Saturday, April 30, 2011

Couscous: Check

Two of the three couscous related items on my bucket list were checked off in the past 24 hours.  The first was going to eat Senegalese couscous at Upstairs, an ex-pat pub in Rabat.  Moroccans told me it would be horrible. Americans told me it would be fantastic.  Turns out it was yummy and different.  Take that, Morocco!  It was spicy and that is just about as much as I can divulge until I live independently from Moroccans.

Moving on to the next check on my checklist: Learn to make KsKsou.  Well, today I learned.  It took four hours, but I learned.  It turned into a really interesting experience, with a lot of conversation with my host mom.  Turns out my French has gotten pretty good, and we can just talk for hours without frustration.  There is a lot of code mixing between French and Arabic, but in the end everything is understood and I finally feel comfortable expressing who I really am.  Turns out my host mom is just as much of a goof as my real mom and we had a real hands on learning experience, with me grabbing her glasses when they fogged up from steam, and helping carry huge patters and pots back and forth.  I think she thinks my name is Kelly, but I don't really care.

The recipe for Moroccan couscous goes something like this:

1) Pour the couscous (1 kilo) on a platter and mix with 1 Tbsp salt, 1 tsp pepper, and a pinch of saffron.  Then mix in 1/2 cup of oil and 1 cup of water.  Fluff the couscous with your hands so there are no lumps.

2) While the couscous sits, peel and slice in large chunks: 5 parsnips, 6 small zucchini, 4 carrots.
In another bowl cut up 4 large pieces of pumpkin (about 1/4 pumpkin), and 3 potatoes.
In another bowl grate 1 large onion.
In another bowl seed and slice 1 tomato.
Prepare a bundle of cilantro tied together with string.

3) Put cilantro bundle, onion, and 1 small cut up chicken in the bottom half of the couscous steamer (or a large pot).  Cover with sufficient salt, pepper, turmeric, and saffron.  Add 1 cup oil, 1 cup water.  Boil on medium low for 5 minutes.

4) Add 1 cup chickpeas, or other soaked beans, and grate in the flesh of one tomato.  Return to boil for 5 minutes.

5) Add 6-8 cups water and cover.  (Add a pinch of ginger)

6) Meanwhile, oil couscous steamer (colander top of traditional couscous pot) and add another cup of water to couscous which should have almost doubled in size across the past 45 minutes.

7) Place couscous in oiled steamer and add to pot when water is at a rolling boil.  Let steam for about 1/2 hour to 45 minutes.

8) Remove couscous, add veggies (not including pumpkin, potato, and tomato) to chicken broth, and cover.  Place couscous in the platter, fluff again with 2 more cups of water, and return to steamer.  Place steamer on pot again.

9) 45 minutes later, repeat process.  Add remaining vegetables to the pot and fluff couscous with only 1 cup of water.

10) 1 hour later remove couscous a final time.  Strain veggies through a colander and reserve the broth.  Add 1/2 cup butter to couscous and allow to melt while fluffing.  Add a cup or two of broth, depending on consistency.


11) Place couscous in serving dish and form into a volcano shape.  Place chicken pieces in center and surround with vegetables.  Pour broth into bowls and place all on table.  Eat with large spoon.  Bs'ha (to your health!)!


( Also, try one of these fruits if you are ever in Morocco: nefle. Yum!)

Favorite Picture

I was asked today if there was a picture that I considered my favorite from my trip.  I think this is the one I feel best sums up the beautiful and absurd time I have had here.  My mom actually printed it out at home when I was hoping she would pick another one, but Mom is always right.  Here it is:  me sitting in the desert at sunset, wearing a djellaba and turban, and laughing hysterically about nothing in particular.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

The Evil Eye

Yesterday I commented to a friend how it was odd that I haven't been anywhere near as sick as most people in the program.  She desperately tried to find some wood to knock on for my "bad mojo" behavior.  She claims the superstition of Morocco has been wearing off on her.  Friends left and right are jumping out of the way of black cats and knocking on wood.  I usually hate this kind of behavior, but lately I wonder if they are right.

While I know that the spread of the Islamic Revolution has taken most of the Middle East and North Africa by surprise, I am no longer worried about it coming here.  I am, however, now superstitious and worried about my safety in this country for other reasons.  Bizarre coincidences.  If you are my grandma, dad, or other members of the extended bubble of concern for my safety, stop reading here.

I had planned on not sharing anything worrisome on this blog for the unnecessary fears it might provide my family with.  I've been scared, though, by recent news.  Has anyone ever found out that after leaving some location other people were killed or the place exploded?  Well, now it has happened to me.  Twice.

To begin with two weeks ago a distant Moroccan friend of mine was sitting in a cafe with a few friends, just talking and having a nice afternoon.  This was the same cafe that I took my mom to on our long walk about in Tanger, Cafe Hafa.  However, unlike our experience, this time a mentally unstable man ran in and yelled "God is Great" and stabbed this friend in the back and killed his roommate.  My friend is now doing better, and the family of his friend is recovering.

The infamous view from Cafe Hafa
Today I received similar news.  This weekend I was in Marrakech with school and in the main square I found some incredible ice cream.  Cinnamon ice cream that tasted like Cinnamon Toast Crunch.  So good that I had to go back.  Twice.  And well, I am glad that I came home this week because had I stayed, I might have blown up with the cafe.  This morning, in a freak gas accident, the cafe exploded.  It killed 10 people including many tourists.  

So, are freak accidents following me?  I am not superstitious, but I have started wearing the "hand of Fatima", a symbol that protects me from the "evil eye".  And try not to worry, I will be home in 15 days.

This Semester in Music

I am now going to attempt to share music with you from my time here.  Most of it is not actually Moroccan, but it is all really good.

To begin with, this is my all time favorite band from my travels in Morocco.  Tinariwen is a band from Mali which has made it their personal goal to preserve Tuareg culture and spread their fight for power through song.  If you find this music as beautiful as I do, you should check out the music that my own Moroccan friends (really my desert tour guides) are making here: Imodda.

This song is epically popular across the generations in Morocco.  The song is actually Algerian, but the bilingualism is relate-able across North Africa: Cheb Khaled

Although most young people listen to American pop music (which is unfortunately from the early 2000s or 90s- total time warp), there is some attempt to make their own pop music.  Here is an R&B artist from Rabat, Ahmed Sultan.

For something a little more traditional, there is El Houssaine Kili with some beautiful Islamic songs.

I may have mentioned "trance" in here somewhere, particularly while traveling for spring break.  Trance is a type of spiritual dance which is associated with gnawa music.  It is Berber in nature, but has been adapted into some sort of outlying Moroccan tradition across time.  What i mean is... hippies love it.


Rouicha is a traditional Berber musician who our Berber professor introduced us to.  I find the music a little hard to follow from my western music training, but I think the womens voices are hauntingly beautiful.  

Packing it in

So I may, out of shear boredom, have packed up all of my stuff the other afternoon just to make sure all of my purchases would fit into my suitcases.  With one extra bag it all fit with room to spare.  I think.  It made me think about this:
My packing job leaving home

And how much I want to see this again:
My boys

But also how much I will miss this:

And this:

And this:

So, I am having some conflicting feelings about the next 15 days.  I guess I'd better get out there and appreciate life. 
Also, really like the 10 dirham piece.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Barca For the Win!

Barcelona just won a soccer match, the streets are going nuts, and I am working on organizing pictures from my trip.  I got to go down and watch part of the game in a cafe, where male fans are pouring out on all sides.  It was incredibly entertaining.  Unfortunately, I do not have any pictures of a soccer match to go with this little comment, but I did find a picture I took in Chefchaouen of a goat on a soccer bleacher.  


Baaaa (16 days to go, in case you're counting).

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

18 Days!

My mom just sent me this picture last night and it made me so excited.  I can't believe her trip here is so far behind us and that I will be home in just a few weeks.  There is a lot to still accomplish, but I can't wait to start my new life in America.

I missed Easter this year, and I know Mother's Day is coming up, so Here is to you, Mom!


(18 days until I am on American soil)

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Thank You Very Marrakesh

Finally, finally, I made it to Marrakesh.  As the twelfth week came to a close, I made it to the one place people famously visit in Morocco, above all others.  The Vegas of Morocco.  The tourist hub.  The endless souks and food stalls.  Finally.

To review how my week went, I will go through the things on my Morocco "Bucket List" which had the fortune of being checked off this week.

1) I sent out some postcards.  (They may be coming your way)
2) I bought a dress for graduation. (Which I won't show here, as it is too special to show before graduation day)
3) I learned how to make Moroccan tea in Moroccan dialect.
4) I took pictures with my English class. (See the last post)
5) I went to Sale with school. (Also in a recent post)
Eating sushi was some incredible friends.
6) I had sushi at the new place in Agdal.  It is called Taiyaki.  The maki roll with avocado, mango, salmon, and cream cheese was absolutely heavenly.  My friends nearly abandoned me due to my behavior regarding this roll. I would marry it.
It was pretty rainy while I was there, and I have no flash on my camera, so all of my pictures are dark and grainy.
7) I visited Marrakesh. (More to come on this subject)
8) I ate food from a food stall in Marrakesh. (This is recommended in EVERY guide book)
YUM. Chicken, almonds, powdered sugar, and cinnamon.
9) I ate real pastilla.  Nearly abandoned again by friends for my wolfing techniques.
If Yves Saint Laurent's ashes are spread there, its gotta be artsy...
10) I visited what I would consider a real art museum.
11) I finally, and I mean FINALLY, got the gift I have been planning for a special someone.  Much effort went into this, and when you find out what it is you will be impressed by my sheer brilliance and cuteness.
Taking pictures of a mountain town through the fog. Looks similar enough to a fisheye picture, for the time being.
12) I started using the fisheye camera from my AMAZING sister which I have been saving.  She was very right.  I have reached a point where I need a "new perspective" on my environment.

 Also, I showered and lay by a pool, which were not on my checklist but things that I REALLY wanted to do for a very long time.  There aren't many pictures of Marrakesh, due to the manual fisheye camera, but here are a few.

Ms. Abesha messing up my pictures of the Majorelle Gardens

Rebecca.

Flower.

Great roomie and flowers.

Bus driver and Darija teacher, Adil. So zween!

Majorelle Gardens

As a side note, I spent a lot of time with this girl this weekend, and she means a lot to me.  We have been through thick and thin together, and I am so happy that we will be living only a few hours apart next fall.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Buzz, the Mosquito

There is a mosquito.  He lives in my room.  At night he likes to come out and play.  He buzzes in my ear.  One.  Two.  Three times.  I wake up and my legs itch.  My arms itch.  A little spot on my back itches.  For a while I thought it was lice.  My host mom said we brought it in the house with the rugs Leah bought from Chefchaouen.  Then we realized.  The heat was making us leave the windows open.  I know.  First the house is too cold to function.  Now it is too hot to manage.  So we leave the window open.  What options do we have?  Is there a fan we don't know about?  Are there window screens hiding in a cupboard somewhere?  So the widow is open. Wide open.  And Buzz has moved in to stay.  I never see him in the daytime.  At 3 am, it is a different story.

Three weeks to go.  Almost exactly.

The buses are on strike.  It took me 10 minutes to realize no one was standing at the bus stop with me.  Clearly I am a little out of it.  Clearly I am becoming Moroccan because after 10 minutes I wasn't even slightly annoyed when I remembered about the strike.  I just walked away.  I am just a shadow of my former dramatic self.

Everything smells like flowers now.

Riding the bus is easy. It makes time slow down.

My English students.

They took a test.  Not excellent results.  Oh well.  1 more week of class.

The sun doesn't set until 8:20 now.

I like the sight of the minaret.

Finally got a picture of the royal palace gates.  Blurry, because I was on a bus.  But the guards can't stop you on a bus.

Bab el-Hed is now the hip place to hang out.  Now that it is 80 degrees and light out late in the evening.

My apartment building from outside.  I live on the top floor.

I live over an underground shopping mall called Ait Baha.  You can buy everything down there.  And I've only been there twice.

We have a tiny elevator.  Leah and I have spent more time together in elevators than anyone in history.  I just can't wait until the day it stops at floor 7 and a half so I can crawl into John Malkovich's brain.
Here are a few pictures of normal things.  My mom came and took pictures of Morocco through her eyes.  Now I am trying to remember what is unusual, so that there is nothing I forgot when I come home.

Weddings on the Brain

My life has been surrounded by weddings, as of late.  Two weeks ago we had a mock wedding at school and I recently found the pictures from them.  Darija class keeps finding its way to the conversation of Moroccan weddings, while my French book is currently on the topic of marriage and family. To top it off, my roommate is writing her final paper for Culture class on Moroccan weddings, so there isn't much variation in topic across my life.  Needless to say, I am knowledgeable in the subject, and should anyone want to plan a Moroccan wedding soon I have the details.

Moroccan weddings are big and extravagant, and are traditionally the most lavish day of a woman's life, even though they could occur as soon as a woman reached puberty.  Nowadays the official age for Moroccan marriage is 18 and a woman can finally sign her own document without a male guardian.

There are six days of ceremony:
Day 1) Bride attends the hammam with her extended female family and friends.  This is like the bridal shower or bachelorette party.
Day 2) The female relatives do henna and the bride gets it all over her body.  She is treated like a complete princess and she just sits on a couch and is fed all day.
Day 3) First ceremony takes place at the home of the groom, with dancing, singing, and the signing of the marriage document.
Day 4) The same thing happens at the home of the bride.  That evening is the first time the bride and groom are allowed to be alone and is considered the "wedding night".
Day 5) There is a large lunch for both families.  (This was historically the day where the woman's virginity was confirmed, but is no longer widely practiced.)
Day 6) The bride's family invites everyone to the newlywed's house to display all of the new furniture and gifts the family provided.  This is also a large lunch.

My favorite part of the wedding is the exchange of the gifts.  The husband's family brings the gifts to the home of the bride's family on the third day of ceremony.  On this day the following process occurs:
1) Groom arrives with family and gifts at home of bride.
2) Dancing, music, and passing of treats.
3) Signing of marriage document by bride and groom.
4) Groom and bride feed each other a bowl of milk (representing fertility) and share a date (representing history of the Prophet Muhammed) and l'eau d'orangier (representing paradise and an acclaimed aphrodisiac).
5) The mother of the groom presents the bride with jewels, caftans, and dowry.

The wedding is excessive and in the process of westernization, but it is beautiful, and mostly I want to show off these pictures of us in caftans.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

A'skoon vs. A'esha

In FosHa we learned a new word today.  The word is A'esha, not to be confused with the name and song, A'isha.  A'esha means "to live" as in "to exist and have a life in a location."  Previously we had learned the word A'skoon, which has a more literal meaning of "to live" as in "to reside in a location."  I had used A'skoon to describe my life in Morocco previously, thinking it meant "to have a life" in Morocco.  According to this new information, I can justly say that I A'esha in America, but I A'skoon in Morocco.  That tastes better on my tongue.
The writing above this door asks "Is it not the time for those who believe to open up their hearts to the message?"

Here is a list of some things that I have enjoyed about my A'skoon in Morocco:
1)  The way that the call to prayer and the shouts of protest sound over instrumental music on my iPod.  Imagine a beautiful Arabic chant over Deerhunter or Ratatat.
2)  The smell of couscous on every street and in every house on Fridays.
3)  The variety of religious and western dress at each bus stop.
Anna posing next to a crumbing door in Old Sale, where the Imam once lived.
4)  The mosaics, even when they are on crumbling facades.
5)  The way men pat their hearts after shaking hands with anyone, as if they are saying, "The soul within me recognizes the soul within you" (for those of you who didnt make a poster for this in 9th grade Unitarian Universalist church group, this is the common definition of the word "namaste").
6)  The way every Moroccan, no matter the level of education, is superstitious when it comes to health and will tell you that your cold came from not wearing slippers in the house or from drinking cold water with hot food.
7)  The hand of Fatima on homes and in jewelry, (this is a symbol which is meant to dissuade the evil eye)
8)  The bustle of the medina.
9)  The way any shop owner with play bargaining games with a smile if you speak a word of Arabic.

10)  That the world slows down when you get here, and you learn to smell the flowers.