A Moroccan Night

I realize I haven't really described my life here in Morocco. I am quickly falling into the relaxed rhythm of life, while learning to live with the constant stares from the Moroccan women, and the relentless hackling from the Moroccan men. I truly stand out here, and the stares can be quite unsettling. But, like most tourists, you learn to live with it, and I have met many Moroccans in my neighborhood who now know me by face and warmly wave hi to me as I walk to and from from school. I pretty much get up at 7:00am to take a shower and eat breakfast consisting of tea, bread, a little cheese and jam. We walk up to the taxi stand when we are ready, and pay about 8 dirhams to get to school (about one dollar). I have class from 8am to 10am with 9 other students. Our Arabic class and the students will get a blog of their own... but I am the only other girl besides an older woman. Otherwise its 8 other young men who are a lot of fun, and I am excited to get to know each of them. My schedule will get more busy, but then we usually go and eat an amazing fruit salad with yogurt in a cafe a few streets away, and chill from 10 until my next class at 2pm. Then I have class from 2-4pm on Arabic grammar, and I am usually exhausted after that. I go home and crash until its time for soccer! That will also need its own blog, but pretty much my friend Karim, who's Italian with a little Algerian in him, and I are organizing a team and we have about 8 other kids so far. I run around and just roam the streets with the other kids on my soccer team until dinner at around 9pm and then go home to eat dinner. Its a pretty free life... time is not too strict, and people always stop to have a conversation. There will be more to come, but that was just a quick summary!

First day of School! Amazing fresh fruit salad!

Second day of school... fruit salad still amazing! :)

I am sitting here in the living room of my host family after my roommate from my Arabic school has just vomited from probably a bacteria upsetting her stomach, and my host mom and sister were not here to witness it. I took care of her and cleaned up everything as best I could and put her to bed. Now im just waiting for my host mom and sister to return where im going to try and use my utterly inadequate Arabic to explain what happened. Many of the students are sick or just getting over a stomach bug.  I really hope I don't get sick, and so far so good. 

After taking care of Emma, I went and took a shower, for both my mental and physical wellbeing. In the shower I had a brief moment of realization, a moment where I knew I was truly in Morocco. I was standing in the bathroom after carefully turning on the gas tank and pressing a button that gives off a spark to light the gas and warm the water. You know its on when you can see the flame... simple enough. Once I had waited for the water to heat, I turned on the water, and began to scrub the day's grime off my body. I let my mind wonder and my lungs to inhale the cool air wafting in through the window that was completely open to the outside. As the cool night air came in, it carried with it the sounds of the busy town, bustling as if it were a Saturday at the Natick mall. Everyone was up and running their errands in the cool night air rather than fighting the heat of the day. I can hear carts rolling by, dogs fighting each other in the street and little kids playing tag in the square. Although I am three stories up from the street, the large wall that separates one part of the Medina from the other carries the sounds up, while blocking any unwanted viewers. It allows the windows to be open, air and light to enter, while providing complete privacy. Below me, the security guard, who stands watch outside one of the hotels, is playing music off of his phone, and the Moroccan beats float up to me through the swirly iron grid across the window. The Iron grid is the only thing keeping me from looking out through the window and down at the narrow alley below. Suddenly, just as my eyes are examining the iron grid, the lights of the bathroom turn off.  I am left with the music, bustling sounds and the crisp outline of the iron grid against the brightly lit wall. I stand their not knowing how long the hot water will last... but im not worried. I relax with the heat of the water, and allow my senses to indulge in the sights, smells and sounds of a Moroccan night.

Exploring the Medina!

Emma, my house mate, and I explored the Medina or older part of Fez today. We met up with my friend from Michigan who is also studying with me, and an Australian and Columbian that she met at her hostel. 

Here is us eating lunch together!

Some great Moroccan Beer! 

The Medina is a maze filled with a store for every need! The stores are packed full, and I often wonder how the shop keepers get in and out at the days end... there never seems to be any opening!

We ran into this young man that wanted to practice his English and he kept bringing us to different stores. Although I am sure he was paid or it was family stores that he brought us too, he did bring us to see some of the most beautifully decorated stores. Stores that were hard to find, but filled to the top with ceramics, embroidery, and bronze. It was always our choice to buy something, and the information they were giving us was free... so I saw no harm in it. 

A man engraving the bronze.
The designs are all by memory. 

The beautiful Fez, blue embroidery.
It is done on special cotton that is combined with lemon.

We also wondered into some jewelry and Argon stores. Argon is a special nut grown in Morocco that is pressed for its oil and used in everything from perfume, to cosmetics, to cooking oil. 

The jewelry is from different berber tribes.

Two women working on the nuts. 

This is what I want my door of my
future house to look like! ;)

Later we went into a museum. It had been restored to it's previous gory!

On the second balcony!

Testing out the scales!

The Medina!

In the morning I took a taxi to my Arabic school, and met with Youssef who is the housing coordinator for all the students. Luckily another American girl named Emma, from Chicago, was waiting too and he decided to house us together with a host family of one daughter and one mother. When we arrived this was the view from the top of our house...

After becoming facebook friends, laughing at each others pictures and sharing a large meal of couscous and chicken, Moroccan style (including eating with your right hand only), Emma and I explored the stores on our own. Here is a picture of us dressed up... I am sure there will be more to come, with much brighter colors, but this is a start!

Welcome to Fez!

Finally... I made it to my hotel in Fez at 11:00pm after almost losing my carry-on luggage on two separate occasions. Here is a rather long account of what happened, and some of my first impressions of Morocco. Normally the blogs will be shorter and with more pictures, but here we go!

Everything was running smoothly. I knew I was in Paris when I saw baguettes in the Starbucks display case and the luxury goods in every corner. I quickly made my way to the gate for the flight to Casablanca, which began boarding 10 minutes later. It was a quick connection... apparently too quick for the bag handlers.

I arrived in Morocco with light searing my eyes and I began following the crowd to customs. I quickly realized the range of clothing, style, and modesty for the men and women, and I began to wonder if I should have packed some 3/4 length pants for the heat or my black high heels. It was painful to leave them behind, but it didn't seem practical to bring such attention-grabbing shoes when my blonde hair was already enough.

After customs, I arrive at baggage claim. I wait and wait, and sure enough my bag did not make it. Fortunately, a girl waiting beside me was Moroccan, but had just graduated from Harvard. She assured me that this happens all the time, and as if it were routine, she brought me over to the baggage handlers and looked up when our bags would arrive. Just eight hours from now... no big deal. She went home to her family to have lunch, and I waited in the airport. In fairness to her she had wanted to invite me home while I waited but she said she had family affairs she had to attend too and it was impossible. I didn't object out loud but my tired body and heavy eyes told the truth. Thus, I entertained myself with a second viewing of Casablanca, people watching, and drinking tea. When I couldn't sit anymore I walked around the relatively small airport and made friends with the money exchange guy, and cafe waiters.

At 4:30 sharp I saw my bright red bag, and headed towards the train.

I got my tickets with relative ease, and a train had just pulled up that I asked if I should take. They looked at my ticket and motioned for me to get on. As I was jumping on, the doors began to close, and my bag was caught in between the closing doors. I began to panic, but forced myself to stay calm. A train attendant was motioning for me to let go of my handle and allow the doors to close with me on one side and the bag on the other. I resisted for awhile, not wanting to let my bag go after waiting for so long, but I finally consented and released the handle. Because of the weight, it flew back and the doors slammed all the way closed. I barely retracted my hands in time, and thankfully my fingers were not caught in the crossfire. The train had shut down. All the lights had gone off, and the buttons that open the doors were not working. I told myself it was just until they got the train running again, and I held my breath waiting for the lights to come back on. After a few minutes, the lights came on, and the train began to move. I have to admit, I was already thinking of ways to get to my bag, looking for something heavy to break the glass with... but I decided to use the stranded tourist tactic instead and conjured up my best helpless face for the train attendant. I only needed it for a few seconds, and the train stopped again, only a few meters away from my bag. The doors opened, and I hungrily grabbed my bag and moved to an open seat. All the sympathy I got was the train attendant walking by and making fun of my fear stricken face from behind the glass door. It wasn't mean or anything, but I was too exhausted to do anything but smile back.

I found another American girl on the train and we happened to begin a conversation where a young man sitting across from her offered to point me to the train going to Fez.  He was going there too and I decided to stick with him. His name was Soufyane, and he was studying to be an Engineer in France. I was grateful to have him, and we talked for a couple of hours on the four hour train ride from Casablanca to Fez. The train was terribly hot, and thankfully he had convinced me to get food before we got on to the train so I wasn't starving. When we finally arrived in Fez, it was already about 10:30pm, and very dark. The train lights had only come on about a half hour ago when the train driver decided to check the tickets, but otherwise, it was pitch black. I just kept thanking God that I was with Soufyane, and not alone in the dark. When we got to Fez, Soufyane took the Taxi with me and made sure I got to my hotel safely.

Relieved to finally make it to the hotel I lifted my bag up the stairs and checked in, only to find that there was no reservation made for me. Luckily there was still an open room and the young concierge began chatting me up. He even asked for my facebook. I guess thats the new way to ask for someone's number... Finally, he said that I must be tired and would like to sleep, and I kindly asked for my key to the room. He had forgotten to give it to me... it was not by choice that I stood there listening to his life story.