The CCCL hosted a "meet and greet" with our host families tonight, and my host sister is amazing. Her name is Fati, and she is an English studies student at Mohammad V University.
Smitaha Fati, u ihheeyah taliba fe zhemiyat Mohammad V. (heck yes, I'm getting good!)
We had a great conversation about school and her family, and I feel very comfortable about living with her family. I'm going to do my best to practice my Darija, but when it fails me, I know I'll have Fati to help me.
My mother's name is Amina, and father's name is Boubker. My younger host sister is named Zainab and my host brother is Yassine. Amina and Boubker are Arabic teachers, and neither speak English = good for me.
I have two more classes in Darija and then I begin my Fus'ha classes. It's going to be really difficult not to speak Fus'ha in the streets and with my family. I guess I'll keep working on learning Darija at home, and try to become more conversational in that, and then I'll try to keep Fus'ha locked inside my brain so I can continue to learn it back in the US.
Off I go to enjoy the breeze coming off the Atlantic while I eat a dinner of lamb and vegetables (with shots of medicine from the clinique). B'Salaama!
Friday, September 7, 2007
Rabat continues to be wonderful
I'm starting to feel like part of the community of the medina. I recognize the faces of shopkeepers (in Darija, mulhannutiin), I can speak more of the local language, I'm learning to bargain (apparently I paid way too much for a Moroccan dress yesterday...). Today two teenage boys struck up a conversation with Carly and me while we walked to school, asking me where I'm from, where I bought my sunglasses, if I like Arabic. "You must practice, then, in two years, you good." "I hope," I responded. I think that I'd like to make Morocco my annual or bi-annual vacation; it would be great to become fluent in Darija. The people love when you speak even a word of Darija to them, and are highly complimentary when we say things properly. Learning the language is great. (and we're learning it ridiculously fast; in less than a week I've learned as much Darija as I learned Spanish in High School Spanish 1).
Off to run to afternoon sessions. Things are great here. They really are.
Andi usted mezyehn. Kanbri ldarija bezzef. L-maghrib zweyhn.
I have a good Arabic teacher. I like Darija a lot. Morocco is beautiful.
And more to come...
Off to run to afternoon sessions. Things are great here. They really are.
Andi usted mezyehn. Kanbri ldarija bezzef. L-maghrib zweyhn.
I have a good Arabic teacher. I like Darija a lot. Morocco is beautiful.
And more to come...
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
3:56 am September 5
Bathroom of Room 108, Hotel Majestic, Rabat
In all there must be a balance
(or, I still feel like I’m going to die)
Reader discretion is advised.
My medicine kit...... it will be depleted sooner, possibly, rather than later. Thank God for it.
In short, I just took two anti-diarrheals.
I woke up at 3:45 with awful cramping and nausea. Awful cramping and nausea. I walked to the bathroom and let loose on the toilet. It was horrifying, and while I was letting go on one end, felt I had to vomit. I hate vomiting. I managed not to vomit, but then I felt light-headed. As anyone who knows me will tell you, I am incredibly apt to pass out with the onset of extreme pain. I finished on the toilet as quickly as I could, and lay down on the floor in the yogic “child’s pose”. At this point, I was really overheating and breaking out into a heavy sweat. So there I lay, on the filthy floor of the bathroom, my head, arms, and legs against the tiles, which were only a little cooler than my body. I was soon covered in sweat , but I felt so much better on the floor.
After the discomfort subsided a little bit, I rinsed my wrists under cool water, and collapsed on my bed. It wasn’t long before I felt bad again, though. This time I came to the bathroom more prepared, with laptop and mp3 player playing Sufjan Stevens’ “Illinoise” in tow. In the writing of this entry, I took several breaks to plaster my body to the tiles, to drink water, to take anti-diarrheals, to let loose on the toilet again.
I still feel nauseous, but I’m getting better.
(Un moment.... I have to plaster myself to the tiles again).
I’m going to try bed again. Dear God, I feel awful..
In all there must be a balance
(or, I still feel like I’m going to die)
Reader discretion is advised.
My medicine kit...... it will be depleted sooner, possibly, rather than later. Thank God for it.
In short, I just took two anti-diarrheals.
I woke up at 3:45 with awful cramping and nausea. Awful cramping and nausea. I walked to the bathroom and let loose on the toilet. It was horrifying, and while I was letting go on one end, felt I had to vomit. I hate vomiting. I managed not to vomit, but then I felt light-headed. As anyone who knows me will tell you, I am incredibly apt to pass out with the onset of extreme pain. I finished on the toilet as quickly as I could, and lay down on the floor in the yogic “child’s pose”. At this point, I was really overheating and breaking out into a heavy sweat. So there I lay, on the filthy floor of the bathroom, my head, arms, and legs against the tiles, which were only a little cooler than my body. I was soon covered in sweat , but I felt so much better on the floor.
After the discomfort subsided a little bit, I rinsed my wrists under cool water, and collapsed on my bed. It wasn’t long before I felt bad again, though. This time I came to the bathroom more prepared, with laptop and mp3 player playing Sufjan Stevens’ “Illinoise” in tow. In the writing of this entry, I took several breaks to plaster my body to the tiles, to drink water, to take anti-diarrheals, to let loose on the toilet again.
I still feel nauseous, but I’m getting better.
(Un moment.... I have to plaster myself to the tiles again).
I’m going to try bed again. Dear God, I feel awful..
Hotel Majestic September 4. 12:30am (so really it’s September 5)
Today was the best day yet. For the first time since I’ve been in Morocco, I felt not only well, but happy. I laughed for the first time, and it felt good. Refreshing. I felt like myself again.
I haven’t yet described my “normal” day here in Morocco, so I think this an apt time to do so, before the schedule changes on Saturday, when I move in with my host family.
7:00am Wake-up
8:00am Breakfast (and a little nap afterwards)
9:00am Leave hotel and walk to CCCL
Anecdote:
The walk from the hotel to school in the morning and back again at night is a great plunge into the life of the medina. Shops line the streets; Avenue Mohammad V—the last leg of the walk— is especially busy, and especially at night. In the morning, the shopkeepers begin baking or cooking or sewing or hammering, while others take large brooms and sweep the trash away from the front of their shop. Stray cats roam the streets looking for food, and little boys play games of tag in the street. Girls lead their younger siblings through the streets, or watch them as they play. We pass the bakers, the butchers, the wool sellers, the souvenir shops, the djellaba shops, the Western clothing shops. We see people in Western clothes and djellabas, in fez hats and high-heels, in burqas, peasant tops, jeans, and hijabs, soccer jerseys, football jerseys, screen print t-shirts, and everything else imaginable. This is definitely a progressive Muslim society; as many women cover themselves as those who choose not to. It is generally the older women who cover their entire bodies, save their toes, hands, and faces, but many younger women can be seen wearing the hijab as well. Moroccans don’t all look the same, either. There is no cookie-cutter look for a Moroccan. There are Moroccans you might mistake for Italians, Moroccans with sub-Saharan features, Moroccans who look Middle Eastern, Moroccans who are pale, Moroccans who have the skin color of Central Americans and the facial features of Arabs.
Possibly the best — albeit the most challenging as well — part of being in Morocco is trying to communicate in a half dozen languages. Spanish, French, Amazigh (Berber), Darija (Moroccan Colloquial Arabic), Fus’ha (Standard Arabic), and English are all spoken, all the time. I was at a cell phone vendor this evening and when my French failed me, I reverted to Spanish, and as I left, thanked the shopkeeper in Darija. I order coffee in French, but tomorrow I’m going to test my new Darija skills in the café (in Darija, the kawwa). I hope to come home speaking more French, conversational in Darija, literate in Fus’ha, and better at my Spanish. All good possibilities.
9:30-12:30 Orientation talks (i.e. Safety, Policies, Schedule, Homestay, Moroccan Culture, Islam, preparing for Ramadan, health, etc).
12:30-1:30 Lunch (which may include cucumber and tomato salad, saffron potatoes or carrots, lentils, pasta with seasoning, couscous, chicken with saffron, beef with amazing seasonings I can’t name, bread, fresh fruit (fresh fruit in America doesn’t compare), water, mint tea, etc.)
1:30-3:00 Intense Arabic: Survival Darija
(3:00- ??? My head hurts from Darija)
3:30-4:30 Another presentation
4:30-6:30 or 7:00 Free time until dinner
During free time, my new soul twin, Carly, and I post notes to our blogs, post pictures, use Skype, and get all the “staying connected to home” stuff done. Then we take off to “find soda”, which is really just a great excuse to get lost in the medina. The medina is the centuries-old walled city and is mostly residential. People walk in the medina, generally, but every once in a while you’ll hear the buzz of a motorcycle and then the driver will rip past you at speeds that would be illegal in residential America. Beggar women sit in the street mumbling in darija; their eyes are sunken into their faces and they are lucky if they have teeth. Today I gave one of the woman my change from buying soda, and she held my hand as we exchanged the “Salaam aleikum” “wa aleikum salaam”. Then she mumbled more words, including Al-Ahzar (I believe it was), which I think is a name of God, though I do not know which.
6:30 Dinner. (See food list above)
7:30 Walk back to hotel
Life begins at night in Rabat. By now Avenue Mohammad V is full of people, and the center of the street is full of vendors selling fruit, orange juice (squeezed for you on the spot), purses, backpacks, CD’s, t-shirts, and necklaces. Our group gets split up by the crowds, which is fun, because now we know how to get from the hotel to school, so being free of our 45-person brigade is a relief. It’s nice to walk in small groups of two or three, where you can walk at your own pace, look at the shops and watch the people.
Tonight as we were standing in a parking lot across from our hotel, a young girl, probably 14 or 15, came up to us, trying to sell us flags. She spoke in quiet darija, and kept motioning to her mouth, to indicate she was hungry, that selling these flags would allow her to feed herself for the night. The students responded alternatively with “La” (darija for no) or “Non”, but she was persistent. For some reason, I made eye contact with her, and she posed her questions to me, demonstrating the number of flags she had. “Je ne comprends pas”, I said. “No, merci”. She motioned to her mouth again, then looked at my hand. She gestured to her own finger, making a sign of a ring, then she pointed at my hand. She wanted my silver spiral ring, which is the only nice piece of jewelry that I own, and I would never part with it. I quickly gave her my mood ring, which I also like very much, but it was free. There’s no huge sentimental value attached to it. She seemed very pleased by the gift. She smiled and said “merci” and walked away. That was that.
I haven’t yet described my “normal” day here in Morocco, so I think this an apt time to do so, before the schedule changes on Saturday, when I move in with my host family.
7:00am Wake-up
8:00am Breakfast (and a little nap afterwards)
9:00am Leave hotel and walk to CCCL
Anecdote:
The walk from the hotel to school in the morning and back again at night is a great plunge into the life of the medina. Shops line the streets; Avenue Mohammad V—the last leg of the walk— is especially busy, and especially at night. In the morning, the shopkeepers begin baking or cooking or sewing or hammering, while others take large brooms and sweep the trash away from the front of their shop. Stray cats roam the streets looking for food, and little boys play games of tag in the street. Girls lead their younger siblings through the streets, or watch them as they play. We pass the bakers, the butchers, the wool sellers, the souvenir shops, the djellaba shops, the Western clothing shops. We see people in Western clothes and djellabas, in fez hats and high-heels, in burqas, peasant tops, jeans, and hijabs, soccer jerseys, football jerseys, screen print t-shirts, and everything else imaginable. This is definitely a progressive Muslim society; as many women cover themselves as those who choose not to. It is generally the older women who cover their entire bodies, save their toes, hands, and faces, but many younger women can be seen wearing the hijab as well. Moroccans don’t all look the same, either. There is no cookie-cutter look for a Moroccan. There are Moroccans you might mistake for Italians, Moroccans with sub-Saharan features, Moroccans who look Middle Eastern, Moroccans who are pale, Moroccans who have the skin color of Central Americans and the facial features of Arabs.
Possibly the best — albeit the most challenging as well — part of being in Morocco is trying to communicate in a half dozen languages. Spanish, French, Amazigh (Berber), Darija (Moroccan Colloquial Arabic), Fus’ha (Standard Arabic), and English are all spoken, all the time. I was at a cell phone vendor this evening and when my French failed me, I reverted to Spanish, and as I left, thanked the shopkeeper in Darija. I order coffee in French, but tomorrow I’m going to test my new Darija skills in the café (in Darija, the kawwa). I hope to come home speaking more French, conversational in Darija, literate in Fus’ha, and better at my Spanish. All good possibilities.
9:30-12:30 Orientation talks (i.e. Safety, Policies, Schedule, Homestay, Moroccan Culture, Islam, preparing for Ramadan, health, etc).
12:30-1:30 Lunch (which may include cucumber and tomato salad, saffron potatoes or carrots, lentils, pasta with seasoning, couscous, chicken with saffron, beef with amazing seasonings I can’t name, bread, fresh fruit (fresh fruit in America doesn’t compare), water, mint tea, etc.)
1:30-3:00 Intense Arabic: Survival Darija
(3:00- ??? My head hurts from Darija)
3:30-4:30 Another presentation
4:30-6:30 or 7:00 Free time until dinner
During free time, my new soul twin, Carly, and I post notes to our blogs, post pictures, use Skype, and get all the “staying connected to home” stuff done. Then we take off to “find soda”, which is really just a great excuse to get lost in the medina. The medina is the centuries-old walled city and is mostly residential. People walk in the medina, generally, but every once in a while you’ll hear the buzz of a motorcycle and then the driver will rip past you at speeds that would be illegal in residential America. Beggar women sit in the street mumbling in darija; their eyes are sunken into their faces and they are lucky if they have teeth. Today I gave one of the woman my change from buying soda, and she held my hand as we exchanged the “Salaam aleikum” “wa aleikum salaam”. Then she mumbled more words, including Al-Ahzar (I believe it was), which I think is a name of God, though I do not know which.
6:30 Dinner. (See food list above)
7:30 Walk back to hotel
Life begins at night in Rabat. By now Avenue Mohammad V is full of people, and the center of the street is full of vendors selling fruit, orange juice (squeezed for you on the spot), purses, backpacks, CD’s, t-shirts, and necklaces. Our group gets split up by the crowds, which is fun, because now we know how to get from the hotel to school, so being free of our 45-person brigade is a relief. It’s nice to walk in small groups of two or three, where you can walk at your own pace, look at the shops and watch the people.
Tonight as we were standing in a parking lot across from our hotel, a young girl, probably 14 or 15, came up to us, trying to sell us flags. She spoke in quiet darija, and kept motioning to her mouth, to indicate she was hungry, that selling these flags would allow her to feed herself for the night. The students responded alternatively with “La” (darija for no) or “Non”, but she was persistent. For some reason, I made eye contact with her, and she posed her questions to me, demonstrating the number of flags she had. “Je ne comprends pas”, I said. “No, merci”. She motioned to her mouth again, then looked at my hand. She gestured to her own finger, making a sign of a ring, then she pointed at my hand. She wanted my silver spiral ring, which is the only nice piece of jewelry that I own, and I would never part with it. I quickly gave her my mood ring, which I also like very much, but it was free. There’s no huge sentimental value attached to it. She seemed very pleased by the gift. She smiled and said “merci” and walked away. That was that.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Link to my photo album!
Here is the web address for my photo album.... I don't think it's a working link, so copy and paste into your browser.
http://picasaweb.google.com/aaasay09
OH, sweet! It might be a link!
I'm on a long break right now, looking out at the Atlantic, getting ready to scour the medina for a Coca-Cola light with my friend Carly.
It's been a roller-coaster ride for me since I've gotten here, with this very moment probably being my happiest. I laughed for the first time today since I've been here, and it felt good.
(My darija is awful and Arabic classes are ridiculous, but I'm getting a little better).
B'Salaama!
http://picasaweb.google.com/aaasay09
OH, sweet! It might be a link!
I'm on a long break right now, looking out at the Atlantic, getting ready to scour the medina for a Coca-Cola light with my friend Carly.
It's been a roller-coaster ride for me since I've gotten here, with this very moment probably being my happiest. I laughed for the first time today since I've been here, and it felt good.
(My darija is awful and Arabic classes are ridiculous, but I'm getting a little better).
B'Salaama!
From the terrace of the school, after lunch
I'm feeling so much better today. I got about 10 hours of sleep last night (although the sleeping pills didn't work so well; I kept waking up all the time, feeling nauseous), and I am drugged up with Advil Cold and Sinus and Zicam. My cold is starting to subside, and my head starting to feel less clouded. We're starting to actually learn things, which makes days better and is helping to keep me awake. When we're just having Orientation talks like "Schedule", "Policy", etc, I start to nod off. Learning Arabic and reviewing Islam makes it more exciting.
It is a beautiful day today; it's about 75 degrees Fahrenheit, with a nice breeze coming off the ocean. The weather is making me feel much better, too. It's difficult to be sick, stuffed up, and living in 90 degree heat.
Altogether, a much better day. Last night I fought off little feelings of homesickness; it's always difficult to be sick anywhere, but especially abroad. I wanted to talk to my mom, to Clay, to Marcie and Charlene---just to anyone from home---but I was also needing sleep, and didn't feel like conquering the language barrier that I would find in the Internet cafe. So, I listened to Enya, ran cold water over my wrists to cool myself, and tried to sleep.
Now I sit on the beautiful terrace next to my new friend Carly, who is kind of keeping me going at this point. We "talked" a lot on Facebook before coming to Morocco, so when I hugged her in the Rabat airport, it felt like I was seeing an old friend. We're pretty much inseparable during the day.
I'm worried about moving in with my homestay family at the end of the week. What if I share a room, or a bed? What if I can't communicate with them at all? (PLEASE let someone speak Spanish or English)! I know I'll be fine and that I'll learn to navigate the cultural divides and language barriers, but it still makes me worried. Not too worried.... just a little.
I'm going to go upload some pictures now, so that you all might get a view of Morocco!
More updates later.
It is a beautiful day today; it's about 75 degrees Fahrenheit, with a nice breeze coming off the ocean. The weather is making me feel much better, too. It's difficult to be sick, stuffed up, and living in 90 degree heat.
Altogether, a much better day. Last night I fought off little feelings of homesickness; it's always difficult to be sick anywhere, but especially abroad. I wanted to talk to my mom, to Clay, to Marcie and Charlene---just to anyone from home---but I was also needing sleep, and didn't feel like conquering the language barrier that I would find in the Internet cafe. So, I listened to Enya, ran cold water over my wrists to cool myself, and tried to sleep.
Now I sit on the beautiful terrace next to my new friend Carly, who is kind of keeping me going at this point. We "talked" a lot on Facebook before coming to Morocco, so when I hugged her in the Rabat airport, it felt like I was seeing an old friend. We're pretty much inseparable during the day.
I'm worried about moving in with my homestay family at the end of the week. What if I share a room, or a bed? What if I can't communicate with them at all? (PLEASE let someone speak Spanish or English)! I know I'll be fine and that I'll learn to navigate the cultural divides and language barriers, but it still makes me worried. Not too worried.... just a little.
I'm going to go upload some pictures now, so that you all might get a view of Morocco!
More updates later.
Hotel Majestic, Rabat. 8:45pm September 3.
I’m sitting on my bed in room 108, feeling not so well. We returned home from dinner at 8:00pm, and I took two Advil Cold and Sinus and two Excedrin PM, took a quick cold shower because the room is 90 degrees, and then set about washing my laundry. All of it could stand to be worn another day, but I find that body odor and the smell of stale sweat are difficult to get out if you leave the laundry for too long. My roommate left and is doing something fun, and I am slowly but surely allowing my drugs to take hold so I might sleep well tonight. Last night was not so fun.
Today was a good day, albeit strenuous given the jet lag, the cold, and the constant bombardment of my eyes, ears, and lips with Morocco. I like the country so far — walking through the bazaar after dinner and seeing all the people and all the vendors was particularly exhilirating — but I hate being ill. It puts a damper on everything.
Highlights of the trip so far:
(1) meeting friends in New York (while the plane was delayed for five hours)
(2) My new “soul-twin” Carly
(3) Learning a very small amount of conversational Darija (Moroccan arabic)
(4) the food at the CCCL. Couscous, lamb, potatoes and chicken with saffron, eggplant, tomatoes and the best cucumbers and grapes in the world....
(5) Speaking four languages in one day. (While I can’t claim proficiency in Spanish, French, or Darija, I can truthfully say that I spoke all three and English in one day).
(6) Reading past students’ ISP’s (independent study project) and dreaming about mine
(7) Advil Cold and Sinus
(8) Excedrin PM
(9) Cold showers
(10) Tissues my friend Carly gave me (I forgot to bring any.... Who’d have thought I’d get sick the first day)
(11) My mp3 player, which makes me feel not so alone
(12) Skype, and that Clay got Skype
(13) talking to Charlene and Clay for little bits of time
(14) talking to my mom last night (sorry I had to cut the conversation short, mom )
(15) The CCCL (my school)
(16) Badr, one of the program assistants who makes sure we’re ok all the time
(17) Arabic lesson and Arabic teachers
(18) Just finally being here, but still being connected to little bits of home.
(19) clean clothes, and dreaming about buying a beautiful djellaba
(20) Sleep.
And (20) is where I’m headed now. The drugs are kicking in, and I’m starting to feel a little bit sleepy and euphoric, all at the same time.
Tomorrow (Tuesday) we have five ( ) hours of darija as well as a crash course in Islam. (Carly and I both asked, incredulously, “How are they going to fit a whole religion into an hour?” I guess we’ll find out).
Mselkhir u salaam aleikum (Good evening and peace be upon you )
Today was a good day, albeit strenuous given the jet lag, the cold, and the constant bombardment of my eyes, ears, and lips with Morocco. I like the country so far — walking through the bazaar after dinner and seeing all the people and all the vendors was particularly exhilirating — but I hate being ill. It puts a damper on everything.
Highlights of the trip so far:
(1) meeting friends in New York (while the plane was delayed for five hours)
(2) My new “soul-twin” Carly
(3) Learning a very small amount of conversational Darija (Moroccan arabic)
(4) the food at the CCCL. Couscous, lamb, potatoes and chicken with saffron, eggplant, tomatoes and the best cucumbers and grapes in the world....
(5) Speaking four languages in one day. (While I can’t claim proficiency in Spanish, French, or Darija, I can truthfully say that I spoke all three and English in one day).
(6) Reading past students’ ISP’s (independent study project) and dreaming about mine
(7) Advil Cold and Sinus
(8) Excedrin PM
(9) Cold showers
(10) Tissues my friend Carly gave me (I forgot to bring any.... Who’d have thought I’d get sick the first day)
(11) My mp3 player, which makes me feel not so alone
(12) Skype, and that Clay got Skype
(13) talking to Charlene and Clay for little bits of time
(14) talking to my mom last night (sorry I had to cut the conversation short, mom )
(15) The CCCL (my school)
(16) Badr, one of the program assistants who makes sure we’re ok all the time
(17) Arabic lesson and Arabic teachers
(18) Just finally being here, but still being connected to little bits of home.
(19) clean clothes, and dreaming about buying a beautiful djellaba
(20) Sleep.
And (20) is where I’m headed now. The drugs are kicking in, and I’m starting to feel a little bit sleepy and euphoric, all at the same time.
Tomorrow (Tuesday) we have five ( ) hours of darija as well as a crash course in Islam. (Carly and I both asked, incredulously, “How are they going to fit a whole religion into an hour?” I guess we’ll find out).
Mselkhir u salaam aleikum (Good evening and peace be upon you )
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