Menke in Meknés

My new bestie :)

Wed, 21 Mar 2012 18:49:15 +0000

My new bestie :)

The Moroccan babies I got to play with this afternoon

Wed, 21 Mar 2012 18:47:47 +0000

The Moroccan babies I got to play with this afternoon

Chaouen.

Mon, 19 Mar 2012 17:45:30 +0000

Chaouen.

The view from our balcony Hotel Tarik, Tangier

Fri, 16 Mar 2012 20:51:01 +0000

The view from our balcony
Hotel Tarik, Tangier

another beautiful morning in Meknes.

Tue, 13 Mar 2012 00:00:00 +0000

another beautiful morning in Meknes.

meet my friends: Joe the Camel, Jasmine the Camel, Camel Camel...

Mon, 12 Mar 2012 00:00:00 +0000

meet my friends:

Joe the Camel, Jasmine the Camel, Camel Camel Camel Camel.

Just some normal Moroccan farm animals.

Joe the Camel, Jasmine the Camel, Camel Camel Camel Camel.

Sun, 11 Mar 2012 00:00:00 +0000

The following day, Sunday, a small group of ISA students as well as Moroccan students from our shared campus, Moulay Ismail, were taking part in a mission’s trip to a village about an hour and a half away. (Afterwards we went to a friend of ISA’s farm outside of Meknes to have a picnic lunch and one of the most interesting parts of the farm was that the front field was home to many camels, because apparently that’s a normal farm animal in Morocco…) We had spent a week collecting clothing donations, computers from the campus, blankets, and monetary donations. In order to participate all of the ISA students donated 100 ds, which equates to $12.50 and the Moroccan students donated 50 ds, which all went towards buying blankets since it had been an unusually cold winter in Morocco compared to those in the recent past.

We all boarded the bus together and drove about two hours to a school where students from the surrounding area studied and in most instances lived, due to the fact that their actual homes were a significant number of miles from the school. There were three classrooms with students of mixed ages, ranging from Pre-K to Middle School aged children and we were invited into each classroom to meet the children and so that we could see where they studied and the actual kids who would be benefiting from our donations. As I believe it’s common knowledge to most people in my life, children are my absolute weakness and I am irrationally obsessed with them. I was able to converse on a basic level with at least one little boy or girl in each class and sit next to them as well as take pictures together. In the last classroom Madison and I found mini versions of ourselves, who giggled at absolutely everything that we did and we gave them googly eyes that they stuck on their hands as I showed them how to open and close their hands like opening and closing the eyes.

They laughed the entire time at us and even went as far as to smack their forehead with their palm and shake their hands in mocking disapproval. Clearly we were in love. Afterwards we were invited into the room where the students eat and showered with traditional Moroccan hospitality of beautiful delicate pastries, soda and mint tea. Despite the fact that we were the ones that were supposed to be donating items to the school, they made sure to show us how much we were appreciated and respected. Inside of the room we all joined together, our group from Meknes and the staff and adults of the school to sing and dance in traditional Moroccan style, which is associated with celebrations, and seemingly appropriate. At the same time children began to crowd the windows of the room we were in desiring to watch the show and also in want of our sweets that were neglected at this point. Madison led a revolt and began to hand the children pastries through the window with support from various other ISA and Moroccan students, so that we could share with them who truly deserved it. After celebrating we went outside and passed out the blankets to various students as well as colored pencils, the clothing and the computers and took group pictures with all of the students and staff.

I realized in the crowd that I had silly bandz in my purse still from my pre-departure week of adventures and felt the need to give them away to the kids, since I knew for a fact that I didn’t need them. Madison and I then took the opportunity to sneak back into the classroom where our mini ones were and take pictures with them. Inside the classroom one of the older girls, who was a sister to a younger girl that I had given a blanket to, asked specifically to take a picture with me. And by one picture, she actually wanted to take at least ten where she hugged me from different angles and shook her hands in excitement and kissed me multiple times on the cheek.

I was taken aback by the fact that I had so positively impacted her life all because I gave a blanket to her sister, a blanket that cost $10, something that I take for granted every night of my life. Shortly after, as we were interacting with the kids I spotted a little girl following behind her father and played peek-a-boo with her for a few minutes behind her dad’s legs. Her father noticed me and pushed his daughter forward to me, asking me to take pictures with her, which I was more than happy to oblige.

But the strange part was that had happened multiple times prior in the short time we were there as the parents that were present with their children stopped us to have us hug their children and take pictures with us, it seemed like they wanted to thank us but also we seemed to represent something more than that to them. When we were inside the building with the snacks mothers held their children up to the barred window so that we could shake their hands, and it’s not that I find that strange, I think instead I was humbled. Maybe I took from it a different perception than it’s actual meaning but it seemed like just touching us was impactful to the students and their families, it was clear they were incredibly thankful for all we had done for them but it also seemed like we represented something more, like hope, or good luck. In my opinion, and it’s in no way an attempt to ridicule myself, but in reality I am an average white American girl and nothing about me strikes me as extraordinary in a crowd of people from around the world. The fact that my presence, our presence, was so significant to these children and their families was an image that I will never forget. I realized that this is what I want out of life, to help others however small it may be, wherever I can, and to help inspire hope… and of course play with children, I did say I was obsessed :)

-xx, A.

monkey see, monkey do.

Sat, 10 Mar 2012 00:00:00 +0000

This particular Saturday was to be spent hiking in the High Atlas Mountains between Ifrane and Azrou, two towns located at the foot of the mountains. We drove first to Ifrane which is an extremely European town, and is actually has the coldest recorded temperatures and is on average the coldest city in all of Africa, which is a pretty cool statistic to have on such a large continent. It’s also possible to go skiing in this area as well, which are also the only places in Africa to go skiing as well. Ifrane is very quiet, extremely extremely clean and has a small village feel to it from the architecture down to the environment of the city. One of the main features of the town is it’s giant lion statue, or as I like to refer to him “Aslan”, that stands in tribute to the Atlas lions that used to roam freely throughout the Atlas Mountains.

After a short break for coffee, a typical feature of any of our excursions we all walked over to the lake, which was a two minute total walk around its entirety, but very pretty.

We then got back on the bus headed for breakfast at the house of our mountain climbing guide. The group was invited into his house for a typical Moroccan breakfast of fried bread, assorted types of bread, hard boiled eggs, jam, butter, olives, hot mint tea and coffee. Afterwards we all followed our guide through the giant field behind his house and began our ascent up the side of the giant mountain that hovered before us. The mountainside was filled with cedar and pine trees and we were even able to find some snow on our climb, perfectly suited for snowballs and hiked and hiked for around three hours total. It was a perfect day for hiking, just warm enough for my Northface and we went at a pretty leisurely pace, although it did get rougher at certain points in terms of the steepness. About two hours into the hike we reached a tree where wild monkeys were hanging out. The monkeys quickly climbed down as we approached and we were able to feed them nuts and bread right out of our hands. At one point they even took a water bottle out of the hands of one of the members of the group.

Their skill level and intelligence was startling, they were like mini creepy humans and they made sure to get exactly what they wanted out of us while we got a significant number of pictures out of it too so I’m certain it was a fair trade for everyone. Afterwards we continued on our hike and reached a clearing to a road where our bus was waiting to drive us a little farther so we could hike an additional hour up the mountain to the overlook. (I still don’t comprehend the hiking three hours in order to meet the bus, but at least it was a nice day to hike) The bus wasn’t able to drive down the road due to the low hanging branches so we instead hiked about another half hour until we reached the summit of the mountain and were able to look out at the land far below us and all the progress we had made. It was really inspiring to be able to look down and realize that we had in fact climbed all that way to reach this point, which obviously made the entire hike worth it.

Returning back to the bus I was in a smaller group as we had waited behind for a few of the other students so five of us including one of our directors found ourselves lost alongside a road and the woods with no view of the bus or any other group members. After wandering aimlessly down the road and running up and down an extremely large hill leading into the woods we realized we had been traveling the wrong direction for a solid half hour. We thus attempted to retrace our footsteps and lo and behold, found the bus waiting for us a good mile in the opposite direction from where we had been traveling. Finally reaching the bus we continued on to Azrou which is another small mountain town, but more Moroccan in its appearance and atmosphere where we had lunch and free time to explore but in our case collapse, drink water and eat sustenance, before a solid nap on the bus ride home.

-xx, A.

was that a dream? tangiers?

Sat, 03 Mar 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Our friends Olivia, Bre and Caroline were headed to Tangier for a daytrip on Saturday because Caroline was headed to Spain for the weekend and Tangier is the town in Morocco that you go to in order to take the ferry across to Spain. I had wanted to go to Tangier for a while now because I had heard it was a beautiful town and had my favorite thing in a place, a beach. I recruited Madison and Tina, my roommate that does fantastic hair styling, (which you can see in the picture of Gus and I from Tina’s birthday party) and Gus was already attending, as the home stay ladies had previously invited him. We all spent Friday night at our apartment because we have ample couch/sleeping space and we were headed out of Meknes on the 3am train so we figured it was best to all be in one place. As a result of all of always having fun when together, coupled with the need to leave at an ungodly hour we all ended up staying up and talking and messing around until we left Mimousa (our apartment complex) at 230am to make our way across town to the train station. When we arrived at the train station we all purchased our tickets and were lucky enough to have our train delayed and get to wait until 330am which we occupied by witnessing Bre and Madison attempt to feed the stray cat wandering around the station hard boiled eggs and bread. Finally our train (to Hogwarts.. yes I made that reference) arrived and we boarded the second class section which is where we had bought tickets for as they are significantly cheaper than the first class section. We found seats together on a semi-dark car and attempted to sleep until we realized that we had to switch trains after only around forty minutes of traveling. We quickly reboarded our second train, the one that ended in Tangier, and wandered through car after car in an attempt to find any open seats relatively close together. We finally reached almost the last car on the train where we were greeted by loud Moroccan singing by an extremely large sprawled out-group of adolescent and teenage Moroccan boys. We were forced to break up into pairings as Tina & Bre found seats together at the rear of the train, Caroline & Olivia went to another quieter car, and Gus, Madison and myself found seats together rather in the middle of the car. As soon as the train left the platform the lights went off in the car and the boys began singing, but rather almost yelling at the top of their lungs music that would probably have been better appreciated at a quieter volume and not at such an ungodly hour of the morning. The boys also were also very fond of not been discreet but rather ogling Madison and myself for a significant amount of the trip, and by a significant amount of the trip I mean three and a half out of the four hours. They went as far as to switch seats with one another so they could all take turns looking at us. (By the way we were dressed conservatively and had put little effort into our overall appearance inclusive of lacking makeup and wearing glasses, and in case anyone wasn’t already aware, Madison hadn’t brushed her hair either) In addition to showing off for one another and even going as far as to attempt to hit on us and comment on us in Arabic, one even imitated some not so appropriate things with his hand. About two hours into this party we had already quickly approached the temporary insanity portion of the night and Madison made a point to pull out her Swiss Army knife and proceed to clean her fingernails and we passed it back and forth a couple times, demonstrating our various “skills” with a knife considering they didn’t know English and we were hoping our gestures would serve their purpose instead. In addition to the lovely commentary and sightseeing embodied by our train ride, it became freezing cold on the train as there was no heat and I was situated right next to the window on a fast moving train at four in the morning wearing a ridiculous outfit comprised of yoga capri pants, a tank top, a thin cardigan and Sperry’s because the Weather Channel told me it was supposed to be a high in the 70s for the day. We finally arrived in Tangier right around 7am and were extremely cranky, hungry and cold, speaking for the group as a whole. We quickly downed coffee at the small stand within the train terminal and attempted to figure out what time to catch a return train that afternoon. We did the math on the arriving trains since you could only see the next four departures and arrivals and figured out trains leave for Meknes every hour and a half so we would be able to catch a 330pm train home, which left plenty of time to explore the city. Venturing outside we intended to catch a cab to the ferry terminal since we weren’t sure it’s exact location but as soon as we walked outside we were quickly flocked upon, as it was clear we were not only foreign but also uncertain. Repeatedly we were asked if we needed a ride to the port but were charged outrageous prices of 40 and 30ds for a grand taxi ride per each taxi, and normal prices are 3ds a person, so we instead choose to find our own way there and hoofed it. We walked down the boulevard straight ahead of us and found the beach less than a block away. The sun was in its beginning stages of rising and we could see the port in the distance a few miles away so we figured we could save money and warm up simultaneously, but due to our varying levels of irritation we parted ways. Madison, Bre and Gus played on the swings on the beach as a preferred way to spend the morning while Olivia, Tina and I continued walking with Caroline to the port since she needed to catch a ferry to Spain.

After securing Caroline her ticket we walked across the street to a grouping of restaurants that were located within European-style buildings and found a kind old man who happened to be enjoying his breakfast of hashish and offered us omelets, bread and mint tea all for 10 ds, which is less than $1.50 (Sorry for the constant recounting of money, I feel like I’m consistently making an itemized list of expenditures but in reality it’s my attempts at portraying the clear difference between cost of living between Morocco, my new home, and the US, which is everything that I’m used to) and we were seated in the patio to soak in the sun that was warming by the minute. After breakfast we parted ways with Caroline as she went to the port to continue her journey to Spain and we decided to walk up the hill in front of us into the Medina of Tangier. Due to Tangier’s status as an incredibly popular tourist destination (as a result of its entryway into Morocco and exit to Spain), the entire medina had posted street names and multiple maps with routes through the medina and sites to visit.

It was unusual because the medina’s in all of the other cities we had visited, including within Meknes where we live, are not labeled or deciphered in such a way and it’s more of a constant adventure to explore and find your way through. We walked through various streets of the medina and found mosques, which are always a signature feature, many brightly colored houses and friendly residents. We followed a path highlighted to us around the medina by man we had met in passing to the scenic overlook of the medina. We ducked through a broken portion of a gate in the wall of the medina and found ourselves looking out at the Atlantic Ocean to Spain and a view of the port from atop the Medina.

After getting some good photos and making our own commentary of what we were seeing from all angles we decided to continue walking back through the medina, in an effort to get down to the beach. We walked along the wall of the medina and decided to stop at a café to get some caffeine and change into our swimsuits. We thus left the medina pleased with our exploration efforts and walked back down the palm tree and cannon replica lined boulevard back in the direction of the beach. On one side of the boulevard are various streets that lead farther into Tangier and the newer part of town while the other side of the street is the water and on the street side the beach is lined with outdoor clubs, apparently the nightlife in Tangier is a huge attraction in itself. We reached the beach and decided to walk along the water in the direction of the train station so that eventually we would be closer when it was time to go later in the afternoon (we also passed a camel randomly chilling out in the sand on the way, clearly it was someone’s camel but they were nowhere in sight, just another normal wildlife experience in Morocco apparently).

The only downside of the beach is that it’s littered with trash in large quantities and with no discrimination in terms of the placement. The most difficult part was thus finding a place to lay on the sand, but the legitimacy of the sand itself and the beauty of the ocean far outweighed the temporary issue of the trash. Realizing it wasn’t nearly as warm as we had anticipated we didn’t really strip down to our bathing suits, preferring rather to roll up our pants and take off the cardigans and lay on our towels. After about an hour or so we looked up to see our fellow American travel companions walking towards us as they had explored the city separately on their own after the swings split and wanted now to spend time on the beach. We laid out for a few more hours before we decided to get lunch at a nearby restaurant, the best part of which was the “tsh tsh tsh” noise that our waiter made the entirety of our time there. Following lunch we decided to walk back to the train station an hour early in order to buy our tickets and wait around a little before leaving, especially since the lack of sleep had finally caught up with us and we were all happy with our experience but entirely exhausted. Arriving at the station we looked at the new departure times that were listed and realized with disdain that our train out wasn’t at three like we had factored, but rather at 530pm instead. We decided to trek the few blocks back to the beach and lay in the sun to spend our time. After a half hour a group of Moroccan children came to show off their gymnastics moves in front of us, which continued on in various formats until they eventually got closer and closer with their kicking of sand and eventually attempts to pull us into the ocean that led to us in short getting kicked off the beach by a group of eight year olds. We then decided to do the only rational thing at this point, go to McDonald’s and sit in the heat and eat McFlurry’s. (Yes they have McDonald’s, yes this really did happen and as a side note here’s the story about McDonald’s in Morocco: It’s priced relatively similar to the prices in the U.S the menu is much more limited with it’s options including a lack of breakfast, the uniforms are much more legitimate and nicer for the employees, and they blast club music at volumes that make you question whether you should be enjoying your hamburger or dancing on the benches. Also, Moroccans call it MacDoh) We decided to cave after spending way too much time at Mickey D’s and return back to the train station where we proceeded to sit on benches and nod off like narcoleptics until it was finally time to board our train back to Meknes, where we would surely return to our beds and sleep soundly throughout the entire night into Sunday afternoon and forever question whether or not Tangier actually happened as a sure result of sleep deprivation. Also as a last comment, the train ride on the way back was fantastic, the seats were super comfortable, the car had heat and it was quiet enough to read our assigned journals for class on Monday.

-xx, A.

detour to the beach, detour to the beach, detour to the beach!

Sat, 25 Feb 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Prior to our excursion to Rabat on Saturday, the man we met in Chefchaouen, Daniel (see Amsterdam of Morocco post) had come to stay with us for a day on Thursday and we had showed him around Meknes and the medina. We thought that maybe at most he would be staying another night because he said that he wanted to see the ruins of Voluibilis on Friday but it ended up turning into him staying on our couch until Sunday afternoon due to the fact that he proclaimed he was sick (which led to miscommunication on all sides of the apartment and nearly started WWIII, crisis adverted, no one be concerned). So we had invited friends over Friday night to play games and introduce Daniel to a few of our ISA friends, so a bunch of us hung out and ate and played Sombrero (a combination of charades and taboo, Gus has previously taught us how to play) which continued much later into the night than it probably should have. Bright and early the next morning we all got ready and left for our excursion to Rabat, which is the capital of Morocco and situated scenically on the coast of the country.

It is extremely popular as a tourist location due to its various historical monuments and overall attractions. We started off the day with a brisk walk through a part of the city closest to the water, where we were told the buildings are painted blue as a deterrent to mosquito’s (good to know to keep mosquito’s away in the future) and walked to the site where the lighthouse used to sit, which overlooked the beach and the water surrounding Rabat. Next we walked over to the Andalusia Gardens, which are a common feature in Morocco I’ve come to figure out after various tours of cities that all contain similar gardens. The gardens now house a museum of Moroccan art, which would have been interesting to view if we had been given the opportunity. Continuing on our tour we got back onto our bus to venture across town to Chellah, which are historical ruins located within a garden.

According to my trusty friend Wikipedia, “It is the most ancient human settlement on the mouth of the Bou Regreg River,” and one of the unique features of the ruins are the storks that nest in the ruins as serve as adjunct security, another common feature of ruins which I wouldn’t have expected. The 1755 Lisbon earthquake apparently damaged the ruins. We wandered through the ruins and different buildings and a better feature than Voluibilis was the ability to stand on top of the ruins without a man with a whistle demanding you get down.

In addition there was a pond within the gardens that housed eel, and was also where I made my first Moroccan wish with a real Moroccan coin. After the ruins we went to Hassan Tower, which is an especially symbolic feature in Rabat. Within a walled in area guarded on the outside by men in traditional garb on Andalusia horses, two hundred columns surround an unfinished minaret of a mosque. The minaret and mosque were intended to be the largest in the world but the Sultan at the time in 1199 died before it could be finished. Situated next to the Hassan Tower is the Mausoleum of Mohammad V, which contains the tombs of King Mohammad V as well as his sons King Hassan II and Prince Abdallah. It’s considered “a masterpiece of modern Alaouite dynasty architecture,” (wikipediaaa for the win) due to its white silhouette and green tiled roof.

The building is also surrounded by guards at all four corners inside the Mausoleum as well as outside by all the entrances who wear traditional garb and a few of which smile and say salaam as well. Afterwards we were taken to the part of Rabat closest to the actual medina and nearby the beach for lunch and free time. We had lunch, cheese Panini and French fries and coke zero for me, of course, promptly followed by gelato. We then wandered a few blocks to the beach which has been our primary destination all day, at least in our minds as we had attempted multiple times to detour the rest of the excursion, and on our way found a graveyard that was jam packed with graves, literally less than a foot between each one on all sides. In our scholarly research after the fact, and actually for a class that my roommates are taking, we discovered that the graves don’t necessarily have to face towards Mecca but the actual position of the bodies is so that the head is facing towards Mecca. We continued on our trek to the beach and wandered close to the water, realizing that we weren’t in fact walking on sand but rather large rock formations that had been weathered over time by the wind and waves. We ventured semi-close to the water’s edge but realized we couldn’t actually walk along the shore because it was a good fifteen foot drop to the water, although multiple times the water came up and over the edge of the embankment right where Chelsea, Tina and Bre were sitting (it was like watching people in the splash zone at the aquarium, as Madison and I were sitting a little farther back and it was actually more amusing at this point). We sat and enjoyed the sunshine, the smell of the saltwater, the breeze coming off the ocean, the salt in the air and watched a little boy climbing around the rocks. I realized I was immensely happy, I’ve always had a strong attachment to the water, it’s usually one of my first choices as a place to go for pretty much any situation to be honest, and I love going with people that enjoy it just as much as me.

Madison and I sat together for a little over an hour and talked about life in general, Morocco, the U.S, Meknes, school, memories, and our experiences. It was a beautiful day, with just a slight breeze and it was amazing how much just sitting by the water with who has quickly become one of my favorite people could change my mood so drastically and so positively. Leaving with a much clearer head and positive overall disposition we made our way back to spot near the medina where we were set to meet and on our way passed through a plaza where carnival like goods were being peddled. Madison and I made the executive decision to stop and purchase cotton candy, of course our own separate ones because we’re children like that as a way to tide us over on the bus ride home, and let’s be honest, mostly because we just wanted cotton candy.

-xx, A.

"You don't say No, It's not an option..."

Wed, 22 Feb 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Although usually weekdays fail to get mention in my blog anymore due to their routine, despite the fact that every day is in fact a new adventure, this Wednesday was particularly significant because it was one of my close friend’s on the trip’s birthday! Madison & I, also known as Amandison, were invited to the festivities taking place at her home stay family’s house. Bre is one of the few students who elected to live in a home stay, which is an interesting experience, and one I was excited to take part in, also why it gets mentioned here. The host family owns an entire floor of the building in which they live and the three girls who live there, Bre and her roommates, Olivia and Caroline who are also students in the program, have half the apartment to themselves. We were given a tour and got to admire the elegance of the apartment itself as well as the decorations and many different sitting rooms. Also in attendance were two guys on the trip, David and Graham who are extremely talented with music of all sorts and played the piano and sang in the background, which was a nice addition to the festivities. Amandison had bought Bre presents for her birthday which we decided to give to her in two parts, Galaxy caramel bars, which are her favorite Arabic candy bar, and flowers, as well as soda and a pint of vodka, it was her 21^st after all! (The flower was an interesting side note as well, we went to buy them in the florist shop before the birthday festivities and after paying for the flowers the man handed them to me and told me that I was beautiful and wanted to give me a rose as pretty, for free, so that we would both have something to carry. Fitting in perfectly with my life in Morocco, he then handed me the rose in addition to the flowers, at least Madison was amused. And then immediately after leaving the florist we were stopped on the street by a young boy who asked if he could “Smell my flower.” Needless to say Madison was very pleased that she hadn’t been given the flowers in the first place. And it worked out perfectly because Amandison decided it would be a nice touch to give the rose to Bre’s host mother, also known as majda.) After giving Bre her presents everyone gathered in the dining/sitting room for dinner. Bre’s host family which includes Majda, her host mom, Mamoun, her host brother, Aziza and Miriam, their two housekeepers, as well as Caroline, Olivia, David, Graham, Madison, Bre and myself, all gathered around a fantastically tight table for a celebratory and traditional Moroccan dinner of Rotisserie chicken, rice, French fries, bread, and CocaCola. (It’s typical to go out to eat in Morocco and get half rotisserie chicken, rice cooked inside the chicken, French fries, and bread for around 20ds, which is like $2.50) I had previously told Olivia, since she had planned the entire night as a surprise for Bre with Caroline, that I didn’t eat meat to warn the housekeepers after I had already encountered the awkwardness that comes with turning down a meal prepared for you due to dietary restrictions (see tajine dinner with Abdul) so the housekeepers had made me a special salad of potatoes and carrots which were spicy and delicious as well as ample amounts of plain white rice, French fries and the always present bread. Dinner in a home stay is apparently always an experience as food is pushed onto your plate over and over again until you feel like you might just burst from the amount of food you have ingested, as it’s not customary to decline food and therefore very difficult to refuse, but at least it’s delicious. After dinner we got to experience a typical part of the nightlife in the home stay, dancing with Majda, who teaches belly dancing and very much enjoys music. Daniel and Graham played the drums and sang while all of the girls were roped into dancing, which was interesting to say the least. After the music died down and we were tired out it was time for cake. Aziza and Miriam had made Bre what they thought of as a traditional American birthday cake in order to feel more like a birthday at home and was a yellow and white cake combined with a brownie, chocolate fudge and epic amounts of frosting. It was ridiculously delicious and made me miss home, and cake. We stayed around for a little while longer and got to enjoy a family like feel and solid conversation of memories back home with Caroline, Olivia and Bre before Amandison realized it was time to part for the night around eleven pm to get homework done, or something along those lines.

-xx, A.

Chefchaouen, The Amsterdam of Morocco.

Sat, 18 Feb 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Easily my favorite city in the entirety of Morocco, Chefchaouen is known as the “blue city” due to its overwhelming color correlation and architecture, but it should also go by another nickname as the Amsterdam of Morocco. Chefchaouen is situated about an hour from Tangier, which is the northern-most point of Morocco in regards to its position with Spain, and the city from which you can leave to go to Spain. Due to its proximity to the Spanish border and the shore of Morocco, Chefchaouen is a clear tourist destination and I was more surprised than I should have been at the number of clear foreigners idling in the city, as well as the vast language ability of the native population. One of the huge selling points of the touristy part of the city is that almost everyone you encounter is extremely eager to offer you hashish and assist you in securing some if you are so inclined. It was most certainly the most common point of conversation and it got very repetitive to have to keep declining, in our most polite attempts. (At one point someone even jumped out from behind a rock on our trail that I talk about a little later, it got real intense.) Upon arriving to the city we were exhausted after our seven-hour bus ride following a late night out the night before with our Meknes friends and solely wanted to find our hostel. The petite taxis that took us to the center part of the medina from the bus station passed through the majority of the new part of the town, which was completely painted in blue. The guardrails and construction were even blue and every building seemed to have some blue on it somewhere. Upon arriving to the medina we were approached by various Moroccans who wanted to guide us to our hostel, Riad Baraka, as clearly we were foreign, carrying luggage, and looked slightly lost. The thing about tour guides is not that they aren’t friendly and helpful, but rather that in some places they are slightly pushy and always are looking to make money. Considering the lack of street signs for the most part and our confusion with the medina we chose to take one of the extremely kind men up on their offer and he guided us the roundabout way to our hostel for the night. Riad Baraka is located in a very central part of the medina and is owned by an extremely friendly and gregarious British lady (and I would highly recommend it if anyone is in need of a place to stay in Chefchaouen in the foreseeable future) and she guided us through the hostel.

The interior was beautiful, four floors and modernly furnished although the paintings and decorations made sure to relay the Moroccan environment in which it was situated. The layout of the hostel actually reminded me of a Baltimore row house, which made me that much more comfortable. Our bedroom, which I shared with my roommate Chelsea, was a queen bed and remarkably comfortable, almost like a cloud compared to the plywood and mattress that I sleep on nightly in Meknes (although I appreciate having a bed, I’m not complaining, it could always be worse). The best part of the hostel though was the beautiful rooftop that had two levels, ample sitting space and was gorgeously painted. The rooftop even had a heated sitting room where there was a large collection of DVDs able to lounge and watch a movie under the stars. We decided to unload our bags and venture around the city since we were only intending to stay for twenty-four hours. Since there were four of us we realized that it would make the most sense to split up because we had forgotten to secure our return bus tickets for the next afternoon so Genaro and Chelsea returned to the bus station while Gus and myself ventured through the city in order to find a place for dinner. We wandered out of the medina and into the new part of the city which was more modern and less crowded since there is more space between buildings and areas. We walked around for a while and admired murals, which were adorned with blue as well as a few garden areas before we met back up and found a restaurant that specialized in seafood in order to get lunch. Since we were close to the shore and the prices were fairly cheap Genaro, Chelsea and I decided to all get the seafood special plates which were filled with a montage of seafood, including calamari, shrimp, entire fried fish, anchovies, and French fries, and was by far the most delicious meal I’ve had since arriving in Morocco. Following the restaurant we wandered back into the medina and decided to stroll around, stopping into various shops and talking to Moroccans until we found the main square within the medina. Different from other cities that we had been into up until this point, the main square in Chefchaouen was situated across from a mosque/museum and around a gated extremely large pine tree that was decorated in beautiful lights. All of the restaurants had patios that catered to relaxing in the night area and was an amazing place to enjoy a mint tea and sit under the stars. On our way back to the hostel we got approached by another man who seemed incredibly friendly and me being the naïve person that I am assumed wanted to converse and that I would solely be making another Moroccan friend. He was also fluent in Spanish and I had the opportunity to practice my language skills for a solid twenty minutes, which reaffirmed that when placed in a critical situation I am much better at Spanish than I let myself believe, a real confidence booster and highlight of the trip. Despite his friendly demeanor he ended up taking us to his Berber friend’s shop that attempted to persuade us to buy all sorts of rugs and herbs in order to solve all sorts of problems in our life. Now we aren’t the type to buy things for the sake of buying considering one, we live in Morocco and can purchase souvenirs any time the mood strikes, and two, already have a loveable Berber friend Abdul who I’d prefer to buy Berber goods from (see Prophet Mohammad’s Birthday Celebrations post…) so it was a solid twenty minutes spent trying to politely refuse to purchase anything despite the insistence that he was a good hardworking multi-lingual man with a wife, multiple children, girlfriend in Hawaii and therefore we should most certainly purchase something because clearly I needed it. (I also got repeatedly told I was beautiful and that I clearly wanted something and/or would buy something because I have an inability to say no in most situations and due to the language barrier I usually smile and say minimal with my obnoxiously large doe eyes which I think is taking as a sign of enjoyment… we return back to this later.. Arabic language reference for you there.) After repeated protests and finally a firmer goodbye from our good friend Gus, thank goodness for him by the way, he’s gotten me out of many an awkward situation, we finally left the shop to be greeted by our always helpful guide who had been waiting outside and demanded payment for taking us to the Berber shop, though I thought we were just going to be friends!, and despite the fact that Genaro had already purchased him a pack of cigarettes at this point. We thus decided it was in our best interest to attempt to wander back to the hostel by ourselves at this point and spent the remainder of the night on the rooftop enjoying the city, potentially watching a movie, and maybe cracking open a bottle of wine. And of course, I stopped a purchased a Kinder Bueno on the way. (Seriously, they need these in America) We returned to Riad Baraka and ventured to the roof, taking some nighttime shots over the medina and admired the stars as the city is situated between the Atlas Mountains and the hostel itself is perfectly placed in the middle of the medina. The four of us decided to watch a movie inside the heated room as it was still fairly chilly at this point in February and picked out the Tree of Life since it was independent and we were certain we had heard great things about it. I can honestly say I wandered out of the heated room to sit in the cold under the starts instead after an hour after witnessing both boys sleeping beside me although Chelsea maintained it would have to get better and persisted to watch. She instead told me it was a wrong decision but had made a great Australian friend who was also staying at the hostel in the process. Finally we all adjourned for the evening and collapsed quickly into our lovely plush heaven-like beds. In the morning we were served breakfast complementary with our stay at the hostel (which by the way was less than $2 for the night) after a fantastic shower in the most beautiful bathroom I have ever seen. The breakfast was a delicious yogurt and fresh fruit parfait, fresh squeezed orange juice, hot mint tea, and a marochia, which is my favorite pastry coated with chocolate on the outside and filled with a delicious almond filling. Afterwards the kind British lady, by the way she has the most adorable accent, let us keep our bags in her room so we could roam around the city and potentially hike up the mountain. She gave the directions to the mountain, over the city view to Gus, because after the previous night’s events I had proved that I wasn’t capable to navigate anywhere, which is also very true if you’ve ever been in a car with me as a driver or passenger, and we found ourselves walking around the side of the entire medina until we reached a road that passed over a stream with the cutest baby waterfall where Chefchaouens (I definitely just made that term up but I much rather prefer it to calling any citizen “natives”) were washing their clothes and hanging them to dry on the roof of the pavilion situated on the river. We crossed the road and headed up a path up the mountain where Chelsea decided to run because she wanted exercise ( I was wearing boots, plus I usually only run when chased ji ji ji) while Gus, Genaro and I decided to stroll up instead. We spent the majority of the walk joking and carrying on, per usual and since we couldn’t see the end in city found a giant side of the mountain and decided it would be a splendid idea to detour from the paved path and climb up instead. Gus leaped up the way with his terrific climbing shoes and eagerness to take pictures at the top with an overlook of the entire city, while Genaro and I scrambled up slowly due to Genaro’s converses (not appropriate anything shoes) and my dire fear of falling and sliding/somersaulting backwards down the mountain. Also I failed to mention that this was an extremely vertical climb, always an added bonus. Upon reaching the top a good few minutes ahead of us Gus scrambled back down as he realized it was private property and someone was yelling in Arabic, and of course once again led the way ahead back down the path. Genaro who had invested a good deal of effort into the climb up, at one point on hands and knees (I wish I could have videoed this for austerity) was slow to have to come back down and I stood in panic as I envisioned myself falling in slow circles back down so instead slid as quickly and slowly as I could on a sideways slant to the beginning of our ascent. Continuing on the path once we all safely reached level ground, we climbed further up the mountain, this time following the paved and clearly right trail, and finally made it to the lookout point, a Spanish mosque that had a beautiful overlook of the entire medina/city as well as mountains on all sides. We took a lovely family photo of Genaro, Gus and I and were invited by Chelsea to continue a trek up the mountain to a nearby village (nearby meaning at least two hours) with her newfound friends from Canada & the States (she has a tendency to make friends with other random travelers, always an added bonus in most situations). Deciding against it considering how things had worked out to this point in our own journey we instead wanted to trek to the complete opposite side of the city in search of reaching the summit of Chefchaouen and its medina. We wandered back the way we came and ventured back inside the medina heading further up and up (side note, there are always intense upward walks inside any medina as they are usually built in the most strategic location, within mountains, but in Chefchaouen’s case it’s literally on a mountain) until we reached the medina wall. Walking outside the medina we wanted to actually climb up to a lookout point on the wall itself, which was built even higher on a hill, another vertical hike, and climbed up the tower upon the assistance of fellow Chefchaouens who were already situated on top. The view over the medina was astounding as it overlooked it in its entirety on a downward angle and we took more pictures to celebrate our accomplishments on demolishing Chefchaouen. The four boys that were sharing the view with us asked us to take a few pictures with them, further cementing our novelty as American tourists, and then proceeded to only ask me what my name was and how to spell it, as they cycled out of pictures with me which I will hopefully find on Facebook one day with a tag, me and my American girlfriend Amanda. (Enshallah, also translates to God Willing in Arabic, used in most situations and always appropriate, and also fitting because I learned how to correctly pronounce it on this trip and not have it sound like I’m asking for a Spanish menu item) After trekking through both sides of the city we were thoroughly exhausted and wanted to grab our bags and get lunch and meet up with Chelsea before returning to the bus station to catch our 3pm return back to Meknes. On our way back to the main plaza we stopped and bought handmade paintings of various different depictions of parts of the city for only 10ds, which was a little less than $1.25 and will fit in perfectly with my art collection from around the world, and by the world I mean the various things I’ve collected from Mexico. We waited in the main square of the medina for Chelsea to return from her worldly adventures with her newfound friends and we’re approached while waiting by a fellow American named Daniel who asked us where we were staying. He said he had just arrived in Chefchaouen and said he would love American conversation so we asked him to join us for lunch, which was at a different outdoor café. We talked about our travels and he told us he was going to be in Morocco for a few weeks so we told him if he planned to stop by in Meknes anytime in the foreseeable future to give us a call. Afterwards we caught petites to the bus station and climbed aboard for our four-hour bus trip to Fez, before our hour bus ride to Meknes to solidly end our trip. As a side note, although we only had an hour stop over in Fez which was just enough time to catch dinner I have to mention our entire dining experience since it was for sure one of the funniest parts of the trip. Genaro attempted to order shawarma, but he is extremely particular about his food and due to the apparent language barrier between us and everyone he was trying to explain what he exactly wanted with his sandwich. Add to the apparent disconnection between the waiter and Genaro the extremely loud revving of a motorbike engine less than ten feet away directly outside the entrance of the open doors of the restaurant, that conveniently seemed to happen every SINGLE time he opened his mouth to specify his order, this continued on for literally three solid minutes and Genaro only got more and more irritated on top of an extremely rough four hour bus ride, five solid hours of hiking, and lack of sleep made for a scene straight out of a comedy movie, although Genaro didn’t seem to think so. I on the other hand laughed until I cried. We had already previously established on this trip that despite the fact I am fully aware that I talk WAY too fast for any normal person (heyyy auctioneer as a potential fall back career choice), I also mumble and slur my words at times and Genaro’s first language is Spanish and he has a strong accent as well so we deduced that he cannot understand most anything that comes out of my mouth and therefore Chelsea served as our interpreter for a solid amount of the trip, although apparently this was the weekend that everyone decided to tell me that in most situations it’s very difficult to understand what I’m saying, good to know two months into the trip. After boarding our bus to Meknes at around 9pm and being accosted by a man asking us repeatedly if we were going to the desert, we finally reached Meknes, where Genaro ran off the bus at a random stoplight and left the three of us on the bus because he didn’t want to backtrack back from the bus station to our apartments since you have to pass them to get there. But as a final note, we pulled one over on him and won that round, the bus driver let us off closer and a block from our apartment buildings. See ya!

—xx, A.

fez, fes, fez.

Sun, 12 Feb 2012 00:00:00 +0000

The second day of our dual day weekend excursion was to Fez, which is another fairly close city to Meknes and also fairly large. Fez is known for having quality leather and other artisan products that can be purchased within its medina. Fez is also the last city on the pilgrimage for the Prophet’s birthday throughout the region. The local color of Fez is cobalt and everything throughout the city reflects that aside from the petite taxis which are interestingly enough red (and they are blue in Meknes, which doesn’t make much sense…) Our tour of Fez began with the palace located within the city that is housed behind a giant wall that extends for many blocks, as we stood outside the actual doors of the palace which are giant and ornate actual gold doors. While waiting for our tour guide we took various pictures in front of the doors, and were told by one of our Directors Iman to knock, which of course we took as literal and knocked, before we were yelled at from inside the palace doors which was more entertaining than I’m sure it should have been considering how inappropriate such behavior I’m sure was viewed.

Our tour guide then took us through the medina and made sure to show us the Jewish part of the town, as well as a synagogue that was prominently known to the Jewish population. It makes sense that those who were Jewish had their own portions of the town when it was founded although I was surprised at how sharp the distinction was from the street names to decorations to markings between the areas. Afterwards we went to a scenic overlook for the entirety of the city. The medina of Fez is composed of 9,500 alleys with 12,000 people and is built within a valley. Only mules and donkeys are allowed within the narrow streets and it is locationally situated between the Atlas & Reef mountains. We then went over to an artisans area where pottery was made and were able to see each step of the Moroccan process to making pottery including the wheel used, the kilns, the individual decorating of each piece, as well as the mosaic side of the artisan area where the stones are cut, pieced together, decorated and created. It was clear the amount of skill and detail put into each piece of work that came out of the shop and I wish I could have bought one of everything due to how beautiful it all was, especially the mosaic fountains and faucets. Traveling into the old Fes we visited the biggest mosque within the city, as well as the Sahrij Medersa which is known for its architecture, as usually is the case with Medersas. The narrow streets of the medina date back to 9AD and have specific sections devoted to the different trades and artisans. It was immensely interesting to see the different artisans at work throughout the medina but it wasn’t worth purchasing anything because Fes is known to be extremely touristy and thus all the prices we were given were extremely elevated (i.e. 3000 dhs for a leather jacket, around $350) First, we stopped at a silk weaving shop where a giant loom prominently featured and we watched as the machine weaved beautiful scarves and fabrics that were sold in every color imaginable throughout the shop. We saw the metal workers area where immensely large pots are kept in order to be borrowed by various town members, and went to the leather making section of town. The leather making section is easily found by its intense smell, as the tanneries exist below the shops, which even offer a scenic view of the whole experience. Upon entering the shop you are given a stem of mint in order to smell as the entirety of the four floored shop not only is filled completely top to bottom with leather, but also each floor looks out upon the various vats of dye below in which the leather is soaked and dyed as well as dried. I can easily say that the entirety of that experience has been my least favorite in all of my time spent in Morocco, that and the giant camel head that is a prominent feature within the meat souk in Meknes. In retrospect I realize that I don’t have as much to say about the state of Fez though I did extremely enjoy the day because at the time I was really very cold and it was windy and I was tired for the entirety of the day (rough life, not).

-xx, A.

Amandison at the Ruins.

Sat, 11 Feb 2012 03:00:00 +0000

Amandison at the Ruins.

Ruins, ruins and more ruins.

Sat, 11 Feb 2012 00:00:00 +0000

The following day after our potential horror movie scare was the beginning of dual day weekend excursions. Saturday we were visiting Volubilis and Moulay Idriss, both located within thirty minutes of Meknes. Volubilis is the site of an ancient Roman city, and is actually the best preserved Roman ruins in North Africa, as well as a UNESCO world heritage site. According to my scholarly resource wikipedia, “Volubilis was the administrative center of the province in Roman Africa called Mauretania Tingitana. The fertile lands of the province produced many commodities such as grain and olive oil, which were exported to Rome, contributing to the province’s wealth and prosperity. Archaeology has documented the presence of a Jewish community in the Roman period.” We had a tour guide that led us through the entirety of the town in a roughly three hour period of time and detailed to us the various rooms that existed within the many dwellings of the city. I was impressed by the extensive size of the area as it quickly became clear there must have been over 40 houses that we saw alone, not including the ones that were destroyed and not preserved. In addition, it was clear what houses royalty occupied as they contained elaborate mosaics, Jacuzzis and even fish pools. In addition, the tour guide explained to us that brothels were commonplace and referred to as the House of the Dog, and the way to find such houses was by the genitals that pointed the direction. (And which also surrounds a funny story about how our friend Gus was asked to sit on a rock at the tour by the tour guide, not realizing that underneath was a penis drawing…) He explained to us the outline of the city and it was clear to see the major road that led from the gate surrounding the ruins to the town center. I was extremely impressed to see ruins up close and the amount of detail that was put into the mosaics and architecture of the area, but after three hours of walking around ruins in the sun, anyone would be a little ‘ruined.’ (See what I did there?) We then left to go to the neighboring town, Moulay Idriss, which was about a two-minute drive away. On our way down the road into town the most exciting part of the day happened wherein the bus driver proceeded to hit a van as he was taking a corner and then simultaneously hit a donkey as well on the same side of the bus. We then all had to walk into town rather than drive as the two drivers proceeded to have it out via argument on the side of the road. On our way into town we witnessed the Saturday Souks, which is commonplace in all medinas and almost identical to a yard sale or flea market. On our tour of the medina we got to stop at a bakery, which is a pretty commonplace part of a tour of any city and we all got to eat fresh baked bread, probably one of my favorite things about Morocco. We then proceeded to have a tour guide take us through the medina and show us the symbolic mosques of the city. In addition, Mly Idriss is the next town from Meknes for the pilgrimage through Morocco for the Prophet’s birthday and has an extensive mosque that is prohibited from being entered by non-Muslims. Our tour guide also took us to a scenic overlook where I met two young children and attempted to give them American money as a memento since they were badgering tourists for money, but I don’t think they appreciated it nearly as much as I appreciated giving them something. Also, I really liked those kids because one had on a Pokémon shirt. That was actually probably my favorite point of the entire trip, not surprising.

-xx, A.

Tajine and the Making of a Horror Movie

Fri, 10 Feb 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Following another fun filled Friday of six hours of languages (Arabic and Darija), we decided to keep good on our word of going to meet Abdul for dinner at his family’s shop. Realizing that it wouldn’t be the best idea for two American girls to go to his shop by ourselves at 6:30pm on a Friday evening, we recruited more willing volunteers to attend with us (Jess, Gus, Jared, Chelsea, Tina, Madison & myself). After wandering through the Medina in an attempt to correctly backtrack our way to his shop we finally arrived a little past 6:30, which is totally keeping with Moroccan time. As we walked inside the shop we realized that all the stores that we had passed were closing for the night and that our friend Abdul even closed the door and locked it behind us once we were all inside. Although we knew full well that Abdul was a completely harmless young guy, it seemed impossible for anyone to fully relax, especially considering the awkward first initial twenty minutes wherein no one was really talking and a language barrier didn’t seem to improve that situation at all. In the meantime, we discussed what roles we would take in a horror movie and who would play our parts, which has actually become one of my favorite games since then (also on footage, to be released at a final date). Abdul kindly served us tea before dinner, which multiple people made sure to check for any signs of tampering and then served us all a large meal of what is similar to a Berber omelet, eggs boiled in tomato sauce served with Kefta, which is a ground beef like substance. Considering I don’t eat meat, I ate a significant amount of bread instead, which I felt very rude like doing, especially when Abdul repeatedly attempted to show me other ways to eat the omelet in order to get sauce and no meat, (which was not working for me, sorry Abdul) but was fine because Madison kindly offered to eat my portion of the food, saving me the trouble. After we all ate, which was apparently a very delicious meal according to my lovely friends, we proceeded to walk around the street to a very sketchy looking building under construction. Abdul took us through the building, including to the roof, where he told us this was to be his restaurant and would enshallah be opening in March. (The building played in perfectly to our horror movie scenario, since it was perfectly arranged to follow after dinner and there were minimal lights within the building) After admiring the beautiful view from the top of his soon to be restaurant, Abdul led us back out the dark and silent medina streets to the busy main thoroughfare so that we could find our way back to hamria. As our first experience entering a Moroccan home for a traditional meal, we felt that it was not only delicious but fully successful, and as an added plus, we didn’t die.

-xx, A.

Prophet Mohammed's Birthday Celebrations Weekend!

Tue, 07 Feb 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Our first weekend in Meknes all by ourselves was especially significant because we had off not only Saturday and Sunday, but also Monday and Tuesday for the Prophet’s birthday, which is a HUGE deal in Islamic countries. After celebrating Tina’s birthday Friday night and recovering Saturday which includes shopping for boots and eating nutella and drinking wine, we decided to venture to some of the bigger events happening around Meknes for the celebration weekend. The Prophet’s birthday is marked on Islamic calendars, although the day isn’t set in stone because it varies year by year, but regardless it ends up being a huge religious holiday for the country where most businesses shut down, and in this instance it was for four days practically. Also, Meknes is a cultural hub for the country and is part of a multi-location religious pilgrimage where Muslims travel during this time frame, which is further reason why the city was more hectic than normal this weekend. On Sunday we decided to venture into the city to take part in the birthday celebrations. A huge part of the celebrations is this event entitled Fantasia, which is when men on horses bum rush a field in order to all stop at the exact same time at the end of the field firing their rifles, also exactly at the same time. The group of riders actually practice throughout the year and wear traditional clothing to charge along a straight path at the same speed, forming a line, in order to fire at the end with old gunpowder guns at the same exact time. The synchronicity of the event is the hardest part since the riders want to end at the same time so that it seems as if just one gun was shot and it sounds at the same time. The actual historical significance behind the event is (according to the great historically accurate wealth of knowledge that is wikipedia, heh…) “The performance is inspired from historical wartime attacks of Berber and desert knights. Nowadays, Fantasia is considered as a cultural art and a form of martial art; it also symbolizes a strong relationship between the man and the horse, as well as an attachment to tradition.” It was pretty awesome because the crowd that gathered to watch the event took up the entirety of an area the size of a football field, and you could tell how important this event was to the culture. It was also pretty cool seeing the horses although the firing of the guns got pretty repetitive and obnoxious.The next day was Monday and as the festivities continued we decided to venture into the Medina to see how it was being celebrated there. When we first got to the Medina we decided to walk through the souks to see what was being sold and adventure around a little more since we still hadn’t fully gotten our bearings. We wandered in and out of shops looking around for things that we thought were interesting at good prices. We walked into one shop in particular which was owned by a family of Berbers, Maison de Kelim, more politically correctly known as the Amazigh people, who wanted to show us all the rugs that he owned and the various other really interesting trinkets that he had within the shop. We began talking to the young shop owner Abdul, who told us he was 23 and had studied English at Moulay Ismali. His family ran Berber shops around the world, one in Marrakech, one in Meknes, one in Paris, and another one in the U.K. The rugs he was showing us were beautiful and he explained the intricacies of each one included their purpose, the coloring behind the rugs and the detail. He also told us he particularly enjoyed talking to people all over the world and showed me his books that he had collected the signatures and notes of people who had come into the shop from all over the world. We stayed as he insisted that he wanted to give us tea as a true Berber tradition and we sat and had tea with him and he told us that a parade would be happening in front of his shop in a little bit and that we should stay to watch it.We also met his father and his brother and his grandfather, who were all present at the shop due to the celebratory nature of the weekend. In a few minutes we all pressed into the opening of the shop as it spills out onto the street (which was quite a feat considering it was Tina, Madison, Meg and myself and we were all attempting to take footage) watching as a parade carrying offerings for the Prophet marched down the street on its way to the mosque. The parade was led by men in traditional garb carrying gifts, followed by a GIANT bull, which was being led down the narrow medina streets like it was normal despite the fact that it seemed completely against what it was a part of. The parade then continued after the giant bull ambled down the street with large groups of men chanting with various musical instruments followed by the flag carriers who ended the parade.It was completely surprising to watch a complete parade appear in front of us down narrow medina streets, and even more alarming in that the parade’s main focal point was a gianormous bull who didn’t see fit for a normal sized paved street, much less a narrow alleyway. After the parade we decided to part ways with our new friend Abdul, with a promise to come back for dinner the following Friday, in search of a leather jacket within the medina for me, which was a successful mission. After arriving back to the apartment and realizing it was still daylight, Madison and I decided to embark on our favorite Moroccan activity, Fun Bob. We first decided to ride Kangra, a giant jumping ride that bobs up and down in a ridiculous fashion and goes forwards and backwards. We were seated next to a lady who knew the ride controller man (it was a three person car) and she got him to hold us higher in the area than any of the other cars and to make our car bob up and down more frequently. She was very sociable though we didn’t understand mostly anything she was saying and I think she seemed just as amused at the novelty of being in a car with Americans as we were of being in a car with someone who knew the man running the ride. After our successful ride on Kangra, we proceeded to our epic end to the adventure of the day, Fun Bob. After boarding the ride the man who came around and took money stalled at our car and kept asking me questions about myself, in a combination of French and Arabic, but to his dismay, I understand neither language. He gestured to his ear with what seemed like a phone made out of his hand and I attempted my best to break the language barrier but was beyond unsuccessful. Madison did nothing to help as she was convulsed in giggles next to me and finally a man came over the intercom, the actual ride operator it seems to yell something, and the man barraging me backed away to let the ride start. After the two minutes of glory that are Fun Bob, we attempted to depart from the ride but my lovely Fun Bob operator friend came right to our car first and proceeded to keep speaking to me in language that I did not understand and gesture widely. I attempted to back away but at this point he had grabbed my left hand, locked on my ring finger, (sly move on his part) and it wasn’t until that Madison jerked me away that we were finally able to escape. Retreating back into the apartment Madison finally felt the need to tell me that he was asking for my number and if he could take me on a date repeatedly, prior to the ride starting until everyone on the ride started to complain that it was taking too long and that’s when the ride operator yelled over the intercom for me to give him my number so that they could start the ride. When that failed to happen they yelled at him to back away to start the ride instead. And clearly one rejection wasn’t enough considering he pursued me at the conclusion of the ride up until I sprinted away viciously… something tells me he still didn’t get the memo. Also and extremely sadly, I’m certain that will be one of the very last times I ride Fun Bob. Tuesday was a day filled with more relaxation and preparation for the week as the celebrations were officially over and those continuing on their pilgrimage were headed to Moulay Idriss, a nearby town to Meknes, and I didn’t want to entertain any more marriage proposals. We watched movies (and when I say we from now on I mean Madison and I, also known as Amandison, my Moroccan twin in all aspects of life), and laid around the apartment and randomly wandered around the city on a sudo-adventure consisting of finding a giant hill that overlooked some random part of the city. We finally decided that it would be nice to get out for some gelato, our other absolute favorite thing in Morocco, and a cheese Panini, both of which can be purchased at the lovely Venetian Ice down the block. After ordering gelato and cheese Panini, we realized that we wanted to leave, (Silly Americans wanting to leave after they eat their food) in a faster fashion than normal Moroccan behavior, which is about an hour or more after eating when you receive the check. We were seated on the second floor of Venetian Ice and from her position Madison thought she could see our waiter down on the street below us smoking a cig with his other waiter friends. Thinking this was an appropriate move, she proceeded to smile and wave down at them, clearly because when needing your check that is how they would interpret a move such as that from a group of American girls, in addition to not realizing that our waiter was in fact present across the room next to a column. Finally ending her ongoing verbal-less conversation from between floors I walked over to the waiter to pay the check and we walked out the door of Venetian Ice. As we go to leave the block a waiter comes out from around the corner of the building and gestures at me adamantly with a piece of paper. He maintains that if I would please take his number in English that he would love to see me again. By the way, this was to ME. The girl who was the farthest from the window, rarely smiles in public in front of men, was NOT in fact the one gesturing and waving and smiling out the window at the group of waiters. Needless to say I was not in fact very happy that I ended up with a number from Youssef, as he wrote on the paper, when I’m fairly certain the last thing I came to Morocco for was a man (although I do think a wedding would be extra fun! and the outfits they wear are fantastic! Just think of how lovely a ceremony could occur at the carnival, FunBob rides for EVERYONE!), especially after the Fun Bob altercation, LESS than 24 hours ago. And of course Madison laughed the entire way back to the apartment. Welcome to life in Morocco.

-xx, A.

Surpriseeeeee!

Fri, 03 Feb 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Today was a hectic day because Fridays include not only two and a half hours of Arabic, but also three straight hours of Darija (Arabic dialect spoken in Morocco, also known as Moroccan Arabic). After getting to stay on campus for eight lovely hours, it was time to rush home and get ready because today was my roommate Tina’s birthday. For Tina’s birthday we had planned to throw her a surprise party at our apartment and then go over to Hotel Rif, which is the club in Meknes. We ended up switching the location of her birthday party an hour beforehand, which added to the stress level of rushing to get ready, combined with the fact that in an apartment with four girls we had three hours to get completely dressed, in order to be at the apartment by 9pm. If you know me you know that it takes a solid amount of time in order to get me ready and up for anything, much less with a time constraint. Even worse was the fact that Tina was so pleasantly doing Chelsea and my hair, which left, even less time to get everything in order. After finally being completely and 100% ready for all four of us, or as ready as we could get considering we were already 40 minutes late, we went over to Azhar, the boys’ apartment. We got there and the lights were off and everyone screamed Happy Birthday, typically the way that birthday parties that are a surprise function. Despite the fact that I thought Tina would have known what was up at this point considering we changed locations, I rushed her out the door, and she attempted to throw her own pregame, she was legitimately surprised and I was legitimately happy at the solid attempt. After shenanigans at the boys’ apartment with the entire ISA group, which was awesome, and some very delicious cake brought by the Baraka girls, we headed over to Hotel Rif. The club is on the bottom floor of the hotel and it was a very interesting experience. For once we got there later than normal, around midnight so we weren’t the only ones present. But per our appearance, the music switched almost immediately from Moroccan to American, and carried on that way for the entirety of our time there. We had a blast dancing ridiculously, and refusing to buy anything due to the fact that the cheapest drink is 100ds, equivalent to $12.50 (jokessssss). It’s pretty amusing when we go out in Morocco because we still act completely American with the fact that we get to the club at 11pm, which means they open usually solely for us, they play only American music the entire time we’re there (they literally switched tracks the minute the 20 of us walked out the door), drinks are ridiculously expensive so we usually refuse to buy them, and we leave around 2am which is when the majority of people are coming in since the clubs are open until 5am or even later. #america

-xx, A.

Tina’s Birthday Celebrations with GusGus :)

Fri, 03 Feb 2012 00:00:00 +0000

Tina’s Birthday Celebrations with GusGus :)

Amanda and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

Thu, 02 Feb 2012 15:50:43 +0000

So I’ve been trying my hardest to update my blog every day that I’m in Morocco, and today definitely deserves an update. The morning started out like every other day before classes, shower, get ready, eat breakfast. The difference between today and the rest of the days that we have been in Meknes is that it was pouring this morning when we woke up. My roommate Tina and I decided to go out on the balcony before walking down to the taxi station and in our apparent lack of though, locked ourselves out of the apartment. If it had been yesterday this would have been NO problem. However it wasn’t yesterday, it is now at least ten degrees colder, rainy and windy. So being locked out on the balcony with no one in the apartment was not the way to start the day. Finally after frantically calling the few people we knew who weren’t in class already we reached someone who could give us the number to our Directors to get rescued. Twenty minutes later we were finally off the balcony, and on our way en route to class. We reached the taxi station and asked the man in the first taxi to take us to campus, he said yes that he understood (all of this a poor transaction in broken Arabic mind you), but he started to take us the complete opposite way around the city. Realizing he did not in fact know where he was taking us we ended up on the other side of the campus and it was a full fifteen extra minutes before we reached where we had been trying to go all along. Oh and I forgot to mention that on the way to the taxi station, an old Arabic lady stopped us to yell at us in Arabic, for what we still have no idea, I think she put a curse on us.

Class was manageable as we spent the entire time working on Arabic so the day seemed to improve at least on some level. We then rode in the taxi home but on the way back I realized I needed to visit the ATM and we stopped at one before it rejected my card not one, not two, but three times. Walking another block we finally found another ATM to use so I could finally get out the money I needed. Going home was blustery as it was now pouring again and we all arrived home starving and cold. Normally lunch is ready by one, maybe onethirty. Today was of course the exception as lunch was still cooking and we arrived home after two. Twenty minutes later we ate lunch, various vegetables, potatoes and of course the always present bread. We went to check our wifi to realize that for the second week, it still wasn’t working, and we are still the only apartment who lack it. Not having wifi and wanting any opportunity to use the internet requires traveling across the square to use the wifi at the ISA office. We ventured out in the rain and I realized that the only coat I brought with me for this trip, my Northface, was not nearly sufficient to weather the cold, and not even feasible for the rain. At this point in the day I am more than willing to drop 200d’s on a new coat, or an umbrella at the very least. Stopping at the little shed convenience mart right in front of our apartment I bought a well-deserved candy bar, my new favorite, Kinder Bueno, which is chocolate filled with a nutella like cream, and am now enjoying the semi-heat in the ISA office to type this. I’m also bitter because today would be a perfect day for Fun Bob but alas the rides don’t function in the rain, which is honestly probably for the best. (Fun Bob by the way more than lives up to its name, it’s only 5d’s to ride which is a little more than 50cents and goes for at least a full minute if not longer. I wish I could ride Fun Bob everyday!) All I want to do is cuddle up in my bed for the rest of the day and watch movies and eat homemade mac & cheese (#firstworldproblems… there is definitely no mac & cheese, movies I can understand or real heat in my apartment) In retrospect the day would be hilarious as of next week, as it was entirely ridiculous to begin with, but right now I want to milk my soaking wet, freezing wounds with pity and chocolate. Maybe I’ll go venture out in the city and meet some new friends instead, that would probably be the best solution. At the very least I hope you got some laughs out of my self-pity.

Until tomorrow,

-xx, A.