Random updates

This one is from the week before last—I just didn’t get around to positng it before I left on my trip.

The other day, I was feeling restless while writing my paper in the library so I decided to go for a run. (By the way, somehow it has become acceptable in my mind to go for a run from school, come back all sweaty, change back into my clean clothes and go back to studying.) I got a bit more attention for being alone (as in every single car that passed by honked and stared at me) but it was relaxing to be alone for once, and so nice to watch the sun set over the ocean.

PS, check out the view where I run. It should be no surprise that Erin and I seem to get sidetracked and often spend more than half our time climbing down the rocks to explore or simply gawking at the view and the fact that we’re here.

Another day, I was running with my friend Alicia and we had an especially persistent suitor. He stopped in the middle of the road, shouting for our attention (and phone number), we ran by him and continued down the road. He then drove by us, trying to get out attention. At the next cross street, he had pulled in and was outside his car waiting with a phone. We continued to ignore him. Several more times, he drove by, completely holding up traffic on the highway to try to talk to us. Finally, he drove by again, and the girl in the passenger seat held out a piece of paper with a phone number.

Interesting occurrence—Boutayna and her friend Imam were playing with makeup and taking pictures, but as soon as Dad came home, they immediately stopped and huddled into the corner. A minute later, Boutayna asked me if her face was better—looks like daddy doesn’t allow makeup.

Another night, I was invited to go to a soccer game with some other SIT students and some host cousins. Rabat was playing Tunisia, and the stadium was far from full, but the fans that were there had plenty of enthusiasm—particularly the opposite side (which seemed to be having way more fun than my side). They unrolled a GIANT flag and were constantly dancing and singing and running around the bleachers. The next day, all the teachers were asking us about the game—apparently we made national TV. (They reported us as Rabat’s fans who had come all the way from America.)

In accordance with my practice of trying new things, when I saw strange fruits in the souk with green skins and funny lumps, I decided to buy one and see what was inside. Several of my friends were skeptical initially, but in the end, everyone gave in and tried it. It had the most unique and surprising flavor I have ever tasted—it reminded me of papaya, avocado, melon and strawberry. My friend Lauren said that she thought she’d had it in South America and it was called a membrio. Unfortunately, I haven’t seen it since.

Quote of the week: “What? Do I have American in my teeth?!” –Erin

Stalker of the week: I didn’t hear it, but Erin said that as we passed, he said “Hello, you’re so beautiful. I want to fuck you.” Hmmm…

Donkeys and chickens and goats oh my!

This is kind of a belated update, but about a week and a half ago, I spent a week in a rural Moroccan village. Here are the basics:

There were no cars (thought there were donkeys), no beds, no running water (and therefore no showers, no normal toilets, etc (Have I told you about the Turkish toilet? It’s a square of ceramic with two foot spots and a hole in the middle. They’re fairly common here.) The bathroom was located outside the house, and the guard dogs made nighttime bathroom trips slightly nerve-wracking. For the most part, though, it wasn’t too hard. I’ve spent plenty of time out in the woods.

Moreover, I loved being outside all the time. The neighborhood boys (I lived next to three other families, who we think were all various forms of cousins and second cousins, but knowledge is always questionable when communicating in Darija) loved to take the students up the surrounding hills. What a backyard!

There was definitely poverty, but not ugly poverty, mostly just simple. It’s definitely a problem that they don’t necessarily have money for medical help when it is needed, and that if they have a drought, they will starve, but day-to day life seemed like hard work, but also wholesome. It game a new perspective on stuff. We have so much STUFF! And it’s so unnecessary! I loved going to sleep early and waking up at sunrise, and I will totally take the forest over the internet. Stones and grass seemed to serve just fine as toys. Call me a crazy hippy.

My host family was wonderful. It included a mom, who would rattle on in Darija (I was actually able to communicate way better than I anticipated), a man who might have been a father and might have been an uncle (mom said he was her brother, but one of the neighbors said he was her husband, so I was confused), a 14 year old sister, a 10 year old brother, and a four year old walking hurricane. He became my best friend. We would have conversations as cats and play shop by taking cans from the trash (ie the yard) and filling them with dirt. The family also included two cows, two dogs, a cat, and a slew of chickens, turkeys, pheasants, goats and sheep. I learned lots of animals in darija.

My family fed me lots of delicious food. Sure, I had bread 4-6 times a day, but it was delicious and fresh. They usually made tajine (stewed veggitables (minimal, in this case), potatoes, onions and chicken) for lunch—with bread, of course. My favorite part was the coffee—it didn’t actually contain much coffee, more like a delicious explosion of cinnamon, cardamom and ginger with a little coffee in fresh goat’s milk.

45 SIT students trecking across the countryside (in a giant mob--how else would we do things?)

We also painted the wall at the school. My tree is the one on the right.

I decided to make a debut at the hammam (the bathhouse) to celebrate. My host fam has a shower, so I hadn’t been yet, but lots of Moroccans go to the hammam about once a week. In the hammam there are various rooms ranging from hot and steamy to room temp. there is a basin full of scalding hot water and a cold faucet, from which you fill buckets to create the desired temperature. Then, you sit on a stool and pour water over yourself and scrub—and I mean scrub. Moroccan style means you’re not doing it right unless your skin is turning red. Oh, and I forgot to mention that everyone is topless. (Don’t worry—hammams are NOT co-ed.)

Catching up

I’ve been so busy lately, and for the fist time in a while, I’m not up to my ears, which feels quite strange. I guess this was midterms week, and though all of my papers were short and informal, being occupied for eight hours a day with school made even joke-papers feel like a heavy load. I ‘m finally catching up on all the little things that I have been neglecting, like laundry, replying to messages, seeing my host family, and of course, posting.

I think I’m really settling into life here—everything seems more and more normal. If posts begin to get sparse, it’s because I’m no longer seeing everything in contrast to life back home, and so I don’t see everything as a story to post—instead of a grand adventure, it’s just life (and of course because I seem to be getting more and more busy with school and life). It’s going to be strange going back to the US.

This afternoon, I played soccer on the beach again, which is always a highlight. This time, there were fewer Americans and more good soccer players (the two tend to go together), so mostly I was just running around like a chicken with my head cut off. I thought it was funny that they called a foul for hitting the “Anglizia” with the soccer ball (I was blocking the goal).

My host fam has a new pet—it’s a baby chick. I’m pretty sure we’re going to eat it eventually.Originally we had three (it was quite amusing buying them out of a box and walking home through the medina with them in our hands), but I guess two of them died while I was in the village. So now we have one. My friend Erin came over and named it Jean-Pierre, and now the who family refers to it as such (I don’t think Moroccans usually name their livestock.) Often, when I come home, loose in house, following people around, and wandering into my room as I study.

Last weekend, I had a free morning, and I went with one of my friends on a long run along the coast. I had been wanting to explore that area practically since I arrived, and it was cool to see the tide pools and watch the waves crash against the cliffs.

Shortly after, I experienced my first bout of food poisoning. (I was one of only a few who hadn’t been sick yet, so I guess it was overdue.) I decided being sick is kind of a drag, so I’ll lay off the figs from here on out, and maybe stick to fruit that can be peeled. (I did wash them. With soap. But figs are always a gamble, because the skin is so thin and it is always cracked.) But look how beautiful it is! can you blame me?