The Past Two Weeks

I once again find myself apologizing for a lack of updating! Those of you who know me well are aware of the fact that I have never been able to keep a journal of any kind longer than two days, and I guess even updating this blog once a week became too much for me. OK, that sounds terrible and I promise to at least try and be better about posting in the coming weeks. In my defense, I haven't done many interesting things since Fez. Schoolwork has finally caught up with me and between studying for midterms and starting papers that I've been ignoring, my weekends have become study time, rather than adventure time.

So, to dredge up ancient history, the last trip outside Rabat I've taken was to my Arabic teacher's farm located about 45 minutes outside the city. Our morning began with a trip to the local souq. Now, I know the souq in Rabat pretty well. I'm familiar with the many stands selling clothes, jewelry, 5 dirham undies, shoes, and crafts. I also know how to get to the tailor souq, the food souq, and the stolen cell phone/ pirated DVD souq. The country souq was like nothing I had ever seen before. There were carts of people selling all kinds of fruits, vegetables, and meats. Some of the meat was still alive. Our teacher took us to the livestock section and showed us how to tell how old a sheep is by its teeth. It was all a little surreal.. The best part of the souq was the Fantasia. A Fantasia is a horse show which mainly consists of teams of guys on horses riding at a judging tent in a straight line and firing off their guns at exactly the same time. Our teacher said that the Fantasia only happens every couple of months and it's an opportunity for the local farmers to show off their horses. Horses are a big deal here in Morocco. I don't know very much about them because my own horseback riding career ended rather unspectacularly at the age of seven when I took two lessons in which I was afraid of the horse and my teacher made me cry. Anyways, Moroccan horses are special because they are a mix of Arabian and Berber horses and apparently really super fast. Watching the Fantasia was pretty awesome even though my teacher said that most of the teams we saw were not very good (meaning they didn't ride in a straight enough line or fire their guns at the same time). I guess that the professionals were supposed to come later in the afternoon. We began our Fantasia watching in the spectator section (read a dirt bank next to the field), but one of the families that owns a stable invited us all to sit in their VIP tent and drink tea while we watched, which was cool. I would love to see a professional Fantasia sometime because even the amateurs were amazing. The traditional costumes were lovely and the horses themselves were breathtaking.

After the visit to the souq we continued on to the farm. My teacher really does own a legit farm with a small orchard, vegetables, and chickens. He's currently working on a swimming pool as well. We all went on a tour around the gardens, and my teacher insisted on sending us home with fresh fruits and veggies for our families. My Arabic class is eight girls, so after our walk through the farm we helped the women of the family prepare lunch, which was couscous, salad, and grilled meat. Dessert was fresh fruit and it was all delicious! Lunch was followed by another walk and the inevitable Moroccan tea. My teacher says that he wants to have us back sometime so we can all stay the night and see the stars.

Even through I've been hanging around Rabat for the past couple of weeks, I've still been doing some cool stuff. Last weekend my friend Sarah and I decided to do a little medina shopping. We wandered around for a little while and I ended up buying two bootlegged DVDs and a CD with three Cat Stevens and one Carole King album on it all for three dollars US. I consider this a rather smashing success even though Inglorious Bastards was completely in French, and thus I understand none of it.

I also spent an afternoon last week exploring Chellah with my language and culture partner, Ilham. Chellah is an old ruin from Roman times right near the Palace and it's in remarkably good shape despite the laissez-faire attitude that Morocco takes with most of its historic monuments. Ilham explained that only recently had the government decided to take an active interest in the preservation and renovation of Chellah. The highlight of our afternoon was being pulled over by one of the gardeners, who guessing that I was American and that Ilham spoke English, asked if he could use me to exchange a five dollar tip he had gotten from some American tourists. After negotiating a proper exchange rate, with much help from Ilham and much joking from the other gardeners, I was the proud possessor of a $5 bill and out 40 dirhams. The gardeners figured out that Ilham is Amazigh, or the politically correct term for Berber, and they all tried to teach me a little of the Amazigh dialect that Ilham speaks, but it was a rather spectacular fail. Our evening ended with smuggling a bag of some really large citrus fruit that I don't know the name of in English (compliments of the gardener) out of the orchards. I really like Ilham because she's an exceptionally nice young woman and very different from my host family. She's studying for her doctorate in biology right now, so she's busy, but she still takes time to listen to my pitiful Arabic and show me around Rabat. She even offered to translate for me if I need to talk to any Moroccans for school projects...which leads me right to my last bit of exciting news!

I have to do a project on some aspect of Moroccan society for my contemporary Moroccan culture class, and I chose to write about murshidat, or women who preach in the Mosque. They are not Imams, so they can't lead prayer, but they do offer classes, advise, and general religious support to the women in their communities. The program to train women murshidat began in 2006 as part of Morocco's "religious reform" which aims to promote a more moderate Islam in Morocco. Since the murshidat program is very new, I quickly learned that there is virtually no material published about it anywhere. All of my research will need to be through interviews and first hand accounts, which is more than a little intimidating. Luckily my Moroccan culture professor and Gender, Islam, and Society professor were able to give me some people to talk to. Next week I am interviewing the director of one of Morocco's leading Islamist newspapers (thank God he speaks English!), and a murshidat that AMIDEAST got me in touch with. I am also supposed to talk to one of the women who teaches murshidat courses in the big religious school in Rabat, and a couple of women's rights activists that my professor knows. I feel in a bit over my head, but hopefully this will be a great learning experience and I won't offend too many Moroccans with my ignorance!

So, that's about it folks. I'll try to update sometime next week, but with midterms it's most likely that you won't hear from me again before next Sunday.

Chefchaouen

Sorry for the delay in getting a new post up! Things have really started to pick up here in Morocco. Between traveling on the weekends and a sudden increase in Arabic homework, it seems that I have rather neglected my readers. Well, I guess this just means that I have an extra lot to tell you in this post!

Last weekend, I took my first big trip outside Rabat, to Chefchaouen, a small city nestled in the Rif, or the mountainous region of Northern Morocco. I went with five other girls from AMIDEAST. One of the wonderful things about studying abroad in Morocco is that, in Rabat, I am only a couple of hours away from great cities, mountain getaways, and the desert. Chefchaouen is considered one of the most beautiful places in Morocco, and it has a growing reputation as a great tourist destination, so I was eager to check it out.

My companions and I began our journey with a five hour long bus ride on Friday afternoon. Given that this is Morocco, we were happy when our bus only showed up half an hour late, and two thirds full. The ride up to Chefchaouen was rather uneventful, but I had a great time just looking out the window and catching glimpses of life outside of Rabat. Once we cleared the city limits it was not unusual to see herds of cows or men minding sheep right next to the highways that we were traveling on! The scenery gradually changed from grassy plains and scattered trees to hilly farmland, and finally rough mountainous terrain. In the farming areas, we passed by tiny little stone houses surrounded by fields and hours away from any decently sized town. It was a little strange thinking about what life must be like for the people who live in those little houses, isolated, so it seems, from the rest of the world.

We arrived in Chefchaoen at around 8 PM. It was dark by that time and the drive up to the city was gorgeous. Once we cleared the last bend in the road, Chefchaouen, which looked like a brilliant cluster of lights nestled into the mountainside was spread out in front of us, with the moon and stars shining on from above. I know that this sounds really cheesy, but you have to understand that right from the start Chefchaouen looked like the post-card perfect picture of Morocco, and this continued to hold true for the rest of the weekend. Anyways, we arrived at the bus station, just outside the city proper, and were immediately thrust into our first adventure: finding a cab in a section of the city that clearly goes to sleep after the sun sets. We walked out to the main street and began to wait. We knew that we were in the right place, as some men sitting across the street in the cafe informed us that taxis could be found, after laughing at our strange mix of French and Arabic. Being laughed at when I talk is beginning to define my life here. After ten minutes with no taxis, we called the hotel we were staying at and asked them to send us a cab. They did indeed send us one, but it was a "petit taxi" or a small car that only seats three passengers...not so good when you have six people! Luckily another cab came by, and our driver was nice enough to give us his number in case we needed anything.

The section of Chefchaouen that our hotel was located in is the main square area, around the old kasbah. It is full of touristy restaurants and shops selling the trademark Chefchaouen woolen blankets, shoes, and djellabas. Everything was so pretty! The architecture was charming, the square was delightful, and everything was painted a lovely shade of blue. Our hotel was on a narrow street right near the souq, and was just about the cutest place ever. It was three stories, and had a terrace on the roof. All of the stairways and hallways were narrow and the doorways were barely high enough for me to pass though. I felt like I was in a hobbit house! My room had a bathroom, with hot water, which was amazing, a double bed, and windows that looked out on the street below. There was also a little seating area with couches right outside the room. It was one of the most picturesque hotel rooms I've ever stayed in, mostly because everything from the headboard, to the light fixtures, to the sink and shower stall had some cool detail in the carving, metal, or tile work.

We only spent one full day in Chefchaouen, due to the fact that the only bus headed back to Rabat leaves Sundays at 7:00 AM. As such, we needed to make good use of our Saturday. The day started with a walk up to the ruins of an old mosque in the mountains near the city. We weren't sure how to get up there by ourselves, but one of the men who worked at the desk of the hotel volunteered to take us up. Apparently booking a hotel room in Morocco also means booking yourself your own personal travel guide, taxi caller, and general go to guy. Our companion was named Muhammad and was an incredibly nice guy. He put up with our terrible Arabic, stupid jokes, and constant questions about what something is called in Darija. Muhammad even kept his cool after telling us the word for "goat" no less than three separate times!

For our first stop, Muhammed took us to a spring, which produces the water that the women use to wash their clothes. We saw all of the local ladies standing at their washing stations on the banks of the stream washing their clothes by hand. Some women were washing out wool that will at some point be turned into the yarn that is used to make the blankets that Chefchaouen is famous for. After seeing the washing women, we continued on up the mountain. We walked along a rough path, stopping about every five seconds to take pictures of the gorgeous views of Chefchaouen and the surrounding mountains. After passing awkwardly by some people's houses (we totally spent five minute photographing their well), we climbed across this kind of sketchy bridge and were at the mosque! It is a lovely little building, although ruin is a very good description of its physical condition. There were a group of men doing construction on it, and we spent a few minutes hanging out and taking even more pictures. We ran into another group of Americans just as we were leaving, which was fun. In Morocco, it's always a little shocking to hear people speaking English, especially in Rabat, which is not a touristy town. In Chefchaouen it was a little refreshing to be able to understand snippets of conversation from some of the other groups we passed by on the street or sat near in a restaurant. I love hearing and speaking Arabic, but sometimes it's nice to hear one's mother tongue being spoken in a strange land.

Upon arriving back in Chefchaouen, we took a break for lunch. We chose a restaurant where we were served by a slightly creepy waiter and ended up befriending a stray cat which we named Jnoon (or mischievous spirit) and fed our left over chicken to. The afternoon was a little rainy, so we spent it in the markets darting from shop to shop. I purchased a lovely woolen blanket that I know I did not pay too much for, as I asked my host mom for acceptable prices before I left. She was definitely happier with me upon my return from this trip! Chefchaouen also had some cool jewelry stores and I purchased a few new additions to the rather meager collection of earrings and necklaces that I brought with me. Almost everyone in Chefchaouen was incredibly friendly. The store owners were chatty and highly amused by our attempts at speaking Arabic and Darija. After living in Morocco for six weeks, my bartering skills have definitely improved and I was able to put them to good use. The one exception to the welcoming Chefchaoueans was the complete jerk who owns a jewelry store near our hotel. I was trying to argue down the price of a necklace, and he first said that we needed to conduct our business "democratically" which meant that I should pay like 30 dirhams more than my top price. After I got him down he then proceeded to mock me for not looking happy enough. He also said that my Arabic accent was "interesting" (with a decidedly snooty smirk) after I tried to have a brief conversation about the weather while one of the other girls bought something. I have to say that he is one of the first unfriendly Moroccans I've met! Everyone else was beyond excellent.

Dinner was couscous at a nice restaurant, and I toddled off to bed after taking a lovely, hot shower. Sunday morning found us up at 5 so we could catch our 7 AM bus. I mostly passed the bus ride back to Rabat asleep under my new blanket or staring out the window.

My trip to Chefchaouen was incredible. I think that the city is one of the most beautiful places I've been in my life and I'm looking forward to going back again during my time here. It was also a lot of fun to just be a tourist. Now that I've been here for over a month, Rabat is starting to feel like home. I know my area really well and I'm more comfortable with daily activities like getting cabs or buying fruit in the local hanut, or store. Going to Chefchaouen was a great way to rediscover a little the magical feeling, almost like wonder, that I first had upon arriving in Morocco. It was also nice to have a real feeling of coming back home when I arrived at my host family's apartment.

This post is sort of epic in length, so I'll have to hold off on some other stories until my next post. Be looking forward to tales of Fez (my trip for this weekend) and my first attempt at teaching English to a class of Moroccan teenagers!

Casablanca

Finally, the post about my trip to Casablanca! Last Saturday I took my first trip outside of Rabat since coming to Morocco with five other girls from my program. Our day started at 9:15 when we met at the train station in downtown Rabat to take the hour long train ride to Casablanca. We decided to travel first class, because here in Morocco, the little extra cost is definitely worth it for the more private seating compartments and the luxury of air conditioning. This past summer, my friend Erin and I rode many trains throughout our summer adventures, which are chronicled here and I have to say that the trains in Morocco are certainly more romantic than the Amtrak version that I have experienced previously. On the train to Casa, we rode in style in our own compartment with plushy seats and curtains that could be drawn if we didn't want anyone in the outside corridor to see in.

We arrived in Casablanca at around 11:00 AM. Upon leaving the train station, we were immediately hailed by a cab driver named Hicham. Initially, we thought that we would walk around the city, and so politely told Hicham no, thank you, but after he showed us a map (information is apparently free) and pointed out that most of the places we wanted to visit were a rather far walk, we decided to take him up on his offer to drive us around for five hours for the price of 100 dirhams each. Now, I feel the need to clarify at the outset that we all had a pretty good idea that we were getting scammed, but Casablanca is a much bigger city than Rabat, and given our inadequate level of preparation for our day trip, we decided that having Hicham as our chauffeur was worth the $15 US. So, all six of us piled into Hicham's taxi and we were off!

Our first stop was the old Portuguese Kasbah, which is now a restaurant, and very unimpressive compared to the one in Rabat. Much more interesting was the fact that the Kasbah is located right near the port, and affords a view of the massive ships docked there. Rabat is a fairly small, quiet city, and that fact was really brought home when faced with the physical evidence of Casa's role as an economic center in Morocco. Located right near the Kasbah is Rick's Cafe, which I'm sure all of you Casablanca fans are familiar with. This Rick's Cafe was opened in 2003 or 2004 by an American and is a major tourist destination. We took pictures, but did not go inside.

Next on the list was the Hassan II Mosque. This was probably the highlight of our trip, and rightfully so as the structure is gorgeous, majestic, and absolutely immense. Hicham explained that this mosque was built in the 1980s by King Hassan II after the image presented by a sura in the Koran of a mosque built on the sea facing Mecca. The Hassan II mosque does indeed stretch over the ocean and is the second largest mosque in the world after Mecca. The whole structure is built out of creamy, pale stone with aquamarine mosaics. The detailing in the ornamental tile work around the doorways and water fountains was incredible and all of the doors, walls, and ceilings are intricately carved. The plaza outside the mosque is so vast, I was reminded of standing in St. Peter's Square in the Vatican, and ends with a sheer drop into the ocean below. It was so funny walking around this mosque and seeing all of the little kids who go to the Koranic school next door darting between the European and American tourists who have come to see the only mosque that gives guided tours in Morocco. We decided not to take the tour as we will be heading back to Casablanca with AMIDEAST on one of our weekend trips and the tour is included in that trip.

When we returned to the cab, starry eyed and slightly overwhelmed after the trip to the mosque, Hicham took us through this random shanty town to an outlook that affords a great view of the mosque jutting out into the Atlantic. It was so strange standing on this strip of land covered with bottle caps and broken glass from beer bottles staring at the mosque on one side and the slum on the other. Hicham told us that during Ramadan the mosque is mostly full, which is impressive given that I think he said it fits 25,000, despite the fact that in Morocco people, especially the young people are free to do as they please. He said it was the young people's own choice to drink beer and hang out with their girl friends, but that it was better to do it out of sight of the mosque, as the building and what it stands for still needs to be respected.

Hicham also took us through some of the more touristy, beachfront areas with the hotels, and the pools, and the nicest McDonald's I've ever seen in my life. One of the beaches is even called Miami Plage, which I thought was hilarious. He drove us through the wealthy neighborhoods where houses are very expensive, but instead of having us walk around there, he took us to this little island, which can be walked to when the tide is out, where 12 poor Moroccan families live in an old fortress that was built by either the Portuguese or the Spanish (I forget which) in the 16th century. The men of these families make their living by fishing, which they do in these rubber inner tubes, which are also used to ferry people to and from the island when the tide is in. The women are fortune tellers who practice their trade by melting bits of tin and reading the signs that the metal makes when dropped in cold water. Hicham took us right into the settlement, which was incredible with its aging, white walls, tiny homes honeycombed throughout the structure, and finally, at the very top, stunning view of the Atlantic. Some of Casa's main draws are its beaches and upscale shopping, but I was glad that Hicham took us to this unglamorous, decidedly rough around the edges area where real Moroccans make their living.

Our last historic site visit was to the old Sacred Heart Cathedral built by the Spanish. I don't think it's a functioning church anymore, as the alter and pews were no where to be found and the building was currently housing an art exhibition, which was cool in its own right. Three of the other girls and I walked up the 120, pigeon poop encrusted stairs to the very top of the building. We were literally standing on the roof of the cathedral, no guard rail or anything, staring out at the city of Casablanca. It was intense!

After the cathedral was when things started to get a little sketchy. Let me say again, that we knew what we were getting into when we decided to stick with Hicham, and I don't regret our decision at all. The man was very friendly, chatted to us in Arabic and English, showed us pictures of his little baby, and gave us lots of friendly advise and information about Casablanca and our study of the Arabic language. He took pictures of us at every site we visited and let us wander around as long as we wanted. After the cathedral, though, we began to meet some of Hicham's friends. The first ones, own a tradition pharmacy. We were ushered inside, sat down, and given a demonstration of some tradition herbal remedies. We saw herbs and spices that help with colds and digestive difficulties, henna for dying skin, lips, and hair, cremes and oils for softening the skin, and musk for scenting the body and the home. The pharmacist answered all of our questions and let us test out his products. It was a really cool experience to have had and I love the rose scenting moisturizer that I purchased.

Out most uncomfortable encounter came at the carpet shop. As soon as we walked in I knew that none of us were walking out without a carpet. We were ushered into a back room, sat down and shown every kind of carpet the store owned. I tried to set the tone of the meeting by saying that we were poor students and asking how much something cost, but the owner was having none of it. He deftly refused giving any prices and said he would give us good rates. We saw carpet, after gorgeous carpet being unfolded and placed into piles when someone expressed an interest in a particular piece. After every one of us had a good sized pile of rugs in front of us the manager asked if we wanted tea. At this point I was feeling decidedly uncomfortable, but some of the other girls were ready to do some serious bargaining and the tea was sent for regardless of my trepidation. The manager and his assistant had us go through our piles and choose which rugs we were most interested in, and then the bargaining began.

The manager would take us aside, one at a time and break out the calculator, whispering and writing down numbers on a sheet of paper. When my turn came, I had narrowed down my choice to one white carpet covered with Berber designs in red, blue, and yellow. It's big enough to be spread on a bed and I though it would look lovely on my crimson duvet at home. Well, I was only willing to spend $100 US, as that's all my bank account could afford to take, and when the manager gave me his opening offer of 2,000 dirhams (300 US), I flat out told him no. He kept lowering by degrees, and I kept telling him that I simply did not have the money. H finally stopped at 1,300 dirham, saying that it was the price he would give his sister, and I did really want the rug, but it was too much. After some serious thinking, mental calculations, and a call to my mom, I decided to hell with it, I was going to buy a rug in Morocco sometime or another, and went ahead and purchased it, knowing full well that I was probably paying too much. I wasn't the only one though. Five of us bought carpets, and I was pretty proud of the fact that I managed to get mine at almost half price, even if my bargaining strategy was simply repeating that I didn't have money over and over again. All in all, the rug shop adventure was a little stressful but also quite humorous. The experience of sitting in this rug shop with this little Moroccan man whispering prices me in heavily accenting English as I absently sipped tea and attempted mental dirham to dollar conversions was totally surreal and certainly laughable in hindsight. It was clear that all six of us had been suckered into a situation that had spiraled slightly out of our control, and the most we could do was sit back and enjoy how the events unfolded. I really do love the rug I purchased, and for about $150 US, I really can't complain. I can now say that I've had my inevitable tourist scamming experience and move on with it.

After the rug shop we convinced Hicham to drop us at the train station and ten minutes later we were on the train back to Rabat. Upon arriving home, I showed my host family my rug, and although my host mom told me I payed way too much and should never buy things like that without her, my host dad seemed to think I did OK for myself and Ranya and Sarah just found the whole situation hilarious. My host mom promised to take me to the market in Rabat next time I want to make a big purchase and show me where the good stores are and how to get a good price.

All in all, the Casablanca trip was certainly a great experience, a ton of fun, and produced many fabulous memories. I think that I did well for my first voyage outside Rabat and it was heartening to note that I can be a good tourist as well as a good student. I now think that I will be able to approach longer trips outside Rabat with more confidence and experience, and can hardly wait for my next adventure!