Fes

View of Fes from the tannery

This weekend we had our excursion to Fes, a city two hours away from Rabat via bus. Our host dad told us that Fes was the cultural center of Morocco. Our program leader described it as being more conservative than Rabat with a more traditional approach to life. So, with our duffel bags and very modest clothing, we set out for Fes on Saturday morning.

We didn’t have loads of time to meander around the city itself, but we did spend a long time in the Old Medina. The Old Medina is like our medina in Rabat, only pushed to an insane level. It’s bigger and more like a maze than the medina in Rabat. This medina tries to get tourists lost so they spend more time and money.  Speaking from the perspective of someone who is directionally challenged, I would’ve been in there for weeks if we didn’t have a guide. I mean, we had a guide and I still got lost 3 times. I’m not kidding.

Our first stop in the medina was at a restaurant near the Blue Gate of Fes. We ate on the roof of the building after climbing up a 4 story narrow staircase. I still don’t know how they managed to bring us our food. I ordered the camel burger. That’s right, I had a camel in burger format. Contrary to what I’d heard, it tasted nothing like chicken. It was a little tougher than normal hamburger meat but I can’t really describe the taste. It had a very unique tint to it. It was good, for sure. It's not lost on me that I've eaten a camel here before I've ridden one.

My camel burger

After lunch we trekked around the old medina. It was disorienting, but completely worth it. We visited the tannery (Fes is known for its leather), the old mental institute that sits in the center of the medina, and a large conglomeration of copper-workings with a lot of smaller stores in-between. Not to snitch on gifts, but I got Evan the one present he asked for, so older sister mission accomplished. The best part about the medina was probably how people would walk through the narrow streets with their donkeys just about every five minutes. It made you feel pretty cultural.

After we all made it through the medina, (why yes, the group did have to wait for me to find my way yet another time), we went back to the hotel and had iftar. My host mom does it better. Just saying. After dinner the group went to the hammams in Moulay Yacoub, a city known for the healing power of its sulfur water.

The next day our group visited Volubilis, a ruin of an ancient Roman settlement. Gaius Octavius extended the Roman Empire into Morocco during the Pax Romana, and that’s how we got Volubilis. Lauren, one of the girls on this trip, is very into Roman history and she was running me through the elaborate past of the ruins while we visited. She pointed out the aqueducts, would say whether the tile had Islamic or Roman origins, and she actually cried when she saw the bath houses. I was not that well-informed about Volubilis before going, nor am I incredibly passionate about Roman History, but I definitely could appreciate how gorgeous it was. What was even more impressive was how magnificent it was on such a massive scale. It was pretty amazing.

This week has been a pretty intense week language-wise. They really push through the material. One week ago we were going over simple nouns and now this week we’re doing irregular plurals, possessives, and verb conjugations. In fact, I have a test tomorrow over all of this. As you can imagine, I’m slightly less prepared than I want to be.

One thing that we did this week to work on our Darija (regional dialect) was a facilitated language learning activity. We had to find around 6 locations by asking different civilians where things were.The problem is that Morocco has a certain custom about directions. Basically, if you ask where something is and the person doesn’t know, they make it up. So we got quite a few detailed directions to absolutely nowhere. Our Language Learning Partner was being very obedient to the rule that he shouldn't help us, so we pretty much trekked across the whole city. We walked past one building five times before we realized it had been what we were looking for. Such a fun time.

The secrets of mint tea

In other news, I have seen two semi-riots and four fights in the past couple of days. It was explained to me that this happens during Ramadan because people are reacting to the lack of nicotine. It’s a little nerve-wracking to see, but the police are on high patrol during the month so I've never seen it get to an intense level.

But by far the most important thing that happened this week was that my host mom showed me step by step how to make mint tea. My life is absolutely complete. There is nothing more I need to do here. Well, except learn how to make all of this food. That might take a while.

I Wasn't Good at Fasting

Ramadan has begun.

I thought I knew this city. Since Ramadan hit, everything has changed. Not exactly in a bad way, but in a “is there a restaurant still open where I can eat lunch” kind of way. The city completely shuts down during the day. There’s very little honking, the streets are quiet, and it’s incredibly hard to find an open store. The stores that are open have turned all of their lights off. The will leave the door slightly ajar, so as not to draw attention, and then those exempt from Ramadan know that it's open. Then at night, everything wakes up. I didn’t know that there were so many teenagers here. Masses of them emerge at night and fill the restaurants and parks. The honking that was blissfully absent during the day returns with a vengeance, and the community comes together to celebrate their successful day of fasting. It’s pretty awesome.

                I did try fasting and made it all of two days. The first day I tried the traditional Ramadan fast that everyone does. No food, no water. At first, it wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought it would be. I don’t generally drink that much in the first place, and I just had to wait a little later for dinner. But around 5, I was really starting to feel it. Iftar starts at 7:45 or right after the call to prayer. I was skyping my brother at the time when our host dad called us to dinner. I stopped Joshua in the middle of a sentence, told him that I was far too hungry to delay dinner any longer, slammed the computer shut and pretty much bolted to the table. Our host mom had 2 tables set up with all of this gorgeous food out. I recognized only the dates, everything else was something I’d never seen before.

               

                My host sister, Manal, told me that since I had been fasting, the first food I needed to eat was a date. In Muslim culture, dates are considered to be the healthiest food you can eat, which is why you use them to break the fast on a day when you had no nutrients, I’ve got to say, I’m not a huge fan of dates. I thought they would be another Moroccan food that vastly improves overseas, but it wasn’t the case. I just don’t like dates. Everything else was absolutely amazing. Everything was very new to me, but it was still incredibly good. Completely worth the wait.

                Anyway, fasting wore me out so I went to bed at 9:00 and was woken up at 2:30 am for suhoor. This is the last meal that can be eaten before the sun rises. At 3:36 the canon goes off which signals the end of eating and the beginning of the fast. The suhoor consisted of beef and cauliflower plus the ever-present Danon. Neither of my roommates wanted to try fasting, so it was just me and my host family. It was a really lovely meal but it was far too early in the morning. I went back to bed around 3.

                The next morning I felt very dehydrated and sick. I was contemplating calling the program coordinator and asking to stay home. However, with the amount of Arabic we go over in a day, I didn’t think I could afford to lose any class time. I was really determined to make it through fasting for a week though, so I did a water fast that day, where you can drink water but not eat. My roommates and I went to see the Mausoleum where Mohammed V and his two sons are buried. There were men on horses guarding the grounds, a lot pillars in rows, and these white and green buildings that held Mohammed V and his sons. I thought the most interesting part was the Koran reader in the corner. Multiple things in Rabat are named after Mohammed V (a tram stop, a university, the airport), so it was interesting to see another way Moroccans commemorated his life.

                That evening I told my host mom over (a once again delicious) iftar that I have gotten sick this morning. Apparently, if you get sick you aren’t supposed to fast. So it was kind of decided for me that I had been kicked out of the fasting program. I didn’t really know that I had been removed until I woke up at six the next morning and realized no one had knocked for suhoor. So that was that. I felt ill again anyway, so maybe it was better to stop fasting altogether. Consistently being sick in a foreign nation is not my idea of a fun time.

                So I ate breakfast which my daily dose of Laughing Cow Cheese. There is an obsession with Laughing Cow Cheese over here. I have yet to see another kind of cheese. I’m a little obsessed with it, mainly because we eat it every day at almost every meal. I think at college I’m going to stock my dorm room with Laughing Cow Cheese and mint tea. I don’t think that I could live without them at this point. Anyways, after breakfast my roommates and I headed off to school.

                So I lasted 2 whole days of Ramadan and I feel like such a weakling. I was going for a week and just didn’t get close at all. I thought I gave it a nice effort, but it turns out that I'm not all that great at fasting.

                In other news, I finally found Balghas in my size. Yes, in order to do so I did have to get the men’s shoes. They are incredibly comfortable. The best way to describe them is that they are like slippers that have a harder flat bottom so they double well for walking. I told Manal that they looked kind of life elf shoes. She didn’t know what an elf was, but once I looked it up and showed her, she laughed and agreed.

 

The World Cup is still going strong. I watched Algeria’s painful loss to Germany and the US losing to Belgium. Not a good week in terms of teams I was rooting for. I love watching the games with my host father. In the US versus Belgium game, it was a lot of "USA" chanting and the return of the good old Washington DC hat. I also took some photographic evidence of how much of a community affair each game is. 

Paris and I at the ruins

              Our group trip during this week was to the Chellah ruins. I’m not the best at Roman history, but it was explained to me it’s the ruins of an ancient Roman settlement. There was some kind of earthquake and the city was abandoned in favor of its neighbor, Sale. The ruins were pretty amazing. There were no posted rules anywhere, so people were walking wherever they wanted and climbing down into the crevices. It was so different that the strict reinforcement the US has on many historical items. I was just beginning to think that there wasn't any enforcement of policy at all, but then, the security system emerged. It was a guy with a whistle. What a fun country. The Chellah ruins get a thumbs up from me.

               But the best part of my week was definitely when I went to a Moroccan TGI Friday’s. Because it's Ramadan, the crowd started to appear around 9:30/10:00. I went with Lauren, who is another girl in the program who had just been to the restaurant the night before. The Moroccan TGI Friday’s is a party. The music is blaring, every chair is full, and there is this huge Karaoke screen taking up the front wall.

               

Lauren, my karaoke buddy 

                I never really had a dream of one specific thing I needed to do in Morocco. I didn't have one overarching experience I had hoped for going into the program, but I discovered it on a Wednesday at 9 pm in a packed restaurant.

                Singing karaoke in a Moroccan TGI Friday’s was and is my dream. I couldn't keep still once I realized how much I needed to be a part. Lauren, who had sung the night before, went and got the karaoke book. There was a section for Arabic songs and a section for English songs. Flipping through, I noted the vast amount of Billy Joel tunes. I picked “Only the Good Die Young." It's one of my favorites and it was the last song he sang on his recent tour stop in St. Louis (which was the first time I ever saw him sing live). It all came together so nicely. Although the song isn't really in the best place for me range-wise (I have to shift octaves every once in a while) I had to do it.

               

                The DJ handed me the mic and I got up and stood in between two tables packed with Moroccan guys. One guy asked “What are you singing, America?” I told him, and he replied “Interesting, America, interesting.” Then the DJ actually told the crowd that I was “America” and the song started.
                 It was the most positive karaoke environment I've ever experienced. There was constant commentary and yelling and shouts of "America!" I have found my place in Morocco. It was amazing. I was followed by a man singing the most flamboyant version of “Don’t Stop Me Now” that I’ve ever heard. It's my place.
            
                Anyway, that's what's been happening recently in Rabat, Morocco. Tomorrow is America's birthday and then we depart for Fes. No one here really considers America's birthday to be a big deal (we have our first test on Independence day, for goodness sake). I'm planning on walking around in red, white, and blue and singing every patriotic song I know. 

Prelude to Ramadan

The past few days have been spent anticipating and preparing for Ramadan. Houses have been intensely cleaned, lots of cooking has been done, the medina has been especially packed with people buying the immense amounts of food they will need for iftar. Everyone made their final hurrahs at the beach, and Ramadan will soon be upon us. So here is, effectively, what has happened in the final days before the city shuts down.

             If there’s one thing that brings people together, it’s the World Cup. Everyone here is very invested in it. I've asked around, and the consensus seems to be that people believe Brazil will win, but are also silently rooting for their buddy Algeria. As someone who has never really watched any sports team or event religiously, it's very strange to see a country consumed with this soccer tournament. My host father and I still watch the games together. When the US played Germany, my host dad put on a Washington DC hat and chanted "USA" with me. But it's not just my host family. One day, I was walking home, and heard very loud cheering at infrequent intervals coming from restaurants on both sides of the street. Everyone, and I mean everyone, was watching the World Cup. If the restaurant has a TV, it's going to be showing the World Cup. It's ridiculous.

Before Ramadan, a lot of activity happened in the streets. I had a fight outside my room two nights ago. Amidst the completely unnecessary but very frequent honking, I heard some shouting outside my room. There was quite a commotion until the police arrived. They arrested around 3 people and then the night moved on. A lot of the problems with crime in Morocco are solved with civilian intervention (if your wallet is stolen, many will jump in to stop the perpetrator) and I was told that we really wouldn't see the police, so it was very unique that they came. Yesterday however, it was no longer a novelty to see the police. The day before Ramadan began they were everywhere. 

Good old American fast food

Before Ramadan started, I made it a goal to visit as many restaurants as possible as many of them shut down during the fasting period. In doing so, I've now found perhaps the most American restaurant in Morocco, “Faceburger.” The only difference between here and your average burger joint is that we were told we needed to order quickly so the workers could make it down to the mosque in time to pray. However, this was the most American tasting meal I’d had since arriving. A lot of restaurants claim to be American, but they can’t get the fries right. I was very impressed with Faceburger’s quality of fry. The container the fries were in couldn't handle how American the fries were.

Speaking of American things in Morocco, another element of America that has infiltrated Morocco is our music. I have heard maybe 2 cultural songs since arriving here. Restaurants play our music, people blast our music in their cars, our host family talks about our artists. My room is somewhat close to this restaurant (across the street and 3 floors up from it) and I hear people driving in with some American pop song blaring. It’s Adele, Lady Gaga, Miley Cyrus, Macklemore, etc. Our host sister loves “Al Staircase” and even saw her in concert (it took me about 4 repetitions before I understood “Alicia Keys” from that pronunciation). American music has definitely hit the streets of Morocco.

The garden down the street from us

Yesterday morning I took a walk about Rabat with my roommates, Catherine and Elizabeth. We found the classiest Burger King I’d seen in my entire life. I’m not a Burger King kind of person, but the building itself really made me want to eat there. However, I was hanging with two vegetarians so it just wasn’t going to happen. As we continued walking, I was almost hit with a flood of questionable liquid falling from some window four stories up. I’m sorry to admit, I yelled rather loudly and jumped out of the way (before it could hit me, thank goodness. I don't even want to know what it was) A Moroccan guy sitting in his car absolutely lost it and laughed, much louder than what I think was necessary.

Feed the birds, tuppence a bag

One of the more interesting things that I saw was the guy whose job it is to make sure these pigeons in a park by my house have food. While I was waiting on some people for lunch, I sat down and watched him wet down their food and put their water in bowls. It’s someone’s job to feed these pigeons. After I thought that, I couldn’t get the “Feed the Birds” song from Mary Poppins out of my head.

Afterwards, we spent the afternoon at the ocean. While in the water with about 8 members of the group, this random Moroccan dude started motioning towards us and pointing at his surfboard. A couple of the kids freaked out because we have sat through so many lectures about not making eye contact, not saying hello and so on so they swam back. But he seemed well-meaning and we had quite a few boys from the program with us, so I went with the group that decided to swim over. He motioned for me to get on his surfboard, so I did.

I’ve never been on a surfboard before. According to that Wii fit board, my balancing skills are sub-par at best, so I fell off multiple times. But then I eventually stood up on the board, and paddled around a bit on it. Then everyone in the group tried doing the same.

This guy and his friends shook all of our hands afterwards, and I asked him, in Darija, what his name was. His name sounded something like Bee-lah. I was very proud of this successful communication. Then he spoke something rapidly to me and I just nodded and said yes, and him and his buddies started cheering and pumping their fists in the air. We said thank you and good-bye, and as we were swimming away, I was informed that I had just told the man that I was Muslim. I was thinking later that it could’ve been a marriage proposal and I would’ve just gone along with it. So I’m clearly not very good at this language yet.

 

Then, I found the most beautiful part of Morocco, I swear. I walked up all these rocks in bare feet, which absolutely killed, but it was worth it. The view was gorgeous. Ugh. What a beautiful country. 

However, I did go and sit in one of those pools of water before the cliff drop-off into the Atlantic. This huge wave hit the side, rushed over the top towards me, and knocked me backwards. So I got kind of cut up on the rocks. It was still worth it.

So now, today, Ramadan has officially started. I've been up for 5 hours and I've yet to hear a horn, which is absurd considering the incredible amounts of honking in the past week. It's very quiet out today. I've got to say, I'm incredibly excited for dinner tonight. Because fasting is hard and I'm hungry. 

Rabat

Our final plane ride

After 13 hours of travelling and over 20 hours of waiting around in airports, we finally flew into Morocco. Upon arrival, we made the journey from Casablanca to Rabat and stayed in a hotel for the night. They brought us Moroccan Dominos which had cool specialties like cheese pizza with chunks of goat cheese. Welcome to Morocco, I guess. But really, that pizza was fantastic. The goat cheese really pulled the ensemble together.

The next day, after various seminars, we met our host families. My host family lives in Agdal, one of the community segments of Rabat. Their apartment is very spacious and has gorgeous decorating. I have two host sisters, Wiam and Manal, and my host parents are Ali and Saida. I’m also living with two girls from the NSLI-Y program: Catherine and Elizabeth, both from Tennessee. There is a bit of a language barrier around the house. Manal is very good at English and does a lot of the translating for us. Her parents, fluent in both French and Arabic, speak mainly French around the home. Both parents are working on their English and are very cute when they find the word they’re looking for. They’re also eager to help us with our Arabic, which is a nice way to study outside of the classroom.

When we arrived at the house, the family relayed that they hadn't found out until recently that they would have 3 girls rather than 2. Because I was the last one up on the elevator, they asked me to stay in their study room. Most homes in Morocco have extra couches all over that can act as beds. It’s so multiple family  members can come over and have a place to sleep. I love staying in the study, it’s nice take a breather from the interaction all day. They also have an interesting book collection (half French half Arabic) and a neat window that looks right onto an  incredibly active street. I'll admit  that the street noise took some getting used to. I usually proclaim to have a hard time sleeping with noise, but when you have little choice, it just happens. Moroccans drive in a very aggressive manner and I've heard more horns in the past 4 days than I've heard my entire life in Des Moines. Of course, all of this horn blaring happens right outside my window, as well as the blasting of music from car radios. It's just something the citizens here are used to, and I'm trying to get to that point as well. But I'll get to the driving later.

Anyway, as soon as we arrived I noted the language barrier, and tried to find something to do with the sisters. The study had a couple of board games stacked on a shelf, and I thought that’d be a good way to hang out. The only game I saw that was in English was Monopoly. I've only ever tried to play Monopoly once and I’m really not all that familiar with the set-up. I had no idea what I was getting into as Catherine, Elizabeth, and I sat down to play with Wiam and Manal.

We finished 2.5 hours later by just seeing who had the most money. It was Wiam. They were far too polite to tell us that the game was incredibly boring, but I apologized for it multiple times during game play. I asked Manal later, and she said that her uncle had given it to her as a present and that was the first time she’d played the actual game. Normally, they make up the rules and it becomes a lot more interesting and fun. Whoops. Since then we've channeled time into more interesting activities, like the World Cup. Everyone is really into soccer and the World Cup and they're cheering on their neighbor, Algeria. My host family watches the games with German commentators and German subtitles on, and I think it's the funniest thing because no one speaks a lick of German in their family. They just turn them on. I don't get it at all. They're just adorable. Anyway.

Breakfast has quite a bit of bread

The final activity of the day was dinner. Cuisine was not the first thing that came to mind when I justified wanting to go to Morocco. However, in PDO everyone mentioned how excited they were so I went into this first meal with positive expectations. I was not disappointed.

The food our host mom makes is fantastic. The first night we had some kind of greenish soup and green beans with beef, every kind of bread imaginable, fresh fruit, mint tea, orange juice, and pastries. My two housemates are vegetarians, so when my host mom put the green beans and beef dish on the table she told me, “It’s all up to you.” I tried to clarify what some of these dishes are called, but no one really understands the specifics I’m looking for. (“What is this?” “Soup.” “What kind of soup?” “It’s just soup. There is no meat.” “No, no, I’m not the vegetarian, I was just wondering what’s in this.” “I don’t understand, it’s just soup” and so on.)

Every night since then it’s been some kind of new dish that always tastes excellent. Bread is a holy food in Morocco, and every meal here is very bread-intensive. I don't know what half of the rolls are called, but I'm not complaining. I've yet to taste a food I didn't like.

The most surprising thing I've tasted was the cantaloupe. I hate cantaloupe in the States. It’s hard and bitter and has a watery taste. In Morocco, it more follows the consistency of a pear and is much sweeter. I had 5 pieces, and told my host mom that my mother would never believe I had touched a cantaloupe, let alone had 5 pieces. I was also told Coca-Cola was better overseas than in the US. Sadly, this is not the case. I thought I would magically enjoy it, like the cantaloupe situation. It just wasn't meant to be. However, I did discover that I love mint tea.

In Moroccan culture, mint tea is served all the time, everywhere. We have it for breakfast and dinner, and throughout the evenings. Mint tea is everywhere in Morocco. It’s symbolic of welcoming guests and friendship. I didn't expect it would be as popular as it was, and went in with negative conceptions about tea. When I was told I’d be served tea all the time every day, I was going through strategies in my head to make it look like I was drinking it without consuming anything. That would've been a mistake. Mint tea is fantastic. I am determined to learn how to make it before I go.

The streets of the Kasbah

Our Arabic classes began the next day, and started with Arabic 101 reviewing the alphabet and the numbers. Our teacher goes through every letter very carefully with us, as she believes pronunciation is vital in Arabic. It’s funny though, after we go through this very specific pronunciation, she has us sing this song that blunders all of the specifics, but is catchy nonetheless.(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0xYy3D6zYgY). It easily gets stuck in your head, so be careful.

Roommates at the Chellah gardens

It was very short first day as we cut class short to have a briefing from a man from the Moroccan Consulate who warned against things we’d already been told not to do. After that, a group when down to visit the Chellah gardens and wandered through the Kasbah of the Udayas. The Kasbah has these half white and half blue residences that are quite well known. They’re very different from the tone of the rest of the city, and are quite beautiful in a distinct way. We also went down and touched the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. It was funny to go to a beach and see no one swimming. I was told it had something to do with the fish.

Overlooking the Kesbah into Agdal

The next day we continued with class and went over short vowels and long vowels and listening activities where we write the full form of words we hear. After 4 hours of morning class, we get an hour break for lunch. We went to a small sandwich shop and I ordered completely in French. Yes, this program is supposed to teach Arabic, but I love the idea of having to pick up all these different languages to get by in day to day life here.

After lunch, we have Darija class. In Morocco, everyone understands MSA for religious reasons, business reasons, and communication across regional boundaries. But everyone here actually speaks to each other in Darija. Rather, everyone speaks a strange combination of Darija, Fusa (MSA), and French. Darija class has kids from each level of Arabic classes thrown together, and this teacher gives rapid-fire vocab.

After class, we went on a scavenger hunt around Rabat, called the “Rabat City Challenge.” We started in the Medina, the “old town” of Rabat that has these traditional shops. Our first assignment was to find a Hand of Fatima key chain, which is an Islamic symbolic of protection. As everyone on this program is currently learning Arabic but is not necessarily ready to accurately communicate with locals in that language, the most valuable skill to have is proficiency in French. In our group, we had only one member with any knowledge of French, and it was very minimal. We looked for anyone who had an idea where to find the hand of Fatima, but no one understood the word “keychain” in English, and we didn’t know the French translation.

A sight on the Rabat Challenge

Eventually we ran into some shopkeepers who really wanted to help us, but couldn’t understand a word we were saying. One of them asked “Espanol?” Absolutely relieved that I had finally found some way to communicate, I yelled, perhaps too loudly, “Donde esta la mano de Fatima!?” and he began walking quickly the other direction, signaling us to follow. We trailed him halfway around the Medina until we arrived at a shop with the cook serving out sausages. The Spanish-speaking Moroccan beamed and pointed and said “Fatima!” I was confused, until Fatima waved and said “Fatima!” I realized this guy had taken us all the way around the Medina to find the one person here named “Fatima." We shook our heads and eventually got pointed in the direction of someone who spoke English. He then sent us through the center of the Medina, until we found someone else who spoke English, who helped us find the keychain. Our success was definitely a group effort, thanks to the wonderful English-speaking shop owners in the Medina.

Later that night, I went back to the Medina with some girls from the program with the goal of finding Jellabas (traditional Moroccan hooded dresses) and Balghas (traditional Moroccan slippers). The Medina gets increasingly crowded at night. Swarms of people come to shop, as it is Moroccan tradition to buy only what you need for each day on that day. I’ve seen my host parents go buy food for dinner around 6 o’clock multiple times, come back and cook it, and be ready by 9. This means that around 7:00 in the Medina, it’s very packed.

One entrance to the Medina

Jellaba shopping is much more complicated than I thought. Apparently, if the starting price is less than 200 dirhams, then it isn’t a good Jellaba and the price is meant to trap the tourists. I eventually found a Jellaba that I liked and had Paris, a girl in the program who is fluent in French, argue the price down. It was a very intense bargaining situation. After they wouldn’t take the price down more than 50 dirhams, Paris had me take off the Jellaba and told them we were leaving. They then asked what price she wanted, so she typed the our price in a calculator. They shook their heads so we began to leave. Then, they grabbed her arm and entered a lower number in the calculator. She accepted, and I gave them 2 bills and needed 40 dirhams in change. They only gave me 20. Paris told them they needed to give me the correct change. One shook his head and told her that they agreed on a price 20 dirhams higher than what he had typed in the calculator. She then told him to give me my money back and we would return the Jellaba. The other store clerk slapped another 20 dirhams in my hand and they shooed us out of the store. And that’s the Medina.

Unfortunately on the Balghas side, size 9 is too large for any girl shoe in the Medina, so I’m going to have to order them. Oh well.

Today after class, we met our language partners. The language partner is a recently graduated Moroccan student who will help you say whatever you want to know or will help with your homework. Mine is named Nora and she was incredibly positive and friendly. Which is a polar opposite from how people drive.

Moroccan stop sign

            This is my one major problem with this city. Everyone drives like a crazy person. They tell you that pedestrians don't have the right of way, but what they mean is no one ever truly has the right of way. There are no lanes. Many stoplights are taken as suggestions. You can drive in whatever part of the road you want, and it is more common to park on the sidewalks than in the street. I've ridden in quite a few taxis, and it's very difficult to find a seat belt . Worst of all, everyone honks all the time. They honk when the light doesn't turn green as fast as they want. They honk when someone is driving too slowly. They honk when someone gets into their hypothetical lane. I've never heard so much car noise. I'm also terrified of getting run over. Des Moines gives the ultimate right of way to pedestrians. I've had two lanes of traffic stop to let a person cross the street even when they're not at a crosswalk. Here, you could have the green signal to walk and still not be able to cross the street. A popular way to get around this is to walk in the middle of the street, stand on the lane divider, and wait for the other lane to clear before walking the rest of the way. I've tried it, it's terrifying, I'm going to get hit. I am not a fan of this traffic.

Ramadan is coming up soon, and you can tell how excited everyone is getting. During Ramadan you reunite with your family, share in big celebrations after dark, sleep in late and work less hours. I've decided to fast at least a part of Ramadan (when in Rome…) because this may be my only chance to experience this practice which is someone else's livelong reality. When I told my host mother, she broke into the widest grin. We were told in a lecture that Muslims love Ramadan, or at least the idea of it. They said that people get pretty grumpy in the middle of the fasting, but the practice Ramadan is near and dear to their hearts and essential to their religion. But that's a topic for another day.

So that’s where I’m at in Morocco right now. More things, I’m sure, to come.

By the way, if you’re having a bad day, at least you didn't accidentally ask your host sister if the call to prayer was the sound of a Moroccan fire engine siren. 

The Handbook

EDIT: Now that the location has changed to Morocco, parts of this handbook are no longer applicable. However, many parts do apply to both regions so I've decided to leave it up, if only to educate future Oman students. I'm also leaving it up because it took forever to write. So you are more than welcome to skip this, but if you have a fascination with Oman, feel free to keep reading.

As part of the preparations for this summer, AMIDEAST sent out a 44-page handbook detailing information about Oman and the summer we would be having. I found this information interesting and relevant to this experience, so I thought I'd include some of it here. The following post in its entirety will probably only be interesting to me and future NSLI-Yers, so if you don't fall under these two categories, I understand if you skim or don't read the following post. My feelings will not be hurt. Everyone who is going to read this, get strapped in because I have a feeling this will take a while.

Here we go.

The first section deals with statistics about Oman. I noticed that Oman has a population of around 3.09 million people. This is very close to the population of my home state, Iowa, who has around 3.07 million people. The population is 75% Ibadhi Muslim, and 25% other religions. There is an 81.4% literacy rate, and there is universal adult suffrage, which is always nice.

The next section deals with staying and adapting to a host family. After being a member of a host family to 3 different ladies since the 8th grade, it's fun to see the kind of preparation they give about what your host family would be like. They warn you that you might not have the "private time, personal space, or independence" that you are used to, but just to roll with it. I wonder how many of our host students were like "I don't want to hang out with them right now, but I will because I was told to." It's just so weird to see this other side of the experience.They say there is also a chance that the family you stay with will be of Zanzibari descent. For the sake of the Billy Joel song "Zanzibar," I hope this happens. Although I'm fairly certain he wasn't singing about this region that is now part of Tanzania, but I'm keeping my hopes up.

The handbook then dives into the academics of this whole thing. All of the girls have been notified of our duty to learn the alphabet and some common phrases before we leave. They also mention a "Language Pledge" which I believe means that we are only allowed to speak Arabic for certain periods of time. After reading this, I am so glad that Sr. Van Der Meer would require us to do this all the time in Spanish 3- it lets you know what words you really need to learn. The handbook also talks about the classes, the extension element with an Omani peer, and the pre and post test we'll be taking. The final part of the academics section is the extension beyond the classroom, including the extracurricular activities and community service. I actually couldn't be more excited about this- the extracurriculars include "discussion groups, Arabic cinema & TV, Arabic karaoke, calligraphy, and relaxed 'majli chats' over coffee & dates with Omani students."

The next portion is about methods of contact. We'll be provided a cell phone, international service is expensive if you bring your own, Skype has been blocked (this by the way, is not the greatest news ever but I can handle it. Google chat all the way?), we'll have WiFi although it may be slow, and they gave some addresses where we can be sent stuff, which I might put on here closer to the date or if anyone other than me gets access to this blog who might want to write something.

Climate-wise, it's hot. Very hot. There's also a wind called "the Shamal" that blows from March until August and can cause sandstorms. You don't get a sandstorm every day in Iowa, so I'm hoping to see at least one.

Then the next section is one what to wear. This was very worrying to me in the time between when I had been accepted and when I got this handbook, so to prevent this from happening to future students, I will try to be detailed.

In regards to bottoms, acceptable forms of dress are jeans, khakis, linen pants, longs skirts, and capris when it isn't Ramadan (It's Ramadan most of while we're there, so capris probably won't be much of a thing considering how economic you have to be with suitcase space). Acceptable tops are long sleeves, 3/4 length sleeves, and short sleeves when it isn't Ramadan. This clothing should not be revealing around the bust, stomach, back, shoulders, or legs. Skirts shouldn't come above the knee, shirts can't be sleeveless. They say that sandals are the most common type of shoe worn, but also to bring sneakers for excursions and flip flops to wear around the house. This guide also advises to bring a formal outfit for occasions your family may invite you to, such as weddings. Finally, they advise bringing a hat  to keep the sun off of your head, or wearing a scarf in accordance with the local fashion.

The electricity sockets are of the three-pronged British variety or the two-pronged European variety. So what that means is I'm going to be buying a transformer pretty much as soon as I get there.

Then the packet has a very well-written description of Oman's history that I won't include here because that would require a lot more writing and we've still got quite a bit of handbook to go.

The next section focuses on social relations. Apparently, same-sex relationships are pretty intimate in Oman. The handbook says that this is not indicative of homosexual behavior, just a reinforcement of friendship. So intense eye contact, touching, kissing on the cheek, long handshakes, and holding hands or walking arm in arm are normal for two friends. They state that some international students say it is hard to make friends with Omani students. This could be attributed to "cultural misunderstandings, different perceptions or friendship, or language difficulties." They also warn of those who wish to be friends for financial gain or sexual reasons, but also note that this is not true of the majority. Some Omanis enjoy foreign friends for social class reasons or to learn about the foreign culture that you come from. These friends apparently form quickly and are quite intense. Apparently, in accordance with Omani culture, friendship means different rights and duties, and those you friend won't hesitate to call in favors or converse daily. If a friend goes ignored for a few days, this is taken as an insult. There is a rapid response to requests, and an expectation that it will be reciprocated. So I suppose that means I can't keep forgetting to text people back like I do now. In fact, I just remembered someone I have to call. Not like that's anything new for me.

In regards to mixed gender relationships, the handbook says that these are often distant and seem impersonal. It also states that if a foreign woman initiates a conversation with an Omani male, this may be interpreted as "openness to a sexual advance or romantic interest." It says that foreign women should wait for the Omani male to initiate a handshake. There are other small tips, such as when "Adhan" (Call to prayer) is announced, it is best not to speak loudly, dance or play music. Modest dress is required to enter a mosque. Always ask permission to enter a mosque. The Omani people are very happy to help with directions. Check to see if there was a service charge before you give a tip. US dollars are not accepted in local markets.

I'm going to leave out women's issues for now, as it states that we'll be covering it in great detail at PDO, and I believe I will be more informed after that meeting to be able to elaborate on what is a large issue in this region.

But now on to my favorite subject- food. First, being invited into someone's house means either kahwa- a strong, bitter drink, or halwa- a sweet and sticky substance. Lokhemat is another accompaniment to coffee- it's balls of flour and yeast. Rice is the main ingredient at meals, along with meat. Fish is frequently used, the kingfish in particular. There is rukhal bread, mishakik, and squid. So pumped for squid. Oman pulls from Yemen, East Africa, South Asia, and the Middle East, which builds my excitement for this food. In regards to etiquette though, there is some necessary adherence to customs. I would say an important pattern I see throughout the tips is always trying whatever they give you, and never declining food when offered. So even if you're stuffed, you need to try the food you are offered. Eat with your right hand. If someone gives you a choice piece of meat, it's because they feel like you aren't getting the best. Just thank them for it, whether you wanted it or not. The host of the meal will continually place food in front of you in very large portions and ask you about the food and if you want more. There will be leftovers. Running out of food makes the host look stingy, so don't try to finish anything. Especially because those who prepare the meal eat what is left by the guests. So it's actually incredibly inconsiderate to finish your meal, especially since you don't know how many are waiting in the kitchen for the leftovers. Your host is going to push you to eat- you need to decline multiple times. Observe how much those around you are eating and use that information to guide your own eating habits. Make sure to remove your shoes if others do, and wash before dinner.

We are nearing the end of the handbook. The final portion describes the stages of culture shock: The Honeymoon Stage, the Hostility Stage, the Integration/Acceptance stage, and the Home stage. They finally tell you not come in with any expectations and to remain open-minded. They then say to maintain your sense of humor, and remember that this is going to be a unique experience and you should embrace that.

They then include this packing list, which I am going to have way too much fun stressing over in the coming months. There's also some additional resources about Oman, and then a lengthy "Personal Conduct" section about behavior and penalties and such.

So now, I feel as though I've written down a large gist of what the handbook said. I made this post because this was all I wanted to see when I was reading blogs of former students who did this program, so at least now I know this is out there. I hope you've enjoyed reading this lengthy post, and I hope we speak again soon.

The Background and the Beginning

"There is a tide in the affairs of men, 

Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. 

Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. 

On such a full sea are we now afloat.

And we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures."

I love that quote. I thought I'd start the first blog post with it because it describes seizing opportunities, which is kind of the overall lesson of this post. It's also here because I love Julius Caesar, but I suppose that's another story for another time.

Anyway, my name is Kyra and I'm 17 years old. This summer, with the help of the NSLI-Y program, I will be travelling overseas to Oman to learn Arabic and experience the culture. Needless to say, I'm absolutely thrilled.

I feel like it's obligatory to keep a blog about this kind of thing, so here I am. Even though I'm months out from leaving, I wanted to give a bit of background and also talk about events leading up to actually leaving, thus this early start. 

To begin at the beginning: I've always wanted to learn Arabic, but have never really had the resources to do so properly. I mean, my dad was in Iraq in 2003-2004 and Afghanistan in 2008-2009, so I grew with this foreign culture and language in the back of my mind. We have all of these artifacts from the Middle East around my house and in my room, and I've always had to observe from a distance. I've never had the opportunity to take a class on Arabic or Middle Eastern studies, and self-learning this language is difficult. I let my ambition brew beneath the surface and kept my eyes open for ways to learn Arabic. When I heard about NSLI-Y my junior year, I knew I wanted to do it. I knew that the program embodied everything I wanted to do all in one: it offered the opportunity to learn the language, which I could apply to my future career, and also allowed me to study the culture, something I had wanted to do for a long time. I also knew I was under-qualified. I have never studied Arabic, and my attempt of learning another language (Spanish) had been squashed by an semester-long internship my Senior year. So not only did I not speak the language, the only other language I had taken throughout high school, I had dropped. I didn't think my chances looked good. So I quietly applied for this program, and became a semi-finalist. This wasn't comforting at all, because I figured they may make this decision based on some factor that would've gotten me to this round but wouldn't qualify me beyond this. Which is why, when the finalist nominations came, I was surprised. And  grateful. And terrified.

Moving forward, after I received my finalist notification, I had the worst time worrying if all of the documentation got in correctly. They give you 7 days to turn in a scanned photo of your passport, a hard copy of a form, and the emailed copy of that form. I had recently renewed my passport, and had forgotten to sign it, so they emailed me back to tell me to sign it. That whole thing was stressful, including not knowing if they got the hard copy of the form. I was so worried I'd be disqualified because of improper documentation turn-in procedure. But I think it worked out because I then began receiving emails regarding the program from AMIDEAST, the program in direct control of what we'll be doing this summer. By "we'll", I mean the other girls doing this. I think there are 14 of us.

Anyway, I hope to be able to have quality conversations in Arabic by the end of this. I think I read somewhere that they want you to have a presentation, in Arabic, at the end of the program for, I believe I'm correct on this, some members of the consulate. At this point, I've only ever been out of the country once, and it wasn't for long. Giving a speech in front of consulate members is such a foreign concept. I suppose all of this is a foreign concept.

I've received a lot of emails recently detailing a lot of what's going to happen, and I'm excited to talk about that later, but you can only write so many run-on sentences before you just need to give it a break. So I'm just going to cut this off here. This is the end of the first official post, and the beginning to a Summer in Oman.