Friday au Maroc

So my list of blogs to write has been adding up over the past week, but since classes started Monday it's been quite an eventful week. I need to post about my host family, my birthday, and the beach, but I'll have to get to those topics this weekend.

But today is FRIDAY FRIDAY, GOTTA GET DOWN ON FRIDAY! Ok, sorry to get that song stuck in your head. Friday is a big day in Morocco and all Muslim countries: it's the holy day. Being here for Friday noon prayers is like Sunday at noon on Whitesburg Drive in Huntsville where there are 20 churches in a row and they all get out at the same time, but more intense. I live right behind a mosque. I like living near it most of the time because it's pretty, cultural, and a perfect landmark for taxi drivers, but it's not so great every morning at 4 am during the first call to prayer of the day. Katherine, my lovely roommate, and I sleep with the window and door to the balcony open because open windows function as air conditioning here. Open windows + 4 am call to prayer + loud speader right outside our window = not the most incredible set up in the world.

The very loud speaker outside our apartment.

Actually, I don't mind it that much because I'm a very sound sleeper and it really doesn't wake me up all the way anymore - I just kind of hear it in my dreams. And honestly I think it's kind of cool to live right next to a mosque, especially after today.

Katherine and I were walking home from class at about 12:15, and as we passed the mosque we saw men setting up their prayer rugs outside the door to the mosque and around our apartment building. I tried not to look twice out of respect, and I hurried up the four floors to the apartment to spy from the balcony.

The first few men gathering to pray.

More men kept coming and setting up outside the mosque. We were so intrigued, but Sanae, our host mom, told us to wait and see, that there would be way more men soon. So we just stood in the shadows on our balcony and watched men flock to the mosque, which was filled to capacity, and set up their prayer rugs on the sidewalk and road. They just kept coming, and the filled up the whole street and sidewalk, and there were men lined up at the bottom of all the apartment buildings on our street. It's hard to describe, but it was just so incredible to watch (especially from our vantage point above). Then by 12:35 or so the Immam (I think) sang some sort of beginning prayer over the loud speaker, then gave his sermon (not sure what the right word is for that). Then after 15 minutes or so it was time for the prayer. I've seen Muslims pray before, but never that many crammed into such a small place, just spilling out of the mosque onto the road, sidewalk, around cars, on the cafe terrace, and right beneath our balcony. It was such a cool, unique experience.

So many people!

The rest of my day was not quite as exciting, but I took my first taxi by myself! I was super nervous, but thankfully both on the way and the way back I didn't have any problems. I went to the American Embassy to meet the Cultural Affairs Officer, who invited the several other Boren scholars in Morocco and me to coffee. It was great to get out of my little school bubble and talk to some other Americans. I'm really anxious to make some Moroccan and non AMIDEAST (that's my "school" here) friends, because as great as our group of 25 kids is, I see them every day cooped up in a small building where I have a class with pretty much everyone. I'm going to have a Moroccan language and culture partner, so I'm super excited about that.

In other news, as I was sitting at this cafe a guy just walked by carrying a huge bucket of eggs in one hand and a bunch of dead chickens in the other. C'est la vie aux Maroc.

The First Week

I wrote this last Friday, but didn't have internet to post it.

What a week. Eight days ago I was anticipating everything that I would experience in the last seven days. Now I feel like that was years ago. I can’t believe I’ve only been in Rabat for six days. I feel like I’ve known most of my 24 classmates here for months. I feel like I’m living a completely different life now than I was a week ago. I’ve always thought it was so cliche when people say this, but studying abroad really is going to be a defining aspect of this stage of my life. It’s really hard to put into words how I’ve felt since Saturday night when I arrived in Rabat, but this is my attempt.

First, I love Morocco. I’ve only been here a few days, but I love so much about this country. I keep comparing it to Egypt, because my expectations for Morocco mostly resulted from my experiences in Egypt. Not that I hate Egypt, but I love Morocco so much more than I would if I hadn’t been to Egypt because pretty much everything is better here.

The weather is beautiful. It’s been somewhat hot during the day for the past few days, but it cools off at night. The night I got here it was very chilly out. My house doesn’t have air conditioning - we just leave all the windows open, and while it’s a little warm when it’s this hot out, it’s completely bearable.

Rabat is a much smaller, more navigate-able, less crowded city than Cairo. It almost feels like a small town. You can pretty much walk from one end to the other. There are green things all around the city: palm trees, trees, bushes, even some grass. Transportation isn’t too hard, especially because of the new tram that was recently built. Taxis have meters, and the buses are nice.

People are nice and helpful here. The harassment is not nearly as bad as it is in Cairo. I still experience catcalls, stares, and overly friendly strange men trying to talk to me when I’m walking on the street alone or with a small group of girls, but it’s definitely not as bad in Agdal, the upscale neighborhood where I live and go to school. The souq here in the old medina is much more laid back than Khal alKalili in Cairo. It’s less crowded, the shop keepers don’t hassle you, and I generally feel more comfortable.

Rabat seems to just be a really nice city to live in. It’s not touristy, which is really nice. It’s on the ocean so there are some incredibly beautiful beaches and beach scenes. The night life is not what it’s said to be in Casa or Fez, but I’ve been out to a few really cool places. Giving up a little night life is definitely preferable to the hassle of living in a touristy town. All of the city that I’ve seen so far has been decent. The prices don’t seem to be as cheap as in Cairo, but everything is still comparatively very cheap. Rabat is somewhat less conservative than Cairo is, as far as what Moroccan women wear on the streets.

The food is amazing. Tagine, harira, and bastini are some of the best traditional Moroccan dishes I’ve had so far. Explosions. On. Your. Taste. Buds. I’ll have to write a separate post on the food soon. Oh, and because there’s such a huge French influence here, the pastries are amazing. Nutella crépes at the restaurant right beside my school: incredible. Enough said. Even though almost all the food is amazing, I’ve had a few weak moments of craving Cracker Barrel. I miss southern cooking, what can I say?

Definitely one of the best aspects personally of living in Morocco is that everyone speaks French. My French sucks, but man, when it’s either pull on my two years of studying French or my few days of studying Darija (Moroccan) Arabic, the French definitely saves the day. I haven’t had too much trouble communicating. And even though I’ve always been terrible at speaking French and I’ve forgotten a lot since April, it’s all coming back and I’ve picked up so much in just a couple days. Thankfully I brought my French textbook, so in addition to studying Darija and Modern Standard (classical Arabic), I’m also studying French. Brain overload.

While I am so, so thankful that I know French so that I can communicate with people (especially my host family), I’ve realized that my French will completely handicap my Arabic if I’m not very careful. Right now it’s sooo much easier to communicate with my host family in French, but I talked to them about having French days and Darija days once my Darija is somewhat conversational, and they agreed. And when I go out, I read the French on signs and menus instead of the Arabic. It’s going to be so hard to overlook the French and force myself to practice Arabic.

That’s basically all the good stuff about Morocco. There’s plenty of bad stuff. I walk. A lot. The sidewalks are an obstacle course of steps and ramps you slip down and rubble and broken cement and parked cars. My shoes get really dirty. I can’t/don’t wear anything I normally wear in the summer (shorts, tank tops, sundresses, short skirts). Being in a new city is hard. I don’t know where anything is. Being in new place where I barely speak the main language and can just kind of get by on the second language is very hard. I have to ask to find pretty much anything. I have to adjust to new cultures and habits and customs. I don’t know how to interact with some people. I don’t know how to draw the line between a stranger on the street being helpful or a stranger with an ulterior motive harassing me. Meal times, body language, my bed, sheets, space, the concept of privacy, the shower, shower length, the bathroom, toilet paper, eating, internet, wearing or not wearing shoes in certain rooms in the house, etiquette when eating with bread instead of silverware, how to interact with males, etc etc etc. It’s all different. I can’t go to Wendy’s for a frosty and fries. I can’t go to Sokul park and ride my bike alone in the woods. I can’t drive to Panera to study in peace and quiet. Pretty much the only familiar thing I’ve done so far is eat at McDonald’s (it was amazing and it tasted just like a burger from home). I didn’t really understand culture shock before I came, but now I do. It can be really hard to adjust. Sometimes I like the way things are in Morocco better, and sometimes things here drive me crazy. That’s the way it goes.

On my way here I was questioning why in the world I had ever decided to do this. Truth be told, I just came because I thought it would be cool and romantic and exotic. I didn’t really know what I wanted out of this year abroad. I still don’t. I know the honeymoon stage will wear off soon and I won’t think it’s cool or romantic or exotic anymore. I know I’ll get frustrated and I’ll miss home. But this is where I am, and I’m so thankful to be here. I already feel like I will have changed so much after this year. I’ve learned a lot already, and I’m going to learn so much more. For now I’m just taking one day at a time.

One More Day

I leave in one day. I am so ready to be done with goodbyes. The range of emotions I've experienced in the past month has been pretty crazy. A month it ago it hit me for the first time that I'm actually going to live in Morocco for nine months of my life. I thought about how much I'm going to miss the football season, Alabama in the fall, bacon, and wearing whatever I want. At that point I had so much work to do to get ready to go that I was overwhelmed and anxious. After a week or two of steadily checking things off my to do list and accumulating travel necessities, the excitement set in. I was ready to go. For a week. Then the excitement turned into sadness. I have such an amazing community of people around me in Tuscaloosa. I love my life so much. Why in the world am I leaving everything I love to go to a new place for nine months? Gahhh.

But here I am, getting the last of the details in order before I leave. I know this is going to be an incredible year. Whether I love it or hate it, I know I'm going to learn so much about myself and others (not to mention Morocco) that would be impossible to learn otherwise. I know that I'm going to grow in my faith and learn to rely even more on my Savior. A dear friend sent me these comforting words today: "When waves of fear come, lash yourself to the Rock that never moves. The waves still come, but you remain unmoved."