My Moroccan Birthday: Rabat, Morocco

Hello, twenty-one!

Today was a really memorable way to start my twenty first year of life. As much as I wanted to be home to celebrate with family and friends, I’m so glad I got to spend my special day in Morocco.

We were off bright and early this morning, headed for Rabat. Rabat, which means “fortified place,” is the capital city of Morocco. It is so interesting and different from what I think of as a capital; the urban city with its economic and political buildings is mixed with the royal palace, traditional markets, ancient structures, and a gorgeous beach. We spent the day in one city and it felt like I had seen half the country.

A lot of interesting and beautiful sights were included on the morning’s walking tour. Our guide, whose family has lived in Rabat for over 300 years, was absolutely hilarious and could not speak quieter than a shouting voice. Some of my favorite highlights include the Roman ruins of Rabat (complete with the nesting storks they are famous for), the first Christian house in Rabat, and the mausoleum where the current king’s grandfather, father, and uncle rest. The weather made the seeing the city even more of a birthday treat – the sky perfectly matched the token blue walls that line the streets. (Turns out, this color of blue actually detracts mosquitoes, so they paint it everywhere… Who knew?)

Look for the storks at the top of the trees!

Door to the first Christian home in Rabat

We spent the rest of our time in Rabat at the beach… when we actually found it. I’m almost certain that my group took the most roundabout way possible to get there, walking through the shops of the Medina and nearly turning around hundreds of times. In retrospect, I think my roommates learned a valuable lesson of trusting my navigation skills. I don’t think they’ll make that mistake twice. When we did arrive, however, we were greeted by a stunning view and warm sand. We were also, unfortunately, greeted by a lot of stares and comments from locals, but that had to be expected. It’s kind of hard to blend in when you’ve got the whitest girl in the west as part of your team. On a funny side note, one of the girls in our group today lifted up the skirt of my dress at one point and said, “Oh my god, your legs! They’re so white. It’s beautiful, like porcelain. I’ve never seen someone’s skin that white.” Sooo… I’m going to put that one down as a compliment.

After a long afternoon exploring in the sun and sand, we headed back to Meknes for the night. My roommates and a few other friends, however, were determined to get me out on my birthday. I finally decided it was time to get out of my comfort zone a little more, so I let them take me to my first hookah bar. It was actually a really good time sitting and laughing with everyone while we all tried (and mostly failed) to blow smoke rings. The place we went is owned by our coordinator’s best friend and has a really friendly, relaxing vibe. There was a singer and a small band playing tonight who ended up surprising me at the request of one really sweet girl in our group. The band sang me happy birthday, English and Arabic style! I was embarrassed, but I loved every minute of it. I also accidentally knocked our hookah over and the coal fell on my foot, so at least we know turning twenty-one hasn’t changed me all that much.

The lights at the Hookah place made us look strange, but we took selfies anyway. 

Tomorrow we are off to Ifrane for a day in the Atlas Mountains. I arranged for a birthday present for myself tomorrow too – Katie and I are going horseback riding in the forest! I can’t wait! So, I have to sleep now so that tomorrow will come faster.

Thank you to everyone who made my birthday so special. 

The Three Best Friends that Anyone Could Have

Best. Birthday Eve. EVER.

That poor sentence structure was entirely necessary, I assure you. If the day before my birthday is any indication of how the actual day will go, I am about to have the best birthday of my life.

This morning I got to be a bum and sleep in until ten. Then I was off to meet Amina for my couscous cooking lesson. She actually ended up taking me to her sister’s house in Bassatine where a host of family members were waiting to greet us. The entire party included Amina, her sister Fati and her husband, her sister Iman, her mother, and both of her children. Couscous Friday is quite the family affair. Fatee’s house is absolutely beautiful and I felt so blessed to be welcomed into her home as a stranger. They have a particularly impressive “family” room, which is one of my favorite things about Moroccan homes. They typically have a room in which the walls are lined with couches and maybe a small coffee table in the middle. This room’s sole purpose is meeting with friends for conversation and tea. A lot of homes also have this set up for their “dining” room, with couches around a table, because meals are meant to be a bonding experience for the family and their friends. And what a bonding experience today’s lunch was.

You can't see my face, but the room is the point here.

Fati and Amina showed me all the ins and outs of preparing the traditional Friday meal. Friday is the Islamic holy day, and it’s essentially a holiday every week. The meal is a large communal dish with couscous on the bottom, a whole chicken in the middle, vegetables piled on top, and spices/sauce all over everything. It was amazing. I did, however, fall prey to that awkward social situation where a meal is full of a food you are intolerant to and you don’t want to be rude so you just take one for the team. The results are in – tomatoes still make me really, really sick. But that was a small downside to an otherwise excellent day, so I’ll take it.

Things that are absolutely true about Moroccans: One, they love food. Two, they eat a lot of food. Three, they will expect you to eat a lot of food as well. Four, they will laugh at you and your “Americaness” when you cannot eat another bite without exploding and they put more on your plate anyway, urging you to “mange.” And five, Moroccans love to celebrate, welcome, and give.

It came up in conversation that tomorrow is my birthday, and everyone was so excited. I wasn’t entirely sure what was being said because I am notably terrible at Arabic, but Amina’s son ran out the door only to come back some twenty minutes later with a box of henna powder. As it turns out, Amina’s sister Iman paints henna and she wanted to paint my hands for my birthday. I honestly could have cried. I think I said thank you in six languages just to make sure I got the point across. It came out so beautiful.

So, obviously, I was feeling pretty great all afternoon. I spent most of the day there, then got home and did a whole lot of nothing lying around the house with my roommates. We decided to try our luck with Pizza Hut for dinner (I know. Americans.), but the only pizza they had without tomato sauce was called “Fruit de Mar” – a.k.a, seafood pizza. But I decided I was up for a culinary adventure, and it didn’t turn out too bad. A little weird, but enjoyable nonetheless.

Then, just as I was getting my laptop out to blog, three of my roommates – Carol, Katie, and Cassie – came out of the kitchen with an ice cream cake and a bouquet of roses singing a gorgeous rendition of “Happy Birthday.” I truly could not believe it. I’m usually not a fan of surprises, but this one absolutely made me feel better about being away from home for my birthday. I’ve only known these girls two weeks and they did one of the nicest things for me that I can remember. I think it’s safe to say – Best. Roommates. Ever.

Now, I’m off to bed. When I wake up, I won’t be twenty anymore!

Goodbye, twenty!

Cookie Dough: The Ultimate Bonding Experience

Alright, everyone cross your fingers now that I don’t fall asleep on the keyboard. Today was a long one.

This morning I was back at Le Nid again. We spent the whole morning with the babies - feeding them, holding them, playing with the toddlers. I had a lot of the safe emotions to deal with as the first time, but things were chaotic enough to keep me focused on what I was there to do. While I’m there it’s all bottles and diapers and no room to breathe. But afterward I just can’t help but dwell on how broken the world is. There are so many babies in that hospital. So many little lives. I haven’t figured out how to separate myself from it yet. I don’t know if I have the strength to, really. I held a little boy today who captured my whole heart with his beautiful little eyes. He was so happy to be held, giggling and snuggling his face into my chest. All I wanted was to give him a mother and father and a home to fill with his little laugh. I think I’m starting that I might have a passion for orphans. The actual direction of that passion is something I’m praying hard about. I believe there is a purpose behind this pull that I feel, but figuring out what I can actually do with it is hugely different.

After Le Nid was the fateful moment of the day: cooking class. The ladies started out by teaching me some more Moroccan recipes and then I tried to show them how to make chocolate chip cookies. Turns out, I’m just as bad at baking in Morocco as I am in the states. Surprise, surprise. Luckily whether I could cook or not had no bearing on how much fun the ladies and I had trying. I slightly overlooked the minor detail of metric units, so I had to base a lot of the measuring off of my own knowledge of how much one cup is. (This is not strong knowledge.) But, the ladies all had a good laugh about how much of a mess I made and how awkward I was trying to explain what I was doing. It was actually great female bonding time, which I feel like I’ve gotten more of in the last two weeks than I have in my entire life. One of the women, Amina, brought a new “dress” that her sister bought her. In Morocco, they wear a special, fancier version of the traditional jlaba for special occasions like ceremonies and weddings. When she showed us, I intended to just admire it by feeling the fabric and telling her how “zweena” it is. She had a different plan; next thing I knew I was wearing the dress and she was posing me for pictures. I felt strange, but accepted. As uncomfortable as I am with social situations, I really am learning to love how close women in Morocco are. It’s as though they are all sisters from birth who comfort, support, and laugh with each other through everything.

Tonight’s English class ended up being a bit of a bust as far as actual teaching goes, but still an interesting night. I was told that my class would be intermediate level, so I prepared a lesson plan thinking along the lines of students who still wouldn’t have a strong grasp on the language. I ended up with two students who are English majors at Moulay Ismail and basically fluent, so my lesson was essentially useless. The best I could think of on my feet was to scrap the lesson altogether and have a conversation with them about the differences between Moroccan and American culture. We talked a lot about holidays and celebrations, and then the girls told me about Moroccan weddings. I cannot fathom planning a wedding that lasts three days, wearing several dresses in one day, and being carried around in a chair by a bunch of men. On the other hand, their customs are so rich and beautiful, it’s enough to make my little American wedding feel meek in comparison. Overall, we had an awesome conversation and next week I get to plan like and actual English teacher. Look mom and dad, I’m using my degree after all!

My classroom!

To finish off a really long day, I happened upon the chance to spend some time talking to a Franciscan monk who helps coordinate the school where I teach. (Think cool French guy, not balding man in a brown dress.) He told me about the formation of the school for the poor, started about 70 years ago by a group of monks. Our conversation escalated to a discussion about people’s perspectives on religious customs and what it means to live a Christian lifestyle. It was a bit of a surreal moment, walking through the streets of the Medina, surrounded by a country full of people who share the same faith, and discussing perspectives on Christianity with a stranger. It’s hard to describe, but I felt really connected to a sense of spirituality. Stephan also said something that I know I will take home with me. He told me that being a friar in Morocco has made his life as a “missionary” so much more profound because his job isn’t to tell the people what to believe, but just to give them a better life because God called him to.

For now, friends, I am called to get some sleep. Tomorrow I am going to Amina’s house to learn how Moroccans prepare couscous!

Happy Thursday!

Hammam - or - How to Get to Know Your Roommates Really Well

Today was probably one the most cultural, strange, confusing, and hilarious days I’ve ever had. Get ready to laugh at me – you have my full permission.

So, first thing this morning, my housemate Katie (who is super awesome and lives in Ohio) and I went to le supermarché to try and find the ingredients for my cooking class tomorrow. The women asked me to teach them how to make American cookies. I was not entirely aware that the United States had its own type of cookies, but I couldn’t think of anything much more American than buttery chocolate chip cookies and that’s what I went with. First mistake – choosing a cookie type with more than four ingredients. Second mistake – assuming that it would be easy to find all of said ingredients in a foreign grocery store. It was not easy, nor was it even quite possible. Sugar was easy. Flour, no problem. Eggs, cool. Everything else? Forget it. I must have read the back of every box in the store trying to find baking soda or powder. Then we almost bought condensed syrup instead of vanilla extract. Also, turns out chocolate chips don’t actually exist in this country, which would have made logical sense if I had actually thought any of this through beforehand. So, after about an hour of looking creepy and confused, we found at least some form of or substitute for all the ingredients and prayed for the best. If it all goes south, we can always blame it on the fact that I was the worst possible person to be asked to teach a cooking class. (All my friends just nodded and laughed reading that. I know it.)

For my placement this afternoon I went back to the Jasmine women’s co-op. The class of the day was French, and the teacher seemed really excited to have me there. Little did she know I was about to become the worst student she’s ever had. Things I’m not particularly good at: learning languages. Things I’m particularly terrible at: learning a language in another language. This two hour class was the closest to a scene from a comedy Blockbuster I think I’ll ever get to be in. Here’s the breakdown: it was a French class being taught in Arabic by a teacher who also spoke Spanish and was trying to explain things to me in all three languages while I was trying to take notes in English. It was absolutely hilarious. And, believe it or not, I actually learned a lot of French. My brain was completely overwhelmed though, as was evidenced by the fact that when I tried to say goodbye and thank the teacher my sentence came out in English, French and Spanish. I think if I try to understand any more languages at once, I might just lose the ability to speak.

Final event of the day: hammam. How do I sum up the hammam…? On one hand, I will say it was the most cultural experience I’ve had here. On the other hand, I can also say it was absolutely the weirdest thing I have ever done. Hammam is essentially a public bath – one for women and one for men. It’s a social but also intimate experience that most Moroccan people take part in for their whole lives. For Americans, however, it’s… different. In short, you go with a group of friends, strip down to just your underwear (no bras either), go into a really hot steam room with some spigots in the wall, sit on the floor and take a glorified bath together. Oh, and then a topless Moroccan woman scrubs your whole body with olive soap and a glove that is a close cousin to the Brillo pad. And that’s the hammam.

I wasn’t really thrilled about going and actually almost talked myself out of it. But I promised that I wouldn’t deny myself any adventures out of fear, so I didn’t. It was still really hard for me to be comfortable with the whole thing, but I did it, and that’s what counts. And it did end up being pretty great as far as the actual cleansing factor. I feel like I have brand new skin that is healthy and soft, which is a pretty big draw to the whole hammam deal I suppose. No promises that I’m ever doing it again, but that wasn’t part of the deal. I’m calling my cultural immersion officially achieved.

And that’s all! Tomorrow is a busy day with lots of things in store, including my first class as an English teacher. I really appreciate all the prayers people can send my way while I keep stretching my comfort zone and trying to keep my energy up. I’ve been having a lot of trouble eating the food here because everything is so rich in spices and my stomach is a big baby that likes boring food. Heartburn is not exactly conducive to an adventurous lifestyle. So, all well-wishes and happy thoughts are welcomed.

Salaam!

The Nest

Today was so hard and so wonderful all at the same time. I have this problem where I want to save the whole world and every time I see something wrong with it I think if I don’t fix it, no one will. I can’t remember who it is, but I have a friend who lives by the rule that if you see litter, it’s yours – it’s your responsibility, you are required to pick it up. That is essentially my life motto, except the litter is every little human injustice I’ve ever encountered. This, friends, is how you get ulcers.

I decided to go along with a few girls from my apartment to their placement this morning. They split their time between an orphanage in town and the hospital that is associated with that orphanage. At the hospital, they keep the babies and intellectually disabled orphans in a wing called “Le Nid” – The Nest. I spent a few hours in a “classroom” for the older disable class who were about teenage/young adult age. We painted with stencils, drew pictures, and did puzzles while also interacting and trading English words for Darija. They loved trying to speak English and wanted to know the word for everything in the room and then some. As much as I loved spending time in their class today, I really struggled with the stark contrast when comparing the facility to the American special education classrooms I am used to. I know the American system isn’t perfect either, but we really are so blessed in comparison. I tried to take everything in stride – really, I tried. But, I wanted so badly to replace their worn out, simple toys for educational ones. I wanted to take their hours of sitting in a tiny room passing the time and give them a day full of exploration and learning. It’s so complicated, trying to realize that the world is different from what I know, and that it isn’t my place to deem everything new as lesser. Still, my heart ached to give them something more. I don’t really know what “more” means, but I wish I could give it to them.

That feeling didn’t fade when we moved to the nursery. We were there to help with “lunchtime” – feeding and changing a room full of orphaned infants. It took everything I had to be objective about what I saw. I know the world isn’t perfect. I know that life is hard and things are the way they have to be sometimes. But I honestly just couldn’t stop myself from being angry and sad and absolutely heartbroken. There were so many babies in the room we worked in that the smallest (so, the newborns) were lined up on a shelf-type bed. I want to be clear that these children weren’t being mistreated and were being cared for to the best of the nurses’ abilities. They’re just working with what they have and too many babies.

It was less the place or situation and more the sadness of reality that hit me. The first thing I did when I got there was pick up a crying baby boy and hold him tight in my arms. The moment I touched his skin his crying stopped and his eyes stared up into mine, bright and beautiful. And as cute as he was and as happy as I was to hold him, I was overwhelmed by the knowledge that he is alone. He has nurses, yes, but those nurses have 99 other babies to care for and, ultimately, a job to do. I’ve never loved and appreciated my parents and my privileged childhood more than I did staring into that little boy’s eyes. But, I had to temper my sadness with the realization that I simply couldn’t give him or any of those babies the life I was blessed with. I had to swallow the fact that some things are bigger than I am. So, I did all that I could do. I held that baby, loved him as hard as I could, and prayed even harder. And I hoped that for a moment he would know how precious he is.

I’m so glad I got to go to The Nest today. It was a hard morning, but it answered a lot of questions I’ve been asking myself and, really, I just loved holding those babies. The rest of the day was packed with activity. I spent some time at the American Language Center for a meet-up with some Moroccan students. It was a total riot, playing games and laughing so hard it hurt. I seriously love that laughter is the same in every language. Plus, I learned some Moroccan games that are going to go over so well at camp later this summer. I also sat in on my friend Katie’s English class to get some ideas for my first class I will be teaching on Thursday. (Ah!) To top of the day, my housemates and I went out for late night ice cream. I am now a tried and true fan of the hazelnut ice cream here, so I really hope I can find something that compares in the states.

That’s all I can write for now. Tomorrow will be full of surprises, I’m sure.

PS. I wish I had pictures from today, but I wasn't allowed to take photos at the hospital for various reasons. As a consolation prize, here is a terrible picture of me carrying a handful of meringue cookies back from the ice cream shop. No shame. 

Homesickness and Mangoes

Not a whole lot happened today, so this will be impressively short, but you can all use the extra time you would have been reading to have a quick nap or maybe drink some tea. You’re welcome.

Today I got homesick. It was my first intense wave of it since the airport, and I really am not sure what brought it on. Regardless, it wasn’t the most fun morning of the trip by any means. It weighs on me a lot to not be at camp and be a part of the beautiful things that I know are happening there. And, on a different level, it’s really hard to not be sharing this adventure with the person I love. But, as much as it really sucks to miss home and family and camp, it helps remind me how much I really do love and appreciate those things. It means everything to know that I have a place where I belong and people who love me waiting on the other side of the world. This paragraph became a Hallmark card really fast, so I’ll just leave it at that.

At IPDF today did some receptionist-type duties and ushered women to and from the waiting room when they came to speak to the lawyer. It was an awesome chance to practice my Darija, and the lawyer even said she was impressed by my pronunciation (I think she’s very easily impressed…). I also helped to wash and set up some new chairs the center purchased for their women’s classes. I was grateful for the work because it gave me a chance to be outside on the sun-soaked tiles of the courtyard, surrounded by roses and the laughter of children from the school playground over the fence. Even the cool water from the bucket that spilled on my toes made me smile. I always love those moments when I get so lost in time and space, it doesn’t even matter what I’m doing or what comes next.

The highlight of my evening was devouring the absolute best tasting mango I have ever encountered. I picked it up at the fresh market as an “everything will be okay” cure for my homesickness. And it kind of worked, because if Morocco keeps producing mangoes like this one, I might never want to come home. You may now gaze upon its glory:

That’s really about all that happened today. Tomorrow I’ll be sure to look out for an adventure to spice things up a bit.

Bye for now. 

The Road to Rome: Volubilis and Fez, Morocco

Today was amazing, but I am so very tired, so forgive me if this post is just a lot of photos and a little explanation.

Our first big “excursion” left this morning at 8 o’clock for Volubilis. Volubilis is a large excavation site of ruins from the Roman presence in northern Africa. Only one third of the Roman city has been officially uncovered, but what an impressive fraction it is. Pieces of the ancient homes and several major buildings remain even after hundreds of years and the damage of the 1755 Lisbon earthquake. My favorite part of the ruins, and conveniently the most intact portion, was the mosaic floors. They were of course beautiful in their artistic right, but also full of stories. There were depictions of various gods and goddesses, and a large mosaic of Hercules and his twelve labors that I geeked out over. There was also an intact portion of a large basilica that I spent some time exploring, putting my fingers on the cool stone walls. I love the feeling of humility and reverence that floods over me when I reach out and touch antiquity. It was a really great day to be a history nerd.

Hercules' 12 Labors

Fluffy! (Actually, Cerberus...)

Me, being weird and touching history

The second portion of our day was spend in Fez. I got to have a really great lunch with the ELAP coordinators and Prof. Jennet again. We ate at Café Clock, which is a pretty famous little place in Morocco. I had an almond milkshake and falafel with hummus, which were obviously both amazing. I’m telling you, I’ve discovered the secret to eating at all the best restaurants everywhere we go – follow the people who live there. Daniel, Iman and Mouhsine haven’t failed me yet. After lunch we had a walking tour of the Fez Medina, which was actually more of a running tour. Our guide didn’t spend a lot of time explaining things, but we did get to see some fascinating culture and local craft. We had an excellent view of the leather tannery and then visited the ceramic mill for a full tour. The ceramic mill was my favorite part – I was blown away by the skill I saw watching steady hands paint intricate designs and weathered palms hammer out mosaic pieces. Seeing Moroccan goods in the process of being crafted reminded me that “things” can be art, and that a lot of time and effort goes in to something made the right way. There really is a lot of value in this traditional, authentic kind of production.

Tannery of Fez

Some of the Ceramic Wares

It really was an exhausting Sunday. We got home and I sautéed some eggplant for everyone for dinner then curled up in my “spot” on the couch to vegetate. Tomorrow I’m back to work, so now – it’s bedtime.

Bonne nuit. 

Ghosts of the Old Medina

Today was a pretty perfect Saturday. A big portion of the ISA students went on their own trip to Chefchaouen, so there were only a few of us here for the tour of the old Medina. It was a brisk morning with a bit of light rain, but just enough to make the air cool and comfortable. We toured several really fascinating elements of the oldest part of Meknes. First, we saw the mosque that used to be the personal worship ground for King Moulay Ismail and his royal family. The building is now the king’s mausoleum where he and his family members are buried. Every surface of the mosque is precisely crafted and decorated with intricate Moroccan adornment. It was by far the best example of Moroccan style art I have seen so far. One of my favorite things about other cultures is the amount of dedication and detail that goes into their architecture. Something I wish America had more of is a sense of building structures to last the test of time. It adds so much history and character to the landscape of a place.

Something else we saw that ignited my inner history nerd was the 17^th century underground prison. Mouhsine convinced our tour guide to take us down in to the actual prison, which spans 15 kilometers underground (but is now blocked off to only a small accessible portion). It was completely dark except for the light from holes in the roof for ventilation, and you could feel the moisture in the air settle on your skin. It was amazing to imagine that nearly 3,000 people used to inhabit the dank walls, without cells or bunks but only chains and bodies. Very fascinating and also very creepy.

We finished our morning with a trip to the large market of the old Medina and a horse drawn carriage ride. The girls were in a pink “princess” carriage, of course. We walked for quite some time around the alleys of the Medina, just spending time exploring and observing the culture. I love seeing the shop owners preparing their wares and interacting with each other. With the huge walls and cobblestone alleys, it feels like being in a completely new world.

The rest of the day was a pleasant lazy Saturday. There were only three of us in our apartment and we basically took a half-day siesta. Plus, I got to have a long Skype date with my wonderful fiancé, which was the perfect end to my first week in Morocco. 

Couscous Friday!

I’m a day late again, but here is an update from Friday.

Yesterday was actually a pretty busy day for me. I decided I want to try and gain as much knowledge as possible while I’m here, so I am going to audit a couple of classes. Yesterday I forced myself to get out of bed early and went to the Gender and Islam class. As hard as it was to stay attentive at 8 a.m., I’m really glad I was there for the discussion. We talked about the rise of monotheistic religions from Zoroastrianism to Islam. This was paired with a discussion of how the roles of women in culture, religion, and family developed and were shaped by each dominant religious belief. There were also several digressions to the culture here in Morocco and how women are viewed as a part of society. I found it really interesting that a lot of the monotheistic religions utilize a God à Man à Woman structure, which the professor said probably developed out of a need to stratify society to achieve order. Hierarchy helps to stabilize the system. In Morocco, there is obviously a strong presence of the tradition Islamic influences on society and gender. However, I think a lot of people assume that Islam oppresses women, when this isn’t necessarily the case. From what I’ve learned here, many people believe that Islam frees women from oppression. It’s hard for me to really understand all the cultural implications of gender here, especially from my personal cultural background. Needless to say, I definitely want to keep attending this class. I think it’s really an excellent course to be offered for students studying in Islamic countries.

After class a few of us went in to town to the fresh market. It is absolutely one of my favorite things about Morocco. I love all of the locally grown food and spices, every vendor displaying his collection a little differently. There is so much fruit you can never decide what you want, old men sitting on pieces of cardboard to sell roses, whole carcasses of meat hanging outside of shops. It's truly an experience. The best part for me is the colors. When I think of the store in America I see white floors and white walls with bland food and plastic packages. Here grocery shopping is a beautiful array of yellows, reds, and greens and a hundred different smells and sounds. It makes me want to go every day to try something new. This time around, I bought a large mango and a half kilo of green olives - fresh and flavorful.

OLIVES!

In the afternoon, Mouhsine took me to another organization in Meknes called Jasmine women’s cooperative. Women from the community gather there to learn new skills and to make goods that they can then sell. The women there were so excited to have me there and right away asked about anything I know how to make or any skills I have. They were thrilled that I know how to crochet and some of them wanted me to teach them how to make washcloths. The director of the cooperative asked me if I knew how to cut or style hair, and when I said yes she started rambling on excitedly in Darija, which made me assume this was the right answer. While I was at the center a sewing and embroidery class was going on. The woman in charge of the class taught me how to measure and make the pattern for a “jlaba,” the traditional dress that Moroccan women wear. The process was very specific and everything was measured exactly to fit the woman who would wear it. Seeing how these clothes are made gave me a lot of respect for the woman who choose to make their own and maintain the traditional dress. I am kind of hoping that by the time I leave I might be able to make my own jlaba.

There was a girl, Fatima, who came to the cooperative with her mother and spent the majority of the time helping to translate for me. She is an English major at Moulay Ismail University. After the class was over, she took me to meet a couple of her friends at a café near my apartment building. We spent a long, Moroccan style time sitting in the café sipping coffee and chatting. Fatima and her friend Abdelghafour took turns playing songs that they thought the other would like and singing along. They looove American music, especially jazz, blues, and rap. Fatima is a particularly adamant Chris Brown fan, and told me that her father always says “Chris Brown is my son-in-law.” Getting to talk to Moroccan students my age in a social setting was a really great experience. We spent a lot of time talking about the different cultures and what is and isn’t acceptable. In Morocco, what you’re allowed to do in public is very strict and conservative (ie. no kissing in the park, kids). We all agreed that, in both of our countries, the young people wish the older people would stop being so stuck in their ways. Fatma said, “All the older people, they think the same way. The young people all think different things, and we know that’s okay.” And, ironically, we both wanted to live somewhere other than our own country. Maybe a trade is in order?

Afterward I came back to the apartment and spent a relaxing evening with my housemates. And it was cous-cous Friday, which just makes Friday a pretty great day.

Gato: Cat or Cookie?

It’s almost Friday! This is exciting because Friday means the weekend and the weekend means excursions! This weekend we are going to the old medina in Meknes on Saturday, then to Volubilis and Fez on Sunday. I am so pumped to tell you all about the trips. But for now, on to today’s update.

I slept in pretty late this morning for what I decided was a well-deserved mental reset. Which turned out to be a great idea, because I woke up feeling super ready to go and much better than yesterday. I studied French for a few hours, and then had lunch with my housemates. We were all about lunch today, which was a big family style bowl of lentils and sauce that you eat with bread. It was so delicious. Then, it was off to meet Mouhsine to go to the women’s center.

Today ended up going really well at the center. Mouhsine had a meeting with my director to set up a more structured schedule of when I would be there and what my goals would be. They decided that I will be at the center only three days a week now: on Mondays I will assist with the office work and direct women who come in for help, on Thursdays I will do a cooperative cooking class with women during which we will make both Moroccan and American foods, and on another (yet to be determined) day I will teach an English class. I was a little disappointed at first, because I was really hoping that my idea for a class for girls would take, but I quickly realized that my purpose at the center is to help them in whatever way they need me. So, baking and English it shall be! I’m actually really excited about teaching English, even though I’ve never done anything exactly like it before. I’ve wanted to know what it’s like to be a teacher for a long time, so I think this schedule will end up being really great.

Today was the first cooking class that I attended. It was such a blast. The women are all total characters and love to laugh. It didn’t even matter that I didn’t know what they were saying – their laughter was infectious. They showed be how to make Moroccan “gatos” (cookies), which are were detailed and beautiful. I learned how to say “Waash noun-coom?” (written so you can hear how it sounds), which means “May I help you?” The women let me help make one cookie that uses caramel and chocolate cornflakes to make flower shapes. It was so much fun just being able to sit in and observe this Moroccan “girl time,” and I felt honored that they let me join in. Even if it was simple, I felt welcomed. And, the cookies were delicious, of course.

After the baking was finished, the women wanted me to help teach them some basic English phrases. We did some greetings and numbers, and I told them about the different ways Americans pronounce English words (for example, we are lazy with our T’s). They were so excited and said that my English was very good… and I should hope so. Pretty soon I will have a fancy piece of paper to prove my English is very good, so… One women told me she loves to speak English, and she wants to learn more so she can watch American movies and recognize more than “F*&% you.” I laughed pretty hard at that one. A few of the women I work with were speaking in Darija about learning different languages, and I caught the word “Deutsch” and then they all started making hacking sounds and laughing. Another hilarious moment of the day.

Mouhsine and I talked after I was done at the center for the day, and he told me that tomorrow he will be taking me to another women’s center in Meknes. He said it isn’t really a center for women’s rights, but that they do a lot to help women in the community. I’m not sure what to expect, but I’m excited. So tomorrow morning I’m going to sit in on a class some of my housemates are taking on gender in Arabic culture, and then in the afternoon I’ll be going to check out this new placement. I’m looking forward to a really insightful Friday.

To finish off the day, one of my housemates, Carol, and I went to a juice café in town called Florence Café. We’ve been there a few times before, and I think we might be addicted. My weakness is “jus de fraiz” – it’s the best strawberry smoothie in existence, I swear. Carol, who is much braver than I am, had the avocado juice. I tried it, but it was a little too much like drinking guacamole from a glass for my taste. We spent some time there enjoying our juice while she read for class and I studied Darija. Conveniently, we happened to be on the street just as a random parade started marching down the street. There was a band and drummers and dancers, complete with police escort. Apparently it was the opening to an international film festival that’s happening in Meknes. People were crowded up and down the street and traffic was backed up for at least a mile; there were just as many honking horns as there were children running around by our legs and laughing. It was such a cultural moment to witness, and we were pretty excited to have been in the right place at the right time.

That’s all for tonight. I can’t wait to share all that happens tomorrow!

The Lost Princess of Meknes

This is a story all about how I got lost in Morocco, got turned around. I’d like to take a minute, so sit right there, but if you’re my mom and dad please stop reading here.

So, yeah, today I got lost. It was bound to happen eventually, so I was a little prepared, but it still wasn’t very fun. I had to get a taxi by myself for the first time today, so I wrote the address on a piece of paper and practiced my Darija directions. I gave the address to the driver and he seemed pretty sure of where it was, and he dropped me off at the end of a street and said “C’est la rue.” which I was pretty sure I remembered means “This is the street.” Well, it was not the street. It occurred to me very quickly that I was looost. I asked several women my perfectly practiced “help” questions, but no one seemed to know where this address was. Finally, a woman offered to help, but her help was to put me in another taxi, the driver of which also got lost. So he dropped me off at a school, and a teacher who spoke some broken English offered to drive me around Combattants until I saw the women’s center. After a really stressful 35 minutes and few tears, I finally saw the sign over the gate for IPDF Meknes. I’ve never been so happy to see a sign written in Arabic in my entire life. I expressed my extreme gratitude to the teacher and my even more extreme apologies to the director. Luckily, by Moroccan time, I wasn’t all that late. To top the taxi stories of the day off, on the way home I had a driver who spoke Spanish and I got to have my first real foreign conversation since getting here. And, it was absolutely hilarious. He wanted to know if all of my American friends were married like me (I’m glad my engagement ring is an effective symbol), and asked me over and over to “Escriba sus numeros de telefono.” Don’t worry friends, I did not.

So, I survived my little ordeal, and after that I hoped at least I would be able to do something to help at the center that would take my mind off of my morning. Unfortunately, I’m having a little bit of trouble with being able to do useful work there. As my director had asked, I came up with a few ideas for programs I could work on and translated the list into French, but unfortunately she didn’t take to any of them. Today she asked me to organize the library, and due to my obsessive compulsive tendencies, that took up a good chunk of time. After, she said I had done enough and could go home. It was hard for me to accept that as a day well spent, but I tried to remind myself that anything the director doesn’t have to worry about is one less thing in the way of her accomplishing bigger goals. Still, I was discouraged that she didn’t like any of my ideas.

I had a meeting with the ELAP (service learning) director, Mouhsine, and he really did a great job of encouraging me. I told him how passionate I am about this field of work and how much I really want to make an impact for the organization. He was very understanding, and expressed that he wants me “only to be happy, and to choose the thing that is right” for me. So, tomorrow he will be coming with me to the organization to clear up some of the confusion that has been happening (which isn’t worth going into) and to help officially decide on what my project goals will be. He also told me that he has a plan B and a plan C – there is another organization that helps with women, and also a school for the poor that needs English teachers. Also, one of the other placements is a disability center for children, and there are a few children with individual issues like physical tantrums and uncontrollable behavioral outbursts that the other ELAP students aren’t sure how to handle. Conveniently, those are my specialty. Mouhsine said I may be useful there a couple of times teaching them techniques for dealing with the difficult behavior. So, after all of that, I feel so much more hopeful that I will be able to help in a meaningful way while I am here. All I really wanted out of this trip abroad was to be able to say I had made a change in the world and the world had made a change in me.

Mouhsine told us about how much he admires Americans mindset of "giving back." He said that in Morocco and other places, the idea of volunteering and community service isn't really a thing, but that American students have a strong desire to help others. I guess it was something I have never really thought of before, and I felt a small sense of pride in realizing that a lot of Americans do genuinely want to help and give back - especially my generation. There's hope in that truth.

The rest of the night I spent time getting to know my housemates better and practicing French and Arabic. I’ve made about twelve thousand flash cards at this point, so hopefully some of it will start to stick. Tomorrow I’m going to wake up early and spend the day studying before I go with Mouhsine to my placement. I’m determined, if anything.

Until tomorrow.

Beware: The Streets of Meknes

Hello again! Day 5 of the adventure is officially complete.

Today it was actually chilly in Meknes. The weather has been very temperate so far, and it’s made everything that much more beautiful. All the flowers are warm just to the point of smelling so fresh and the sky is bright with full, fluffy clouds. The people are taking advantage of the cool temperatures and spending time outside socializing. It’s really a lovely season to be in Morocco.

Not a lot of exciting things happened before I went to my placement today. We did have a fabulous lunch that was definitely my favorite so far. Our housekeeper, Mona, made a dish with spiced chicken, peppers, and beans in a rich sauce. I ate too much, but it was worth it. After, a few housemates and I went down the road to the Florence Café and had strawberry orange juice smoothies. I cannot do this juice justice in words. It will absolutely be something I miss back in the states.

My placement was less confusing in some ways that it was yesterday, but in other ways it was maybe a little more. The center was very slow during the time I was scheduled to work, so I mostly spent the afternoon sitting and conversing with the director, Nadia, and two other girls who work at the association. Well, trying to converse. As much as I am trying to force vocab into my brain, I still cannot understand or keep up with actual conversation, in French or Arabic. Luckily, there is a Moroccan girl named Soukaina interning at the association that speaks what she calls “very poor English.” If her English is “very poor,” I wish my French was. She was so helpful in translating things for me, but there was a point where all I could really do was listen. But, listening is good.

The three of them also worked with me to learn a few important phrases and discuss more about projects I could do at the center. Some of the options were teaching English or helping the women to practice self-defense skills. I really want to be able to do as much good as possible there, but I feel limited right now by my language skills. And, I don’t really feel like I have great ideas for how to help the women. I will just have to keep working hard to learn what I can and be creative and flexible.

The center:

On the way back to the apartment, I learned a lot about Moroccan culture by way of a cab ride. The first time I’ve ever been in a taxi was yesterday, so this is all very new for me, but today was… interesting. The director offered to take a taxi with me to the apartment and Soukaina came with us. The three of us walked toward a taxi, but two others got to it first, so I backed away assuming we would have to wait for another. Nope. Nadia got in the front seat, Soukaina followed the two strangers into the back seat, and I went to get in with her and Nadia said “No, here.” I was very confused and it must have been obvious because she scooted way over in the front seat and pointed. So, I squished in next to her. (Mind you, this is a tiny car and not a bench seat.) Then, another man got in the back seat. So we drove off with seven people in this tiny car, and the people started paying the driver as we went. He was counting change and money was going back and forth all over the place. Plus, I don’t remember if I have mentioned before, but driving in Morocco is basically a live action mash-up of Mario Kart and Frogger. There are no street lights or turn signals or lanes or rules. You just drive wherever and turn whenever and if you’re a pedestrian, you just walk out in front of cars and hope for the best. No, really, you just go. The cars will stop for you (most of the time). Buses, however, do not stop. Tips for pedestrian survival. I did, obviously, make it back to the apartment alive and a I suppose a bit more cultured.

I also visited the super-marché for the first time today. A couple of my roommates and I walked to the large “mall” type complex that has a supermarket on the lower level. It was really interesting to see all the different brands and the way foods are packaged (or not packaged). There was also a ton of fruit that was probably less fresh that at the local vendors, but there was a much wider selection. I bought a mango and some dates, which I immediately started eating, and they were so awesome. I feel like I write about food a lot, but it’s just so nice to eat food that isn’t slowly killing my body. After a meal in America we always feel groggy and yucky, but here the food makes me feel energized and good. I guess it just really teaches me a lot about how different American food really is.

More tomorrow! Salaam alaykum!

IPDF Meknes: Combattants, Meknes

I’m actually not writing this until the next morning, but last night I was absolutely exhausted. Kept up with that writing every night thing really well, didn’t I? But regardless, here is a little update from my first Monday in Meknes.

Yesterday was a little stressful because it was my first day going to my placement at the women’s rights association. The organization is called Association Initiatives pour la Promotion des Droits des Femmes, or IPDF Meknes. Its main purpose is to serve as a legal liaison for women who are seeking counsel in their marital and parental rights. It is also a meeting place for women of the community, and hosts classes for women to develop skills and community. I’m not exactly sure what my place will be in helping yet. Yesterday when I got there, it was a little crazy (okay, it was a lot of crazy) and there wasn’t really a good opportunity to discuss my job description. No one in the organization speaks English, so I was very grateful to have had a translator with me. One of the students at the university who is an English language major came with me to help interpret and get me situated. He ended up being extremely helpful… vital even, because I am really struggling with both languages I’m attempting to understand and speak. Eventually though, we figured out that I will be working at the organization three afternoons per week, and that I will be at another organization that IPDF is connected to two days out of the week. I will hopefully know more about my placement after this afternoon. I’m so excited about it, but it’s definitely going to be a challenge.

Some of the other students and I visited a café for the first time yesterday. We spent a long time there just talking and sipping our coffee/tea, adopting the Moroccan lifestyle. Moroccans live a much slower lifestyle than we do in America, and spend a lot more time appreciating each other’s company. It’s something I want to embrace as much as I can and really get to know the people I am meeting – both American and Moroccan. On a side note, I’m never going to be able to survive without Moroccan tea at home. I’m addicted already, and it’s only been three days. So. Good.

We also got a little tour of Meknes yesterday that was intended to orient us to the city and just made me more disoriented than I was before, if that’s even possible. So, yeah, there’s no hope for me there. But I did learn how to say “Aidez-moi, je suis perdu.” so all is well. I’m trying so hard to learn as much French and Darija as I can, but my brain is non responsive. I think there is too much English in there, and it does not want to share. Stupid American brain problems.

I guess this update is a little short, but hopefully there will be more to share with you all tonight. We will see!

Salaam alaykum. 

Azahar Apartments: Meknes, Morocco

Today was amazing. Hands down, flat out, awesome day. We woke up early and left the hotel for a guided tour of Casablanca. Our tour guide was so funny and shared some really obscure but fun history about the city and its various cultural influences. We saw the palace of the king, walked through the administrative square, and went to some of the small street markets. The highlight of the morning for me was the olive market. It was olive nirvana, I swear. The owner let us taste some olives, which were so flavorful and fresh. I was really surprised that he let our whole group of students sample the olives, assumedly knowing we wouldn’t buy anything. It was yet another example of the generosity of Moroccans.

Next we traveled to another part of the city to see the Hassan II mosque. I cannot appropriately describe this building/masterpiece in words. Seriously, you will all just have to go there yourself. It is an absolutely magnificent structure and I had to pause inside for a moment to appreciate its reverence. Although the mosque was obviously built for Islamic worship purposes, it was easy for me to be silent and feel close to God in the space. It was truly a place of worship. It made me homesick for camp. I cannot wait to be there with everyone. 

Afterward, we had a nice, relaxing lunch in Ain Diab, the “beachfront property” of Casablanca. I loved the mixed bag of Western and Moroccan culture that was very obvious there. A few other students, our coordinator Daniel, professor Jennet, and I had lunch a small restaurant near the ocean. The back of the restaurant was an open air patio with trees growing in the room for shade. It was a lovely, comfortable, and enjoyable meal speaking with Daniel and Jennet about their various travels and hilarious mishaps. And the food was delicious, as is all the food in Morocco apparently. I even ordered my own meal in French! Score one for my pathetic language skills.

The rest of the day was spent traveling to Meknes and settling in to our apartment… which is AWESOME. I am so grateful for the accommodations ISA has supplied for us. But really, it’s so swanky. My roommates and I bonded quickly and had dinner together, then went to explore the city of Meknes. It is way different from what I was expecting. For some reason my brain was thinking rural-type town setting and this is more comparable to downtown Pittsburgh or Cleveland. Our apartment is right in the action of the city, and you can hear the sounds of commerce and nightlife constantly. It will definitely take some getting used to on my part, especially because of my absolutely pathetic sense of direction. I’m just going to put money on it now and learn how to say “Help me, I’m lost!” in French, Arabic, and maybe Swahili just to be safe. Let’s be real, I probably should just learn it in every language.

For now, I need to get some serious sleep. My body is still adjusting to all these changes, and it is ready to quit for the next eight hours. Tomorrow will be more orientation and then our first day of placements. AHH!

Bonne nuit. 

Hotel Prince de Paris: Casablanca, Morocco

Today was a WHIRLWIND. If I ever say I am tired again, I will look back on this moment and say “Nope, okay, nevermind. I feel great.” I’m not even sure where to start telling the story. Today seems like it has been about a full century long.

The great news is, I’m here! I made it to Casablanca without any major problems. There were a few pulse-raising situations with late takeoff and confusing airport terminals, but I’m here and that was the only goal I hoped to achieve. (justgettherejustgetthere) As a bonus, I learned a few things during my extensive trip to reach Morocco. First, French is a gorgeous language that I truly wish I had taken the time to learn – but did not, and that is becoming apparent. Turns out there’s only so far “s’il vous plait” will get you. Second, airplane food in France is considerably better than airplane food in the states. Surprise, surprise. Third, this world is full of some truly kind people.

As much as I tried to be the calm, cool, collected travel-savvy explorer I wish I was, today I was just a puddle of nerves. I was nervous about all the natural things – will this plane land on time, will my luggage get sent to Tanzania, will I end up in Tanzania – and several really ridiculous things that only I would worry about – is this Moroccan child sitting next to me on the plane offended because all I can do is nod and smile at his stories, how many times can I go back to Starbucks during this layover before it becomes creepy, should I have gone to Tanzania instead? But my warranted and obnoxious fears were subsided by very sweet people along the way who were able to help me, sometimes with a loaned cell phone or precious directions in English, or just with a very kind smile and insisting I have a cup of tea (Merci, Air France flight attendant – you were right, it did help.).

So after a long day and a half of flights, I finally arrived in Casablanca, Morocco. The city is so bustling and eclectic, almost like New York City with more palm trees. It is truly beautiful and alive. That was my first impression of Morocco and its people, that they are full of vigor and life. I ventured out with a few other students to see the city, and we were stopped by several locals who wanted to speak with us in English and share their stories. “Welcome to Morocco!” was their harmonious chant. I felt welcomed, but so overwhelmed.

It hit me hard on the streets of Casablanca that this really is a big adventure. It scared me a little to realize how far I really am from my home and family, and how little I know about the world or how to make my way through it. I felt very small as I struggled to communicate and navigate. I didn’t expect a lot of the emotions that overcame me, but after a little freakout and a shower to clear my head, it did become clear that the fear is a good thing. If I came to Morocco and nothing struck me as new or scary, I would leave myself pigeonholed with no room to grow. Stretching your comfort zone leaves you feeling a little, well, stretched out. Maybe a little unsure of yourself. Maybe more than a little. But discomfort and fear exist for a reason, so I’m proud of myself for embracing those emotions along with all the really exciting ones.  

Tonight we finished up with an orientation from our coordinators Daniel and Mohsin to prepare for our new lives in Meknes. Both of them, as well as our female coordinator Iman, are wonderful and energetic. They’re the kind of people whose presence alone makes you feel like you can conquer the world. I’m extremely excited to learn from their knowledge and leadership. Tomorrow we will tour the city, spend time at the beach front neighborhood Ain Diab, and then depart for the four-hour ride to Meknes to settle in to our temporary homes.

Until then, bslama.

JFK: New York, New York, USA

It's finally here! My grand adventure has arrived. My endless journey to find out the truth about the world is going international! I'm on my way to my one month internship in Meknes, Morocco through the Vira Heinz Program and ISA-ELAP. I've already made one small portion of the trip there and it still hasn't fully sunk in as real that I am about to be halfway around the world. My mind is full with so many different emotions. I am excited, scared, ready to go, not ready to leave, and, on the outside, I look completely lost. My focus of the day is "just get there just get there just get there." If I can make it to my destination, I will already have accomplished so much in my own eyes. No matter the confusion I endured along the way.

I promised myself at the beginning of this process that I would learn to ask questions and admit when I don't know or can't do something on my own. I think God must have been listening when I said that, too, because I have had to ask a lot of questions already and I'm only one state from home. I know asking for help doesn't seem like much of a challenge, but for me it's a big change. And I know it will be one of the most valuable things I learn this summer, so I'm really trying.

Obviously the trip hasn't been very eventful this far. Sam and I made it to Pittsburgh through the torrential downpour. I said goodbye (for now) without even crying (much) and made it to my gate way early. I forgot my glasses, in typical Sara fashion, but luckily I did remember extra contacts. And now here I am waiting in JFK airport until my red eye to Paris tonight. That sounds crazy even just writing it down. "Oh, hey, I'm flying to Paris tonight. No big." What?! When did that become real? When did my dreams finally start coming true? I can't believe how many things have fallen in to place for this moment to even exist. After all the prayers, tears, and hard work, it's actually here. I am so truly grateful.