The End

Even though I've arrived back in the states, I figured I should do one last post about Morocco as a final farewell to this blog and the trip.

On Thursday, we had our final exam. There was a large paragraph to read and translate, matching, verb conjugations, and writing our own paragraph on ourselves. It was really nice to have a final display of everything we'd gone over. 

Lauren and I with henna

That afternoon, we had a "henna party" where a lady came in and did henna on everyone. I actually really enjoy henna. At some group insistence, I got corn henna on my ankle (which was somewhat ironically funny in Morocco, but has become much less ironic and funny upon returning to Iowa. It's also the darkest out of all the henna, which is exactly how I imagined things would work out for me.) But I really love how henna looks and the tradition behind it. 

Arabic 101

That evening we went to dinner with our teachers and our language partners. We took a class picture with our teacher Fadoua. One girl, Kayla, is missing from this picture, but otherwise this is our whole class.

Then Friday, we had final presentations. Everyone picked a different topic and presented about it entirely in Arabic. This seemed like a bit of a stretch for some of us who had just learned the alphabet a little more than a month ago, but I thought everyone pulled it together nicely. My presentation was on Moroccan carpets: their origins, how they're dyed, the women who weave them, how to find a quality one, etc. Translating phrases like "originating from Nothern Berber tribes" and "darker yellow requires cow urine" is why this project sucked up a lot of my time. Other kids presented on French influences in Morocco, the royal family, or Moroccan pottery. I thought all the presentations were pretty good, especially considering how little some students had come in knowing. 

Fadoua

Then we truly said final goodbyes to the language partners and teachers. I told Fadoua that she was the greatest because no other teacher would've put up with me. She replied, laughing, "I know." Then she started laughing so hard that she cried reminiscing over my 6 week run in Arabic 101. She said she was really going to miss my very unique catchphrases, such as "Frick, Fadoua," "Gosh dang it, Fadoua," or "Really? Really? Who came up with that?" Some students are just treasures.

oona-May

I said goodbye to Moona, my Darija teacher. I taught her Pig Latin two days before we left, so she wished me goodbye as "yra-Kay." Moona was fantastic as well. That whole Pig Latin thing is another story though, complete with the confusion about how to exactly explain when you use Pig Latin. That exchange went something like:

"Does everyone speak Pig Latin?"

"Well, no. But everyone kind of knows how. People just don't. Except little kids do sometimes, for fun."

"So everyone knows how to speak it, but really no one does."

"Pretty much."

She then went on to explain that in Darija, sometimes people will just start talking backwards for fun. Darija was complicated enough for me, without the knowledge that some people will speak it backwards for kicks and giggles. I did not need that knowledge right before I left. Oh my gosh.

After all of those goodbyes, we went upstairs for the final debriefing, where I found out my house was going to be the 2nd to last picked up on "The Trail of Tears." They stop at every kid's house, one by one, and pick them up. I was pretty happy that I would miss most of that.

We all then lined up to say our last goodbyes to Sarah, the greatest and sassiest group leader ever. 

I then went on a final trip through the medina. I got another carpet (I am so weak in the face of carpets). I bartered the whole thing in Arabic, including the small hiccup where I wanted a smaller carpet and in one specific color. I felt pretty accomplished. I then went to say goodbye to the beach.

I'm still convinced this is the best job in the world

I should preface this with the fact that I went to the beach by myself, which was probably not a smart idea. On the way there, a group of boys yelled something along the lines of "Little girl thinks she can dress in long clothes and not get talked to? She's very wrong. How are you, little girl? I think she's Dutch. Are you a little Dutch girl?" and kept on walking past. I thought I was so fortunate to have a very clear picture of the last time I would get harassed on the street. There it was. (I've mostly skimmed over this happening on the blog, but it is a daily occurrence.) Anyway, I walked a little quicker to get to my favorite spot on the beach. I said goodbye to that view, and the ocean, and I went home.

Our host mom, who is so incredibly sweet, made us a bunch of extra Eid treats to take home with us, and about 60 cheese sandwiches for the plane ride. Catherine, Elizabeth, and I all packed up our suitcases and waited outside until the bus came to take us to the Casablanca airport. We said  goodbye to our family. I felt so bad for Manal, I think she took it really hard. Wiam gave me a list of song recommendations (she's such a sweetheart) before we headed to the bus. We said a final goodbye and then made our way for Casablanca. 

Flying sucks. I'm going to say that right now, because I feel like I've been through enough to make that generalization. We got the the Casablanca airport and had to go through every kid as they weighed their luggage. Mine was about 1 kg over, but they let it go. One girl's was 5 kg over the limit, so I guess they're pretty lenient with checked luggage weight at 1:00 in the morning. But then, as we headed to security, a guy stopped us and told us that we all had to weigh our carry-on. A lot of weathered travelers in the group said that they had never had to weigh their carry-on before. We had been advised to out all of our heavy breakables in our carry-on, so many people weren't going to make it. What was going to kill me was my coke bottles, I had 3 in my carry-on and together they weighed about half of what the whole carry-on was allotted. If your carry-on was overweight, you were going to have to check it (which cost over 100 dollars).

I knew mine was overweight, so before it was my turn, I took the coke bottles out of my carry-on and precariously balanced them on top of my personal item. I weighed my carry-on (10.4 kg, .4 kg over the limit but still technically "10 kg" so he had to let it go.) I then rolled my carry-on behind a wall and shoved all of the coke bottles back in and continued through security. So nice try, "I'm going to weigh your carry-on" guy, better luck next time.

We barely got on that flight. After all of the necessary extra bag checking and weighing the carry-ons, we pretty much hopped on the flight and it took off. 

We flew to Frankfurt, where I had my first true hot dog in over a month. I met two Iowans, one sporting a Hawkeye shirt and the other a Cyclone shirt. Everyone from the group thought it was so funny that I had found other Iowans in Germany. I think Iowans just naturally find each other in foreign places, because it's like a magnet to both be from the coolest state in the US. 

The group with the latest flights

Then we flew to Washington DC, which was a 10 hour flight and just about the longest thing ever. I had 4 different seats during that flight (a mom wanted to switch so she could sit next to her kids, my TV didn't work, a girl from the program wanted to move). When we finally got to DC, it was like a real trail of tears. We said goodbye to the kids from DC, then we watched terminal by terminal as kids left. There were only about 8 of us left with later flights, and we all camped out together to wait for our flights. I couldn't help thinking that it felt like the 10 little Indians story as a person would stand and say "I should probably go." Everyone would stand, say goodbye, and sit back down. It ticked down one by one, until it was only me and the girl from Minnesota sitting at the original spot between the D16 and D18 terminal. We said goodbye at 4:45 and that was it.

I caught my flight to New Jersey at 4:50 (again, I was not a fan). I arrived in the Newark airport and witnessed the fire alarm go off 4 times. Each time was followed by the message that smoking wasn't allowed in the airport. Then, as a flock of birds flew over my head, indoors, I felt so justified in all of my complaining about flying through New Jersey. Not a fun time.

Wandered around in the airport, got a little lost (because it's me and it's not really an authentic experience if I don't get at least somewhat lost). I found my terminal, met some people I knew from Iowa, and waited for the flight to Des Moines. 

I finally caught the flight back to the good old DSM. I met my parents at the airport and drove through B-Bops on the way home. Apparently B-Bops is just an Iowa thing? Everyone else is missing out. I also had my corn. It was totally worth the wait.

Anyway, now I'm home and I desperately need to unpack so I can pack everything back up again for college. Since my summer is basically over and I'm not longer in Morocco, I suppose it's natural that this is where this blog ends.

Although, fair warning, I found 200 dh in a pocket soon upon arriving home, and I've decided that this is a sign that I'll be back someday. But until then, thanks for reading about my summer in Morocco. I hope you liked my little collection of stories and experiences. I certainly learned a lot from them, and I hope you enjoyed reading about them. Until next time!