Return to Challah

This weekend has been full of interesting events.  To begin with yesterday I returned to Challah with Alaina and we took two of our new friends who arrived from Cairo two weeks ago.  Even though the sun was not shining on the ruins with the same brilliance as the first trip during orientation, I took many pictures because my camera was dead the last time I was at Challah.  Here are some pictures of our magical "Alice in Wonderland" afternoon:

Alaina in Wonderland

Catherine and Cats

Pool of Fertility

A Catherine sized hole in the wall.

Storks: the symbol of monogamy

Catherine leaping for joy

Macarena searching.

Alaina peering

Storks in a row

A glimpse of the other side

Self portrait

Macarena's favorite place

Alaina as a statue.

After Challah I went home, but was met by a large group of men running down my street being chased by police.  There were at least 50 of them and my friend pushed me behind a car as they whizzed past.  At first this had me concerned, as we all knew that a large protest was planned for Sunday morning.  I worried only because there is a difference between a protest in the square and men running madly down my street.  While talking with my host mom in the morning we determined that these were just men supporting a soccer team who were riled up.  She still thinks there is reason for concern because even though the protest isn't that disturbing angry youth can make it worse by using the protest as an excuse to break windows and break into cars and stores.

The protest planned for Sunday morning was technically cancelled, but from our apartment two blocks away we can hear a megaphone and chanting from the square.  We discussed over breakfast this morning (I made pancakes for the first time and we used leftover syrup from her former students and nutella to decorate them) what motivates these protests.  Siham and Said explained that no one wants to kick out King Muhammed VI, but they do want to change the parliament and his advisors because there is a serious economic gap.  Siham explained that the price of vegetables has tripled and many families cannot afford meat.  There also is an issue with public education and support for children.

The issue with all of this is that there is no Moroccan news station.  The only news we will get is from AlJazzera of the middle east or Canal5 in France.  It is frustrating to be so disconnected from the politics in the country you live in.  Monday afternoon, however, I have a school field trip to Parliament.  That is, if there is a parliament on Monday...

General Fun Having

Anna enjoying the balloon I bought her

I wondered before coming here how young people are able to act under Islamic law when it comes to "having a good time" by American standards.  Could they go to clubs?  Could they dance?  Could they walk around together without shaming the family?  Could they date?  In making my new Moroccan friends, as I proclaimed I would in an earlier post about male harassment, I have experienced more in terms of Moroccan youth lifestyles.  The group who I have become friends with are basically the equivalent to hipsters in the states, but it is projected ever so differently.  At home we would consider them hippies, mainly because of the dreadlocks.

Soufiane helping Anna get the right balloon

Yes, they go to clubs.  The club I frequent most often, (and by that I mean the band recognizes me already), is called Yacout and it is an African dance club.  There is a live house band every night and on Fridays it is nearly impossible to walk through the club.  This is the one location where I see girls in tank tops and short skirts, though I didn't come close to wearing a tank top until my fourth time.  The music is everything from popular Algerian hits to Shakira to salsa to Shaggy and Bob Marley.  This is really the place to get your groove on, and you can bet that on Friday nights I am right at the front of the dance floor.

Soufiane watching Anna be a nut about her balloon

As far as outside of the clubs, (and I should probably say that this is the only location that I feel comfortable letting loose in yet), there are different standards.  It is assumed that men and women walking together are friends unless they have their arms linked.  Aside from a few married couples I have seen no more PDA than that.  It is also evident that dating here means having coffee, going for walks, and sitting in parks.  No more than that.  After what my eyes have unhappily witnessed in the states I think this modesty is beautiful.  Needless to say I am appreciating having Moroccan male friends for the safety they give me in walking down the streets and I also enjoy having the ability to really witness what is going on around me now that I don't have to keep my eyes glued to the pavement while exploring the city.

The Prophet's Birthday

Riding in the car to Casa with Lilia and Leah

Once a year there is a celebration in many Islamic nations for the prophet's birthday, (Prophet Muhammed, that is).  Although this celebration is technically the equivalent to Christmas in Christianity, the scale of the holiday is more like that of Labor Day.  Everyone has off of work, enjoys a large dinner with the family, and tries to push the holiday over into one long relaxing weekend.  I say relaxing because EVERYTHING is closed, except for cafes.  This year the prophet's birthday fell on a Wednesday.  The official holiday was Wednesday, however most businesses were also closed Thursday and therefore Friday also fell to the wind.  Amideast, unfortunately, scheduled classes on Thursday and Friday.

Nadir cutting a strange fruit that tasted like a cucumber

My host family celebrated this year, as every year, by going to Casablanca to visit my mom's family.  We were invited along with a few nights before and told to bring pajamas.  Eventually we figured out that they meant they were staying there until the weekend, and we knew we had to be back for class on Thursday morning.  And this is how the tale unfolded that we were left home alone for two days.  The joy of personal space!

Remnants of fish and fruit

Our trip to Casa was very eventful.  Our host grandma lives in a spacious apartment in Casa off of the main shopping district.  Although the style of her abode was simple, it was gorgeous with its true Moroccan charm.  When we arrived a few cousins and uncles were in the first salon enjoying strawberry juice, orange juice, cookies, and snacks.  We joined them and talked about our time so far in Morocco.  Afterward we went for a short walk and when we came back lunch was served.  Lunch began with a large salad of meat pate, rice, cucumbers, radishes, and assorted other veggies in a light cream sauce.  As usual, this was served on one large plate and we were given spoons.  After the salad a fish as big as my leg was lain on the table covered with roasted potatoes and peppers.  We ate the fish with chunks of whole wheat bread.  Finally we were served a plate of fruit that even Carmen Miranda would not be able to carry.  Bananas, apples, oranges, and strawberries were balanced ever so high.  Benin Bzef (very delicious).

Relaxation after lunch

Siham and her mother

Clearly, after lunch we could not move.  Instead we lay on the sofas lining the salon walls, women in one room and men in the other, and quietly gossiped.  Needing a little exercise, my host sister, roommate, and I went for a walk to the shopping district just to see if the stores were open.  Fortunately the big chain stores don't close for holidays, so we made a killing at Zara and Mango (Moroccan equivalents to Forever 21 and H&M).  I bought a few items for less than $10 each.  Note to self: do all shopping in Casablanca.  Leah and I made our way to the train station and the train left 10 minutes later.  The ride was short and quiet.  So was our home on arrival and we finally got a little rest.

Aha! The Snow Beckons Beyond.

This weekend was the first organized excursion with the Amideast program.  The itinerary included a short trip to Azrou and Ifrane, passing through the Middle Atlas mountains and a "monkey forest", a day in Fez, and another short trip to Volubilis and Meknes.  In all it was very beautiful and informative.  The trip itself was quick due to the amount of planned activities, and the highlights included shopping in the famous souk of Fez, seeing a real tannery, touching snow in the Atlas mountains, and a strange night out in the back room of a very sketchy club.  Though our time was strictly governed by tour guides this time around, I would love to spend time in Fez for more than vacation, and all of these cities would be worth visiting if you have the chance.

The Middle Atlas

Ifrane, the Switzerland of Morocco.

The new door to Fez's souk

The souk in Fez is built over a river, and now it runs as a canal through the city.

The traditional tanneries of Fez

View of Fez from above.  How many satellite dishes can you count?

Madrasa within the old city of Fez.  This is a school- can you imagine studying in here?

A shoe stall in the souk.

A drinking fountain.  All of these are still in use.

A traditional pottery section of the Fez souk.

Gates to the royal palace in Fez.

Fez wraps around a mountain.  From atop the mountain there is a 360 view of the surrounding city.

Standing among the ruins of Volubilis.

Volubilis' capitol.

This week has been full of truly soul searching moments about my future and my reality.  I won't do a lot of talking here, but I will post pictures of the trip with the annotation of a reading that my sister gave me for my trip. The book which she gave me, A Field Guide to Getting Lost, by Rebecca Solnit, includes the following passage: "The world is blue at its edges and in its depths.  This blue is the light that got lost...the blue at the horizon, the blue of land that seems to be dissolving into the sky, is a deeper, dreamier, melancholoy blue, the blue at the farthest reaches of the of the places where you see for miles, the blue of distance.  This light that does not touch us, does not travel the whole distance, the light that gets lost, gives us the beauty of the world, so much of which is in the color blue."

Super Bowl From The Other Side Of The Pond

Chocolate cake in our very tiny oven.

My exchange program decided early on that we were going to have a party for the Super Bowl. The game aired at midnight here so quickly after deciding to have the party we figured out it wouldn't be easy to plan.  Eventually an executive decision was made to have the party at school.  With the permission of the director and one of the security guards, we were locked into the building from 8:30 pm Sunday night until 8:30 am on Monday.  A potluck was put together and in all it went over very well.

Macncheese and salsa

Our chocolate cake decorated with vanilla pudding (long story) and melted m&ms. Go Pack!

In order to feed all 16 of us, we each tried to bring a dish and the results included: mac'n'cheese (by yours truly), chili, salsa with "chips", pastilles, chocolate chip cookies, chocolate cake, apple pie, candy bars, and Moroccan candy.  We were not allowed alcohol, but that didn't affect the Fun'o'Meter of the night.  Because no one remembered to bring plates, we ate in the style of every other meal here, communally.  The food all ended up on the floor and the plastic forks were shared/broken/lost and we reverted to hands.  When we were stuffed we had a dance party and taught ourselves the dance to the Shakira music video for Waka Waka to burn off some calories.

Amelia, Hila, Mackenzie, Sarah, Leah, and Robin

Carson, Wajida, Alaina, and Anna

At midnight we attempted to watch the game.  Boy, did we try.  We had a projector and internet, but for some reason the channels were all very slow and the picture skipped a lot.  Around half time we decided to throw in the towel, but one girl (who is also from Wisconsin) had the brilliant idea to Skype her dad.  During the halftime show he set up his camera facing the computer screen and we were able to watch the rest of the game with relatively decent quality.  Only three of us were still awake at the end of the game and we had to navigate our way over a dozen sleeping bodies into the next room to find enough room to stretch out.

Hair braiding, like any good sleepover.

Sleeping on the floor at school is not a bad until your Classical Arabic teacher walks into the room to tell you to hurry up.  Way to go Packers!


(PS. This night marked our one month anniversary in Rabat!)

KsKsou

As I have probably mentioned, Couscous Friday is an important ritual to Moroccan culture.  Having now experienced my first couscous Friday, I can now give the details.

To begin with, couscous is served on Friday because Friday afternoon is the time of prayer in Islamic tradition.  It is the one day of the week that there is an actual sermon or reading in the mosque, though many people go to the mosque every day of the week.  Because of the sermon it is typical in the Arab world to have the day cut short at noon on Friday.  Many of the Middle Eastern countries have workweeks from Sunday to Thursday, however Morocco is influenced by Europe and has a Monday-Friday workweek.  For this reason no one has school and many don't have work after noon on Fridays.

Couscous is served in many different ways across the country, and it is the national dish.  I wish I could tell you why.  What I can tell you is that it is delicious, and nothing like what you prepare out of a box at home.  It is served on a massive dish with roasted vegetables on top and some kind of meat if the family can afford it.  The whole family will gather around this dish and eat with fingers, spoons, or bread as utensils.  Couscous is usually served with this homemade buttermilk called Laban.  That part is an acquired taste.  It tastes a lot like sour cream.

Couscous can be served as the savory dish, which is pretty exclusive to Fridays, or as a sweet dish.  My friends' host mother is the couscous queen and makes the food every week for the employees at Amideast.  They claim that many meals have been followed at their house with a smaller plate of sweet couscous.  This variety is cooked with sugar instead of salt, and is sprinkled with sugar and drizzled with chocolate when served.  How delicious!


My first couscous experience was at Amideast during the welcoming day for the students who arrived from Egypt.  It was really nice to share our experiences over three couscous dishes from my friends' host mom, each with an ENTIRE chicken in the middle.  Unfortunately I did not get a picture of the dishes before they were devoured.

Weddings and Circumcisions.

A few days ago my roommate and I can to a realization.  Our host family had gone to two of the most important Moroccan tradition rituals and we were not invited to either.  For Moroccan culture weddings are the most important tradition with circumcisions as a close second.  Now, we are completely understanding that these particular events were relatively small and that is why we were not invited, but we still thought it was impressive that our family has celebrated both in the past month.

Lilia

My host mother's nephew was circumcised the second weekend we were here.  She and my host siblings traveled to Casablanca for the weekend and helped organize the party after the act.  We were not explained much about this activity, except that the circumcision takes place in a hospital following religious practice, and the afternoon and night after were full of food and conversation at the house of the parents.  What I got out of it was a nice almond pastry the next day while I was studying.

Last weekend the whole family went out to Casablanca again for the wedding of a friend of my host mother, (my host mom is from Casa, in case you are noticing a pattern).  From what I gather, the friend is a well known person about town and has a very large family, therefore the wedding was a secret in order to make it private for the parents and only a handful of close friends.  My mother was in charge of planning it all, and planning weddings in this country can take a whole village.  One afternoon she walked me through the whole project and I will try to regurgitate it here.

Said and Siham

First, the bride is presented with three caftans for the days of the wedding.  These were all very expensive and carefully wrapped on the living room sofa.  Then there was a gift of a Chanel bag from my family, and also the traditional dowry from the husband in a satchel.  At the actual wedding service the bride and groom are presented with four items: A carafe of milk with a little perfumed water in it, a bottle of "l'eau d'orangiers" which is the perfumed water, a container of incense, and a container of oiled/perfumed wax which is meant to be chewed like gum.  All of these things are incredibly expensive traditional gifts, each representing some aspect of prosperity in marriage.  These items were each in decorative glass containers which were then placed inside a large tray of sorts which is topped with a decorated cone.  These are found all over in the market and are carried out by a couple of men during the ceremony.

My favorite part was seeing my family dressed up.  I don't have a picture of my brother because I didn't actually see him before he left.  Aren't they shmancy?!

Kahwa B LHlib

Coffee is my homeboy.  I want to share quickly the joy of living in a country with good coffee.  Coffee comes in small cups, not 20 ounces (damn you, Starbucks).  Coffee is served in all forms in all locations (espresso, cafe au lait, and macchiato) and with the exception of cappucinos, they are served as they traditionally should be.  Cappucinos have incurred the unfortunate quality of including chocolate, which is actually a mocha where I come from.  Otherwise, it is all smooth sailing with me and coffee in the Maghreb.  I can even order it in Arabic: "brit kahwa b lhlib, afak."

One of my favorite qualities about coffee here is that even coffee out of a machine is yummy.  We have a machine in the basement of Amideast where all items cost 3.5 Dirhams (about $.40).  The options include cappucino, cafe au lait, cafe court, cafe long, cocoa, and even a strange tea drink.  There are options to increase or reduce the amount of sugar, and all drinks are mixed by the machine in front of you with a little stir stick.  Yum.  I don't deny the fact that going to get coffee also gives me the excuse to go in the basement and talk with my teacher friends.

Egyptian Mayhem

I have to begin this post by once again thanking my professor, Stuart Schaar, for all he has shared with those of us witnessing the revolution from the Maghreb.  We have decided that instead of having the usual "Islam and the West" course offered by Schaar at Amideast, we will now have 1/2 the history and 1/2 current event discussion each week.  This week we discussed the developments in Egypt which are now affecting us directly.

For those of you who live under a rock, there is a revolution building up in Egypt and which will eventually lead to the dismantling of their 30 year president, Mubarak.  The revolution in Tunisia was the catalyst which led to the upset of Egyptian society.  Although the revolution is still playing out at this very moment, within seven days its fury has been felt all across the Middle East and North Africa.  Last Friday the American Embassy began plans for the evacuation of American citizens in Egypt.  From that decision my study abroad group has doubled in size overnight.  Yesterday we welcomed 11 new students to our program.

The students are from the Amideast and American University programs in Cairo.  They are exhausted and are now in the position to return home with the trauma of having experienced a revolution.  They all seem to be overwhelmed, so I will come back to talking about them once they have adjusted to the drastic changes in their surroundings.

For now, what we know is that Egypt is recovering itself from years of abuse from its unwieldy police force who used sexual abuse and torture to quell the masses, and from a president who paraded a false sense of democracy for 30 years.  The questions still remain of who will rise to lead and how the former police be reformed.  What we do know is that transition must start immediately and that no one will be able to predict the outcome of an unleashed population.

In order to calm your worries, I can tell you that even if there is minor dissatisfaction in Morocco over the existing monarchy, no one wants the military to take over in Morocco.  This fact in itself acts as a shield from revolution.  My observations have been that most Moroccans support the king, (almost all cafes, stores, and homes have a picture of the king on the wall), and have no bone to pick with the revolutions across the region.  Other than reshuffling our program schedule, our lives at Amideast will go on safely for the next three months of adventures.

Men, Walking, and Such Things

Carson being our protector and Alaina taking advantage of her liberties.

I have decided that new friends in Morocco here on out will have to be men.  Without any offense to my special someone back at home, and without feeling particularly lonely, I need a man by my side.  This is in reference to the fact that a woman walking alone, especially one who is Western and young, is harassed relentlessly.  In order to walk in peace there is a need for a man to accompany me.  Luckily I am in the process of making interesting and useful new friends.

Sarah in Tanger displaying how to walk alone.

I tried to convince myself that walking alone was fine.  And in reality, it is fine.  I haven't been mugged, touched, or even yelled at.  Well, there was that one time in Tanger, but that is a different story.  And so today, with little else to do with my afternoon, I decided to walk home and maybe walk through the medina again for some amusement.  Halfway home I had to change my mind.  It is simply too overwhelming to walk down the street.  I was not dressed provocatively, and I am not particularly attractive by American standards.  I do, however, wear color.  This alone is enough for men to pay attention, as Rabati women wear exclusively shades of brown and black.  Wearing a white shirt in Rabat is just as bad as wearing a florescent pink shirt with "slut" printed across the front.  I won't make that mistake again.

Now, I have had the occasional "Ca va?", "Speaky English?", "Zweena", and even a "Sex" and "Hot ass" thrown my way.  However, until today I did not have an actual creep who followed me for half a block trying to get a reaction.  His approach was to stand directly in front of me, smiling, until I got close and then as I walked around him he leaned toward my face and started in.  "Ca va? Vous etes francaise? Parlez vous francais?  Est-ce que vous etes francaise?  D'ou est vous? Speaky English? You Americania?"  I kept my eyes on the ground and finally said "No" while walking very quickly.  He yelled some things I couldn't understand after me.  It was in all disappointing.  It seems as if I have to buy my freedom by paying for a taxi from place to place or pay instead by always traveling in a pack and not doing the things I want to do alone.

Alaina helped me pick this out.

I have been wearing a fake engagement ring since the second week because I feel that I should display in an outward fashion that I am not worth the trouble.  The director of our program is an attractive Moroccan and she wears a fake ring and advised me to as well.  For only 40 Dirhams (about $5), I bought a nice ring which I wear for this reason.  It doesn't work.  Obviously men on the street don't have the attention span to look for a ring, but also men in bars, cafes, and stores do not seem to notice.  If they do, they don't let it affect them.  Oh well, I tried.  From what I hear about Cairo the behavior here is subtle for the region.  It is a shame, but I won't let it keep me from exploring and learning.