Southern Excursion, Part 1

It’s been quite a week! I had planned on posting sooner, but my Internet was limited and I decided to focus on where I was instead.

On Saturday, our group loaded the bus and began our southern excursion. Our route looked like this:

We drove for around 4 hours Saturday morning, then stopped for a tour and lunch at Al Akhawayn University. Al Akhawayn means The Two Brothers’ University, referring to King of Saudi Arabia and King Hassan II. The university has an intresting story of being funded primarily by the King of Saudi Arabic who gave Morocco an endowment meant for the cleanup of an oil spill, but the cleanup became unnecessary after the wind blew the oil away (or so their story goes…). King Hassan II decided to then use the money to build something that would benefit all Moroccans and build the university. Al Akhawayn is situated in Ifrane, a small Swiss looking town. The university models the looks of the swiss town, but models American universities in every other way. Upon arrival, we received booklets advertizing the university, which boasted about a liberal arts based program, study abroad options, cafeteria style eating, and an Olympic size pool. All of their classes are in English and their curriculums are modeled after American universities like Harvard and Oberlin. It was an odd juxtaposition to be in Morocco, at a seemingly American university, in a Swiss-feeling town. After our formal tour (felt like college touring all over again) we ate lunch in their cafeteria. We spent the rest of the afternoon driving to Midelt, a small town known for its apples. We had a great dinner at the hotel and later were able to meet the owner of the hotel, who happened to also be the mayor and senator, as well as an entrepreneur of other sorts.

The next morning we drove for a few more hours and then stopped for lunch in Rissani. We wandered around the souk (market), which appeared much more authentic than any other souk I had seen. It seemed to function entirely for locals with mostly food and everyday goods, rather than a collection of souvenir trinkets made clearly for tourist sales. We then left our suitcases on the bus, grabbed our backpacks, and boarded into six different range rovers to traverse the desert. I was nervous about getting carsick on this ride, but it turned out to be so crazy that I distracted myself from carsickness.


The range rovers went across the sandy terrain in all different directions, often racing and spitting sand in every which way. I felt like I was in the middle of a car commercial. After a few minutes, the sand dunes became visible in the distance. It was another one of those moments when I had a hard time convincing myself what I was seeing was real. Just as we approached the edge of the dunes, we reached our hotel. We got out of the Rovers and immediately got on camels. It is quite a sight too see, 33 Americans riding camels into the Sahara at sunset. We rode for around a half hour and then stopped to explore the dunes ourselves, take pictures, and admire everything around us. Charley and I decided to head to our own dune to take everything in more quietly. We picked a dune that seemed within reach but as Charley put it, “I don’t have proper sand-dune-distance perception”. We made it to our chosen spot a little while later and watched the sun lower, casting new shadows over the dunes every few minutes. We weren’t there for long before it was time to ride our camels back to the hotel to make it back before dark. We sat down to a dinner of the most delicious tajine I’ve had yet, serenaded by traditional Gnawan musicians. It was a beautiful day.

 My hungry camel.

  

                                                 Saharan sunset.

                                                                                          My proudest picture of the day.

                                                   Gnawan musicians at dinner.

To be continued......

A Day In The Life...

In case you were curious, here is what my average days seems to look like here in Rabat:

7:00 am- wake up and take a bucket shower (~ever other day)

7:30 am- eat a breakfast of tea, bread and jam in front of the tv with Aljazeera news station playing coverage of happenings in Syria

8:10- Walk to my Arabic class building

8:30- Begin Arabic class (keep in mind this is secular Moroccan time)

11:45- Walk from Arabic building to CCCL

12:00- Lunch at the CCCL (On Fridays we go home for Couscous Friday between 12-2:30)

1:00- Multiculturalism and Human Rights Module (Right now we are doing our require module where so far we have talked about government systems, Islam (Sufism), and the relationship between Islam and women’s human rights

2:30- Depending on the day, we are either done at this time or, two days a week, have our Field Studies Seminar until 4:00

until ~6:00- Hang out at the CCCL, attempt to connect to internet, go to a café, hang out with friends

~6:00- Head home where, no matter what hour, I have tea and hoobz (bread).

6:30-10:30- Sit in the sitting room, watch a few Turkish soap operas, have my host sisters help me with my Arabic homework, do class readings etc.

10:30- Dinner. Lots of cooked vegetables (tomatoes, potatoes, celery, peas) in spices- obviously eaten with hoobz, hard boiled eggs with cumin, side salads, some fish, and always finished with an apple or orange

11:00- Usually promptly after dinner I am more than ready for bed, so I brush my teeth (in the Turkish toilet) and head to bed.

Repeat Monday-Friday

(We are leaving for a week long excursion around the south- where we ride camels!- so I will try and post some of the details of that trip either before we leave or during, but right now my internet continues to not cooperate so don’t hold me to it)

Fez/Fes/طربوش

I’m back after a whirlwind weekend in Fez!

After Friday couscous and class, our group of 9 headed to the Rabat train station. We bought our $8 tickets then boarded the crowded train. We had been told prior that since we are female we would no doubt have seats, but that did not turn out to be the case. If not for my inability to handle motion this would not have been a problem, but in the heat and combined with my hunger, the 45 minutes we were standing were not the most pleasant. Luckily at one of the bigger stops a bunch of seats opened up and we were able to sit, converse, and even do a little napping. After 2.5 hours we arrived in Fez. Having $0 on me (sorry Mom and Dad), I knew I needed to find an ATM at the station.  I attempted to take out money, but the ATM failed. I tried once more but again got a failure message. I thought nothing of it and managed to get money out of a separate ATM, until someone else who had gotten the same failure message brought up the possibility that the money was still taken from our accounts. We looked online and sure enough, I was out $250.

Feeling not so welcomed to Fez before even leaving the station, my friend Charley told me outside will be better. The group split up into taxis and headed to the medina where our riad hostel was located. Our taxi dropped Charley, Simone, and me off at a gate to the medina and told us the hostel wasn’t far. Having been warned about the aggressiveness of people in Fez, we were not surprised we were bombarded the second we got out of the cab. We ignored all of the comments and began in what we thought was the direction of our hostel. However, the further we walked things got darker and quieter, besides the trailing men. We tried to ask the few women around for directions, but they either wouldn’t respond or would hand us off to the men (which we were obviously trying to avoid). We wandered down and up the same road and eventually figured out at some point we needed to turn left. Unfortunately all of the following men knew by this time exactly where we were going and would say “here, this way, turn left” and motion to a dark, quiet alley to the left. We kept going straight, hoping to lose them, but knew we had no choice but to go left. By this point I was almost running, trying to keep the men out of sight (one especially obnoxious man in particular). At the end of a dark alley was a couple holding hands so we sped-walked up to the woman and asked her for directions. It was such a relief to talk to her, but she then handed us off to another man. He led us around and seemed safer than the especially obnoxious man, whom we seemed to have lost. We figured we would have to pay him, but that seemed worth it as we needed to get to our hostel. A few minutes later we ended up at a dead end and just then the obnoxious man popped around the corner. The man leading us brought us to the hostel door then turned around without asking a thing from us. We entered the thick bolted doors of the hostel and turned around to find the obnoxious man waving to us down the alley. Terrifying.

Hostel Lobby Ceiling

We found the rest of our group inside the beautiful hostel relaxing and eating tea. They wondered what had taken us so long and why we hadn’t been dropped off in the parking lot (!). We dropped off our things, which Charley and I sharing a room, and the 9 of us (reluctantly) headed out to find dinner. Luckily we had one male and with a much larger group it felt much safer than a little while earlier. We found Café Clock nearby, a high rated Lonely Planet restaurant, well known for its camel burger, which several people in our group ordered! I stuck to my falafel but had my own exciting moment ordering a date milkshake. It was a very enjoyable dinner filled with great food and conversation.

Everyone Spreading Out On Family Bed

The next morning we had breakfast at the hostel (holy bread!) then headed out into the bustling medina. You would not have known it was the same place we were the night before. We spent the day wandering up and down the medina alleys, taking in all the sights (including animal heads, balls, feet, and brains), sounds, and smells (lots of leather). 

In a Madrasa

Charley and I split off from the group and wandered in many different storefronts asking “Bshell, afak?” (“How much, please?”). They would then respond with an Arabic number, but not having mastered those yet, we would usually respond “how much?” It was overwhelming all of the goods we wanted, that nothing in particular stood out. We wandered for hours and got used to ignoring all of the following and comments. They were also often pretty humorous. We wrote down some of our favorites, including “Hola fish and chips”, “Hello my gazelles”, and our personal favorite “I see you in my dreams tonight, would you like to buy some carpet?” 

This Man Gave Me Free Dates!

That night our group grabbed dinner then went for our first Moroccan bar experience to celebrate a member of the group’s 21^st birthday. It was a challenge to find any place at all that served alcohol, so the drinks were very expensive. There weren’t many people in the bar, but those that were were almost entirely men. All of the women that we saw (excluding one with her husband- interestingly wearing a hijab) were most definitely prostitutes. Something I had been told about. Our group didn’t stay there for long but it was interesting to observe the bar dynamics.

The following day, Charley and I got up early, skipped the breakfast of breads (got a kilo of oranges instead!) and headed out to find a tannery. We went looking for the brass and copper alleys, and as we asked for directions, we were lead by someone eager to show us the way (again, something we knew would happen). We found the brass area and while we took pictures we made friends with a man in the shop. He told us we could take as many pictures as we would like, then later motioned to us to take a picture with him. As I posed for the picture with him, he grabbed my hand and wrapped the other around my shoulder. Another man came over and said, “He’s flying! Flying like a bird!” He then smiled really big and kissed my hand. We left our friend and were guided to a tannery. We climbed up several stairs then looked out onto a scene of dozens of bins filled with dyes, just as the guidebooks show. The man who said he is “the boss” of the tannery told us the process of leather dyeing and drying. Luckily in his tannery they still use the natural dyes: saffron for yellow, poppy for red, and mint for green. After snapping lots of pictures and taking it all in (including the smells) we were brought down to the shop of leather goods (again, expected). Charley and I looked around and immediately each fell in love with a pair of boots. They were leather with patterns of wool carpet. So unique and so Morocco. We nervously asked “the boss” the price and he told us an amount far greater than expected. Our hopes were crushed at first, but the boss insisted we tell him an amount. My tactic worked well as I only had a relatively small amount of money on me, so he would ask me to type in an amount in a calculator and I told him, seriously, I only had a certain amount. In the end, we managed to get the boots for ¼ of the asking price! I’d say it was a success. We also then got to go back upstairs and have the boots “dyed” to the exact color with wanted by a worker rubbing them with vegetable oil. During this time, we talked more with “the boss” who then invited us to stay with his family and to come over for couscous. Our second Moroccan friend of the day!

We walked back to our hostel, boots in hand, feeling as though we had a very successful trip. We grabbed our things and met up with the group for lunch back at Café Clock. We headed back to the train station and got back to Rabat just as it got dark. Walking around the Rabat medina, we noticed our experiences in Fez brought a new sort of confidence handling the harassment and felt good to be home.  

  

Eid Mubarik

Hello All!

Here is an update on my past few days:

On Monday, as previously mentioned, we had the day off for the celebration of the Prophet’s birthday (Eid). I spent the morning hanging around my house then headed out with two girls (Beth and Charley) from my program, along with Beth’s host mother and two brothers (one ~18 yrs and one 5 yrs). We drove to nearby Chellah, the Roman ruins of the town Sala Colonia. We didn’t have a guidebook with us and with no descriptive signs on the site we ended up enjoying ourselves quite a bit by making up the history of the rooms of the ruins. It was beautiful and presented a landscape view of the green countryside, something I am not used to seeing living in the middle of the medina.

We left Chellah and went over to Beth’s house for a special Eid tea. Beth’s host brother played guitar and we attempted a group sing along to the few songs he knew how to play (Jason Mraz, Shakira, and Beyonce to name a few). Unfortunately the sing-a-longs were caught on Beth’s host mom’s camera, so hopefully they will not make it up on youtube. I went home around 7:30pm and having called my host mom to tell her I would be having tea at someone else’s house so there was no need to wait for me, I expected my family would have finished tea. But of course, 5 minutes after arriving, the table was set for tea. Food can never be avoided in this country! After tea my host mom presented me with a traditional Moroccan shirt she had sewn for me as a gift for Eid. I expressed to her how beautiful it is and that I love the colors. She then told me “You will wear this to school tomorrow over jeans”. So I did. I was slightly embarrassed to stand out so much, but when I told the other students my mom had made it for me, they were impressed.

Tuesday marked our first day of regular programming. I took a bucket shower in the morning, then headed to Arabic class at 8:30 (secular time). Arabic ends everyday at 11:45 (again, secular time) and then we walk over to the CCCL for lunch followed by our required module class of multiculturalism and human rights, then our field studies seminar. I was very pleasantly surprised (and slightly intimidated) at the academic level of the class and all of the students’ points. We discussed the pros and cons of various political systems, specifically monarchical and democratic types, and whether it is possible for Morocco to ever become a democracy. In the discussion we talked about all the problems we have observed so far in our stay in Morocco (of which, unfortunately, there are many). Going home and seeing my host sisters asleep on the couch in front of the TV, I was struck with a weird feeling. I had spent the past 4 days immersing myself in this family and culture. I was entirely focused on observing their way of life and adjusting that I had no time to analyze. So after a class of discussing some large issues Morocco is facing (of which TV time was mentioned…) I felt as though I was being two-faced, almost as though I was hiding something from my family, talking about them from behind their backs. Abdelhay reminds us often not to use the homestay as a laboratory, but as it is my only real view of the culture so far, it is hard to not think of my family when we discuss these issues. I attemped to talk about some of the issues brought up in our readings (the Casablanca and Marrakesh terrorist attacks, their viewpoints on the king…) but the conversations didn’t seem to go very far (“God does not want us to kill…”, “The king is very handsome…”). I imagine this is something I will continue to struggle with…

We had the same schedule Wednesday and Thursday, minus our field studies seminar. On Thursday, we had a guest lecturer come to our human rights module- a Yale political science professor and SIT Morocco (my program) graduate. She is on sabbatical this year and back to Morocco for the fourth time for research (this time on the February 20^th movement). She also talked to us about her experiences here as an SIT student, about the sexual harassment (sounded worse back in 1994) and her experiences doing her independent study project on prostitution in Morocco (no longer possible as a topic…). In the afternoon we had an assignment for our field studies seminar, where my group was to observe a certain aspect of gender dynamics. We chose to ask various store vendors who purchases more items, when, and how. Being the only French speaker in the group, I approached 6 or 7 vendors, telling them we are students with a project so could we ask them a few questions. All of them either didn’t speak French or were completely unwilling. We then settled for sitting in a café and observing who was purchasing what items. We didn’t notice much as traffic was low but there were definitely more women doing the purchasing.

Tomorrow I have an oral presentation in my Arabic class (“Garcon! I would like an orange juice, please. Here, money. Turn left”), then we are going to learn how to make a special kind of sweet/dessert-like couscous, and then go home for couscous Friday round II. AND THEN I’M HEADED TO FEZ, because I can do things like go to Fez for the weekend. A (big) group of us are taking the train staying at a riad hostel for two nights. I’ll be sure to post a trip review once I’m back!

Enjoy your weekends!

With love,

Karin

A Sample Of Pictures! Finally!

Chellah

Chellah II

View Of Medina From Pier

Part of Panoramic View From CCCL

Prophet's Birthday Parade

Amiziri Concert Dancers

My Host Mom and Host Sister (Boutaina, 12 yrs)

Mausoleum

Beth, Charley and I in Chellah

Kuli! Kuli! Kuli!

Hello! Brace yourselves for a long post, as a lot has happened over the past few days (and this is the first time I've had internet access in ~4 days!) 

On Thursday afternoon we went off for a rainy bus tour of Rabat. The tour gave me a good feel for the city- poor vs. wealthy neighborhoods, clean vs. dirty, congested areas vs. open etc. Abdelhay guided the tour, giving information on apartment prices in different neighborhoods (interestingly, buildings by the water are the poorest neighborhoods and cemeteries), anecdotes on history, and pointed out recent areas of development initiated by the king. I got off the bus from the 2-hour tour enlightened and nauseated, and walked immediately into the center to be picked up by my homestay family.

The main room in the center was divided by Moroccan families and American students, each looking at the other, trying to guess who "belonged" to whom. Fadoua, our program leader, called out names of students and handed them off to their respective families. During all of the anticipation, I turned to the girl next to me and said "what if this was how our actual families were chosen?" Fadoua finally called my name and I went and greeted my host mom with kisses on each cheek. She then introduced me to her daughter, Boutaina, standing shyly next to her. I greeted Boutaina, and then went to get my luggage. They helped me wheel my bags through the narrow streets of the medina, as I anxiously wondered what to say. I asked them if they spoke french and they said they did. We spoke briefly on the walk home, when I found out Boutaina is 12 years old. As we entered the door, we were greeted by my other host-sister, Oumayma.   

This seems like an appropriate time to describe the house, so I will. From what I can tell, it is a sectioned off part of an original harem. There is a little hallway from the door, which is 3/4 wall and 1/4 partially open air/partially covered by a tarp. Immediately to the left of the entrance is a small kitchen with the room with the turkish toilet. Passed the kitchen in the hallway is the main living/sitting/tv room. The sitting room has a traditional Moroccan sectioned couch, a rolling table, and a tv on a tv cabinet. Behind the cabinet, they have sectioned off my "room" with a partially sheer curtain. There is a twin bed with a little plastic dresser. This set-up was far better than what I was expecting! When they said my room was shared, I imagined sleeping on the couch with my host-sisters (an arrangement I know a few other students have). This set up makes me feel as though I have my own room. Off of the living room is the bedroom, which Mbarka, Boutaina, and Oumayma share. It is definitely simple living, but I think I can only benefit from learning to live more simply. (I will try and take pictures for a little house tour sometime soon). 

After I set my suitcases in my "room", I went to sit on the couch, joining Boutaina and Oumayma. It turns out Oumayma speaks fluent french, so we are able to converse very well, but Boutaina speaks only a few words of french (I must learn Arabic for her!). I talked with Oumayma for a little bit, where I used my few learned Arabic words (Smiyti Karin, Ashno smiytek?- that's about all I knew so we switched back to french pretty quickly) where I learned that their mother and father are divorced and they do not have a relationship with their father. Mbarka then brought out some Moroccan tea and about 4 different kinds of bread with spreads of honey, jam, and Laughing Cow cheese. I had been warned about this. Mbarka started slicing the cake-corn bread type thing, and what I thought she was going to slice into three more pieces ended up being what she put on my plate. As we started eating, Mbarka told me she is pleased to welcome me into her house and that I am like one of her daughters. And also, that she will do my laundry. She then gave me the key to her house and told me I can come and go however I please, and that all of my girl-friends are welcome. She said "Please, invite 2, 3, 10, 20 girls over, but no boys". I told her of course, that is not a problem, but then she said it again. I tried to joke that there are only 3 boys in the program so really it shouldn't be a problem. Either the joke did not translate or it was not an appropriate time for joking.

It was also during this conversation that I learned I am the 13th student they are hosting. And that has become evident by all the knickknacks around the house- from the Colorado mug we drink out of during meals to the Baltimore keychain hanging above my bed. We then proceeded to watch 4+ hours of arabic tv. We watched some soap operas and then a graphic American wrestling show to which I said "I hope this is not what you think of Americans". Their response: "Those are Americans?" Around 10 o'clock, I began to wonder if the meal of bread was dinner. A half-hour later, Mbarka asked if we should eat now. She brought small individual bowl of a cucumber-tomato salad, then a big plate of green beans, olives, and chicken.

For those of you who don't know, Moroccan have a unique way of eating. It's family style, with one main dish, from which each person has a "zone". There is also normally no silverware- bread is your utensil. You then scoop up food with bread and your first three right fingers. I was only a few tears into my first section of bread before Mbarka put another one next to me- a whole half-Frisbee size. I have never tried to chew so slowly. I would barely pause eating before the Kuli's began- Kuli Kuli Kuli! Eat! Eat! Eat! They seemed to know I don't eat meat, but Mbarka told me to eat some chicken. I told her "I'm so sorry, I don't eat meat." She responded "I know, but it's chicken. You don't even eat chicken?" After dinner I bonded with my host sisters by playing some card games, trying to teach them Spoons and BS using my newly learned arabic numbers. Mbarka then tucked me in with plenty of blankets.

That first day was long and overwhelming. I went through quite a range of emotions as I stared at the tv for hours on end. I felt good with this family, they were obviously very welcoming and I could tell I would get along well with my host-sisters, but I also couldn't help but think about how long I will be living like this. It was like experiencing those highs and lows again, but every few minutes. As I sat there I recalled how I felt living in France for those few weeks after fifth grade. The feelings are comparable, specifically feeling out of place and removed from real life, but at the same time, I am more comfortable with being uncomfortable this time around. That is the best way that I can describe it, at least for now.  

Since I am running out of steam writing this post, I am going to speed through the other happenings. On Friday, we had arabic again and a homestay debriefing. The debriefing was very nice to have, hearing about other people's similar (or different) experiences. It was also pretty humorous. One kid in our group is named Chase and he said his homestay family thought his name was Cheese, so they decided to call him cheeseburger in arabic. Another girl said her family wouldn’t stop calling her Jones, her last name. 

We then went back to our homes for our first of the weekly Friday couscous tradition. It was delicious! And again filled with Kulis. I went to the library in the afternoon, then my host mom and Boutaina picked me up and took me for a walk by the water, then to the Kasbah (Mbarka holds both of our hands everytime we cross busy streets). We wandered through the neighborhood and garden, and even stopped into a place where women were making rugs. We ate another delicious dinner, and then I crashed. 

The next morning, we had a late breakfast (breakfast is the exact same as tea) and watched more tv. After lunch, we headed out and walked to Sale for the parade for the Prophet's birthday (although I didn't know that is what we were doing at the time). It was neat to see, and definitely no Spicer, MN 4th of July parade, but it was pretty cold and hard to see. We went back home for tea, and then I went to meet up with other students to see a Amiziri concert at the national theater. It was great music and even better dancing, and a crowd that acted like they were at more of a soccer game than a concert. 

I was planning on posting pictures, but it seems to be taking forever and it's getting dark and the medina is scary at night, so I must go. But I promise, as soon as I have a somewhat strong internet connection, you will get pictures! 

Love, 

Karin

A Quick Note

I just wanted to make a quick note apologizing for any grammar mistakes or spelling errors in my posts (after a little message from my mother). I am often writing my entries quickly and after long and tiring days. I have had errors, and after spending all day with my homestay family speaking french and attempting to speak arabic, I will most likely have more. But the point of my entries is for me to stay connected with all of you, to feel as though I have a network of support while still being so far away, and for me to process through my experiences. So please  try and look past the minor errors- I will do my best to avoid them, but no guarantees!

Thanks!

Karin

La Bas? (How Are You?)

Sorry to leave you all hanging! In case you were wondering, I made it back relatively painlessly from the drop-off. My group was the last group dropped off, and after an hour of driving, we figured out that there was no way they would expect us to retrace our steps that entire way and that it must be a loop. Luckily, we were right. We found the tram tracks and followed them until we were in a recognizable area. We spent the rest of the day in orientation sessions, learning more about proper manners for our homestay and such. We then had a welcoming dinner, complete with Pastilla (a Moroccan specialty). All of the staff members from the CCCL gave a brief welcoming speech and it all felt really great. I am so looking forward to getting to know all of them as they all seem like incredible people. They are definitely a unique group of intellectuals (especially the women) in the middle of an old city where many are illiterate or have very little schooling.

Today, we began our day with our first Moroccan lesson! I can now (maybe) tell you my name, how are you, where I'm from, that I'm a student, and numbers 1-5, although we learned 1-12. It is definitely going to be a challenge, but the class seems like it will be a lot of fun since all we can do is laugh at everyone's pronunciation. We then were given a lesson in staying healthy while here, although the lesson seemed to be entirely filled with the history of diseases and their transmission complete with graphic clip art images, with the only practical information being to simply use your common sense. We also had a session about bargaining and were then given 10 dhs (~$1.2) to go out and use our newly acquired skills. It really is like a game. After the exercise, a local religion scholar came to talk to us about the Prophet's birthday, a Muslim holiday happening this Sunday and Monday (everyone has the day off). To save myself time, I am going to refer you to this link if you're interested in learning more about the holiday. It was a very interesting talk and it brought up some issues that we will most definitely be discussing more in depth throughout the semester. Another reason I am not summarizing the talk is because I did not do my best job of focusing since right beforehand we were given our homestay assignments (which begin tomorrow!!). Here is the info I have been given so far:

mother: Mbarka
father: Brahim
daughters: Oumayma and Boutayna

languages: Moroccan Arabic and French
room: Shared
toilet: Turkish

This will definitely be a family situation to push me outside of my comfort zone!

After the lecture, we had dinner at the center and then came downstairs to find a group of Moroccan musicians with drums, dressed in traditional garb (stripped robes) who began to play music and invited us all to dance. It was a high moment (until I started to get nervous they would call me up to dance...).

A group of four of us (seeming like good friends!) headed back to the hotel then met up with one of my friends' friend from school's homestay brother from last semester (do you follow?). His name is Sad (he said Americans call him happy) and I am hoping to hang out with him much more. He gave us some of the inside scoop and it generally felt good to be making connections outside of the group of Americans. What we're here for. We went to a fresh juice place (again, yum!) and talked for a while. As we were walking back, we noticed a bunch of firetrucks along our route. We have already seen a few groups and marches of protestors of the unemployment situation. You also may have read this. As we continued walking, we saw a huge group of policemen and part of an army, and then people running in every direction. Sad directed us another round-about way, but we continued to be surrounded by all of the craziness. We were in the middle of all the action!

Tomorrow we have another moroccan arabic lesson, then go on a bus tour, and then meet and join our homestay families! I'm nervous but also looking forward to it.

Hope all is well back in the U.S!

Love,
Karin

Since I didn't have time to upload some pictures, I wanted you all to see what my yahoo mail page looks like: