Hey, I just met you...

            The first few days of class have proven to be – trying. Arbitrary room and time changes with sometimes as little as a five-minute heads-up (online, no less) have gotten the best of most of us. My schedule still isn’t finalized, and I need to go into town on Monday to pay my university fees. The wifi still won’t let me connect (I’m on the guest network), and life has been frustrating of late.

            On the plus side, I have successfully done laundry for the first time! It was remarkably straightforward, though I hope I’m not jinxing myself by saying so. I have also met a couple more Moroccan students, most of them being guys. A couple of outgoing girls will make an effort to get to know me, so I’m not sure if it’s a cultural thing or if I’m just naturally more comfortable around guys.

            Either way, tonight we did something so remarkably normal I still can’t believe it happened – we went bowling. A bunch of us international students and a handful of Moroccan students went into town to have dinner, and then we went bowling. The place only had six lanes, and it reeked of cigarette smoke (but then, a lot of buildings here do), but it played music like “Call Me Maybe” and Katy Perry songs.

            Tomorrow we’ll be going into Fes, if we can get everyone together in a decent amount of time. That’s another downside of Moroccan time sense; coordinating trips is going to be a bitch. Hopefully my next post will be detailing the wonders of Fes!

Couscous in Morocco is couscous done right

            I have found the lounge. It’s on the third floor, and it has a TV, couches, and a table. I am quite pleased by this.

            I just got back from a long conversation with my RA, Sanaa. She is bubbling over with ideas for our building for the semester, and along with the Club Fair coming up on Monday this has banished any visions of seclusion I had. Class is tomorrow, and I can’t remember the last time I was this excited for class.

            Today was pretty much awesome. I woke up at ten, and had time to shower and have a leisurely breakfast before meeting at the globe for the Couscous social in Ifrane. Much to my surprise and delight, it was the freshmen and the international students going. We took two buses, loaded beyond capacity (of course!). When we got there, the couscous was still being prepared and we had about half an hour of waiting.

            The social took place in a large building used for such activities, with a high ceiling and a stage at one end. Men came in with various types of drums and two ridiculously long brass instruments, like trumpets but simpler. They played music with a strong beat and sang loudly. As the Moroccan students got up to dance, I found myself pulled into the crowd by Sarah, one of the student ambassadors (I think). They dance rhythmically, with much moving of the feet. You either clap your hands to the beat or raise your hands in the air and swivel them by the wrist. We danced twice over the course of the meal, and people were shouting and trilling. A dance circle formed in the middle of the mass, and some of the girls could move their hips in ways I didn’t know was possible!

            I had such a genuinely fun time, and some of the Moroccan students even recognized me. I’m trying very hard not to hang out with only international students, though the pull of familiarity is strong.

            After the social, some of us went to the marche to get our pictures taken for our temporary residency papers. All of the walking from place to place took its toll, and by the time I stumbled back to my room around 4, I took a forty minute nap. When I woke up, my roommate was just walking in. She’s wonderfully sweet, but very shy. She brought with her some cousins, younger siblings, her father and her uncle. They brought her stuff in very quickly and left after meeting me. I found out that she’s from Meknes and studying business.

            Instead of watching the movie they showed (the Hunger Games, projected on a wall outdoors), a lot of us wound up hanging out with some of the student ambassadors. It turns out they have a wickedly sharp sense of humor, and by the time dinner had passed we were joking and swapping tales like old friends. They have such great stories to tell, and I feel like they’ve lived so much more than I have in the same amount of time. We sat around drinking coffee and tea until eleven, when we all realized we actually had class in the morning and should probably go to bed at a decent hour.

            I’m going to start carrying my camera around more often. There are so many wonderful things I’ve seen, but I have very little evidence of it. I promise, more pictures are on their way.

Sorry for Party Rocking

            Today was full of more boring meetings and sessions, but those days are drawing to an end. School starts on Wednesday, and I am genuinely excited to get homework and start learning here. I want to know what the professors are like; Louise, who is from Denmark, wonders what kind of coursework we will have. Apparently in the Danish system, you are assigned readings and at the end of the semester you write a term paper or take a test. The idea of busywork is unwelcome, and we all hope that classes will be engaging.

            I’ve been having trouble with the Moroccan sense of things. For example, their sense of time is far less strict than our own. We have yet to have a session start on time, and the norm is for it to start some ten or fifteen minutes after it’s scheduled to start. But we still get out early, so it could be worse.

            Their sense of space is also something I will have to get used to. Apparently Americans have a far larger personal bubble, because the Europeans have no trouble with how close Moroccans stand. Physical contact is also far more common, although contact between members of the opposite sex is far less and mostly occurs with the younger generation (ie the students). People here greet the way that some Europeans do, by air kissing on the cheeks. I haven’t greeted anyone like that yet, but I don’t know that many Moroccans yet either. Eye contact is not as prevalent, and doesn’t carry quite the same notion of friendliness that it does in the states. It is a more powerful form of communication than in America, and I keep catching myself making eye contact with people.

             I keep forgetting that the campus is at 5,000 feet until I walk the 60,000 steps back to my dorm. That may be a slight exaggeration. The air here is much crisper and colder in the evening than at home. The air is also dry, even when it’s really hot, so I pretty much love the weather here.

            I’m finishing this piecemeal entry in front of my “wherefore-art-thou-Romeo” window, thrown open to tempt the slightest mountain breeze. I just came back from karaoke with the freshmen Moroccan students. Which was a complete success, and a ton of fun. Anyone well acquainted with me knows my – well, let’s call it exuberance. Two of the international students thought I was completely off my rocker, but I only got weird looks from maybe two or three Moroccan students.

            I sang Teenage Dream with one of the girls, and another girl has promised to Facebook-friend me. I ended up dancing with three or four Moroccan girls after the majority of the international students left. The pace of the karaoke was very different. Everyone crowded around the screen, so it was hard to see or hear who was singing. In between songs, technological difficulties often resulted in random pauses. After a while a ring of chairs formed around the crowd as kids stood on them to get a better view.

            The greatest part was that they knew ALL THE SONGS. I kid you not. From Brittney Spears to Rihanna to Katy Perry, these kids knew all the words to every song. Even songs that I thought wouldn’t be popular here, because they’re so provocative. It was great to see them all so excited and full of movement, and the international kiddos tried mingling. One stubborn corner of international students stuck to themselves, but all in all it was a great time. It’s the first time I’ve felt like I clicked with any of the Moroccan students, and I even recognized some of the kids from my scavenger hunt. Even better, most of them recognized me! Though I suppose I do stand out more than they do…

            So far life in Morocco has been a crazy mix of ups and downs, excitement and wonder mixing with the tedium of paperwork and the frustration of a language barrier. School starts on Wednesday, and I can’t wait to see what new challenges that will bring. (Luckily they’re taught in English, haha!)

Scavenger Hunt

Day Three

            This whole time thing really isn’t working out for me. Today I woke up to the sunlight, and realized all too quickly that it was two minutes to 9, when we were supposed to meet. Silly me, I forgot that my phone is set on 24-hour time!

            Even so, after showering and walking over to the auditorium, I still got there right as everything was starting. Just this once, the Moroccan sense of time has worked in my favor.

            We had a chance to see the campus in daylight a bit more today. There are tiny blue butterflies everywhere, and the campus is populated by white, heron-like birds and calico cats that lounge lazily on ledges and steps, their gangly limbs sprawling in the sun. They’re people-shy, though, and quick to leave if you approach them.

            Everyone is here now, international students and freshmen, and I’m starting to feel more comfortable moving around the campus. I’ve learned two Arabic words, and picked up my books for class. The weather here is perfect, hot but not humid at all.

            My love of libraries drove me back to the library today, and I signed up my account so that I could check out some books. I feel so much more at home in libraries; it’s reassuring to know they’re the same here.

            Tonight I ran into my first real language barrier problem. We played a scavenger hunt all across the university with the first-year students, and more often than not I was trailing behind, plaintively calling, “But do we know WHERE we’re going?” By the end of the night I was so fed-up that I left the activity before it was finished. Of course, it was almost 1 AM by then as well!

            On the plus side, I did meet some very nice Moroccan people. The girls were quiet but very friendly if you spoke to them. We would end up walking together as the boys ran ahead, and we exchanged polite conversation. I think they were using me to practice their English, but it was nice to talk to someone in English. When they spoke to one another it was loud, fast, and in both French and Moroccan Arabic. Their voices piled on top of one another and overlapped into one mass of noise. The guys were a little pushy, a little loud, but they seem to be good at heart. One guy kept asking me about American women, and another time we had a discussion about my lack of cooking skills. They were baffled. And then they started talking quickly in Arabic, and judging by the sidelong glances I think they were talking about me. Hopefully nothing mean, haha.

            Twice we went into the basement of the auditorium, where the student ambassador stationed there insisted that we leave the lights off (I think his excuse was to save energy). At another station we had to eat gross food that the team before us had prepared. At yet another station, I found the clue on the wall. Unfortunately, I thought it was a joke, and it took us a long time to realize it was real. The clue said to find the “security” guy and to tell him “fuck you.” Yes, fuck you. Finally, after much Arabic yelling and confusion, I asked the guy stationed there if he was the “security”. He said yes.

            “Fuck you!” I replied immediately, genuinely frustrated. However, he smiled and handed over the next clue, so I forgave him. And then my team bolted again, and the rest of us ran to catch up.

            Altogether it was an interesting night, but after the other American students left to go to bed, I felt quite lost amongst the Moroccan students. I don’t speak any French or Arabic, and even though one (Moroccan) girl told me most Moroccans are fluent in Spanish as well, I have yet to find one. The social norms are different here, and I think I made a few friends but I’m not sure how to interact with them. We’ll just have to see.

Getting There

Day 1           
            The coffee was a bad idea. That is the first thought that crosses my mind as we enter French airspace. I can already feel the cough starting in my throat, and I stubbornly hold it back as I peer curiously through the window next to me.

            Already this trip has been a learning experience for me. I wandered to the back of the plane only to discover that the galley was self-serve, though full with a handful of helpful French flight attendants. I met a man from Egypt and we spoke about the current state of North Africa and the Middle East. I know people say you aren’t supposed to talk about politics or religion with strangers, but it seems as though I can’t help myself. He was even helpful enough to offer help providing contact with a nonprofit in Chicago regarding a potential internship this summer. Less than a day into my semester abroad and already I’ve made more progress than an entire summer at home.

            During the flight I would lift the window shade to stare at the clarity of the stars, juxtaposed with the earth underneath. We were so high up I could half-convince myself I could see the curvature of the earth, although I’m sure the image was self-created. Later, as the sun began to rise, we could see sunlight spilled like liquid flame across the floor of clouds.

            The girl next to me was returning to her home in France after a summer in the states, and after some conversing I found out she is from Syria originally. After meeting two people with Arabic ties on my flight, I began to have a good feeling about this semester.

            We got off the plane and I felt completely like an obnoxious American tourist. My nonexistent French made itself painfully known as I helplessly responded in English to every “bonjour” and “sil’vou plait” thrown my way. Luckily, they all knew English and were able to help me to the next terminal. We took the shuttle to the terminal, and I found myself staring at everything at once, camera completely forgotten in my bag. The stop sign gave me pause, because it was written in English. I don’t know what the French word for “stop” is, but I’m pretty sure it’s not “stop.”

            Landing in Casablanca was a breeze, and I met with two girls going to AUI like me. Louisa, from Denmark, spoke enough French to help us get by as we bought tickets to the train station. Hallie spoke some French too, and the three of us made it onto the train with minimal panic. On the train to Fes I found myself struggling to communicate with two Moroccan women who spoke French and Arabic. In the end I spoke Spanish to them, and we were able to make ourselves understood. It hit me then that no matter what language we speak, people can communicate. I felt like I was sharing part of myself as we tried to share stories and advice.

            We got into Fes at around 11 at night, and reached the university at 1 in the morning. I was tired enough that I fell asleep without even unpacking.

Day Two

            I didn’t bring a watch. This morning I woke up to the sun on my face, which was nice until I realized I had missed the time for meeting Louisa and Hallie. After a few moments of frantic movement, I resigned myself to being late and got ready more slowly. Today’s goal would be to get a watch and alarm clock.

            After a rough night trying to make the outlets in my room work (they never did), I slept soundly and made it to the cafeteria in time for lunch. There I met several international students, some who’ve been here for days already. Their excitement for the upcoming semester renewed my own, and having people around who speak English was good for my sanity and self-esteem.

            Following lunch I immediately sought out the library, and it’s a relief to know that libraries are more or less the same anywhere. The outlets work here, so I was able to resurrect my computer and check the time. That afternoon those of us already on campus gathered, and I met quite a few enthusiastic, entertaining, and sometimes baffling people. So many of us here are International Studies majors, I feel at home. After registration a handful of us went into town, where I bought a burn phone (so awesome!). It has a soccer ball on it. Then we went back to the university to have dinner. Everyone here is very friendly, and tomorrow orientation starts for real. I can’t wait.