Let’s begin the story circa 9:00 on Sunday, August 30. Following some Coconut-Lime Margaritas and a rather teary good-bye with some of my friends, my parents and I set out for Logan with the Boston traffic intent on making us late. While I was the last of our group to arrive to the airport, I still had plenty of time to kiss Mom and Dad goodbye, make a final phone call to Grandma and Grandpa Snazzy, and generally freak out about the months-long adventure ahead of me. Just before I was about to give in to the temptation of a pre-flight shot at Houlihan’s (to calm the nerves, of course…) I heard a pair of voices shout my name from the row of black leather seats near the gate. The ruckus was caused by Anthony and Catherine – the one intensely excited, the other possibly more nervous than I was. Within ten minutes or so, we gathered the rest of the group together (all 7 of us…) and boarding began. The wait was over.
The flights flew by, which was both exciting and unexpected, and definitely called for my blog’s first horrible pun. Air France was awesome as ever – I stuffed myself with curried chicken, white wine, and the most amazing banana-chocolate cake ever, despite the fact that I was still completely full from my chicken sandwich and nachos from Sunset Cantina. If only my overhead light had worked….
After talking with the rest of the row (Catherine, Maura, and Anthony), I turned on the Star Trek movie for about 15 minutes until not even the massive amount of explosions could keep me awake and I passed out. I awoke hours later when the stewardesses delivered a breakfast of sorts to us. Granted, it was about 12:00 Parisian time and felt like 5:00 EDT, but jets work in mysterious ways.
We landed in Charles de Gaulle and spent our few minutes of free time in our quick layover perusing the duty-free shopping for fun and exciting items, some of which were definitely purchased. Passively. The flight from there to Rabat was actually a bit longer than I expected at 2 and a half hours. I spent some of the trip reading up on Ted Kennedy (may he rest in peace) and the rest flipping though our good friend Al-Kitaab trying to remember all of that vocab which has trickled out of my memory since last December. Surprisingly enough, some of Al-Kitaab’s random words actually showed up in the city – like altijaara (commerce/trade). This makes me feel a little more respect for the textbook, but I’m still not convinced we should learn that word before “bathroom” and “help!” I’m just sayin’.
As we neared touchdown, I couldn’t help but notice the general brown-ness of the area. The only time I’ve ever seen anything like it before was while driving through Southern California, where you just don’t get all the green nature of New England. The buildings all tend toward off-white or drab colors, but every once in a while a bright blue door or a grove of palm trees come along to spice things up. As we deplaned (by stairs! That always makes me feel so much more exotic!) the heat hit us pretty quickly. It’s a dry heat, at least, but still felt just as bad as the heat wave back home earlier in the month. And the air in my room, even with the window wide open, feels about as hot and stagnant as Warren Towers on a hot summer night. As the sun goes down, though, the temperature hits a very comfortable level, and a light breeze comes in from the ocean.
So after going through customs and getting screened really flimsily for swine flu, we grabbed our baggage and rode out to the Hotel Majestic, where we got our first taste of the bustle of city life and the chaos that is Moroccan driving. So far we’ve figured out that street signs are minimal and jay walking is required. This is my kind of place! Fadoua (the program manager) then left us for 3 hours to do as we liked. Since we were lost, exhausted, and confused, this ended up being 2.5 hours of rest and bonding in the hotel with sporadic showers (using “sporadically warm” water) followed by a half hour walk into the city, once we had summoned up enough courage to take our initial steps outdoors. We wandered through a little bit only to discover a shell of a town – all of the shops were closed, though we picked out a couple of important spots for the future (i.e. an internet café, a cell phone store, and a delicious-looking bakery).
Fadoua met us a little before 6 (as promised) and took us through the medina to reach the Center for Cross Cultural Learning (to be referred to as the CCCL or, my personal preference, the Trip C L, from here on). If the new city seemed empty, the medina was still hopping despite the fasting. The place was insane – people everywhere selling everything you can imagine from fruit to knick-knacks to wool, kids playing soccer, street cats looking mangy but adorable, and above all an energy unmatched by anything short of Fenway on a game night. Rebecca, you were right. This place is so cool – I can’t wait to actually live there.
Once at the CCCL, we got a quick tour, which impressed all of us immensely (see below). At the 7:00 call to prayer, we participated in the breaking of the fast (though we had done little but eat over the last 36 hours…) with a traditional meal of milk and dates, figs, soup, hard-boiled eggs with salt and cumin, and a thin bread, along with sweet honey-dough treats. This was followed by a main course of couscous with beef and various vegetables (which seemed to be carrot, pumpkin, and squash… I think). Brahim was amazing. This was all followed by wicked strong coffee and a dessert of fruit – most of us chose peaches. Over dinner, Farah contributed the quote of the day: “We’re kind of crazy here – we really like to party.” How awesome is class going to be?!
The dinner finished, we walked back through the dark and labyrinthine streets of the medina to our hotel, then decided that 8:30 was far too early to go to bed. So, we picked a direction (right) and just started walking until we got tired, observing the surroundings, the people, and all of the action. Incredibly, due to the Ramadan holidays, the later it got, the more crowded it got! We stopped at an open-air market area as well as the French bakery from earlier, where I got a cup of vanilla and berry (raisin?) gelato. We also had our most pronounced encounter with the language barrier yet, leaving me unsure exactly what I was eating and whether Anthony paid for it or I got it for free…. Either way, it tasted amazing. Finally exhausted, we headed back to the hotel – passing Fadoua with a group of friends on the way. Kind of hilarious.
To wrap up, I can already see all of you reading this with a smug I-told-you-so look after all of my anxiety and reluctance to leave. And yeah, I guess you earned it. So savor it, and hopefully I’ll continue to be as constantly amazed and intrigued by the culture here as I was today. I’m still a bit nervous about meeting my host family and surviving with my limited knowledge of the language. It is such a weird sensation to walk down the street and understand absolutely nothing that is being shouted at you… especially when you harbor a guilty inkling that you should really recognize at least a few words after 3 semesters of classes.
But the fact remains that I miss and love all of you reading this, and wish you could be here, too.
In case you don’t want to read all of that (and I can’t say I blame you), here’s brief and reader-friendly list of initial reactions!
Things I love thus far:
-The pants and sandals combination is basically standard for men during the day. So comfortable!
-The nightlife is actually crazy – there are more people on the street at 10:30 at night than 5 in the afternoon. Though that may just be a Ramadan thing.
-The view from the CCCL – oh my god! You can look out over the roofs (that’s a word, right?) of the entire city, and on one side the Atlantic Ocean is about 2 or 3 blocks away! To hear the 7:00 call to prayer from there (along with viewing the accompanying sunset) is magical – mostly because it means that you are about to get food!
-Everything about the CCCL – the building is the most gorgeous place I have seen in a long, long time with arches and pillars everywhere, colorful tiling, cozy little nooks, and the aforementioned multi-level terrace view. I’ll try to put up pictures soon….
-I’m remembering more Arabic than I expected! Of course, no one in the country actually speaks the fus’ha Arabic that we study, but it’s a start.
-80% of the signs and pamphlets and such are written in both Arabic and French, so I might pick up 2 languages for the price of one. And when I say pick up, I mean get to know in a very vague, non-committal way.
-This place is padiddle heaven! And anyone who’s ever traveled with me knows how excited that makes me!
-The food tonight was so amazing – I ate figs and dates for the first time (what have I been missing?!) and a traditional Ramadan soup, along with a gigantic bowl of couscous with beef and vegetables that we barely even dented.
Things that confuse me:
-Elbow grabbing. For some reason, when two people walk together here, they don’t hold hands or link arms, but one seems to just hold on to the other person’s bent arm just above the elbow.
-The medina. I will get lost there incessantly. Though the little windy alleyways are so beautiful – it’s as if from straight out of your imagination (or Aladdin, which – let’s face it – is really the basis for all my assumptions about Middle Eastern culture).
-The low ceilings and doorways. Daily head-hitting count: 1.
-The cafes are full of men, while women are simply not socially allowed. But while men seem to be more common on the streets, there are definitely women walking around in groups at night – where do they go? Secret womany places?
Sounds amazing. Glad to hear you're enjoying it so far (and glad to actually have that smug I-told-you-so look).
ReplyDelete