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.

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.