TOHO

            “And now for some dictation.”

            The room lets out a collective, almost imperceptible groan of frustration. Fingers drum the tables, anxious knees jiggle out a rapid drumbeat as everyone obsessively checks the time. Finally, five minutes late, we are let out of class.

            We all bolt to our separate tasks – Louise to close her window, Kelly to buy snacks. I make a beeline for the main gate, where our grand taxi is supposed to be waiting for us. We’re all tense and aware of the ticking clock over our heads – if we miss the 5:40 train, we’ll be stuck in Meknes until the next train. At 1 AM.

            The taxi ride is uneventful until the last 15 minutes or so. We call ahead – the others have bought the train tickets, so if we don’t make it we’re also out three tickets. On the way we hit traffic, as well as every possible fucking red light on the way. Against all odds we make it to the train station, where Paul stands waiting. We tore out of the taxi like bats out of hell, shouting our thanks over our shoulders. We sprint through the train station and down the stairs, where officials are gesturing for us to hurry the hell up. At this point I’m laughing hysterically, at the situation and our own audacity in thinking we could cheat the system. Clambering aboard at the last minute, we took a moment to savor the triumph of making the train.

            The train ride was thereafter fairly uneventful, and we got into Tangier at 9:30, far earlier than expected. I had called ahead and spoke to the Hotel Mamura, so they were expecting us. The train station in Tangier was beautiful, reminiscent of Spain more than anywhere else. As Paul commented, it was easy to see why part of the Bourne movies was filmed there. Outside the station, with a carnival occurring nearby, we were fortunate in finding two taxis to take us to our hotel. The driver of my taxi spoke Spanish, French, English, and Arabic, and gave us his phone number to use during the weekend after showing us the way to our hotel.

            We walked down the beach street after stowing our stuff, and ate at one of the restaurants/cafés/beach clubs. It was quite delicious, but since there were eight of us the service took a long time. In fact, everywhere we went to sit down and eat proved the same.

            The next day, we had breakfast at a nearby café and went walkabout through the medina. Compared to Fes, the medina in Tangier is a dream. Most, if not all, vendors spoke Spanish and English, and the streets were wider and cleaner. The vendors weren’t as pushy as the ones in Fes, and were in general pretty friendly. I was able to get most of my Christmas shopping done, though it did deal some heavy damage to my bank account. We found our way to the Kasbah and looked out across the water. It was too hazy to see Spain, but we had a gorgeous view nonetheless. We explored a bit, but were called back when an official told us we were standing in a condemned building that was in the process of falling into the ocean, and he recommended that we get to safer ground. Nearby was the Salon Bleu, where we had lunch on the roof and had fun with a street cat that had managed its way up the spiral staircase to look at us with big eyes.

            After eating we made our way back to the hotel, where we changed into swimsuits to go to the beach. The beach was walking distance, and we walked past a few camels before finding a place we felt comfortable in. There were some other women around, and the atmosphere was far removed from that of Casablanca. There was even a lifeguard, who asked us in a mixture of Spanish and French if we could swim, and reassuring us that he and his surfboard would save us if not.

            The water was freezing. Which makes sense, given the season, and the Atlantic is always cold. We got used to it quickly, and spent a good three or four hours on the beach. Halcyon and I combed the beach, and were amazingly successful. In fact, a random Moroccan dude saw us collecting shells and gathered some to give to us. Completely random, but he didn’t harass us at all, and I was thankful for that. I collected quite a few pieces of sea glass to bring home.

            After the beach, we recollected ourselves once again to go out, this time to the 555 Beach Club. We had dinner there, which was made a little hectic by the Barcelona vs. Real Madrid game. The food was good, though, and the club was interesting. The floor lit up, and the bass was loud enough that you could feel it in your sternum.

            The next morning, we called up the taxi driver and went out on a winding tour that ended in the Hercules Caves. First, however, we had to drive past the place where the Atlantic and Mediterranean meet, and past several palaces owned and (rarely) inhabited by various princes, Kuwaiti, Saudi, and other. One Saudi prince, our Spanish-speaking taxi driver informed us, had his own private plane to take him between Tangier and a small town on the southern coast of Spain, I believe Maravilla or Málaga. The plane apparently has a pool inside it. No big.

            The Hercules Caves were beautiful, and we took a lot of pictures there and clambered over a lot of rocks. Thereafter we had the taxi drivers take us to the Gran Café de Paris, where we ALMOST had coffee and tea in the famous café. Instead, we went back down to the Grand Circle and had lunch. Paul and I were prepared to stop at the burger place, but the others travelled some twenty feet further to get some Moroccan food. I must say, I stand by my choice. I had a cheeseburger with egg on top of it, and watched the guy make it in front of my very eyes. He mixed onions in with the egg, and conversed with me in Spanish all the while. It was wonderful.

            Then we made our way to the train station, where we spent a couple hours chilling before catching the train. Some coffee and ice cream put everyone in a good mood, and we ran into some other kids from school. They were just returning from Spain, and happened to be catching the same train as us.

            The train ride home was a bit confusing, because we had to change trains halfway through but didn’t know the train stop name, and got separated on the first leg of the journey. Maggie, Paul, and I wound up with the kids returning from Spain, and reunited with our travel buddies on the second leg of the journey, where we switched from second class to first class (air conditioning is a beautiful thing, people. Treasure it). We got off the train and had some quick chawarma in Meknes before taking a couple of taxis home.

            This is a very bare-bones description of the weekend, and I could go on for hours about how much fun Tangier was. Now I’m psyched for our break in October, when I’ll be traveling to Granada and have even more opportunities to speak Spanish. So far, this semester is passing far too quickly, and I don’t know if we’ll have enough time for all of the awesome things we want to do. One way or another, it’s going to be a grand adventure.

Random updates

            Well, it’s been a while. I’ve gotten used to life on campus almost completely by now, and writing this blog didn’t cross my mind until just now. In fact, I think I’m starting to switch over to Moroccan time, something which could have terrible consequences if I keep that habit when I return to the states.

            Just a few things to note. One, I have discovered that my history professor here is even crazier than initially anticipated. Today a student came into class somewhere between five and ten minutes late, and he wouldn’t let the kid come to class. He made the kid walk right back out the door. It was terrifying.

            Also, here are a few quotes of things our professor has said in class:

            “History is not a promenade at the sunset on the coast or whatever.” – Said after explaining an assassination.

            “If you read about Rome, it’s worse.” – His response to our laughter at the above statement.

            “He invented NOTHING.” – Our prof’s thoughts on Machiavelli.

            “You had a lot of plagues, a lot of people died.” – A description of 10^th century Europe.

            There’s another thing I keep meaning to mention but forgetting. There is a cleaning lady in my building who is the sweetest person I’ve met since I got here. She doesn’t speak a word of English, and my Arabic consists of stating that I’m a student and counting to 100 (all the way to 900 now!!). Despite this barrier, she always says hi to me (salaam) and asks me how I’m doing (la baas?). And she’s always so happy when I try to respond, or even sometimes just repeat what she says.

            Well, we’re going to Tangier this weekend, so expect another exciting installment of travel in Morocco!

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world...

            As I was walking up to my room to finish typing up the entry below, I came across one of the quotes that the RAs had posted on the walls all over the building. This one had fallen off and was lying on the stairs. It says, “Our life’s a stage, a comedy: either learn to play and take it lightly, or bear its troubles patiently.” –Palladas. In light of the weekend we just had, I found this quote to be very meaningful, and I’m keeping it at my desk to remind me that if I can’t laugh at myself, life becomes very difficult.

            This weekend was … well, to put it lightly, it was a whirlwind tour. I’m not even sure how to summarize it, so I’ll just go chronologically and we’ll go from there.

            As late as lunchtime Friday afternoon, we still weren’t entirely sure where we were going. We all gathered in Maggie’s room (Henry had to sit outside the door due to campus rules), and it took us about an hour to figure out we were going to stay in the city’s center in Casablanca. We all had class pretty late, so we figured we wouldn’t get out of town until five or so.

            We managed to leave at the same time as a large group heading to Rabat, so we ran into them multiple times – at the globe waiting to leave, at the grand taxi station, at the train station in Meknes. A petit taxi to the grand taxi station, then a grand taxi ride to Meknes. Then we caught the train headed out to Casablanca, and we were on our way.

            First of all, we were split up because someone (not to name any names, but Brian) bought a first class ticket and the rest of us second class, because they ran out of first class tickets. The three girls (Halcyon, Louise, and myself) wound up in a six-person section. Our neighbors were an elderly gentleman with houses in Meknes, Casablanca, and Paris, and a couple of handsome young Moroccans. In fact, our car got progressively more attractive as the trip wore on.

            At one point, the college-aged kid next to me offered to share his music. After initially refusing, I caved after five minutes of boredom. His selection included, among other things, Beyonce’s “If I Were A Boy” and some rap music.

            We got into Casablanca late, around ten or eleven. After getting an expensive taxi ride to the hotel, we discovered that the hotel would only allow two of us to stay in the room we booked. We tried explaining that we could sleep on the floor, but they were adamant. So the boys and I went to the Hotel Astrid, which actually turned out to be quite lovely. With a three-person room priced at 450 MAD a night, it worked out to less than 20$US per person per night.

            That night we went out to La Bodéga, which was in Louise’s Lonely Planet book. It was a tapas bar, and a great way to make us all feel better after the chaos of arriving. The tapas were delicious, the sangria was perfect, and the basement had a dance floor that was, if I may say, quite bumpin’.

            Our walk back to the hotels wore off the tapas high. We decided to navigate the city at night (terrible idea!) and wound up in a dead-end construction zone with some super-sketch Moroccans heckling us. In the end, we got into two petit taxis and spent 20 MAD per taxi getting back. It turned out we were less than a two-minute walk from our hotels, but it may as well have been two miles.

            In the morning I was considerably more chipper, and we went to the Hassan II Mosque. The tour cost more than we expected, but it was definitely worth it. The mosque is beautiful, and features the tallest minaret (the tower part) in the world. It’s built partially on the sea, and it took several years to build it. Of course, when we went I was wearing shorts, so I had to wrap a blanket around my legs. Apparently it’s too immodest, but luckily they had the blankets available.

            While at the mosque, we met an Australian named Dan. After much conversation, we found out he studied abroad at Halcyon’s college, and he decided to hang with us for the day. He was spending the day in Casa before starting a Morocco tour lasting 3 weeks, after which he was going to start a job. Spending nearly half a day with a complete stranger was a lot of fun, since I love strangers.

            We walked for nearly two hours away from the mosque, and wound up paying 70 MAD each to access the beach. That’s when Dan said his goodbyes. Our whiteness stood out a lot, and we attracted some unwanted attention in the form of some really creepy 30-year-olds. They eventually left, but it was really awkward being openly gawked at.

            After going to the beach, we went to Rick’s Café, of Casablanca movie fame. Of course, they built it after the movie was made, and the movie wasn’t even filmed there, but it was still really very cool.

            On Sunday we went to the Arab League Park for a little bit, and then spent a few hours at the Morocco Mall, the largest mall in Africa. There was a giant aquarium in the middle, and a Marjane (their WalMart), and lots of other things. The food court was ginormous and it was a very different feel from our small town outside of campus, Ifrane.

            On the taxi ride to the train station from the mall, we were about halfway there when the driver suddenly announced that the trip would cost 1000 MAD. Henry and I were understandably furious and threatened to leave until he held up a 100 dirham note. So not only was his grasp of English numbers bad, he was STILL overcharging us. We ended up paying the fee, but weren’t very happy about it.

            The train ride home was more relaxing. Well, kind of. At first we didn’t have any seats because they just sell tickets willy-nilly without counting if the number of people and tickets matches. So I was left standing literally in the door of the car, which was open, until about fifteen minutes in when we found seats.

            After a while a mother and her daughters wound up next to us. The little girl kept looking at us pale foreigners, and I wanted to talk to them but I don’t speak any Arabic or French. Figuring that giving a gift of skill is pretty much a universal communication tool, I began folding paper cranes from paper torn out of my magazine. The little girls were delighted, and I had a good time using my garbled mix of Spanish and French with one or two Arabic words.

            We got to Meknes around 8:30 and had dinner at a little shop right next to the train station. Then we were lucky enough to get a nice petit taxi driver (he used the meter!) and at the grand taxi station we found a taxi ride for a reasonable price, especially given that it was dark by that time.

            All in all it was a crazy whirlwind tour of a trip, and while I’m not sure if I would ever go back to Casablanca, it was definitely an adventure. 

If you want to do something, read the criminal law first to make sure it isn't illegal

            I’m happy to say that things are looking up from now. I feel much better (something I partially attest to having reintroduced corn to my diet – how American!), and class is becoming less nerve-wracking. I’m also starting to get better at the whole Moroccan time thing. Nothing of much interest to report, so just a few observations, quirky events, and the like:

            There is very little corn here. Even in the soda, the high fructose corn syrup is – just sugar. We did find some corn nuts at the campus store, but I never realized until now how ubiquitous corn is in America, as well as how unique it is to America. No one else obsesses over it the way we do.

            While I was sitting in the library one fine late morning, a class let out next to me. The students streamed out in twos and threes, followed by their professor. He was carrying a stack of books, and he wore a KU hat. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t act on this, because it’s whatever in the States, besides which I’m not really a sports person. But I am in Africa now. So I thought, “What the hell?” As he started down the steps, I called out softly after him, “Rock chalk!”

            He stopped in his tracks, half turned, and incredulously said, “Jayhawk.” Then he explained that this was the third time in his entire career at the university that he’d heard KU’s slogan. We bonded over the Midwest, and it was awesome.

            To expound on the whole library thing, the library here is beautiful. The Mohammed VI Library is just behind the campus mosque, and on the outside looks much like the rest of campus – red shingle roofs, windows designed to keep the buildings cool. On the inside, there are stacks of books that you can weave through, and on the second floor the ceiling is beautiful to look at. I’ll have to take pictures sometime. It can’t take the place of Ames in my heart, but it’s definitely a cool library.

            My Legal Environment of Business class is the class where I am the only international student. This is interesting because before class, everyone is speaking in not English, so I don’t really have anyone to talk to or even eavesdrop on. There’s nothing wrong with this, it’s just a different feeling to have no idea what anyone is saying.

            Once the class gets started, it proves to be very interesting. The mixture of topics is fascinating to me, and we move from defining plaintiff to explaining where Islamic law applies and where the civil law system applies. And how the civil law system is composed of articles, unlike the common law system which operates off of precedents.

            So that’s all I have for today; after the weekend there may be more fotos depending on what we end up doing!

And so it begins...

            I’m not particularly fond of Morocco tonight. I haven’t been able to work up an appetite for a couple of days now, and feelings of nausea come and go. The food here is driving me nuts, it’s so different and poorly prepared. I have been drinking water almost constantly but I still feel dehydrated, and I swear I’m not getting enough iron because I’m avoiding the meat like the plague.

            The chocolat chou (spelling dubious) in my hands proved a useful ward against the chill of a mountain night as I made my way back to my room after the Club Fair. At the fair I was able to muster enough excitement to temporarily banish my stomach problems, particularly seeing the Astronomy Club’s posters and such. I’m hoping sleep will help, so I’m going to bed extra-early tonight. I’m not sure how I can focus on academics and travelling when I put so much effort into trying to keep my body functioning.

            Hopefully the next time you hear from me I will have adjusted, but I’m definitely feeling the culture shock tonight. How can the cafeteria bathroom run out of toilet paper? How is that okay? And if food poisoning is as common as everyone says, why has there been no change?

            Hoping things will look better in the morning, Unhappy Camper.

Fes trip

            Fes was an adventure, to say the least. We left by first taking a petit taxi to the grand taxi station, and two Moroccan students, Ahmed and Younas, helped us figure out the price and pay it. Six of us crammed into the taxi, two in the passenger seat and four in the back seat. There were no seatbelts. The trip was some 45 minutes, and we all got very friendly with one another trying to make space in the back seat.

            Paul lived in Fes last summer, so he had the driver drop us off somewhere inside the city. Before we knew it we had wandered into the medina, the area with the tall walls and winding pathways. From both sides we were assaulted with offers to see various wares, and more than once we were harangued by calls of, “Obama, Obama!” One boy even dared to call after us, “I make you a good husband!” We tried to contain our fit of giggles.

            After a while of wandering around, we stumbled upon the Café Clock, a place owned by a British dude. We ate on the roof while the call to prayer rang around, and had some of the best fruit smoothies I’ve ever seen. My stomach still wasn’t feeling too well, but I had some French fries and made it through the day that way.

            We also went to the tannery right before we left, with Brian dead-set on seeing the famous Fes attraction. After a bit of confusion regarding our guide and his trustability (note: not a real word), we made our way there. They gave us sprigs of mint to put in our noses to counteract the smell of the tannery. It was cool looking, and they have a great many beautifully crafted leather goods. We didn’t buy much, not wanting to be ripped off, but I think most of us already have plans to go back.

            On the way out, I noticed that Kaitlyn, Maggie, Louise and I were the only girls in sight. Through the tannery and the metal place next to it, there were only men. It was a strange realization, but I didn’t feel particularly threatened.

            The grand taxi ride back was a bit more trying after a day of walking around, including a time when we got lost! But we found our way out by ourselves.

            All in all it was a good first weekend trip, and I look forward to many more. There aren’t enough weekends in the semester.