girl at lunch asked if I was Mexican and Ben asked if my parents were French.
When Ben told us at our first group talk that he was going to “stuff us like a Spanish señora” he was not joking. We got back in the van and on our way to Rabat, we had more fruit and he whipped out a 20 pound bag of trail mix. The countryside was so beautiful, and not at all what I expected - rolling hills full of farms and pottery stands alongside the road. We got to Rabat, the capital city, and went straight to a building where we met out host families for the next two nights. We got to split ourselves up into groups of three then he assigned us to the families who were waiting for us. I stayed with Taylor and Brigitte and it turns out that the building we were in was our host family’s house! I was surprised because the middle was more or less a tiled courtyard with just the frame of a roof above the three floors. There were three long rectangular rooms around the outside which had gorgeous long couches with pillows. The other wall was the entryway which led to the bathroom and the kitchen which led to sink/shower. Nobody gets their own room with a lock and door, we just moved the pillows aside, put down sheets, and slept on the couches. The decoration was so pretty, it’s hard to describe but it was totally different than our piso in Granada. There were a couple of tv’s, a western toilet and no bidet, and lots of open space. Whenever you enter a room, you have to take your shoes off, which is why they wear slippers from room to room. I forgot a couple of times and got either a funny look or pointed at. Janelle, Jessica, and Brittney lived above us on the second floor so they could look down into the “courtyard” for lack of a better word, where our dining room table was. The family consisted of a mom, dad, older son, 18-year-old daughter named Zineb, 4-year-old daughter named Aya, and their cousin Chefia. He spoke really good English so he sat and talked to us with Zineb (who also speaks pretty good English) while Aya provided the entertainment. I later learned that Zineb really likes Spanish and wants to be a journalist someday. She would also love to travel to Spain but probably will never get the chance. It was very awkward at first because we didn’t know what to do or what to talk about so I was glad Aya was the icebreaker. She had a notebook and we found out that was learning to write her letters and numbers. I quizzed her/taught her some more. The whole family was so nice and welcoming to us, even if they do this all the time I felt like their culture is so much inviting than Spain. We had dinner and I was happy to see we were doing it the traditional way – eating with your hands (actually hand, as in singular – specifically the right hand because the left is for “cleaning” aka wiping) We had meatballs, bread, macaroni noodles with red sauce, and Moroccan sweets similar to what we had during tea. Luckily they gave us forks for the pasta because that could’ve been messy! Taylor wasn’t feeling so hot and Brigitte wasn’t super hungry and is a vegetarian so we didn’t make a dent in the huge family style plate in the middle of the table! After dinner we sat around talking some more and Chefia asked if we wanted to go out. We weren’t totally convinced since it was pretty late and we’d had a pretty overwhelming day, but we agreed as long as we wouldn’t be gone too long. We later found out that he thought we were lazy since we agreed to go but he had to ask us three times if we were ready. I guess we’re turning into Spaniards! He said his parents were laughing because they knew he was waiting for us but we were just sitting there. Wow, 15 km separates Spain from Morocco but they could not be more different in that aspect. Anyway, we headed to his American friend’s apartment which was not somewhere I’d like to go again. We sat while they chain smoked and his friend enjoyed a little too much wine. We kindly turned down offers on both and their look of surprise probably matched ours. (Smoking isn’t accepted and drinking is completely against Islam so to find both on our first night in Morocco which is 99.9% Islam was a shock.) We finally left and thankfully met up with the girls who live above us and their host brother and jumped into some taxis. We didn’t have any nice clothes to wear so we were pretty disgusting and when we showed up at the discoteca, he was probably embarrassed that we were so scrubby. Once again, a nightclub, especially one named “Privilege” was not what I was expecting to find on my first night in Africa. We looked so out of place but had a good time anyway. There wasn’t a cover but we had to buy a drink. I laughed when I saw how many non-alcoholic drinks there were. I ordered a “PussyCat”, which also made me laugh and think of The Replacements. It was supposedly a smoothie but I’m gonna call it a mix of pineapple and some citrus fruit. Either way, it was good and I was glad I didn’t have to drink the glow-in-the dark cocktail they gave all the girls. His crazy American friend took care of that one for me – thanks creepy dude. When we got there the music was pretty good but by the time we went out to the dance floor, it was full-blown techno. Ughh. I thought it was just this horrible phase that was happening in Europe but I guess it’s more widespread than I imagined. Seriously, how are you supposed to dance to that? Cheffie had some pretty sweet moves, though. We did some sort of circle action for a while where one person goes to the center and busts a move then it’s someone else’s turn. Oh, boy. I need to take a time out and give some more background on this Chefia character real quick. First, I could NOT remember/pronounce his name. I usually called him Zafir and at one point I think I referred to him as Jafar. Aka, nothing that resembled his real or nickname. Second, I think he got some sort of commission for taking us to that club. Tons of vendors make offers like that to tour guides and since he has so many students come stay with him, I wouldn’t be surprised. Third, he knows EVERYONE. No matter where we went, day or night, he would stop and talk to 2/3 people we passed on the street. It was unbelievable. I didn’t believe his weird American friend when he was like a surfing God but apparently it was true. Which brings me to number four – he’s one of top 3 or 4 surfers in the region. I guess the waves are world-renowned and are comparable to those in California and Hawaii because of the open ocean to the east. Who knew? As a job he’s a surf instructor but he just got a good job somewhere else so he’ll be moving in a few months but hopes to come back after a few years. Imagine a famed multilingual Moroccan rebel with braces and a surfer dude attitude. An odd mix, to say the least. Back to the discoteca – we were dancing and having a good time but I needed a break. Long story short, I fell asleep with my head in my hands. Wow. We finally left around 1:45 even though he promised we’d be back “in a couple of hours”. Overall, it was an amazing day but exhausting! Especially considering the fact that we went through a two hour time change..
4-2-09
Thursday, April 2, 2009
This morning I really really tried to pay better attention in lit class since I obviously didn´t the whole first half of the semester. It wasn´t awful but definitely what I would call difficult. After that I did some walking around and stumbled up an imagen para Semana Santa! I was going down Calle San Antón and wandered into a church where a lady had set up a table with pictures of the imagen that she was selling. (An imagen is a big figure of Jesus or the Virgin Mary that´s paraded through the streets throughout the week of Semana Santa led by guys who look like the KKK) She saw me looking around and encouraged me to go in and kiss the feet of Jesus. It was so solemn and the life-sized crucified Jesus was sooo realistic. I wish I could´ve taken a picture but it just didn´t feel right. It was definitely an experience - I´ll say that! I´m really looking forward to seeing all the Semana Santa stuff, it´s what we talked about in Granada Seminar this week. There´s so many details and customs that I don´t totally understand but I think it´s going to be spectacular! After that I had Art History, then a huuuge lunch (which is saying something!), finished up some packing/organizing, then went to POE.
I´m writing this ahead of time, but hopefully our bus will leave at 8:15 from the bus station, head to Algeciras (about a 5 hour ride I´m told) then we stay in a hostel. Tomorrow morning we get on the ferry for Tangier, Morocco!!! I´m sooo excited about the program - we have a really detailed itinerary and an amazing video that you can see on the website: http://moroccoexchange.org/ (On the side, there are links to two videos called documentary and Morocco Exchange)
I´ll get home Monday night pretty late, quick shower, repack, meet all of Julia´s family then leave our piso Tuesday morning before 5:00am. wow. Buuuuut I´ll be getting to see Mom and Dad in Italy!!! How lucky am I?
I´ll update in a couple weeks.. ¡Hasta luego!
Got to Algeciras after 3 hour bus ride. Aida’s family was there waiting for her and they were so excited to see each other - adorable. She gave us our return bus tickets then we waited for a while until Rick and Ben, the tour guides for our two groups came strolling up and said, “Uhh, are you here for the Morocco Exchange program?” Oh really... how could you tell? Was it because we were the only people left in the bus station, because we were a bunch of American college students, or did our huge backpacks give it away? They’re pretty relaxed guys and didn’t seem nearly as anxious about this trip as we were. They led us to the hostel and after a huge mess with keys, passports, and papers, I finally had to ask what time we were leaving in the morning. They told me two separate times but they worked it out and Taylor and I settled into our cute little room and called it a night. Somewhere in my stay at the hostel in Algeciras I lost my very favorite white tank top that I wear under everything :( I am lost without it and it’s irreplaceable.
This morning I really really tried to pay better attention in lit class since I obviously didn´t the whole first half of the semester. It wasn´t awful but definitely what I would call difficult. After that I did some walking around and stumbled up an imagen para Semana Santa! I was going down Calle San Antón and wandered into a church where a lady had set up a table with pictures of the imagen that she was selling. (An imagen is a big figure of Jesus or the Virgin Mary that´s paraded through the streets throughout the week of Semana Santa led by guys who look like the KKK) She saw me looking around and encouraged me to go in and kiss the feet of Jesus. It was so solemn and the life-sized crucified Jesus was sooo realistic. I wish I could´ve taken a picture but it just didn´t feel right. It was definitely an experience - I´ll say that! I´m really looking forward to seeing all the Semana Santa stuff, it´s what we talked about in Granada Seminar this week. There´s so many details and customs that I don´t totally understand but I think it´s going to be spectacular! After that I had Art History, then a huuuge lunch (which is saying something!), finished up some packing/organizing, then went to POE.
I´m writing this ahead of time, but hopefully our bus will leave at 8:15 from the bus station, head to Algeciras (about a 5 hour ride I´m told) then we stay in a hostel. Tomorrow morning we get on the ferry for Tangier, Morocco!!! I´m sooo excited about the program - we have a really detailed itinerary and an amazing video that you can see on the website: http://moroccoexchange.org/ (On the side, there are links to two videos called documentary and Morocco Exchange)
I´ll get home Monday night pretty late, quick shower, repack, meet all of Julia´s family then leave our piso Tuesday morning before 5:00am. wow. Buuuuut I´ll be getting to see Mom and Dad in Italy!!! How lucky am I?
I´ll update in a couple weeks.. ¡Hasta luego!
Got to Algeciras after 3 hour bus ride. Aida’s family was there waiting for her and they were so excited to see each other - adorable. She gave us our return bus tickets then we waited for a while until Rick and Ben, the tour guides for our two groups came strolling up and said, “Uhh, are you here for the Morocco Exchange program?” Oh really... how could you tell? Was it because we were the only people left in the bus station, because we were a bunch of American college students, or did our huge backpacks give it away? They’re pretty relaxed guys and didn’t seem nearly as anxious about this trip as we were. They led us to the hostel and after a huge mess with keys, passports, and papers, I finally had to ask what time we were leaving in the morning. They told me two separate times but they worked it out and Taylor and I settled into our cute little room and called it a night. Somewhere in my stay at the hostel in Algeciras I lost my very favorite white tank top that I wear under everything :( I am lost without it and it’s irreplaceable.
4-1-09
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Woke up and went to Grammar at 8:30 - the only thing I had aallllll day long. We were sitting there waiting for the professor (we´re always there before her) and quite a bit of time had passed when some lady came in to tell us we were having a sub and she should be there in 10 minutes. Finally, at 8:50 I walked out - it felt like the worst April Fool´s joke ever! I can´t believe I woke up early for that. Anyway, Steph, Whitney, Taylor and I got our hostel booked for Portugal so I guess that´s good! I did some more shopping/errands then came home for lunch. I started laying out some stuff for Morocco and Italy but wasn´t getting much done before I had to head back to the CLM to do some Skyping. I got to talk to Rob forever - about 2 hours! I was so happy :) I miss him so much.. He did let me know that it´s 50 days until I get home, though (which comes with mixed feelings). After talking to him I got to talk to Mandy for a while then chat with Mom since our video wouldn´t connect. I was happy to hear from both of them but bummed that we couldn´t long and that I couldn´t see Mom. At least I´ll be seeing her in a week! Sounds like Mandy, Justin, Kent, and Laura had a fun weekend in Sioux City. Talking to Mandy made me excited for summer! It´s going to be a good one.. Ok so after Skyping I came home, had dinner, showered, and packed! I´m trying to bring as little amout of stuff as possible but it´s hard when I don´t really know what to expect. It´s supposed to be good weather in Morocco but not so hot in Italy. (Well, Mom and Dad think it´s going to be nice since it´s snowing at home right now.. I think it will be cold and cloudy) I tried to set out stuff for my second trip since I will have almost NO time in between. I guess I´ll just have to throw everything together at the last minute. Taylor and I were giggling and talking until about midnight when Julia came in, told us to be quieter because of the vecinos, and literally shut off our light like little girls. I needed to go to sleep anyway but it just made me laugh. Oh, Julia... (sigh)
Woke up and went to Grammar at 8:30 - the only thing I had aallllll day long. We were sitting there waiting for the professor (we´re always there before her) and quite a bit of time had passed when some lady came in to tell us we were having a sub and she should be there in 10 minutes. Finally, at 8:50 I walked out - it felt like the worst April Fool´s joke ever! I can´t believe I woke up early for that. Anyway, Steph, Whitney, Taylor and I got our hostel booked for Portugal so I guess that´s good! I did some more shopping/errands then came home for lunch. I started laying out some stuff for Morocco and Italy but wasn´t getting much done before I had to head back to the CLM to do some Skyping. I got to talk to Rob forever - about 2 hours! I was so happy :) I miss him so much.. He did let me know that it´s 50 days until I get home, though (which comes with mixed feelings). After talking to him I got to talk to Mandy for a while then chat with Mom since our video wouldn´t connect. I was happy to hear from both of them but bummed that we couldn´t long and that I couldn´t see Mom. At least I´ll be seeing her in a week! Sounds like Mandy, Justin, Kent, and Laura had a fun weekend in Sioux City. Talking to Mandy made me excited for summer! It´s going to be a good one.. Ok so after Skyping I came home, had dinner, showered, and packed! I´m trying to bring as little amout of stuff as possible but it´s hard when I don´t really know what to expect. It´s supposed to be good weather in Morocco but not so hot in Italy. (Well, Mom and Dad think it´s going to be nice since it´s snowing at home right now.. I think it will be cold and cloudy) I tried to set out stuff for my second trip since I will have almost NO time in between. I guess I´ll just have to throw everything together at the last minute. Taylor and I were giggling and talking until about midnight when Julia came in, told us to be quieter because of the vecinos, and literally shut off our light like little girls. I needed to go to sleep anyway but it just made me laugh. Oh, Julia... (sigh)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
