Festival International du Film de Marrakech - C.C.

       While some folks travel from far and wide to see the impressive films of the Marrakech Film Festival, some of us are lucky enough to be within walking distance of the theater and have tickets to see the movies…and to be American. When I heard that the Film Festival was coming to town I got really excited because I make films and I love watching movies and it seemed so perfect that such a large festival would be nearly in my backyard. However, i worried that getting tickets would be too difficult or expensive. 

       When we returned from our trip to the North of Morocco I was pleasantly surprised that we had been able to get tickets, with the help of our friend Youssef, and that same afternoon, I went to get a badge. To my surprise, you don't have to pay for a badge and all we had to do was show them our passport copies and we got a badge that would allow us to go into any of the daytime movies at the Palais de Congre, a beautiful building that is used for special occasions. 

       We decided to go that night and were all really excited. It was lit up and there was a red carpet unfurled where the stars would drive up and get out to pose for the cameras. We were waiting in a really long line of people and the guard told us that we couldn't go into the theater until 8, an hour later than we should have gone in. However, some of our group was already inside and they told us the secret, they would let foreigners in. It felt really awkward and we all stared at each other in disbelief because it didn't feel right at all that we would receive special treatment. Yet, we decided that we would see what would happen and were directed to a different door to enter. We ended up finding seats high in the balcony. That night was the tribute to Terry Giliam who is the director of Mighty Python movies and many others. We got to see him speak and then they showed a short film of his called "The Wholly Family" which was relatively creepy and about a boy who steals a doll and it comes to life at night. Then the full length movie was in Italian with subtitles and about a woman and her postpartum depression. It was very well made though and I really liked the shots and creativity of it. 

       The next day we went to a Moroccan Movie called Andalusia My Love. This time we squeezed our way in from the huge crowd outside and got in. We decided on a plan to walk confidently and made it into the section of the theater where the actors sit. They didn't question us, probably because we're foreigners. It's strange to have our tendency to stand out be positive but almost uncomfortable to be allowed to do more than other people just because of our appearance. We sat a few rows behind the actors of the film! The movie was very original but the best part was how excited all of the audience was. When some cultural joke happened or someone said something funny, the whole crowd would burst into applause and yelling. I thought their support of the country and excitement over the film was great! 

       The Film Festival so far has been a great experience and I am glad I got to go and take advantage of one of the great things here in Marrakech. Over the weekend I plan on going to some movies in Jamaal Fna which will undoubtedly be crazy and wild with huge amounts of people trying to find a way to watch the movie. 

Practical Applications for Arabic!

The other night I was relaxing after dinner when my 16-year-old host brother called me over. He was in urgent need of my translation skills.

                The problem? He was playing a violent video game (Freedom Fighter), and all the dialogue was in English.  “Now that you’ve found the C4,” grumbled a scruffy man in the game, “all you’ve gotta do is blow up the gas station!” We didn’t exactly learn this vocab in class. Nevertheless, I stumbled through it in Arabic. “You know the place where…. for example… cars go…. for petroleum? You must make it go like this!” (accompanied by a vigorous charade for an explosion). And so on.

                I have my Arabic teacher, Brahim, to thank for my translation successes. I have no idea how to say “gas station” or “explode” or “grenade” in Arabic, but Brahim has taught me to express myself without necessarily knowing the vocabulary. (After all, if we speak English in class we are forced to do push-ups!) Of course I’ve learned a lot of grammar and vocabulary from Arabic class, but one of the greatest skills I’ve been learning is expressing myself without knowing all the right words. Descriptions (“gas station” = “the place where cars go for petroleum”) and charades go a long way. Shukran ya ustath!  

Thanksgiving Lessons--Rachel Sandman

     When brainstorming ideas for my blog post this past week, I thought I would write a post on the lessons in Moroccan culture and cooking our group would learn on our Moroccan Thanksgiving, which we celebrated this Sunday.  However, our Moroccan Thanksgiving came and went and, to my surprise, bad food and cultural faux paus were not part of our celebration. The lessons we learned instead were ones of much greater value.
   
     1-Reaping the Rewards of Hard Work:
             For most of us, this was the first time we were in charge of Thanksgiving and the responsibility of producing a thanksgiving dinner for thirty people in a foreign country was quite intimidating to say the least. In Morocco, canned goods, instant stuffing, ready-to-go seasoning, shelled and chopped nuts and mixes for breads and cakes cannot be found. Ovens that are big enough to fit a whole turkey and have knobs that indicate the oven temperature and measuring cups were also few and far between. As a result, each and every person in our group not only had to be extremely creative to produce a Thanksgiving dinner, but we also had to put long hours into cooking and working together as a team. After a week of altering recipes, inviting guests, grocery shopping (which is MUCH easier said than done in Morocco) and cooking, we finally sat down to eat on Sunday. Lahamdullilah (Thanks be to God), every dish was delicious and some people even said our group's cooking was better than their Grandmas'. Of course, the atmosphere of great accomplishment made the meal tastier.


     2- The REAL reason why we celebrate Thanksgiving:

            Earlier in the month, as thanksgiving was approaching, everyone's concerns seemed to be centered around A) getting a turkey, B) pecan pie and C) how we were going to cook for thirty people. Up until Thanksgiving this year, few people had celebrated Thanksgiving away from their families and/or in a third world country. Although it was an obvious reality, it still shocked many of us into realizing the value of family and food. Due to our ability to work together extremely well, our group got a turkey, pecan pie and served thirty people ( and even had food left over). However, even after many hours of work and stuffing ourselves as everyone should on Thanksgiving, the "Holiday feeling" was not there. This was mainly because, just around the corner, there were women with babies tied to their backs begging for food, young men with knives fighting over one dirham and old men with disabilities that could easily be fixed, but their families did not have the time nor the money to care for them. You could say that the fact that we were so full we could barely walk, while these people were starving was kind of killing the holiday joy. That is when Nora Wienman, one of our most trusted go-to person for questions and advice about Morocco, suggested that we pack up the leftovers to bring to a charitable organization. We enthusiastically agreed and soon enough, around twenty heaping plates of turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, green beans, salad, deviled eggs, homemade bread, pecan pie and pumpkin pie were sitting in the kitchen of a boarding house for thirteen to twenty three year olds who are living in Marrakesh to pursue a higher education than the one available to them in their small villages. Because the residents of the boarding house were our age, it was surprisingly easy to imagine their reality of living far from their families without being able to contact them and not having enough food to fill one's belly. I am truly thankful I have never had to go hungry or sacrifice my relationship with my family for my own well-being. Although this year's Thanksgiving was not traditional or entirely American, I have learned the importance of this holiday and the value of my family and not going hungry.

Elections- Joe

Unfortunately this isn't my picture, but this is a ubiquitous sight here in Marrakech.  These are painted in each voting district to signify which parties are angling to represent that are. The elections were today and they've been a bit anticlimactic.  Apparently only 24% of the population voted, which was disappointing for the few people that are really passionate about politics.  I've been greeted with a mixture of apathy, ignorance, enthusiasm, and anger when I ask Moroccans about the elections.  The one thing that is almost unanimous is a lack of confidence in politicians.  They're widely viewed as greedy, selfish, and corrupt.  Many people justify voting for opposing parties by saying that they just want to give someone else a chance- maybe a new party can get something done, even if its not that appealing ideologically.  We find out tomorrow who won the elections.  The results could signal widespread change or just more of the same.

The Trials and Tribulations of the Laundry Process By Bridget Granger

I had never anticipated that the weather would dictate when I am able to do laundry. That is, until I came to Morocco. Many Moroccan families do not own washing machines and even fewer own dryers. With this past week being so rainy I was not able to wash my growing mountain of dirty clothes. Today was the first sunny day in a while so I figured I would not chance waiting until tomorrow. My family has an extremely tiny washing machine (if you can even call it that) on the roof which holds virtually nothing. I was forced to do two loads which took me over two and a half hours! The first step is filling the machine up with water and detergent. I then put my clothes in and the machine "swished" them around for about fifteen minutes. After going through the machine I had to put them in a bucket of clean water and wash them out for a second time to rinse the soap out. Finally, after the bucket washing I was able to hang them up on the laundry strings to dry. I think it's safe to say that us Americans are spoiled with our modern laundry washing ways.

6 Most Useful Darija (Moroccan Arabic) Words

By. Kaylah Cruz-Herrera

Moroccan Survival 101:  it's okay to share a taxi with strangers, only tip a couple of dirhams, and know these words!

(Please excuse the transliteration.  Darija isn't written in the Arabic alphabet, let alone the English one!)

1.  Sh-weeeee-ah. / Bi-zzzeff!

Little/Big  Use these words in any situation.  Abverb, adjective, exclamation... you name it.  You should also use hand gestures to emphasize your point.

2.  Feeen...?

Where is...?  Use this word for practical reasons and, if you're like me, if you want people to think you speak more Arabic than you really do.  If you ask in Arabic, then the response will be in Arabic.  Just nod you're head and pray that they use hand gestures that point you in the right direction.

3.  Saah-fee.

Enough/That's good/It's alright/Stop  Use this for anything and everything.  Taxi drivers, waiters, hanoot (cornerstore) guys, family members, small children... The list goes on.  I'm pretty that I use this word out of context all of the time, but it still works!

4.  Kh-dem-al-count-oor!

Turn on the counter.  There is only one place to use this expression, but it is vital!!!  In a taxi, say this as soon as possible.  Don't be rude about it, though!  Most drivers will turn it on, but if they don't (which usually only happens if you're in a really touristy area), just say BSLAAAMAH! and jump out.

5.  Laah-bes?

How are you?/Are you alright?/Are you okay?  Always say this when greeting someone.  Also say this when you think someone needs a friend.

6.  Maah-fah-hemt-shhh!

I don't understand.  Sometimes you speak Arabic so well that people are convinced that you're better than you actually are.  Unfortunately, this can be a problem when they try to start a deep conversation with you.  Politely say this and try the convo again.

Wood Carving-By Cassie

             One of our electives that has become a huge part of  my experience in Morocco is decorative wood carving. Every Thursday a group goes out to a small wood carving factory just outside of Marrakech and learns how to carve wood by hand from the men who are masters and do this for a living. It was been such a unique and wonderful opportunity, and I personally have become so infatuated with the art form that I go out at least two days a week-one week I went out 4 days in a row-about 15 to 20 hours total that week wood carving. I have been working with the same man every time, Larby, who I would say is the best and most experienced carver employed there. Although we have a huge language barrier-he doesn't speak any English and my Arabic lacks basic carpentry vocabulary for some reason-we are able to communicate well by speaking through the wood. This sounds cheesy perhaps, but there's really no other way to put it. I watch his skilled hands intensely and then try to replicate what I see. He guides my hands to teach me what it should feel like. In the beginning it was much harder to communicate, but now that I have spent an inordinate amount of time learning with him I feel as though we have our own wood-based language. This aspect of wood carving in and of itself has been very interesting-learning a difficult handicraft without words. But I feel I have reached a level of proficiency that I can take this back to the US and pursue it at home. It will be challenging without an usted mizean (excellent teacher), or any usted at all, but I am buying tools here and bringing back stencils and inshallah (God willing) I will be able to advance on my own.
               The type of wood carving I'm referring to involves no electronic equipment. You first draw a stencil onto a piece of wood. Then use a small chisel and hit it with another block of wood following the stencil. Then you carve out what you don't want. Then repeat this so as to make all of the lowered parts smooth and even. Then, once the basic design is raised from the wood, you use different blades to plane the wood and smooth it out, rounding it and adding dimension, leaves, scrolls, and generally making it beautiful. This last step is by far the most challenging and takes the most practice. You must do it in in direct motions or it won't be smooth, and if you don't use the right amount of pressure you can accidentally shave off a part of the design you wanted to keep-this is infinitely frustrating after putting many hours into a design, but Larby is also teaching me to smooth over my mistakes.
              I'm proud of how much I've improved at wood carving in a short amount of time, and I love everything about it. It is so relaxing and wonderful to get intimately aquatint with a block of wood and make something beautiful out of nothing, putting all of your focus into making one small curl or leaf look perfect. The fact that I've been exclusively carving on the wonderfully fragrant cedar adds to the bliss, and this will forever be one of my favorite smells. I've always enjoyed industrial arts-I did glass fusing for my senior project-and I am so excited to continue this hobby (and maybe career?) throughout my life. 

EIS - Melanie Bahti

For this blog post I'm going to talk about one of the projects on which I've been working with some of the other people from the group. Aside from studying, we are all doing some form of community service or social work in Marrakesh. I've been working on a project with some of my friends called Élève Innovateur Social (EIS). The project, which in English is translated Students for Social Innovation, operates in Moroccan high schools to teach entrepreneurship and leadership skills in the context of a national competition for social projects in each school. Their goals, officially, are:

1.  To build and strengthen the capacity of social activists as a force in the transfer of knowledge and in coaching young people. 
2.  To raise awareness of the principles of social entrepreneurship as an effective tool for the development of a community of 100 teachers and professionals in education 
3. To encourage and inspire 320 young people between the ages of 15 to 18 years and to involve them in the challenge of the designing and implementing constantly evolving community projects.

Last year, the winning high school was Muahidine in Marrakesh. For their project, they set up an investment bank within their school, and invested people's money in a snack bar at their school. With the profits, they were able to buy bicycles and bus passes for students who live far away and can't afford transportation. The key to this project's success was that it was both innovative and had a direct impact on the school - the money came from the students, and was invested by the students, who used the profits generated to help other students directly.
This organization is relatively new. Last year there were teams from only six Marrakshi high schools, and this year we've expanded that number to ten, in the hopes that it will grow more in the future. The schools will compete against one another in a regional competition, and the winner will advance to the national competition along with winners from Casablanca and other cities.
Our work with the organization has many facets. We have meetings weekly, and right now we're organizing an open house conference to mark the official kick-off of the competition. Some of the work that we do is focussed on the logistics of things like the conference and our visits to schools. In the schools we're currently in the process of finding teachers to supervise the projects in each school, and of selecting the students to be on each team. This involves visiting the schools once a week or more, communicating with teachers and administrators, and presenting information about EIS to students.
Another part of our work with EIS has to do with the philosophy behind the organization. We really want the process of coming up with a project to be a learning experience for the students, and for them to feel inspired to work for social development in the future. To that end, we want the projects to be really connected to the school, for their effects to be long lasting and respond to real needs in the community, and for the students to learn to think creatively to find ways to meet these needs.
I've really enjoyed working on this project for several reasons. It's been a great way to get to know more Moroccans around my age (the people coordinating EIS in Marrakesh are university and high school students), and to see more of Marrakesh by visiting schools. I've enjoyed hearing about the projects that students have come up with in the past, and it's given me more insight into Moroccan society. I also really like learning about the educative system in Morocco, which I'll get to continue in a few weeks - one of the guys in EIS has made arrangements for me and a few others to visit his nursery and primary schools so we can get more insight.
Here's a link to more information about the group. It's been amazing to work with them so far and I'm sad that I won't be able to keep working on it for very long, since I'm leaving soon.
EIS Facebook Page

Moroccan cooking class- by Shannon

    I remember when a teacher, via Skype interview, here at school asked me if I might be interested in participating in a cooking class. I was ecstatic! He said that the electives were not confirmed at the moment but there were some suggestions from the group that kept coming up. I emphatically said yes, in hopes that I might convince him to make cooking a cemented elective. 

    To my happy surprise, upon arrival at the CLC in mid-September, cooking was offered every Tuesday for three hours. It sounded time consuming but totally worth it. 

    I attended the first class, where we made mahsiman with melted butter and honey. It was mouth-watering. That first class we watched our teacher, the CLC's beloved cook, expertly fold the dough. How could I not want to come back? I wanted to be able to cook like her in the future. Now, in class, we chop and grate along side our teacher. It's incredible how much we already know.

    The class took up most of my evening, and in the beginning of the program, I didn't know if such a schedule was what I wanted. In fact, there was a day that I almost gave it up because it was time-consuming. I thought my time might be better spent studying. 

    In the end, I stuck with it. I feel like I understand the culture and lifestyle of Moroccans so much better, as a result. Seeing how the same ingredients transfer from one recipe to the next, how easy it actually it is to cook the food, my concept of cooking completely changed. Sometimes, the simplicity of the ingredients speaks the most. Moroccans uncannily create filling meals with three or four ingredients. I love that!

    To give you an overview (and maybe to give you a future meal idea), here are the things we've cooked so far:

-mahsiman

-beef with prunes

-kefta tajine

-bghrir

-lentils

-flatbread

-harira soup

-white beans

-chocolate cake

-fruit-tarts

There are plenty of recipes online, check them out. I am so happy I know how to cook them now and I'm sure you would be, too!

My Sheep! By Char B.

Sahara highlights--Heather Jackson

This is our group at the library.  It was amazing learn about the different books that are housed there (some are the oldest in Morocco etc)!

 This is the beautiful hotel we arrived at after 8 long hours of driving.  While we enjoyed delectable Moroccan food we saw plates of spagetti and french fries, which just shows how much we have assimilated to Morocco:)

We got the chance to ride camels for 2 hours to our camp sight located in the Dunes of the Sahara! It was bumpy at first, but was definately worth it!

And finally, my favorite memory from our Sahara trip was getting to trudge up a sand dune at o'dark early in the morning to watch the breathtaking view of the sunrise over the sand dunes!


I hope this captures some of our amazing journey to the Sahara...words just don't do our experience justice.  Enjoy!

Love,
Heather Jackson

Halloween- Joe

A few Sundays ago we Americans managed to throw together a small Halloween party in a country that definitely does not celebrate Halloween.  In the absence of Halloween stores and costume shops, we went to our supermarket Marjane and did some old-school improvising.  Costumes included butterflies, superheroes, host siblings, hippies and a hanoot.  We planned to start the festivities here at the clc at 4:00pm.  We waited at our stations, disappointed that no one was there, until we remembered that this is Morocco, and people don't show up until at least thirty minutes after something starts.  When they did, we had a blast.  Games included bobbing for apples, mummy wrapping (oddly this was probably the most expensive game, toilet paper ain't cheap), and mystery food feeling.  The pictures below are of a game we invented.  It was supposed to be eat a donut off a string, but the Moroccan version is Hobz eating off a line.  It was great to share an American holiday with our Moroccans friends and remind ourselves of home. 

 

Henna

Post by Kaylah Cruz-Herrera

We had to agree on a lot of rules before we came to Morocco.  One of them was "No tattoos".  But, they never mentioned henna.  Ten dirhams ($1.25 ish) will get you one of these beautiful creations.  Just sit down in the medina for about 30 seconds and voila!!  (P.S. Yes, this is a picture of NSLI-Y students, but it isn't mine.  Sorry, Lily, but I stole this from your Facebook!!)

Arabic Mistakes by Sarah

One of my favorite things about learning languages is making funny mistakes. (Not on purpose, of course!) There are few things as funny as a good linguistic error; and, on the educational side, retelling the stories of your errors solidifies the correct phrase or word.

Lucky for me, I make a lot of mistakes. There was the time last summer, in Tajikistan, when I tried to ask a girl in Tajiki, “Do you want to take a husband (i.e. get married)?” In fact, I asked her “Do you want to EAT a husband?” Maybe I haven’t quite matched the hilariousness of that mistake here in Morocco, but here are two contenders. (My two classmates, Emi and Shannon, have heard these already.)

1.       THE WOLF

Early in the program, my Arabic level was pretty far below that of my classmates and my class. Often, I could only pick up a little of what was being said. Anyway, one day, my teacher, Brahim, asked us in Arabic, “What’s your favorite hiwaya?” My friend Shannon answered first, and I didn’t really understand her answer. Then Brahim asked me about my favorite hiwaya.

                Hiwaya… I had learned that word the other day. Animal. I asked in Arabic, “Teacher, how do you say ‘wolf’?”

                “Wolf? Why?”

                He—and Shannon and Emi—were giving me the strangest looks.

                “Yes, wolf! My favorite hiwaya is wolf.”

                Someone broke out in incredulous English, “Your favorite hobby is wolf?!”

Yeah… turns out hiwaya is hobby; animal is hiyawan. Oops.   

2.       HAJJ

A few weeks later, my classmates were sick, so I had a one-on-one class with Brahim. At one point I asked (in Arabic, of course) what he had done after class the day before. I didn’t understand every word of my teacher’s answer, but I got the gist of it; he had talked on the phone with his friend. The friend really wanted to go to Mecca (this was the time of year, after all, when everyone was talking about making the hajj), but couldn’t, because he was busy.

                I was really sorry to hear this and began an outpour of sympathy. “Oh, poor man,” I said. “But inshallah he can go next year?”

                Brahim looked extremely confused. “Next year?”

                “Yes! Inshallah he can go next year!” I really didn’t see what was so strange about what I was saying.

                “To the…. maqha?”

                I turned red. In fact Brahim’s friend hadn’t wanted to go to Mecca; he wanted to go to a maqha, a café. “Poor man!” I had exclaimed. “Maybe he can go to the café next year—inshallah!!!”

Shopping for Sheep - Charlotte C

       Who knew there could be a Souk or market for just one product? Well, anyone in Morocco or around the developing world lives that way all the time, with shops next to each other, selling identical wares. However, what I did not know was you can have Souks that only sell SHEEP. This coming Monday is the main day of Eid Kabir, a huge Muslim holiday that commemorates the story of Abraham being asked to sacrifice his son Ishmael and taking him up to the mountain but God/Allah saves his son by replacing him with a sheep to sacrifice. Eid Kabir is the culmination of the year for herders who probably make a bundle since every family in Morocco and other parts of the Muslim world will all have to buy a sheep. The sheep will be sacrificed in the family home, skinned, and the organs prepared in specific ways and shared with family. Its a huge ordeal that I have yet to witness at the time I was writing this but I'm sure it will be perceived by 17 different perspectives in the coming week.

       Anyway, the past couple of days have been prime sheep-purchasing days. My host family claims the whole city smells like sheep. On the roads you can see cheep being pulled into houses, driven in the backs of trucks or normal cars (my family says that will make the sheep smell stick for way longer than you can handle), pushed in carts, pulled on trailers behind motorbikes, or carried on the motorbike itself. The discontented bleat/croak of disgruntled and overly-handled sheep is commonplace. 

        But tonight I personally went to one of the places where the madness begins. Herders from the country bring in their herds on huge trucks to sell in cities like Marrakech. The Sheep Souk near my house consisted of men standing and holding their sheep for display, people looking to buy, and those transporting their sheep home. Sheep can be displayed in a number of ways, on a truck or on a leash. There are huge sheep that some up past my hips and could probably push me down and then much smaller sheep. They have to be checked thoroughly before the purchase because you want one with a good shape, well taken care of, with good teeth and large horns, and for the best price. People run around feeling sheep hips and picking them up to test the weight. Once they've found the right one, they can get someone to carry it on a cart or they just sling it over their shoulders. Some try to urge the sheep in the correct direction which does not tend to work and thus they pick up the back legs and push the sheep like a wheel barrel. Even after all of that we did not find the perfect sheep and we will have to go back tomorrow. 

Our Eid Experience by Negina and Lilly

As you know, the holiday Eid Kabeer is going on right now and you got some good background info on what it's all about from Rachel's post a few days ago. Yesterday was the first of the holiday's four days and it was incredible. Lilly and I experienced so many new things that we wanted to do our best sharing them with you in a joint post.

We woke up around 6:30 yesterday to get ready for morning prayer. Us, our two host sisters, their dad, and our host brother-in-law drove to the oldest mosque in Marrakech where hundreds and hundreds of people were looking for a spot to lay their prayer rugs out on the cement and dirt grounds. First, there were numerous lines of men, standing shoulder to shoulder, ready for the prayer to come on. And us women weren't too far behind them. We followed along to the traditional morning prayer and also stayed for a specific prayer for Eid that came on afterwards.

Once we got home, our host mom had an amazing breakfast ready for us. There were cakes, and breads, and soups, and cookies that our sisters (and us for the most part) made in the days leading up to yesterday. We were warned that food was what the day would center around and that is exactly what we got. While eating, we still had planted in the backs of our minds that the sheep sacrifice was bound to happen within the next couple of hours... and there came our host brother, calling us all up to the roof, announcing that they were ready.

Negina and I were getting pretty nervous as were standing there with the butcher and his son. They were there for the skinning and to take the insides out, but the real sacrifice was done by our brother. We had our cameras ready and my eyes were glued on the knife in Hassan's hand right when he touched it to the sheep's fur. Negina looked away until the cutting was over and then all we saw was blood. Hassan seemed like he knew what he was doing because the sheep didn't suffer really at all. The whole process afterwards took about twenty minutes and then we took the bowls of insides to the kitchen where they were chopped up and prepared for the day's lunch. Our host brother-in-law, Negina, and I couldn't bring ourselves to eat the gizzards, so the family kindly made us some delicious chicken kabobs and pasta. 

We finished the night off with going to their extended families' homes and it was nice to see how close they all are. Now we're in day two of Eid; can't wait to see what's for lunch today!

Beach Haikus - Cassie

This past Saturday, Oct 29th, our group went to a beautiful beach in Esfee. I was really excited about this because I hadn't swam in the ocean since I was in 5th grade. I feel the spirituality and beauty of the beach is best described through poetry, so I wrote a couple haikus about my experience.

Title: Sea Urchins

Old man's livelihood.
Spiky new experience.
Slimy but tasty.

Title: Playing in the Waves

Sand in all places.
Getting knocked off of my feet.
The most fun all day.

Title: Shells

Scouring the ground.
Searching for nature's treasures.
I found the best one.

Title: Landscape

Endless water world.
The sunset of all sunsets.
Waves crash on the beach.

Schools in Morocco - Emi

During our trip to the mountains, we saw two different schools – the public school where students have two hours of class each day with a dedicated but overworked teacher, and the private school where art and lots of outdoor time supplement the regular curriculum. Since then, I’ve encountered a lot of the aspects of schooling in Morocco, and that’s what I’ll post about today!

We attend Arabic lessons at the CLC (Center for Language and Culture), a private institution whose main purpose is teaching English to Moroccans that also hosts a number of student groups from the US throughout the year (ours being the only one now). The students are of all ages, children through adult, and from most social backgrounds. The school aged children attend a range of schools – public and private. Our host siblings, who are all or have all been students at the CLC, attend different schools all over the city.

The public school system in Morocco is greatly influenced by the French. It starts with kindergarten, elementary school, three years in middle school and three years in high school. Students must pick a specialty before their first year of high school, at age 14 or 15. Specialties vary, including economics, mathematics and science, literature, and experimental science. These are the most popular choices according to the Moroccan youth I’ve spoken to, but there are other, less chosen options including technology and art.

The most important part of schooling in Morocco is the Baccalaureate at the end of “lycee” (high school). One recent high school graduate said it was more important than a PhD. Without a good grade on the Bacc, it is hard to enter university in the most valued fields – Economics and the sciences.

Another interesting aspect of school here are the subjects that people value. Teachers and students alike have told me that literature is more of a “slacker” subject for some, because it requires less studying.  It has no minimum required grade on the baccalaureate to enter university, whereas economics and especially the sciences do. When I talk to people about what I study, they automatically assume economics or business, and it seems as though the majority of our host siblings are studying econ! A Moroccan teacher was lamenting this imbalance of value – he said that public universities of science receive more funding and attention from the government than others. He especially worried about Quranic studies receiving the least attention, least funding, and students with the worst grades. He suggested that may create a more conservative and uneducated focus for religious scholars in Morocco.

Private schools are a large presence in Morocco. Public schooling is generally not reputed to be of excellent quality, so many parents who value education make a huge effort to send their kids to private school or private English lessons at places like the CLC. There are a variety of private schools in Marrakesh for all ages, and in fact, a Nun-run Catholic private school is right across the street from the CLC. My Arabic teacher sends his children there and said that almost all of the students are Muslim, and since the school doesn’t teach Catholicism it is a good choice for children of all religions in contrast to some of the public school options. At a high school level, I have met students who attend the private French high school (Lycee Victor Hugo) and my host siblings attend the American School of Marrakesh. These are more costly than the other private schools but are very helpful for students wishing to attend university abroad. Public schools in Morocco do prepare students to enter the French system because they both use the baccalaureate test, but most students stay in country for their undergraduate studies.

In Moroccan schools, children begin learning both Arabic and French from the start of their education, and are required by the national curriculum to add English beginning in seventh grade. Some students even add on Spanish or German. This is on top of the colloquial dialect, Darija, which is spoken at home and in the streets. We have earned respect from Moroccans for learning Arabic simply because they value language so much – they are used to tourists not speaking a word of Arabic or Darija.

This was just a summary of the basics. There are so many details that are impossible to take in just by knowing the facts. I hope to post a “part 2” with more information on how Moroccan schools relate to Moroccan culture.

A New Holiday-Rachel Sandman

     The holiday season is off to a great start for all of us here at the Center for Language and Culture in Marrakesh.  On Sunday, a Halloween party was organized by the NSLI-Y students for our Moroccan colleagues. I was right at home among the familiar games, foods and traditions of Halloween and had lots of fun sharing the holiday with Morocco.  However, a much more exciting holiday has overshadowed  the "Halloween buzz".  Eid  Kabir, the Muslim Thanksgiving, is next week. This three day feast marks a celebration for the pilgrimage returnees that includes the entire Islamic world. On Eid Kabir, each Muslim family buys a sheep (or many sheep) to sacrifice in remembrance of Abraham's actions in the Koran. The particular story that is remembered tells of the time when Abraham received a message  from God, telling him to kill his only son, Issac. Abraham took Issac to the top of a mountain and prepared to do as the Lord told him. Upon seeing that Abraham obeyed him, God sent a ram to Abraham so he would not have to sacrifice his son. So, on Eid Kabir, Muslims sacrifice sheep to remember that obeying God is important. After the sheep sacrifice (which can be done by a butcher or the head of the family), people eat the entire sheep, starting with the insides on the first day and then with the meat for the following week. Each family keeps one third of the meat for themselves, give a third to their family and give a third to the poor.
    Needless to say, my American counterparts and I are very anxious and excited for this foreign holiday. The Moroccan's enthusiasm is contagious and we have already heard many stories of sheep sacrifices and celebrations that last for days. We are all mentally preparing ourselves for the moment to witness a sacrifice and  to eat parts of the sheep that we normally would not dream of tasting.  In moments like these I am reminded of the value of an exchange program as opposed to an Arabic classroom. Never in a million years would I have imagined a holiday like Eid Kabir and am sure it will be a memorable addition to my 2011 holiday season.





Sheep for sale outside of Marjan! (The "Walmart" of Marrakesh).

Photo by Melanie Bahti

***The information I present in this blog are conclusions I drew from talking to Muslim colleagues. I recognize that Eid Kabir traditions may vary across the Islamic world and am by no means an expert on this holiday.

Hospitality - Melanie

We’ve been with our host families for five weeks now, and we’ve settled into a routine, at least in my house. I’m used to the way my family works, to the schedule of meals and when certain chores get done, and by whom. My family has been extremely hospitable from the start of my stay with them, but I can tell that my host mom isn’t quite as fussy about us anymore. She doesn’t prevent us from clearing our dishes from the table after meals, she accepts our help with doing chores in the kitchen, and she doesn’t always make us special dishes any more.

So yesterday, when Melissa and her sister Jessie came over for lunch, I got a renewed taste of our family’s amazing hospitality. My host mom asked me a week in advance what we should make for lunch, and (of course) I told her to make the tagine with chicken and preserved lemons that has been my favorite since the first time I tried it. Yesterday morning she started cooking, and by the time I got back to the house from a meeting, she had made two different salads, quinces, and most of the tagine. She was worried that our host dad would forget to bring home some bread, so she made our sister go out to the bakery to get some (we wound up with twice as much bread as necessary, because our host dad didn’t forget).

We were extremely well fed at lunch, there was copious bread, and the tagine was amazing as usual. After lunch, our host mom brought us fruit, and then cookies and tea. We were all pretty much unconscious on the couch, and our host mom was in the kitchen making an apple tart for later. After an hour or so of semi-consciousness, two of my sisters and I took Jessie to the hammam, which is the traditional Moroccan bathhouse.

We spent several hours at the hammam, and when we got back home my host mom fed us cake and avocado banana juice. By this time, Jessie really needed to head home, but my family offered (twice) to let her stay for dinner, and even to sleep at our house for the night. They also said that the next time she came to Morocco she was welcome to come over for more tagine and cake. Our sister even drove Jessie the two hundred yards to the main road to catch a cab.

This entire day was an amazing illustration and reminder of Moroccan hospitality. I’ve gotten used to my family’s routines and generosity, so it was really nice to see them doing the same to someone else from a bystander’s perspective. Moroccan hospitality is seriously amazing, and I think everyone else would agree that we’re seriously lucky to be experiencing this for an extended period of time.

8 Questions For the Return by Charlotte B.

I know its a little bit early to start blogging about this, but I have been thinking about the transitions we are going to need to go through when we get back home. I came up with a list of 8 questions that we will face when we get back to our American lifestyles. Here they are:

1) Where are all the taxis?
We are going to have to drive ourselves places rather than rely on the help of a cab driver.

2) Why am I using a fork and spoon to eat this meal? Where is the bread?!
For my host family silverware equals bread, and at this point I am far more comfortable with edible cutlery.

3) Why do I have to read and write from left to right?
I was reading an English novel the other day and repeatedly read the same page over and over again because I was reading from right to left.

4) Wow, why is everyone dressed so provocatively?
Back in sunny New Mexico I am used to wearing shorts and tank tops, but because we have a dress code at the CLC and revealing clothing is reserved mostly for tourists and non Moroccans, I am now getting accustomed to covering my knees and shoulders.

5) Why do I have to wait for the signal at the crosswalk to cross the street?
One thing I have noticed while walking through the streets of Marrakesh is that, although there are signals in some places, most people cross the street at their own leisure and try not to get hit by moving vehicles.

6) Where is the sugar/bread/mint tea?
This is pretty self explanatory. Its pretty much impossible to go a day without eating these food items.

7) Why are we eating dinner so early?
In my host family, we eat dinner sometime between 9:30 and 11:30pm. I consider this pretty late.

8) Where are all the cats?
Cats are very abundant in Marrakesh and there seems to be more and more each day. Unless you really love cats and have a house full of them, cats are not as prominent in the U.S.

The McDonald's Experience By Bridget Granger

With over 35,000 McDonald's fast food chains established worldwide, it came as no surprise to see that Marrakesh claims at least 4 as its own. I have visited McDonald's four times since my arrival in Morocco, but one trip in particular really stood out. I had ordered a cappuccino and enjoyed drinking it. That is, until I stumbled upon a rather large chunk of what still remains a mystery. At first glance it appeared to be a little ball of bread but further investigation led me to believe it was something much less appetizing. After deliberating with Joe, he decided to take the cup down to the register and attempt to get a new one. Apparently, the management had said it was merely "dried milk" but a part of me refuses to accept that explanation. To this day I remain a skeptic of any McDonalds' beverages.          

Food for Thought - Caleb

Despite all of the amazing food here, I still found myself craving authentic Asian cuisine. It's been another obstacle being without the food I'm familiar with back home, but thankfully, a few of my Moroccan and American friends had the same desire as I did. We eventually found Muraille d'Asie, a restaurant with all kinds of Asian food. It wasn't the best that I've had, but it definitely satisfied my craving.

photography by Negina Pirzad

basketball- Joe

Here at the CLC we now have a basketball club on Saturdays.  This picture is actually not from the club, its just a pick-up game but it gives a general idea of what it looks like.  There are a few differences between how Moroccans and Americans play basketball.  One is that Moroccans don't check the ball after a stoppage, they just go.  It is less physical and more fouls are called.  Traveling is also called a bit differently.  Despite the differences we're having a great time teaching people a few things and learning something as well.  

Learning a language- by Shannon

In America, as I packed and prepared for my upcoming gap year, I encountered two questions that I would like to address here. I wanted to talk about them for the sake of knowing why and what drove us to live so long in Morocco.

The first question: "What makes language learning important for my life?"
I find learning languages important for several reasons. For one thing, you can make deep connections with people, discovering differences and similarities in cultures that aren't necessarily printed in travel books. Also, the satisfaction that you receive from hearing somebody speak in another language and understanding it is extraordinary. I can only describe it to looking at a math test that you studied hard for, and finding that you know the answer to every question. What a great feeling that is. Lastly, language, especially when encountered in its native environment, opens up your world. All of the sudden, you have the ability to understand newspapers and television reports, people on the street, people with signs, people performing rituals, what or whoever. The culture starts to make so much sense. In Arabic, mostly all of the phrases, whether they be in response to a sneeze or a fresh hair cut, have the name Allah in them. Yes, you can see the mosques, hear the call to prayer, and encounter women covered from head to toe in veil, but you won't grasp how God is, in every way, apart of these peoples' lives, including the way that they speak and what they say. I find that fascinating.

The second question: It's often asked of myself and of my classmates, "But isn't learning Arabic really hard?"
I find this question intriguing. One, isn't learning any language, with all of its vocabulary, grammar, and nuances also hard? True, when learning a language that utilizes the same alphabet or characters that you use in your first language (that is, if you're first language is a written language), you have one less step. Afterwards, however, you're on an even playing ground with the rest of those who don't need to take that step. Two, does that mean that we should stop learning Arabic? The question seems to imply, "Why would you do something challenging when you could do something easier," which I find says something about the person's character. Or maybe, that person just responds in such a way because they have nothing better to say. Either way, I find it almost insulting to insinuate that I, of all people, should not be doing something that challenges me rather than bores me. That sounds a bit defensive, and I suppose it is, but after answering that questions twenty times, I've analyzed it. For future reference: Arabic is challenging (just like any other language) and yes, I'm up for it.

I hope that this blog clarifies any questions of motive that you readers might have. I'm sure there are plenty of other ones, but these two were the main ones I encountered. I would like to encourage anybody to take up a language whether they're 13 or 53. Just consider the possibilities!

Generation: I Don't Really Know Yet by Negina Pirzad

So far on our stay here, I have had countless run-ins with the children of Morocco. There have been pleasant experiences, and unsettling ones too, but every occurrence has been really different from the one before. Even just comparing the kids in Casablanca to those in Marrakech to the ones in the Atlas Mountains, the children vary so much that it’s hard to make a general opinion of this nation’s newest generation.

In Casablanca, the kids that we encountered seemed to be more adamant to sell things to us because we looked like tourists and they were also more adamant to gain our attention in negative ways. I remember two girls on the Casablanca Beach who wouldn’t give up on selling us gum. They tried Arabic, French, and even some English, but all that came across was a sad desperateness that couldn’t be hidden behind their young charm. It seemed incredibly annoying at the moment, but looking back on it, it's really unfortunate that some children, by choice or by the demand of parents, feel the need to spend their days nagging touristy looking people for a few durhams that would actually make a pretty big difference in their lives. Another negative experience with the kids of Casa was when we passed a group of boys after our couscous lunch. It seemed like they wanted the attention of us Americans so badly that they used the only material they thought would work on us: cursing. A four letter word here, a middle finger there, I was definitely rubbed the wrong way.

My exposure to kids in Marrakech, so far, has been both good and bad. The most touching and most positive of all would have to be going to The Center of Hope baby orphanage. A group of us visit the infants, toddlers, and children with handicaps that stay there on a weekly basis. Our job is to basically brighten their days. Even though I look like an obnoxious crazy person when I’m singing and dancing for ten not-so-enthusiastic babies, it is so worth it to see the slightest grins on their adorable faces. Since there are usually only about four caretakers present while we're there, a lot of the babies have gotten the self-soothing method down. And despite the countless nurseries the orphanage has, it’s surprising and a little eerie how quiet it can get.

During our time in the High Atlas Mountains, I also got to see another side to Moroccan children that was dramatically different from the two cities before. The Amazigh, or Berber, kids we ran into along the village streets carried enough amazingness for me, but when we visited the public school, I felt like we were in their worlds for those short fifteen minutes. We were in their classroom where their educational careers were beginning, where their dreams are starting to come alive, and where their peer interacting was blossoming. I loved just looking at their ten year old-ish faces, trying to figure out what was going through their minds when twenty Americans disrupted their lesson. For the most part, the kids out in the mountains just seemed to have genuine ambitions that they worked for day in and day out. Of course we experienced the select few who were begging for pens or hair ties and followed us until they got one or the other, but overall, the Amazigh experience was an amazing one. The youth out there don't have parks or soccer fields to play in, they have nature and their imaginations to get them further in life. 
          I'm happy I've gone through every positive and every negative experience I have with a handful of Morocco's youngest generation. Every day is another major lesson in the school called life for me (don't worry, I know what you're thinking, but there is seriously no other way to describe Morocco). I'm genuinely interested in finding out what the kids of Marrakech, Casa, and the Atlas Mountains will make of themselves in the future because as of right now, I'm supes confuzzled.

Once again, until next time,

Negina

Overcoming Sickness--Heather Jackson

Dear Reader,

Being sick and away from home is… never fun, but when you are surrounded by people that love you, you somehow know everything is going to be okay. 

Over this past week I have survived food poisoning (we think), a flu bug, and a terrible head cold.  The food poisoning unfortunately hit me on the five our drive back from the Atlas Mountains. But, after returning to Marrakesh, I was welcomed home and comforted right away by my host sisters and mom.  The next morning I awoke and was made some special soup for my stomach by my host mom,( which was the first meal I had eaten in over twenty-four hours.  Even though I wasn’t back to normal at this time I felt so much better because I was being taken care of and was with my family.  Throughout the course of the rest of the week I somehow managed to catch every virus in my path, but everything else seems like a “piece of cake/(pie)” to get through after feeling the effects of the food poisoning.  Even though I wasn’t at home in the States, I still felt safe and comforted.  I even received a  get well card from all my friends at the CLC, which just reminded me what an amazing support system I have here in my second home.

 Getting sick away from my mom and without tomato soup is always going to be a little difficult, but its possible to overcome with loving people around you. I truly believe I am stronger from having survived this last week! J

Love,
Heather Jackson

Dodging Vehicles Like a Pro - Charlotte C

Living in a new country comes with numerous dangers and challenges; not speaking the language, eating strange foods, trying to avoid cultural taboos, AND crossing the street. It might sound like a menial task but, believe me, its a skill that has to be mastered. Some of the best advice we received during orientation was the warning that pedestrians do not have the right of way in Morocco so we shouldn't just step out and expect they will yield to us. Yet I was still unprepared for the hidden danger of Marrakech, the primary mode of transportation, the motorbike. Unlike the majority of cars, motorbikes do not remain in lines or between lines and generally weave tighter than a Turkish rug. Taxis think that their next drop-off is the most important place to be and it doesn't matter if other people are in a hurry too. They are all going too slow.

Therefore, every time you step off the curb to cross the road, you risk your life and I have never successfully avoided death so many times. When we first came, we would hold hands with our host sister like small children and by the time we were half way across we were running and screaming for our lives because the vehicles were coming faster than expected. When riding in cabs, our driver would run about 2 inches from someone crossing the road and I would squeak and hold on tight. Now, I go with the traffic, moving through it and not running. I got it down and hope to get even better.

When asked how he adapted to driving in Morocco, one American guy told us that you have to be willing to live with infinite "near-misses" and not lose your nerve. When you're a driver, passenger, or pedestrian you can't freeze up, be on the top of your game, and just be thankful that it was a "miss" this time.

The American Reputation-Rachel

An aspect of Moroccan life that has been a big surprise to me is the extent of the American influence present in this country. It seems like all families have access to many American TV shows, movies, news magazines and music. I have been in countless situations where my host sister will know an American song, band or celebrity that I have not even heard of. While this can be a good thing and has provided many topics of conversation between my host sister and I, it can sometimes be an embarassment. In Islamic culture, men and women only date eachother if they are to be married, drinking is considered "unclean" and modest dress is encouraged, as it is disrespectful to oneself and others to show one's cleavage, midriff or upper thigh. In most American TV shows, movies or music that are shown abroad, sex, drugs and alcohol assume an extremely large role. As a result of the poor representation of Americans through countless movies, shows and even commercials in other nations, especially Islamic countries, Americans have acquired somewhat of a negative reputation abroad. Even in Brazil, where I grew up, Americans are sometimes viewed as people who could not care less about the world around them, hook up with a different person every night, have little self respect, only care about money and drown themselves in drugs and alcohol. I understand why residents of other countries see Americans in that light, but I know for a fact that is not true and make an effort to let people from other countries see how "real" Americans act and think. NSLI-Y is the perfect opportunity for American to be represented correctly in foreign countries and correct the misconceptions that the media has established. Just the other day, I met a Moroccan women in the gym who spoke excellent English and we began talking. After ten minutes of conversation about religion, politics and marriage (no topic of conversation is off limits to Moroccans), she stopped me in midsentance, and exclaimed in surprise, "Wait! You are not English??!!" "No", I said,"I am American". The woman's eyes then widened in surprise as she leaned close to me and practically whispered, "But you are nice". The woman's discovery that Americans can be nice is only one opportunity I have had to correct misconceptions that American media has established about Americans in other countries. I am very greatful for a chance to redeem the American reputation and am proud to assist in building bridges of understanding between Americans and Moroccans.

Soccer

Post by Kaylah Cruz-Herrera

Morocco vs. Tanzania.  Winner goes to the African Cup.  If you want to watch it, get to a cafe three hours before it starts.  If you don't, you'll have to sit on the arms of chairs or stand outside along with a hundred other people trying to watch the game.  Yeah, soccer's kind of a big deal here.

Eid Kabir Thieves?! by Sarah

I was stumbling into my outdoor sandals, ready to start the day, when my host mom stopped me with a flood of anxious words. My Darija is still poor, but I knew it was some kind of warning or prohibition, and it had something to do with the bus.

                “I don’t go by bus today?” I attempted in weak Darija.

                “La, la, take the bus, but don’t take a lot of money today. Just enough for the bus ride to school, and home, and food. And don’t take important documents.” (All this in Darija--it took quite a lot of charades to get “documents” across.)

                “Why?”

                “Eid Kabir is coming, and there are a lot of thieves on the bus. They want money to buy a sheep to—“ and an emphatic finger across the throat, signifying slaughter. “Fhemti? Fhemti mizyan?” Do you understand?

                “Naam, fhemt mizyan.”

                I was a little later to school than I had intended, but at least my wallet was safe.

Atlas Mountains

 In the Atlas Mountains

For all of us, the Atlas Mountains were a breath of fresh air, litterally. Compared to the thick smoggy air, loud traffic and large population of Marrakech, the country side was a good change of pace. We were able to strech our legs hiking and interact with the community. The whole weekend was a great adventure.

Top 3 Experiences:

1) Having Tea With Local Families

2) Picking Apples From Trees.. And Eating Them!

 

3) Enjoying the Views

Sounds of Morocco - Melanie

Morocco is different from the United States in many respects, but what I have been most aware of recently are the sounds. At home in the States I’m used to hearing frogs in the pond, coyotes howling, and maybe the occasional noise from a neighbor’s house. Here, the noises are completely different, which has taken some getting used to. These are a few of the things by which I’ve been most struck.

The call to prayer: Five times a day, from every mosque in the city, the call to prayer sounds through loudspeakers on the minaret. It’s definitely something you have to hear to really understand the experience, which is something I realized this past weekend when we were in the Atlas Mountains. The gîte in which we were staying was only a few yards down the street from the village masjid, so the call to prayer was much louder than I’m used to hearing it back home in Marrakesh. It wasn’t the most pleasant thing at 3 and 5 am, but I still find the call to prayer really nice to hear. One night some of us were lying on the roof of the gîte stargazing, and the call to prayer sounded from the masjid. It felt really surreal to be looking at the crisp, brilliant stars of the mountain night and to hear the muezzin calling from across the street. At the masjid in the mountains, the call to prayer was actually a live person using a loudspeaker (something we realized when he cleared his throat into the microphone one morning), but in the city it’s often recorded. In addition, some of the mosques aren’t quite synchronized in their timing. From my house I hear the call to prayer almost in a round from the two closest mosques, and it has become very comforting to hear the sound in stereo as I’m walking home or in the middle of the night.

Car horns: In the States, at least among the people I know, using your horn to beep at another driver is a last resort if no other means of communication will work. Here, it’s the opposite—the horn is the first way to attract another driver (or motorcyclist)’s attention, warn them of something, chastise them for cutting you off or getting in your way, or just to say hello. My taxi ride to school every morning is punctuated by frequent blasts on the horn from the driver, and responses from the other people on the road. The streets are so busy that it’s often necessary to use one’s horn (as well as an arm out the window) to supplement a turn signal when changing lanes, because the three or four mopeds squeezed between you and the next car won’t necessarily be able to see your taillights. Today, on the bus home from school, the driver leaned on his horn for a solid 30 seconds (no exaggeration) because a woman on her moped was taking up a little more of the lane than he wanted. Even though some of the horns are indistinguishable from a donkey’s bray, they do serve an important purpose, because despite the insanity of Marrakeshi traffic I’ve only seen one traffic accident (and only between mopeds, not cars).

Greetings: One of the hallmarks of a conversation with a Moroccan (at least in my experience) is a drawn-out greeting and questioning about one’s family. The teacher whose English class I visited the first week stops me every time he sees me at the CLC, always with questions about my family. (“Salam ualeikum.” “Waleikum salam. Labess?” “Labess, alhamdulillah. Wa nta?” “Alhamdulillah. How’s your family? How’s your mom? Are they doing well?”) There’s a genuine level of concern inherent in these conversations, too. I get the feeling that people really want to know how my mom is doing, or how my dad is. It’s the same with my host family, too. They’ve only met a few other people in the group, but they routinely ask about them at dinner or when we get home. And whenever they hear that someone was sick, they inquire about their wellbeing as soon as we get home. I’ve come to appreciate these conversations a lot more recently, because it’s nice to know that people are concerned. I’m hoping that eventually I’ll be able to continue in Arabic after saying “How are you?” but for now I’ll have to rely on English. 

The calm of the Atlas Mountains- by Cassie

Because I live in a very mountainous area back home, I immensely enjoyed my hiking experience this past weekend. Though I was sick in the beginning, hiking improved my situation beyond what the busy, dirty streets of Marrakesh could do. On the first day, we arrived in Ait Boogamez, an Amazeer village, with high hopes. Needless to say, our dreams were surpassed. The majesty of the mountains was overwhelming. The people in the village were friendly and hospitable. The weather was absolutely perfect, just a touch on the chilly side.

We stayed in a hostel at night (or gite, as some people know it to be called), and hiked on Friday and Saturday. We watched people work on their plots of land as we hiked, feeling and seeing the richness of Amazeer culture. The animals portrayed the respect and dependence of the people on nature and animals. Well-fed donkeys and mules, plump sheep with their babies, and playful chickens tucked away in their shelters gave the group a strong sense of humility. In America, it is so easy to forget about the animals and farmers that contribute to our meals and the cars that take us places. Such simple and organic ways of living made us feel a sense of comfort and security. It is so great to know that some people in the world live their lives simply still. We loved it!

However, coming back to Marrakesh was great, as well. I know everybody was pleased to see the loving faces of their families upon return. It was great to hear my host mom cooing at me and expressing her love. Life in Morocco is exceptional.

Just another example of Moroccan hospitality by Shannon

It has only been three weeks since we arrived in Morocco, yet I am anxious about leaving. In fact, a reoccurring conversation that my American roommate and I have showcases this theme. I think to myself, "How will I adjust back to my normal life, and how will I leave this beautiful place, knowing that a country thousands of miles away provides me meaningful language skills, cultural encounters, and loving people?" My only consoling idea is to enjoy every moment I have here. I study in between classes and electives, in the car, and after dinner and I'm still left wanting more.

 I was talking to one of my friends on this trip and we decided that balancing risks with rewards is the only sure way to get the full experience. So here's to using my Arabic when I'm nervous about my host-family's reaction. Here's to my random conversations with CLC staff members and random people on the street. And here's to my late-night study sessions when I want to sleep. 

Though I have many examples of love and support from the Moroccans I encounter, let me share my most recent experience. Two days ago, my roommate and I were walking to the gym after Arabic lessons. As we distanced ourselves from our school, a dirty man approached us. Sticking his hand out and getting uncomfortably close, he cussed in English at us as we forcefully responded "No" to his slurred Arabic. I wrapped my hand around my roommate's arm and directed us towards a group of Moroccans standing outside a business. Without a word, a man from the group grabbed a metal pole and started aggressively charging the dirty guy. I'm telling you, with no communication, this Moroccan took it upon himself to take care of us. Afterwards, we thanked him profusely. He waved the situation off modestly. 

If you have ever considered coming to Morocco, stop. Just get yourself on the next plane. Though the ticket will be pricey to come and leave, your cost of living will be significantly less. You will quickly make up the money as you spend very little on utilities and food. Then stop by the CLC and start learning Arabic. Better yet, sit in a cafe in the medina and listen to the conversations around you. Notice the gestures that they make, the phrases that they use, and the way they keep close to others of the same sex. They are such loving people. You will not regret it. Now go buy your plane ticket!

Moroccan Birthday, Yeah! by Charlotte Blair

      My birthday was last weekend and I didn't exactly know how I would feel because it was my first birthday away from home. I knew that I would miss being with my friends and family back in New Mexico and I knew for sure that I would miss my mother's homemade chocolate fudge cake-which is the best in the world! 

      I had predicted that my birthday in Morocco would be just like any other day and I was pleasantly surprised when I found out that it wasn't.A few days before my birthday, Emi and I shared a  birthday party with the group at Emi and Shannon's host house. There were so many wonderful surprises at this party and its really nice to know that when you need a little extra support, you have a whole community of people that you can rely on.
      On my actual birthday, I was laying on my bed, exhausted from playing pool and eating ice cream, when my host sister called us downstairs for diner. She led us to the bottom level of our house and when we walked through the door of our kitchen my host family, including my host mother and father, my two sisters, my three cousins, and my host aunt and uncle, began to sing "Happy Birthday" to me. Then they preceded to sing "Happy Birthday" in Arabic and in French. They set out a table full of goodies such as popcorn and licorice, and in the middle of the table sat my birthday cake. The cake was banana cream and was topped with real fruit and beautiful frosting sculpted roses. After we ate cake, my family, one by one, gave me gifts. Even my aunt, who I had only met a few times before, gave me a delicate, porcelain sifter. I was so touched by their gestures and I continue to be surprised by how generous and welcoming Moroccans are.
     

Life in the Medina (by Caleb)

I wish I could include everything I love about life in Marrakech in one blog post, but unfortunately, I’m loving it a little too much here, and should probably try to get some more sleep tonight! So instead I’ll tell you just a little bit about my life in the medina.

On the way to school each day, I make my way through a maze of streets to get to Jemaa al-Fna, where I’m (usually) able to catch a “petit taxi” to the CLC. It’s fairly quiet in the morning as all the businesses and stores are just setting up for the day. But when I return home in the evening, it’s a completely different city. The later it gets, the more crowded Jemaa al-Fna becomes, and it feels like every night is a big celebration here. I’m convinced that no matter how many times I walk through the medina, I’ll always find something interesting. There are monkeys, snake charmers, dancers, magicians, and storytellers, but observing the tourists from all over the world can be equally if not more entertaining. And everything from ostrich eggs to human teeth to traditional medicines can be found in the square or the souks, if you’re up for bargaining with the crafty shopkeepers. One thing I love about walking home through the square everyday is the fresh orange juice sold in the stands, with one glass costing only 4 dirhams. And after dark, food stalls open and fill the square with smoke and delicious smells. Walking back home at night through the very crowded medina streets is honestly a bit frustrating, but only because I know where I want to go and cannot get there fast enough. Anyone visiting Marrakech really ought to wander through those little streets though to get a real sense of Moroccan life. Despite the speeding mopeds and potential pickpockets of the streets of the medina, the friendliness of Moroccans is surprising everywhere. They are eager to help foreigners and love using their French and English to greet us. And despite the madness of the medina outside, my house is so quiet and peaceful inside. I’ve only been here for two and a half weeks, but I already feel at home.