Northern Excursion, Part II

I'm going to try and keep this post less wordy and let the pictures do most of the talking...

After a wonderful time in the village, we had a few other stops of our Northern Excursion. First, we stopped in Ouazzane, a town 20km away from the village (where some of the villagers go for more schooling since schooling in the village is only available through 6th grade). Abdelhay and his wife own an incredible house overlooking all of Ouazzane. We were lucky enough to go there to get a tour and have lunch. The best part of the tour was the part of the house where Abdelhay and his wife make olive oil (with an olive press run by donkeys and everything!). 

Abdelhay in his garden (I might need to frame this picture).

After lunch, we continued on to Chefchaoen- a city situated on a mountain and known for its blue walls . The color definitely fit the relaxed feel of the town. 

We found a wood artisan shop and bought some rustic cooking utensils.

The next morning, we were trying to figure out how to best spend our few hours before needing to leave. Others from our program knew about a quick hike up to a mosque on top of the mountain. After 30 minutes, this was our view:

That afternoon, we stopped in Fnediq. When we asked one of our program directors what Fnediq is known for, they told us "smuggled spanish goods". This turned out to be very true, with everything from spanish candy to toothbrushes being sold on the streets. Although Fnediq didn't offer much in terms of souvenirs, it did offer some great views of the Mediterranean. 

The next morning, our group was crossing the "border" to Seuta, Spain. Seuta is situated on the Moroccan side of the Strait of Gibraltar (the strait that I used to think separated Morocco from Spain). This spanish land is a sensitive subject in Morocco- they say it is theirs. We had to enter Spain as a program since staying in Morocco doesn't require visas. Visitors are allowed to stay for 90 days so we hopped "over" to Spain for the morning in order to have another 90 days in Morocco. Everyone was probably most excited for having a selection of cheese (and ham) options, so we all went wild and had a picnic at a park, before going on a quick bus tour which ended with this view:

The program bus headed back to Rabat but a few friends and I took our first Grand Taxi to Tangier, about an hour away. I was unfortunately sick for our first day in Tangier, so I missed out on some sightseeing. Luckily I felt better the next day and managed to see the medina, the beach, and the cinematheque. We also went to a Sunday market which offered any item you could every want. It looked like piles of trash, cleaned, and put neatly (well, sort of) on a blanket. 

Another successful Moroccan excursion. 

A few links...

In case you're interested:

-A short documentary summarizing the February 20th Movement.

-This is happening right now, right where I am. 

and on a lighter note...

-Why my mornings are so stressful these days. 

Spring Break: Moroccan Village Edition (Northern Excursion, Part I)

(Sorry in advance for another long post- I just can't make myself condense) 

This past week, our program group of 33 tried out life in a Moroccan village. We arrived to the northern village of Benni Kula after four hours of bus driving. We were dropped off at the NGO set on the outskirts of town. There, we were matched up with homestay families, including one polygamous family. At that time, our program leader did not know anything about my family and told me I would meet them at the village. We hopped back on the bus and drove a few more miles until we reached the “base” of the village: a hill filled with rows of olive trees. Sarah, another girl on our program, and I were instructed to follow a young woman and her daughter who would lead us to our family for the week. We were lead up the steep hill, into a cacti-lined yard filled with grazing sheep, chickens, two cows, and a donkey. The right side of the yard was fenced off with rows of crops, with a well in the corner. We were brought inside a room with a traditional Moroccan sectional, a round table, and a fridge. It turned out we were going to be four American students staying in this homestay together. We sat at the couch as the young woman, our host-mom, Ndjoua, and her mother-in-law, Fatima, walked in and out of the room. The little girl who had picked us up turned out to be our adorable 5-year-old host sister, Bissma, but I think the four new Americans living in her home were a bit too much for her, so she hid inside another room.

The best way I can describe the property is a U-shape of rooms all open to a courtyard with guard dogs and near the chicken-coop. We were soon brought lunch at the table, complete with three huge rounds of hoobz (bread), and were joined by our host-dad, Mohammed. After struggling to communicate with Ndjoua and Fatima in darija (Moroccan Arabic), it was a surprise and relief to learn Mohammed spoke French. After lunch, Mohammed gave us a tour of their property. We met the cows, I fed the chicken and turkeys, and he told us what crops they grow—potatoes, various other root vegetables, and tobacco. All of their crops are for personal use, except for the tobacco. Mohammed let me try out the axel, but thought it was pretty hilarious.

Since the weather was flawless and the landscape was beautiful, the four of us were hoping to go on a little hike. Mohammed said we shouldn’t go alone (I think because of the rabid dogs…) and so he offered to lead us on a walk. It seemed as if our house was at the edge of the village (the cul-de-sac as we liked to refer to it), so we headed in the direction opposite the village. We climbed up some hills, giving us a view of the entire village, and then walked through a small forest of eucalyptus trees, where we passed the beehives of Mohammed’s friend who makes honey. He brought us to a river, which now appears to be mostly rocks and told us all about this year’s drought and how hard it is on all of the agriculturists. With a winter that brought little rain, Mohammed and his family have to bring up buckets of water from the well to water all of their crops. Speaking from personal experience of lifting water from the well, that process can get tiring very quickly. We went back home, read in the sun for a little while, but couldn’t seem to keep our eyes open on the couch (we were ndikadika). We feel asleep but were awoken to a huge dish of couscous (it wasn’t even Friday!). As we ate the dish we mmm-ed and bnine-ed (delicious) but Fatima’s response was “la, bnine schwea” (or no, a little delicious). It turns out she thought the dish was not/could not be delicious without meat. I felt incredibly guilty preventing all 9 people from eating what could have been a delicious meal, in their opinion. I apologized and attempted to explain my reasoning for not eating meat but struggled to figure out what to say. Instead I told them to feel free to prepare meat, I just wouldn’t eat it. [Side note: what’s been interesting about not eating meat here is that we have learned, and I can now see, that Moroccans in their everyday lives do not eat very much meat. Meat is expensive whereas vegetables are cheap and widely available-- throw them in a pot with some spices and that’s dinner. However, serving a meatless meal to a guest is considered rude and unwelcoming.] The next morning, we walked most of the 5km to the NGO, but with around 1km left, Mohammed motioned over a white van, opened the back door, and us 4 Americans hopped in the back, where there were two side benches filled with people. We had a session of Arabic calligraphy at the center, and then walked back home (no bus that time). We ate a delicious lunch of bissara, a common Moroccan food I now know how to make, with fresh olive oil. We hung around the house, reading in the sun, and helping out with various tasks for the rest of the day. Right before dinner, we brought out a Frisbee, some bouncy balls, and a jump rope one of the other students had brought from home. Four neighbor girls happened to be over and seemed to really enjoy the toys. Bissma was still pretty shy and decided to keep her distance, but watched the activity from afar.

The next day, we went outside to brush our teeth when Fatima motioned us to come over, near the chicken coop. She pointed behind the fence where we saw a baby lamb, clearly just learning to walk. We managed to find out the lamb was born that morning. We then had a breakfast of fresh baked bread with olives and olive oil, where Mohammed told us he would be gone for the day to bring his lawyer friend fresh milk. That morning we were scheduled to help our families plant some new trees. This quickly became a challenge with Mohammed, the only French speaker, out of the picture. We had to use our limited Darija vocabulary to understand and communicate everything from “go get more water from the well” to “im doing the agriculture dance!” It ended up being a lot of fun. After tree planting, Charley and I decided to go in Ndjoua’s kitchen (both Ndjoua and Fatima have their own) to try and help her cook lunch. Luckily she was really receptive and were able to cut the tomatoes and onions, as well as mix together the spices, which she later added to a pot of boiling lentils.

After lunch, we thought we thought we were going on a leisurely walk with Fatima, but with our limited Darija skills, we missed the point that we were actually walking to the next village (just a few kilometers away) where Mohammed’s grandparents live. There we met 8 other members of our host family and were given a tour of their crops (which included chickpea plants!) and home. To our surprise, although it shouldn’t have been, we were served second lunch. The family was incredibly welcoming, especially our 90 year old host great-grandpa who refused to believe we didn’t understand him when he spoke to us. I also managed to make friends with the cutest, most energized 3 year old ever.

 

That night we spent several hours looking at family pictures and being told what all of Mohammed’s siblings are doing. Mohammed has 6 other siblings, and all of them are living in cities and only return home for family weddings.

The following day, we had a Darija session in the olive groves followed by a discussion with the girls of our program and the girls of the village. We asked each other a lot of questions about opinions and experiences. The conversation seemed to focus a lot on dating cultures, travelling, and religion. In the village, any type of visible dating is not accepted, so girls do it in private, mostly through their phones. They also expressed their desires to soon marry, as it is an opportunity to travel and leave the village. In terms of religion, someone from our program asked if anyone ever questioned their Muslim religion, to which everyone replied “no”. They then asked us about our religions, but we were unable to come to a consensus on how to cover the broad range of beliefs. A Moroccan girl then spoke up and said “I hope that one day you may all be Muslim”.

Later that day, after I once again was able to help cook lunch (!), our host-cousin came by to give us henna- my first ever! With our newly decorated hands, we walked all the way to the NGO for a farewell food and dance party, where Charley and I were able to teach some little boys some English (maybe…) by playing Twister. When we came home we were asked if we wanted henna on our palms. Charley and I were the only ones who said yes, and since we had it done around 10 o'clock, our host-cousin had to make our beds for us to crawl into and we were required to sleep with our palms up next to our heads.

Overall, my four days in the village were incredible and unforgettable. I loved the simplicity of life, although not easy, and the kindness of everyone we met. I joked with my host-family that I would give my host-brother my passport so he could go to the US, and I would stay in the village forever. It was maybe 80% a joke, but 20% serious. 

A Quick Update

Happy Couscous Friday!

(Or as my dad remembers it, happy Falafel Friday!)

Since our southern excursion, we have gotten back into our daily routine: three and a half hours of Arabic, lunch, afternoon sessions, tea, homework, dinner, and bed. It’s been nice to have a schedule and the routine has helped make me feel more at home- in the way that a schedule feels comforting. But the repetition also seems to bring many challenges. Being in the constant presence of others has finally caught up to my INFJ personality type- mostly the introverted aspect. But like most challenges on this trip, it is something I will deal with and figure out how to make the best out of the situation.

On a less gloomy note, here are a few anecdotes about my life the past few weeks:

-The U.S Ambassador to Morocco, Samuel Kaplan, and his wife (both Minnesotans!) came to the CCCL to talk to all of the students. He talked about his experiences as an ambassador, his view on Morocco, and Morocco’s relationship with other countries. It was a great talk and I really enjoyed the Ambassador and his wife. Also during the talk I noticed a girl who just arrived at the CCCL who looked familiar. I found out as I was talking to the Ambassador that she was, in fact, who I thought- someone I went to high school with, three years older, at a school of ~350 people. It turns out she is the daughter of the woman running the journalism program, one of the three programs at the CCCL. I’m loving all of these Morocco-Minnesota connections!

-I can now spell out words in Arabic based on how they sound- meaning I might not spell them correctly but I can write. This goes for reading too- I can read words based on how they look, not necessarily what they are, but it’s reading!

-Yesterday, my host family asked me if Spiderman was real.

-This weekend marked my first weekend staying in Rabat since the first weekend I stayed with my host family. Unfortunately, I had a lot of work. Fortunately, my friends and I discovered a café on the beach overlooking the ocean with regularly priced drinks and wifi. Needless to say, it’s a new favorite hangout.

-As I was walking home today, I was walking behind two men and overheard bits and pieces of their conversation. At one point I started understanding all of the words they were saying! I thought this was a breakthrough in my arabic learning. That was until I heard them say the arabic phrase for the Cross-cultural center for learning. 

-My latest obsession is trying different combinations of smoothies/juices at a juice place a little ways down the main road. So far some favorites include almond, avocado, and coconut (a turned-out-happy mistake when I thought coco meant chocolate) and amlou (the Moroccan version of peanut butter, which I looked up and found out to be ground toasted almonds, argon nuts, and honey).

Now, since I just had an arabic test, my mind is floating with random arabic words, so I'm going to teach you a few of my favorites (phonetically, of course):

zweeena-            beautiful

ndikadika-           tired

akooskakooso-    couscous

bzefff-                 a lot 

schwea-               a little 

schnoo-               what?

We are leaving tomorrow for our northern excursion, where we will stay in a remote village for four nights, then heading to Tnideq, Chefchaouen, and then my friends and I are planning on staying in Tangier for the weekend. I’m excited!

My Address!

Southern Excursion, Part III

The next morning, Simone, Charley, and I headed out to the Jardin Majorelle in Marrakech. The botanical garden was made by a french artist (Majorelle) during the French rule in Morocco. It was opened to the public thanks to Yves Saint Laurent who bought the garden and, later, where his ashes were spread. It was a perfect sunny day, so we lazily wandered around the garden for a while. We also stopped in the Berber museum which was in the Jardin. We then attempted to find a few lonely planet recommended spots for lunch where we could eat outside but after a while of wandering, we settled on a spot that was good but made us feel like we were in a tacky french restaurant, rather than Morocco.

After lunch, we went back to the square where we picked up some ice cream and walked through alley after alley of artisan shops and food stands. We stopped in the Bahia Palace which opened to a beautiful courtyard. We asked a few people where the palace was and after switching between three languages, we think we were told that the courtyard was the palace. This is still unclear because the guidebook described beautiful wood-carved ceilings. But we enjoyed it anyway.

On our walk back from the square, we bumped into a man at a restaurant whom we asked for directions the day before. We said hello and began talking. In the middle of the conversation, he interrupted, pointed to me and said "why is he so white in his face?" With our puzzled reactions, he repeated the question saying "Why is he so white in his face? Is he in prison?" We all laughed as he continued, "Does he never see the sun? Isn't there a creme or something he can put?" I'm not sure what made me stand out the most from my friends, but apparently my Norwegian skin shows through more than my Syrian skin...


The next morning, we got back on the bus and headed to Essaouira. The landscape appeared very Mediterranean. Along the way we stopped at a female argan oil cooperative. We went into a room where a dozen women were sitting cracking, peeling, and grinding argon nuts.

We also passed something I had been hoping to see while in Morocco: Goats in trees. The goats climb the tress and graze on the argon nuts. Nuts!

We arrived in Essoaouira just in time for a lunch of 4 different courses of fish. Stuffed, we wandered over to the beach. We relaxed for a while in the sun with a perfect breeze. After a little while I knew I needed to go back to the hotel so I could change for the scheduled soccer game on the beach at sunset. Something I was not willing to miss. About 12 of us from two different programs and Bdrdine, one of the academic assistants, outlined a field in the sand and began to play. That hour and a half was and will remain a highlight of this trip. It was also so surreal to, after being caught up in the game, look out and see the sun fade behind the pier.

Our soccer field in Essaouira.

 The sunset we enjoyed while playing.

The next day, we got back on the bus, which was headed back to Rabat. Charley, Simone, and I took the bus but got off in El Jadida, where the rest of the group was only stopping for lunch. As soon as we started walking around El Jadida, we loved it. It is another beach town, similar to Essaouira, but smaller. It has a very relaxed vibe. Charley, Simone, and I all commented that we felt completely at ease with harassment in El Jadida. For whatever reason it did not feel threatening. We even responded to a few people who would talk to us and managed to have good conversations, which was a nice break from constantly feeling you need to ignore anyone who approaches you. We spent the day exploring the town, walking along the boardwalk, and briefly visiting the cistern. We met up with a few  other people from our program who also were staying in El Jadida for dinner on Friday for our first real attempt at street food. We found a woman in the medina putting together fried eggplant sandwiches (which is made up of hoobs, fried eggplant slices, potato, green pepper, tomato sauce, and topped with fries). We also picked up some sweet pastry-like bread, some oranges, and, of course, some dates. We then brought our goods to a juice shop and ate our picnic. On Saturday, we picked up more medina goods and brought them to the beach for picnic round II. We spent the rest of the day, continuing our theme of relaxation for the weekend, relaxing by the beach with more wandering. We got more eggplant sandwiches for dinner and brought them back to the terrace of the riad where we were staying. We were later joined for drinks by Saiid, a staff member of the riad, and a french traveller who had been in Morocco for a month traveling across the country on his motorcycle. We conversed for a while, mostly talking about all the things we love about Morocco. On Sunday, we headed to the train station and journeyed back to Rabat.

It was an incredible week and I can say with confidence I am falling in love with Morocco. 

Southern Excursion, Part II

After a wonderful day and night in Merzouga, a few friends and I woke up early the next morning to catch the sunrise before leaving. We walked out to the dunes and waited for the magic to happen. After a while we began to wonder if it was just a cloudy day and we missed the sunrise. A few headed back, but most of us hung around knowing that the sun had to peek out from the dunes at some point. And I'm so glad that we did.

The sun appeared and was up in under a minute. We spent a few more hours on the bus and stopped for lunch at a spot in between some gorges. 

The drive was beautiful but long and made even longer by my seat buddy, a true character of our program. He asked me questions like "do you believe in hell on earth?", "why is there pain and suffering in the world?", "if anything could be named after you, what would you want it to be?" and a more general "what do you believe?" all within a span of five minutes. 

We arrived that evening to "Dar Taliba", a student hostel for girls who live in villages and without provided housing would have no options for schooling. We had sit down dinner with the girls and tried our best to converse. My table had a particularly strong language barrier as no one spoke french and our few arabic phrases couldn't be understood since these students mostly speak Berber arabic. 

Although there was not much conversation, it was still great to interact with Moroccan students our age. 

We spent the night in the hostel then went off driving the next morning through the high atlas. We stopped along the way to take pictures of the kasbah in Ouarzazet that has appeared in many movies (including but not limited to: The Last Temptation of Christ, The Mummy, Lawrence of Arabia, Gladiator).

That afternoon we made it to Marrakech. We were given the next two days to explore the city on our own. Charley, Simone and I headed out with no exact plan. The city was immediately overwhelming to all of us. The streets were busy, filled with cars, buses, and motorcycles. It was also obvious to the three of us how touristy Marrakech is compared to any other cities we've visited. Fez was definitely touristy, but feels different in some way. We ended up at the main square. As soon as we entered, Simone was handed a picture booklet of henna by a woman, then as soon as Simone had it in her hands, the woman went to her stand. Forced to hand it back, Simone went over. The woman grabbed her hand to shake it as if to say "nice to meet you", then immediately started scribbling henna all over her arm. Charley and I watched the whole thing closely, holding our arms behind our backs to avoid the same problem. Simone kept saying "la, la" or "no", but the woman kept exclaiming "free!" and wouldn't stop. As soon as she finished, the woman said "ok, I give you a gift, now you give me a gift." And that's how we were welcomed to the square in Marrakech. 

Everywhere we turned in the square, something different was happening. There were monkeys wearing diapers chained under shade umbrellas. Snake charmers ready to play their recorders the second there is chance of pay. Endless carts filled with copious varieties of colorful fruits and vegetables. 

For dinner, we were given coupons that would work at pizza hut, mcdonalds, or the grocery store. Charley, Simone, and I decided to put together a little picnic in the hotel room with foods from the grocery store. Our night ended with nice conversation, some bananagrams, and a picnic that looked like this:

To Be Continued......