Monday, October 31, 2011

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.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

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.


Wednesday, October 26, 2011

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.          

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

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.  

Monday, October 24, 2011

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

Sunday, October 23, 2011

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

Saturday, October 22, 2011

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.

Friday, October 21, 2011

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.

Thursday, October 20, 2011

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. 

Monday, October 17, 2011

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.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

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.

Post by Bridget Granger


The delightful aroma of packaged airplane cuisine wafted through the cabin as I anxiously scanned the nighttime sky for city lights. Sheer anticipation and excitement billowed within me as I approached my group's final destination; Marrakesh, Morocco. Four  days prior, I flew from Michigan to Washington DC for three jam packed days of pre-departure orientation. It was in Washington DC where I met the sixteen other NSLI-Y Arabic scholarship students. Among the seventeen of us, we represent over ten states from across the country.  We are all quite different and come from various backgrounds, which often causes many engaging and entertaining conversations within the group. Pre-departure orientation consisted of conference meetings with informative individuals ranging from State Department employees to the president of our implementing agency Legacy International. Subject matters included talk about cultural faux pas, safety matters, and general customs of Morocco. It was on the fourth day when my group and I began the long and stressful trek to Africa. Roughly thirty hours after leaving the DC hotel, we had safely arrived in Morocco! Jet-lagged and utterly exhausted, our bus pulled up to the CLC (Center for Language and Culture) where our Arabic lessons are held. Host families had lined up awaiting our arrival with the warmest of welcomes. It is now my eighth day living in the city of Marrakesh, and each day presents new and enthralling experiences! So far my group has visited the Medina of Marrakesh which is sensory overload! Snake charmers, flame throwers, and belly dancers all drawing crowds as traditional Moroccan music mixes with the shouting of vendors and the singing of henna artists. Incense burns while the scents of citrus juice, spice mounds, and couscous fill the air. Bargaining in the Medina is also quite the experience. With my new Arabic vocabulary I talked a man down from 200 dirhams to only 80 dirhams. Shopping has been one of my favorite aspects of the trip so far, and the insanely low prices make it all the more satisfying. In addition to the Medina, my group also visited a boarding school for girls who want an education but would otherwise be unable to get one with the state of poverty that they are in. The same day we stopped by an orphanage and held little babies and played with disabled children. Morocco and Moroccan culture drastically differs from the United States. I am constantly absorbing the many intricate pieces that create the mosaic of Morocco. I can only hope that by the end of this journey I will have gained a better understanding and appreciation for not just Moroccan culture, but the different cultures of the world. Below is a list of just a few cultural observations made in my first week abroad.

1. Moroccans eat late.
The EARLIEST my host family has ever eaten dinner is somewhere around 10:50 pm! At first I thought it was just my family but the next day in Arabic class everyone confirmed they had dinner around 11pm too. I am not at all accustomed to eating so late, hence my diminishing supply of American junk food.

2. Moroccan life is loud.
My American roommate and I have yet to go a night without hearing a lively wedding, rambunctious house gathering, or men on mules with microphones yelling out what remains gibberish to us. The traditional Muslim "call to prayer" which signals prayer time can also be heard from very far distances and has woken me up on occasion. And although this particular species is not of human variety, there is this extremely obnoxious rooster somewhere in the vicinity of my neighborhood who "cock-a-doodle-doos" into the wee hours of the morning. I will gladly supply a 200 dirham reward to anyone who "takes care" of it.

3. Moroccans never sleep.
For the life of me I can't figure out how they get any sleep! They go to bed at around 2 am, pray at 4 am, and wake up to go to work/school at 7 am. How they make it through the day remains to be a mystery. If only they could let me in on their secret because I really could use it.   

4. Moroccans are some of the warmest and most hospitable people you can ever meet.
My host family is absolutely amazing and they have truly taken me in as a member of the family. This seems to be a consistent feeling from all of the members of my NSLI-Y group as well. Between taxis drivers, shopkeepers, and helpful citizens, Moroccans generally have huge hearts and are usually always willing to provide assistance.

*Note: The above statements are merely observations and do not apply to all Moroccans.

Moroccan Victory Celebrations: Bridget Granger





A group of NSLI-Y students and I went to a cafe in downtown Marrakesh to watch the big soccer game against Tanzania. After the Moroccan victory, thousands of people stormed the streets in utter excitement! To say it was a crazy night would be an understatement...

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

A Tour of Marrakech : Charlotte C


The Medina of Marrakech represents the original and oldest section of the current city. Surrounded by a wall, the area incapsulates the age, history, and ongoing changes of Marrakech. Marrakech, "Marocsh" in Arabic, is an ancient city with much importance for the whole country. The country of Morocco got it's name in the West from the Arabic name for Morocco. In ancient times, cities were built with surrounding walls for protection and control. The Medina is that older section. When the French colonized Morocco they built their part of the city outside the walls. The French neighborhood is called Gueliz and is where the Center for Language and Culture is located. 

On Friday we went on a more extensive tour of the Medina with Brahim and Mr. Fitzgerald to explain all of the significant places. Loaded with our cameras and touristy appearance we set off, habitually denying we are tourists. The first landmark is the Koutoubia, a huge minaret towards the center of the Medina. We had a quick lesson on Islamic architecture, standing in the ruins of the old mosque there. Did you know that much of the inspiration for the arches of mosques comes from the simple idea of layered palm fronds? Then we entered into the "Souks" or shops which is a confusing network of paths winding around. Down these streets you find shops with leather bags, carpets, kaftans, metal instruments, and "hanuits" (little shops that sell everyday goods). Also, motorbikes, bikes, pedestrians, and donkey carts fight for space on the 5 foot wide street. Deep in the Medina one loses their sense of direction and becomes immersed in a world beyond what you could imagine, a world more traditional, crowded, and unusual. 

Once we walked inside, we saw palace gates, saints tombs, shops, traditional "foundocks" where venders would sell their wares, schools, a communal oven, and "riads" (Moroccan style homes). 

Medersa Ben Youssef - an old religious school that is now a museum

Koutoubia Mosque

A hanuit




Monday, October 10, 2011

Vive le Maroc! by Lilly Bork

                I dragged myself from my bed this morning after my alarm went off three times just because I was exhausted from all the chanting, screaming and walking I did last night after the soccer match. I would have to say that it was the best night I spent in Morocco so far. Since I wanted to be as spirited and blend in as much as possible, I wore my “I love Morocco” hat and my green t-shirt to a cafe to watch the match of Morocco vs. Tanzania. I was screaming “Maghrib!” the whole way while we were walking towards our destination. After spending 15 minutes in the hunnut, we finally got to the cafe that was packed with people and the only two colors we saw were green and red.
The thing I enjoyed the most while watching the match was not the actual game, but the audience around me. Whenever the Moroccan team was tempted to make a goal, everyone in the cafe reacted to it in their own way. Some of them would shout out “sir sir!” which means “go go!.” Or some would just stand up and hold their hands together, praying for their beloved team. And then others would clap their hands and yell off the top of their lungs. I of course went along with everyone else and just screamed as loud as I could. At one point, I turned around to reach for my bottle of water and just when I got hold of it, everyone in the cafe went wild. People were chanting, yelling, and hugging. That marked the first goal for Morocco.
The 15-minute half time during this match was nothing like the ones I’ve seen during American football games. Usually, that would be the time for me to buy some buffalo wings and a cup of soda. Here in Morocco, this is when you just dance and chant in the streets. People were playing drums; others were in circles dancing to the beat of others’ singing. Everyone was chanting something that I didn't understand really except for “ole Maghrib!”
 During the second half of the match, I was well prepared for the madness that I knew was coming. I found it fascinating that when Morocco scored for the third time, everyone just left the cafe and rushed to the streets. My roommate, Negina, my host sisters, and I went along and followed the Lebanese drummer that everyone seemed to flock towards. At that point, I felt the pride and patriotism within every single person around me.  As their fiery Moroccan blood ran through their veins and sweat covered their bodies, I knew I was surrounded by people who truly loved their country and soccer. There were strangers hugging each other, there were people holding up the Moroccan flag, and there were crazy boys climbing the street lamps. The cars were bumper to bumper with people yelling from inside and from on top too. I think the craziest thing I saw last night was the scene of a bus that was packed on the inside and on the top with around a hundred boys, chanting the national anthem and waving their flags. I had a little red flag with me and whenever mopeds or cars drove past me, we’d wave to each other and scream “Maghrib!.” Although my roommate and I are not Moroccan, at that point we were just excited to see everyone around us so happy and celebratory.  We just wanted to celebrate with them, it was all so contagious.
After last night I finally realized what my host brother in-law meant when he said, “soccer is the second religion in Morocco.” I loved the atmosphere, of how everyone was a family and celebrated their victory together. I didn't feel like a foreigner, a student, or a tourist. I was part of them, and I felt the pride and honor to be part of such an amazing night.

A Photographic Summary by Negina Pirzad



Hello world,

Today has marked the 17th day of our stay here in Marrakech and everyday has been filled with new and exciting discoveries that are extremely hard to put into a single blog entry. The best way I can think of to share our journey thus far is with a select few pictures from my collection of 583 (I know, I'm just kind of obsessed with this place).

Our first stop was Casablanca...

...where we visited the gorgeous beyond gorgeous Hassan II Mosque
...(مسجد الحسن الثاني)
 ...along with Casablanca beach...

...and got our first dosage of some couscous lovin'!

 Next up: Marrakech!

So far, we've visited a couple of NGO's: including a girls' school...
...and a baby orphanage.




About a week ago, the CLC organized an insane city-wide scavenger hunt where we got into teams consisting of half Moroccans and half Americans. We got a checklist and some money, then went wild! One of our teammates climbed to the top of the Koutoubia Mosque ( الكتبية )... 
...and then we cheered with glasses of Jamaa Al Fnaa's ( جامع الفناء) infamous orange juice.
Then a few days ago, Michael Fitzgerald and Brahim Zoubari from the CLC kindly took us on a historical tour of Marrakech.
 One of our stops was the incredibly beautiful Ben Youssef Madrasa that was an all boys school, turned museum.

And on Sunday (a.k.a. family day) I got to experience something that I like to call a Moroccan flee market: Souk Al Khamis.
 

And my newest adventure was watching last night's futbol match: Morocco vs. Tanzania. My roommate Lilly, my two host sisters, and I got to share the experience among truly passionate fans at probably the most crowded café in town. The people there made it feel like we were at the stadium; every "seer seer" and "Olé, olé, olé" chant we heard, made me realize how surreal my life was at the moment. All I could think of was: Am I really here, watching the national Moroccan team play a home game in its capital?


Everyday that passes here, I constantly need to stop and remind myself that what's going on is real. Like my host sister, Zinab, said the first day we got here, "Everything that you see in Marrakech is a picture." From kids driving donkey wagons to a family of five riding on a moped, this place is unlike anything I've ever seen before. A year ago, I definitely wouldn't have thought that I'd be sitting in a Moroccan language school, sipping on some mint tea, and writing a blog entry about such an amazing experience. I guess I'll get back to some more exploring.

Until next time,

Negina

 


Food - Joe

Hello everyone.  One of the main types of Moroccan food is Tajeen.  Tajeen describes both the cooking style and the dish in which the food is cooked.  Basically its a large clay plate with a tepee like lid.  Usually there there is one type of meat and one or two vegetables. My family eats Tajeen at least 3 times a week. 

Eating Tajeen (and most other Moroccan foods) is a skill that I did/do not possess.  There are no utensils.  Instead, we use bread.  We're supposed to be able to tear off a chunk of bread and wrangle a nice proportionate amount of meat, sauce, and vegetable into a nice clean blob, and then put it into your mouth without getting your fingers dirty.  Errant bread chunks in the Tajeen and considerable quantities of food departing en route to mouth have resulted in some people being given a plate and fork, or course not me. Speaking of bread, its served with every meal and I've eaten copious amounts of it over the last two weeks.  

There is one more aspect of Moroccan food that really surprised me.  SUGAR. Moroccans eat an insane amount of sugar.  The main source is Moroccan mint tea.  Ingredients- a few spoons of green tea, a wad of mint leaves, and about 2 fist sized shards (my family's sugar comes in chunks) of sugar.  Its almost like drinking syrup and we do it about 4 times a day.  Breakfast consists of bread and lots of dark honey.  Even lunch and dinner dishes can be sweet.  Our lunch yesterday was a bunch of sweet pasta covered in powdered sugar and cinnamon.

One more interesting note: At least in my family, not everyone gets a cup.  There are usually 2 cups for 5 or six people and we just pass them around.  Also, the drinking fountain at school is a tap and one bowl to drink out of for everyone.  I've definitely have had to lower my germaphobe level.


Sharing my Heritage - Kaylah Cruz-Herrera


Acima Majorelle had failed me.  After thirty minutes of running around the Moroccan version of a grocery store (which isn't very different from an American grocery store, except it's in a basement and everything has bilingual labels in French and Arabic), I had come home with a only few vegetables and hope that I'd be able to share a 
.little bit of my heritage with my host family.  I was wrong.

The project had begun almost as soon as my roommate Evan and I arrived in our new home.  After our 
brother had taught us how to make tajine, we wanted to return the favor.  Evan grew up in California and my family is originally from Mexico, so it only made sense that we would cook Mexican food.  Only...Moroccans aren't crazy about spicy food.  That was a problem.  After some brainstorming, Evan and I finally settled on guacamole.  Safe, simple guacamole.   


So we thought.

The following week, after our trip to the grocery store (where I had been forced to settle for Doritos tortilla chips instead of fresh ones) Evan and I stood in the kitchen about to prepare our dish.  Except the avocados were as hard as rocks.  Apparently, they aren't native to Marrakech.  After four days, our brother and sister were too excited to wait any longer.  They insisted on helping Evan and I beat the avocados into submission.  After ten minutes and multiple cooking instruments (including some sort of grinding device), we finally made  progress in our recipe.  My brother watched as I cut the tomatoes, onion, and cilantro, insisting on helping in order to speed up the process.  When the guacamole was finished (minus any sort of pepper), I watched nervously as my family took their first bites. They loved it.  My brother and sister even put it in the middle of the dinner table, next to the real meal.


Moroccans are very open to new ideas.  In this example, my family REALLY loved trying food from a new culture.  But this openness translates into many other areas, from dress to religion.  I feel very welcome here.

Tea Spilling - Evan

Day 1- let the tea spilling begin.

Sunday, October 9, 2011

My first experiences in Morocco...and what I learned!--Heather Jackson

Dear Reader,

After living in here in Morocco for approximately two weeks I would describe my experience thus far as being…exhilarating, overwhelming, intriguing, and probably most of all, a blessing.  But, before I tell you what I’ve learned here, I thought I’d give you a little background on myself.  
 I recently graduated from high school this past June and I come from a very suburban town in Virginia! I have a very close relationship with my family and I am a compulsive list maker.   You probably can’t imagine my level of excitement and anxiety during the weeks leading to my leaving the country.   To prepare myself for Morocco I must of read over a million travelers’ websites, skimmed multiple different blogs about Morocco, and scribbled hundreds of packing lists.  I wanted to be prepared, but I don’t think anything could prepare me or spoil my first impressions of this country!  So, I wanted to thank my family before I get to far ahead of myself for putting up with my frantic  behavior before my trip and the constant support they give me to pursue this opportunity for myself. 
As I mentioned earlier I am not a city girl!  So, going from good old Spotsylvania, Virginia to Marrakesh, Morocco was the first cultural difference that never crossed my mind when I was trying to imagine my new life here.  In the days following my arrival I learned how to take a TAXI ALL BY MYSELF.  Yes, this may sound elementary, but where I’m from there are no taxis.  In addition, I was directing taxi drivers in a language that I had very minimal experience in speaking.
The next overwhelming concept I encountered was learning how to use my right hand when eating.  I am naturally left handed and it never occurred to me that it would be considered insanitary in other cultures other than my own to eat with my left hand!  I continue to battle my brain to eat with my right hand to minimize any possible fo-pa that might occur during dinners with my family!  Although my host family is very understanding and sweet, so I don’t think they mind too much. 
It is no surprise that I have learned more about Moroccan culture and language from being here, but what I never expected to  learn was more about my own culture.  I always thought that I never had a “culture”.  I had this simple mindset that labeled myself as a patriotic “white” American girl .  Through all these little cultural interactions with my host family and some of my new Moroccan friends that I have come to realize (for the first time) that I do have a culture!  I am an American that loves to give hugs when I meet people, an American that drinks tea/coffee from a mug not a glass shot-like cup,  an American that eats sweets for dessert instead for a main course, and an American that loves to eat a classic pb&j sandwich instead of a dinner for lunch! I am exhilarated to experience new things, overwhelmed at times with speaking a new language, intrigued by Moroccan customs that Moroccan consider nothing, and blessed to have been chosen to wake up every morning and learn something new each day in this beautiful and new country for seven and a half months! 
With Love,
Heather