Letter from a Belgian Airport

                 After a very rigorous 2 day orientation in DC, we are finally on the way to Morocco via Brussels. In Brussels, we have a 10 hour layover, and everyone is suffering from some serious jet lag. Belgium is 7 hours ahead of Iowa, while Morocco is 6 hours ahead. So we've actually gone over one more time zone than where we’ll end up. Basically, everyone is tired. 

Visit to the Moroccan Embassy

                

                 These orientations that we just got back from lasted 2 days in DC, with continuous session after session. They covered everyday life, health and safety, personal takeaways, and cultural aspects like Islam. It was a lot of information in a very short period of time. The part I found the most engaging was when a member of the State Department and American Councils came and talked about future opportunities in study abroad and careers abroad (www.exchanges.state.gov and www.careers.state.gov if you’re interested).

                

                At the end of the day, we walked around DC for a bit. A small group of went to see the White House and generally just meander around DC.

                 

               At the end of the next day, we were off to the DC airport to head to Brussels. Airports get worse each time, I swear. This time we had 22 kids to get approved and check their baggage, which took a very, very long time.

              

              After all of that happened, we went through a long security line, got on a tram, went over to our gate and did more waiting.

              At this point, I should explain that some kids didn’t technically had seats on the plane. Instead of having a number, they had three asterisks. This was not me, I had seat 31 B. Anyway, as kids with asterisks were called to come pick up their tickets for the plane, I discovered a girl from our program had been given my seat.  So I wondered, once again, if I was going to have an issue getting on my plane. I didn't doubt it, based on my very enjoyable experiences in airports so far. They then called my name to approach the desk and sort this all out.

             

               Two other boys who had asterisks also didn't have seats because they had overbooked the plane. We waited at the front for a half hour while the staff worked on booking a couple a separate flight that ran through Madrid. There were multiple issues and it took quite a while. Once they finished, our chaperone patiently and graciously explained that we all needed to be on the fight as we were a group. She then also explained that they had given my seat away to another student so they needed to place me somewhere. A few moments later, a man at the end of the counter called my name and gave me a different ticket to get on the plane. So, thank heavens, I would at least make it to Belgium.

             

               It turns out the only seat they had for me was in the joint first class/business class section. Which was pretty neat. They’re a lot nicer to you up there. There’s more food and they screw with the temperature of your silverware. Your chair converts into a bed of sorts. I think it was God apologizing for putting me through the O’Hare flight fiasco. The guy next to me was not as cool as Konrad, though. Also, I spent a good portion of the flight sleeping, but not before I could watch “Miracle” to see the Americans win the Olympics in hockey. Such a classic.

              

          Now we’re in the midst of a 10 hour layover in the Brussels Airport. We can’t really leave the airport because we don’t have visas, but we did walk outside a bit. I also got some Belgian chocolates, and intend on eating them all by myself. 

       

  By the way, I love the Belgian bathroom signs.

              Anyways, we’re headed to Morocco tonight. First Casablanca, then Rabat.

              I just have to stay awake until then.

I'm Leaving on a Jet Plane

A journey of a thousand miles begins with at least 3 flight cancellations. Are you really taking a trip via plane if you aren’t delayed at least once? I don’t think so. More on that later.

               

                I had my last supper with my mother and sister at Noodles & Company. Elea informed me that as a good sibling, she would be commandeering my room as soon as I left. She’s actually switching our rooms. At least I don’t have to clean anything.  

                I said goodbye to my mother at 10:00 that morning at the Des Moines International Airport. I was wondering what about this airport qualifies it as “International.” No matter.

               

I got this TSA pre-screened line thing, which sounds all fancy, but all it really means is there is no line and you get to keep your shoes on. They searched my carry-on and found my 10.4 oz bottle of sunscreen. I kicked myself for forgetting to check that in my other bag. Went downstairs, called my mom about what to do, threw the sunscreen away, and went back into the line. After I made it through again, I made for the lounge.

                

                A friend’s dad told me once that “It’s either a good experience or a good story.” What fun is life if you don’t rack up a couple of good stories? There were a lot of good ones today. The first one I had was a bit like a dare: how long can my flight be delayed? It was a fun game that the illusive “dispatch” and I played. Chicago had been undergoing a couple of thunderstorms and so all flights had been grounded until 12:30. This meant the earliest I could get was one hour after I was supposed to be taking off for DC. So I got comfortable in this airport lounge and waited for what seemed like forever.

                

                Then, finally, the plane arrived and we were off. 50 minutes later, I find myself in O’Hare. Or rather, I find myself lost in O’Hare.

               

                The staff had everyone’s carry-on checked because of the size of the plane. I, of course, had no idea where to pick this up so I wandered around for 20 minutes. After finding my carry-on, I discovered my flight had been cancelled, so I went to get a new flight. I stood in the customer service line for a half hour and got my new ticket that departed at 7 for DC.  I found out that I now had 5 hours to burn in this airport rather than 45 minutes.

                

                My mother told me that I needed to find the USO, a lounge for military personnel and their dependents. I asked a staff member, who said all I had to do was make it to terminal 2. Since I was at terminal 1, I didn’t think it would be that difficult. Nope. That journey was the most confusing thing I’d encountered all day. I’ve never been so lost. But then this lovely worker walked me through the airport to find the USO, and an hour after I started walking, I found it.

               

I often under appreciate being a military kid. Sometimes it really sucks. Other times I am so incredibly grateful for it. This was one of those times. After frantically running around this massive airport, I was so thankful for an area where they took your carry-on, offered you a variety of free food, free wifi, and let you watch the World Cup in recliners. I was so relieved. Thank God for the military. As my mother always said “Lose your husband before you lose your military ID." 

     

                So I camped out at USO for 2 hours with some Navy recruits on their way to Basic Training and their commanders. While I was there, one man commented to me, "You are too young to be a Lieutenant Commander, and too happy to be a recruit. Who are you?" And I explained how I was lucky enough to hold the prestigious status of "Dependent."

After charging my phone and eating dinner, I headed back into the crazy world of the airport in a once-again desperate attempt to find my new flight that was to begin boarding at 6:25. It went much better this time. I got to the right terminal and everything.

And then it started raining.

Again. I’m sitting in the lounge one hour before my flight is supposed to leave and the lightning starts coming in and I’m wondering if I’m actually ever going to make it to DC.

Then I meet up with Colette, another student on the program who is also trying to get a flight. We put ourselves on the standby list for the last flight out for DC. If we don’t make this flight, we’re going to have to stay in a hotel for the night. We’re sitting in the airport lounge watching our names slowly get pushed down the list as other people pay to get seats. It’s nerve-wracking and one of the most stressful things I’ve ever done. It is now 9:30, and this plane that was supposed to start boarding at 8:25 finally opens the doors. Standby seats are slowly given away. Based on the ratio of available seats to people ahead of us on the standby list, we didn't think we were going to get on the plane. I already had called my dad and told him I was probably going to be in a hotel for the night. But then, somehow, Colette got a ticket. And then I, finally, got a ticket.

At last, I get on the plane. I sat next to this guy named Konrad, who was fluent in Polish, a former male gymnast, a somewhat health nut, right out of school chiropractor who offered me his bag of plantains. It was probably the most enjoyable flight I'll ever have. I had actually planned on reading my book or studying, but ended up having a two hour conversation with a guy who was on his way to a chiropractic convention. It made having the middle seat on a 2 hour flight at 10:30 not entirely awful.

So finally, I arrived at DC at 12:30 in the morning, found my luggage, waiting in a very long taxi line, and got the hotel by 1. 

Like I said before, it's either a good experience or a good story. 

And this is just the first day.

So I'm Going to Morocco....

I got an email today that threw me for a loop. I'm not going to Oman. There was a visa complication in going to Oman- a special waver was introduced for those of us born in 1996 or before. They're uncertain that they can get us this waver, and we were 11 days away from departing. So instead, they're sending us to Rabat, Morocco.

On the one hand, I'm thrilled that they adapted the program to make us fit and are working to get us into host families. I'm excited I still get to learn Arabic and learn about this foreign culture.

On the other hand, I wasn't ready to give up Oman.

I've spend about the past 3 months learning about the country and meeting all these lovely people, many of whom I'm not going to meet now. I have to exchange those absolutely gorgeous rials and meet a new group of people and change my flights.I have two weeks to prep to be in this country I had no idea I was going to be in and know little about. 

Most importantly, I'm going to have to change the name of this blog.

But I'm starting to see the bright side. Oman had incredibly high temperatures (like 106) while Morocco right now is sitting around a 70. I think their policy on modesty is a little bit looser. Their flag is easier to draw.

I'm going to  hate giving up Oman, but I think I will like Morocco. I've heard nothing but good things, it's just wrapping my head around everything.

I'm going to Morocco. A Summer in Morocco. I'll get there. 

Discovering Rials

I recently graduated from high school, and got a very interesting gift from my grandmother as a graduation present. My grandmother has traveled all over the place, so of course she would have the foresight to give Omani rials as a gift. Along with this insanely useful present, we also had a discussion about going abroad. She instructed me to get a secure bank account, to carry my passport around at all times, and make copies of every major document as well. All of this was incredibly helpful, but I can't help but make the focus of this post the rials. They're absolutely gorgeous.

I'm going to feel bad about spending any rials. Each is like an intricate tapestry. Every rial, no matter the denomination, has a picture of the Sultan on the back combined with some building of significance to Oman. The other side really varies in what it depicts. This side of the five rial is showing the city of Nizwa in Oman. 

Of course, the exchange rate is going to be the death of me. Every rial is worth about 2.9 USD, meaning 5 rials is actually about 13 dollars. Thanks America, for letting me look forward to days filled with mental math.

These rials reminded me that this trip is approaching quickly. Of course, I am scrambling to find clothes and keep up on my Arabic learning, but I've lamented about that already. I'm incredibly excited to embark on this adventure and spend far too much money because I forget the massive discrepancy in exchange rates. Two and a half weeks to go.

The Alphabet is Harder than I Thought

In preparation for the trip, we've been asked to learn the Arabic alphabet in 2 14-letter chunks. This seems entirely manageable, except for the fact that each letter has 4 total forms. There's an initial form, a medial form, a final form, and an isolated form. Sometimes the letter stays the same between two of its forms, sometimes it does not. Drawing each letter seems to be like an individual art project. But I'm working on it.

We got our first assignment recently to check and see how we were progressing on the first 14 letters. Now, I've made flashcards, made a huge poster for my door, and written out the whole chart various times. But while staring at that paper I realized that this may be more difficult than I thought. It wasn't "what makes the 'b' sound?" but more like "transliterate this English word in Arabic." I had no idea how to connect the letters or what to do about the vowels (we use them when writing, but Arabic generally doesn't). I suppose learning the alphabet will be a little harder than I thought. I definitely have more effort to put into this before I leave.

In regards to putting in a lot of effort into something, it is very difficult to find clothes that are both very modest and something I want to wear in 100+ degree heat. I was looking at my weather app and Muscat has a high of 106 this week. Wearing jeans in 106 degree weather probably isn't the brightest idea, so I've been around look for clothes that would work. I will just say that shopping is far from my forte and I think just wearing a bed sheet every day would be simpler. This is going to be an interesting summer to say the least.

So these are the issues I'm currently struggling through. I'm sure I will have much more interesting ones to share as we get closer. I'm sure my concerns about the alphabet, the weather, and my clothes will soon be replaced with much more interesting topics and stories.

All that to follow, after I learn this darn alphabet.