So, 20 minutes or so after our alarms went off every
morning, we were often visited by this bee. It is the silliest, bumbliest bee I
have ever seen. It was almost comical in its roundness and apparent idiocy. It
would fly into our bedroom in the morning, bumble (quite literally) about the
ceiling and whatnot, get confused, and eventually remember where the door was and fly back out. I see him out on the
balcony every time I do laundry, bumbling optimistically about my floral print
skirts that are hanging on the line.
He's adorable. And an idiot. I decided to name him Bumbly
Bumpkins.
He's a lot like this.
As for class, it was infinitely long today. I can't even describe
it. The hours dragged on into days, the days into weeks.
Me during class.
Part of the reason class feels so long is because I'm at
severe disadvantage from my classmates. Except for classes about the Arabic language,
I have not had any of these Middle Eastern classes about politics and history
that they've all had for the past 2-3 years. I've also not had an economics
class since before the recession of 2008. I had to explain to my
professors why I talk so little in class when we talk about politics and world
issues because I live under a rock, apparently. But yeah, they understood... I
think.
The rest of the day was normal. I did a bit of shopping,
bargained for good prices, and got some sweet stuff. (It seems like I'm
spending a lot of money, but really, everything is cheap here. Comparatively
speaking.)
I started this particular morning by cutting my hand on the
gospel.
True story.
I reached into my bag with too much forcefulness, and jammed
my finger onto the staple of the Biblical packet that they gave us last
Saturday at church. The staple bit went into my finger as far as possible, and
I was instantly bleeding. Fortunately I had Band-Aids, and everything was fine
after that. But it did make the morning feel a bit more ominous.
Class was long and boring as usual today. And we still
didn't get our cookies.
I also learned today that Mary's family -- the one I visited this
weekend -- noted to Mary that I look rather Asian, don't I?
Mary was like, "wat?"
Then that night, my friends and I hung out with our language
partner again. (And you know, it's fun and all, but these young Moroccans are
running on a summer schedule: they don't have classes right now. We do, and
then they want to be out all night and they don't understand our total
exhaustion because we have class every morning while they're all still sleeping
in.)
But we went, and it was fun. We went to the house of our
language partner's cousin (because she has a nice big house, and her cousin
brought her students too -- from the same program as us). So there was 8 of us
total, in addition to her family. But her house is nice. They have a large
salon (aka: living room) which is where we ate. At the little kid table. But it
was fun.
We had breads, pizza, boiled eggs and soup. The pizza was
odd. It was mostly sauce and some cheese with these strange slices of what-tasted-like-bologna
on them. They were weird, but it was pizza, and I miss food. So I ate them.
Then we lingered there long after we wanted to. Don't get me wrong, it's fun spending time with them, but we really do have a lot of homework, and we were very, very tired. We didn't leave until 10, and because the roads were SO busy in that part of town, we didn't get a taxi until 10:30-40, and I didn't get home until sometime past 11 pm.
Not really, though. But there was these two wedding planners
that came and talked to us about how the Moroccan weddings work. It was mostly
stuff about the bride and her clothes and whatnot... naturally. In Moroccan
weddings, the brides usually have 7 dresses, all in different colors. "That's a
lot of changing in one day", you say? Well, their weddings are also usually
10-15 days long (or longer, depending on how much money you have). That's a lot
of partying. Honestly, if I was the family member constantly going to the same
couple's wedding for half a month, I'd be pretty bored already.
But! They did bring one of the wedding dresses with them, and I got to
put it on!
I had some difficulties with the crown. I don't have enough hair to pin it to.
The woman just kept saying, "There isn't any. There isn't any."
One of the boys in our class put on the groom's clothes and
we took pictures. The groom's clothes are a little bit lackluster
when compared to the bride's, but I suppose that's normal.
Later that night, my friends and I went out with our language partner
again. We went to the market first, and I bought a couple things after bargaining
the original price of 250 dirhams down to 100 dirhams. That was a sweet deal. Then
afterwards, we went to a restaurant / ice cream place called, "Venecia
Ice." And we got ice cream... of course. It was faaaantastic.
Vanille and Chocolat
But whilst I was browsing the menu, I happened across a
rather interesting dish.
What is that doing there?
I can't help but wonder how true the flavor is to its name.
Oh, last thing: did I mention that we didn't get our cookies. The one's
that WE made last Friday and were promised to receive today? Yeah. They just didn't happen.
[Please note: I'm picking up where I left off.] We woke up on Sunday to mostly scrambled eggs, that had chunks of
these weird soft cheese triangles added to them after the eggs had
cooled somewhat, so the chunks themselves were very not melted. It was weird.
But we crammed them between pieces of bread and ate them anyway.
Afterwards, we went to McDonald's, because there's AC there and
we go where the AC is.
We worked on homework for a while. And then I got some tasty
snacks. During a previous visit, I saw someone else eating these little fried,
cheese-hearts, and I thought: "That sounds delightfully awesome." So
I tried to order some. Well, their name was in French, and I thought I had
ordered them all properly and used the French word all correctly, but no. I got
them, and they were very similar, but not the same. What they gave me
instead were these fried cheese bites that had jalepenos in the them. However! They
tasted like little queso bites! They were actually super good. I don't regret
getting my order wrong.
We worked on some more homework, and after a while one of
the McDonald's workers plugged in a stereo at the neighboring table, for the
betterment of the restaurant ambiance. We were worried at first about the
eminent noise, but what mystical melodies spilled forth from those ancient
speakers was nothing short of beautiful. It began as the epitome of a
mixed-tape, but evolved into something strange and magical.
(Note: the names of the songs are links to their respective videos... click if you are bored.)
There is an actual Bruno Mars singing in the video, but if that wasn't enough
there is also a "tape" version of him singing on the table.
Cuz that's normal.
"That tonight my hair is gonna have all the swagger at the club."
....aaaaaand
Enrique Iglesias, "Tonight I'm 'Loving' You."
(Which doesn't have a link because I found the video to contain a little too much explicit content.)
And there were many, many more.
Then for dinner, I stayed at Mary's house, because they
actually make dinner there, and they really wanted me to join them, and
we had a strange combination of breads, sweets, a plate of noodles with brown
sugar on them, and then some more of that sweet, sweet orange juice.
Afterwards, I had to leave, cuz it was late and I'm pretty
sure I didn't finish all of my homework. The host family was so confused when I
said I was leaving.
"What? Did you not bring enough clothes? Do you need me
to wash your clothes? Do you need to take a shower?" etc.
I had to be firm in that I simply needed to go home (because there's
internet there...)
Sorry that I've been not writing blogs. It's the last two weeks of school, and I'm super, super busy. However, I've been taking notes about each day, but the posts may have to wait until I return to the states and have more time to write them.
Just thought I'd let you know! Thanks for reading! I'll post more when I can.
When I woke up, it was 800 degrees in the house. At least,
it was in my room.
"I guess it's time to get up."
I thought briefly about taking a shower and quickly realized
the futility of that pursuit and decided against it. We've gotten pretty used
to not showering that we don't even notice our stank anymore. (We're not like street-rat gross, or anything. Just regular gross.)
When I walked into the living room, I saw that Noura and her
daughter were madly cleaning the house. They had stripped the couches
(apparently the outer fabric coverings aren't attached), dismantled them, and
shoved them all against the walls to clean around and behind them. Apparently this is just something they do
before the last week of Ramadan. Not sure if that's a cultural thing or a
family preference. Either way, more power to them, because as I stated previously, it was 800 degrees in the house, and they were bustling about like busy little bees, and without the option of water.
Well, as to the desert trip: I'm glad I didn't go. The more the weekend progressed, the happier
I was that I kept myself from enduring the infinitely long drive and boiling
desert sun. I know that the desert was probably awesome and such the experience,
or whatever, but I was all 'experienced' out for the week. (And anyway, it's
not like I'll never go to the Middle East again. I'm studying Arabic, after all. That has certain Middle Easterny implications.)
It is too bad I had already paid for that trip, though. It
put me in the hole, somewhat. It was kind of expensive. I tried getting a
refund, but I was only able to get half back. Which is better than nothing, but it still a lot of money lost.
So, I went to the school on Saturday and chilled with my
friend Mary instead. I had lots of homework and blogs and things I needed to catch up on. Not very exciting, but I'm not very exciting, and I enjoyed the general restful attitude of the day.
I also fixed my hat which was devastatingly broken after the
horse thing, understandably. But I just sewed it back up like the proper seamstress I am.
The work of a professional.
Then we went shopping in the market, which was fun. There's
one shop nearby that sells very lovely things which we like to visit a lot
because the shop owner gives great prices for students and he's really nice.
His name is Abdullah, and while we were there, casually browsing, he just left.
We were like, "Ok?" And we kept looking at the stuff. Then he came
back after a few minutes with two bottles of water that he'd bought for us
(because it was very hot outside). It was really nice! Then, as we continued to
look at stuff, he left mysteriously again, and then came back once more with a
bag full of sweets for us! We were like, "Wow." He is a very good
salesman, and I got some very nice things.
Then after going back to the school and chilling in AC for a
while (thank heavens the school has AC), we left and went to church again, like
last Saturday. Little had changed. I still don't know French.
"It's like they have a different word for everything."
After a hour of standing and sitting and politely listening,
church was over and we walked to Mary's house, which wasn't too far. We ate
Iftaar with her family, which was composed of some things I doubt I would ever
have eaten if I wasn't in a situation where I needed to be absurdly polite.
There was soup (which was surprisingly flavorless), and then this cold potato
chunk / tomato/ onion salad mix. I don't like any of those three ingredients,
much less together. So, I didn't eat too much, but enough that it looked like I
had at least enjoyed it.
They had the best juice though, man. It was straight up
natural orange juice. It's expensive, but they buy it from a guy who has
oranges and he squeezes like a 100 of them and then juice happens. So good.
There was also sweets that were very good, and of course the
sweets from Abdullah.
Then after Iftaar, we chilled for a while and let things
digest, and talked about the nerdiest things we could think of, and when the
coffee shops started to open we went to the one across the street from her
house called El Toro. We went for the internet, of course, not the coffee. The
internet is broken in Mary's house, for some reason.
When we got back, Mary's host mother was very insistent that
we eat dinner with them (which was going to be at 1am or so), but we were still
very full from Iftaar and didn't want any, so we just had to tell her we were
tired and that maybe we would eat dinner if we were still awake, but if our
light was off that meant we were asleep and she should let us be.
So, when 12:30 rolled around, we turned the light off and
pretended to be asleep while we continued to dick around on our computers. The
bedroom door has frosted glass windows on the front, so we had to close our
laptops and hide in darkness whenever we heard people about to pass by.
So... in the 30 minutes before class, I studied for the
test. Not long, but enough that I could remember all the vocab.
Didn't matter. That test.... I couldn't understand that
actual sentences that I was supposed to plug the words into, and if I don't
understand the context, then I certainly can't know what words to put there.
But, I think I understood the story that was in there for
the most part, and I wrote a decent essay, I thought. I knew I studied that
vocabulary for something.
But luckily after Modern Standard Arabic was over, we had
our Colloquial class, and we made cookies! They brought all the ingredients in,
and we stirred them all together and rolled them into little tasty looking
sugar-balls, and we were all ready to have them baked so we could eat them, and
the cook smiled joyfully at us as she took the pan away and said, "And!
You get to eat these on Monday!"
Our reaction.
So yeah. I'm sure they'll be so fresh on Monday. Can't
wait.
As to the pain, because I'm sure you're just on the
edges of your seats wondering, I was still aching on Friday, but this should be
the day that everything would start to dissipate, slowly, but surely. So no
worries.
However, there was a planned trip for the weekend, one that
I had already signed up for and paid for before I knew I was going to
fall off a horse and still be in pain. So, I spent a significant portion of the
day trying to decide whether or not I should go, because I didn't want to
regret not going, but I didn't want to be in pain the whole time and not enjoy
it anyway, and then come back feeling worse (because it was a very energy
spending weekend trip). There were about 12 other students who signed up to go,
and it sounded so fun, and I spent a great deal of time pulling my hair out
trying to decide, but, after much internal debate, I concluded that I was going
to be in too much pain if I went, so I stayed here instead.
My roommate still went though, and they all left at midnight
that night (you have to travel at night because it's an 8 hour bus trip, and
since it's still Ramadan, nothing is open during the day and you'd be stranded
if you needed to stop for anything. Like gas. Or restrooms.)
But, before everyone left, we had our last mandatory event
that day after class. I'll just say it was a VERY controversial discussion
about Islam and government and other things like how they viewed women's roles
and some other stuff that most Americans would be offended just to hear.
Needless to say, we were, in fact, all very offended, and the program must have
known that we would be when they hired these guest speakers, but I guess they
just wanted to give us a taste of wildly different world views.
After we got home, and after Iftaar, my roommate wanted to
prepare for the upcoming trip, so we went to the supermarket and bought all
things bad for us, like chips and cookies and chocolate. I really like these
cookies called "Tango" cookies, and they're like 17 cents for a
package of 6 of them. They're a lot like those cheap half-vanilla, half-chocolate
cookies that everyone ever brought to those little kid parties. You know the
ones. They're kind of off-brand but awesome.
Yeeeeah. I loved those.
These are sort of like that.
Delicious. (Though unfortunately they haven't made me tango yet. Perhaps I haven't had enough exposure. I must experiment further.)
Needless to say, on Thursday I did not feel even slightly
better. In fact, I felt infinitely worse from the previous night. Everything
ached more than ever, and my head was pounding, and I just could not do class.
So I slept through all of it, which is a little unfortunate because they had an
event (for once) where they set up a table in the classroom to mimic a table at a
Moroccan wedding, and they explained everything about that, especially from a
catering perspective (because the presentation was given by a wedding caterer). But I didn't care enough to stop sleeping.
Later that evening, the last thing I could think of wanting
was the same old soup as always at the house, so I and my roommate went to
Pizza Hut instead so I could have something to make me feel better, and although the Pizza Hut bro getting the crust wrong (thin instead of pan, despite my clarification when
ordering), it was still greasy and delicious and beautiful.
And, while we were in there, a dust storm suddenly decided
to blow through Meknes. It was brief, and my roommate was all in awe of it, but
I was like, "Eh." After living in West Texas so long, this was really
nothing. I mean, you could still see the streets and the sky. It was no big
deal.
Then, we went home and I studied for my Arabic test. Sort
of. Not really.
Disclaimer: If you prefer the happier blogs, please skip this one, as it is not very happy at all.
Well, I started to the feel the effects of the horse-fall
more on Wednesday. I didn't want to tell the teachers what happened, for fear
that they might ban horse-back riding for everyone ever due to the fact that
one student fell and got hurt that one time. That would be selfish.
So, it was obvious something happened (my arm clearly
had a run in with prickly bushes or an overly ferocious street cat), so I just
told them I fell while I was running. And I hit my head on the ground too,
because it was killing me, and I took a lot of Exedrin that day.
Fortunately, there's a couch (er... a large cushion on the
ground) in the classroom, which students can use if they are feeling ill, so I
definitely used it during the last third of class, and I just laid there like the
useless student I was.
Unfortunately, that night was the evening that I had to go
out with my language partner, so after dinner, I went to meet her and the two
other girls who she meets with, and we all walked through the market for a bit,
because that's what I wanted to do. Then, because many of the stores were not
open yet, our language partner asked us what we wanted to do: sit in a coffee
shop and wait for everything to open, or walk to the reservoir and then come
back when everything was open.
Of course, I was like, "Um. Sit. Because, you know, I
fell off a horse yesterday, and I don't want to walk."
But then we met up with our language partner's cousin, (who
is also a language partner at our school), and her three students, and they
wanted to go to the reservoir. So what did we do? We made that 30 minute walk
out there, even though we'd already been once before and there was nothing new to do, and I
felt like dying and I told them so, but that didn't change anything.
Then there was nothing to do once we got there, and it was
really hot, and there was a bunch of creepy dude's, and I was in so much pain
and nobody was listening to me, and we were walking, and then there were these
little boys that started pestering me (just me, nobody else), and they were
tugging on my shirt and giggling and trying to talk to me in French, and no
matter what their intentions were (whether it was trying to get a sweet piece
of ass or trying to get money from me), they weren't good. By this point in
time, I had reached my stress limit, because I also had homework in addition to
a presentation the next day, and I was so tired and in pain, that when that
child touched my back one more time he crossed that invisible line and I
rounded on him so fast and threw my fist inches in front of his fact, and said
in deadly calm, "I will punch you so hard right now." The
group flew back from my fist in surprise, and I rounded on my heel and left
them there.
I should have punched him, despite him being like 9. I
lament not punching him, because he really deserved it. And he was so
not ready for my fist. I probably would have broken his nose, but that would've
learned the lot of them not to pester foreigners. But instead I spared him. I
spared him from my fury, and he has no idea how lucky he was that I was feeling
generous.
But I was done for the night. I immediately grabbed a cab
with my two classmates, and I went home. Then I spent the rest of the night
complaining about everything I hate in Morocco because I needed to get it out.
I was too stressed and tired and in pain to be able to focus on homework or
presentations.
Sometimes it's just healthier to get everything off your
chest, and that's all I could do at the time.
So, that was my day.
And because this was a very unhappy post, despite me warning you to keep going and you didn't for some reason, here's a video of an adorable eel. You heard me. An eel.
So, we had classes, as usual. I'm sure they were very
educational.
And once classes were over, as we had planned the previous day,
I and a group of 5 others went out together to go horse-back riding!
So, we left school and went to McD's first for sustenance (i.e. salt), then
the 6 of us grabbed a grand-taxi to take us to the horse-ranch which is on the
outskirts of town.
The cab driver knew the general direction in which to go,
but not really. We think he took one turn too soon, and we ended up in the
sketchy part of Meknes. And he drove around confusedly for a while because we
certainly were of no help, and then he started using what we have dubbed as
"Arab GPS," which basically consists of stopping next to the nearest
pedestrian and asking them what road to take, and then taking that road, and
asking the next person you see for the next road, repeat until you get to your
final destination.
Using this method, we eventually found the ranch, and he dropped us off promising to return with enough time to
get us home before Iftaar.
The ranch was quite lovely.
The horse ranch is owned by a bunch of nice French ladies that
don't speak Arabic, but do speak very good English. One of their accents was so
British she may have been British and not French at all even though she spoke
French so well, but honestly I how am I supposed to know? Maybe she actually
speaks terrible French, and all the other ladies just tolerate her, and I just
can't tell.
Anyway, apart from the brief 30 second jaunt on Saturday, I've
never really been on a horse before. I've seen them from afar, and I've probably had
dreams about riding horses and fighting dragons and whatnot (the usual), but the practice
is much different from the expectation.
They only had English saddles, which everyone was all
grumbly about, but which means nothing to me of course. They gave me a horse
for "beginners", and she was brown and her name was Kuna. They
briefly explained how to use the horses (how to put on the brakes and how to
use the blinkers and windshield wipers, etc), and we were off.
It was pretty fucking majestic, if I don't say so myself. We
were riding horses across the uninhabited valleys of Morocco, up and over hills
and through these large fields. It was really beautiful and lovely. So
picturesque. (Except that it was a 1000 degrees outside and I did NOT drink
enough water before embarking, but now I know.)
Two of the French ladies went with us to guide us, and tell
us when to run and trot. We did a lot of casual walking and some trotting on
the horses. Then we would go super fast for these little bursts, and then we'd
go back to walking. My horse was no leader. She was a follower 100%. She would
walk when the other horses did, and run when they did, and stop once more as
they stopped.
Well, there was one moment when the horses did this, they
all started galloping, and I wasn't super prepared, and then we were going
really, really fast, and I was doing all the things they said to do with the
horse about the leaning and the holding the reins, and we were going fine for
10 seconds or so, then my horse suddenly leapt sideways to avoid a rock or
something on the ground, but it was just enough that all of the horse's weight
went one way, and all of my weight went unexpectedly in the other.
I tried to hold on, but there was nothing I could do. I
didn't want to get tangled in the reins, or get my foot caught in the stirrup,
so when I knew it was too late and there was no hope, I just let everything go
and I fell like the graceful creature I am.
It was so fast. I hit the ground with my back and arms and
legs and neck and head... I don't really remember. I rolled for while and
finally stopped. All the other horses ran past. I just sat there for a bit.
Then one of the French ladies was in front of me asking me questions, like my
name and where I was from, and I was thinking, "You know the answer to all
these things. You've been using my name this whole time..." And then it
occurred to me that she was asking those questions to check my mental state. Which
was fine, by the way. Well, it was as it
normally is, anyway.
And you know what? I didn't just fall onto some ground, or some nice soft sand pillows. No. I fell into a field of sharp, prickly
bushes. It was literally the worst place that I could have fallen. So my arm,
shoulder, and back were/are covered tiny scratches, and my clothes and skin
were filled with thousands of those tiny splinters.
But after sitting for 30 seconds or so, I stood up without
any difficulty, brushing splinters off my arms and back, gathering up the
scattered pieces of my pride, and waited for my horse to return. Apparently my horse had kept running, so the
other French lady had to go capture her. The lady did
catch her in the end because Kuna managed to get her reins hung up on a branch, and the French lady returned with her and asked me if I wanted to continue riding. I was like,
"Yes. Of course." That horse needed to learn her place.
So, I broke off from the group, and I and the French lady rode our horses at a lovely walking pace back to the house, while the others finished
up the full route, running and whatever. We all got back at the same time, and
after some pictures, I was done.
I may look dumb in that hat, but not only did it protect my face from the sun, but it also kept those stickers from getting to my head.
I drank all of my water, and part of somebody else's (with
their permission, of course), because what I was feeling more than anything
else was thirst and dehydration. I think at some point during the horse-ride, I
stopped sweating, and I'm pretty sure that's a bad sign.
But anyway, I sound all negative and whatnot, but it really
was a good experience. I got to fall off a horse ride horses across the plains of Morocco, and who wouldn't want to go do that?
Aaaaaaaaand I didn't do my homework when I got home, because
I didn't want to. I took a shower instead to remove the remaining splinters and
dirt, and then I just sat on my bed and talked on Skype and didn't move for the
rest of the night.
But you know what? I don't regret the trip.
And! Oh, And! So... I didn't discover this until I took
my hat off after I got home. But...
This is an interesting one. So, while the host families
absolutely do not understand the concept of us Americans "getting
sick" from the food (because they don't get sick from it, why in the world
would we?), they are however very positive that you will get sick if you
drink or eat anything cold when it's hot outside.
Now, while our host mother isn't like this, I have heard this tale from many if not most of the other students. They can't eat or drink cold things in front of their parents without getting reprimanded.
"I'm trying to protect yooooou!"
I have also heard from my friend Mary that one day, while
Mary and her roommate were baking in their rooms like cakes, they opened the
window for the slightest relief and the host father rushed in and closed it.
"It's too cold outside! You'll get sick!" So they had no choice but to continue
baking, (even though the temperature outside was not really cold, it was just cooler).
But I've seen my host family drinking cold things on hot
days (except during Ramadan, of course), and if it's really hot outside they'll
turn the air-conditioning on for short bursts of time. They clearly aren't
afraid of beating in the heat, and if they are, they seem more than willing to
risk the illnesses.
Anyway.
Nothing happened on Monday, I don't think. Pretty sure we
went out to a coffee shop with our language partner, and I had a Coke because I
don't like tea or coffee and the ice-cream treats were kind of expensive but
delicious looking but yeah.
Then I probably did some homework after that, but I don't remember. If I don't write my blogs immediately, I generally forget everything that happened that day. It's weird how selective my memory banks are. It's like an exclusive club.
"Oh, I'm sorry Mr. I-Had-Bread-For-Breakfast, but um... it seems you're not on the list.
Yeeeah. Come back when you become more interesting."
Not much happened on Sunday.
We had "breakfast" at Mary's, which was this not-quite-yogurt
stuff, and also bowls of rice in milk. Admittedly, I didn't eat. I had to lie.
"Oh... I didn't know you were going to make breakfast. I already ate
snacks earlier. Soooorry...."
(I can't eat rice, man. I can't do it. The texture... they're like little weevil larva in
your teeth... yeah. Think of that next time you eat rice.)
Chipotle: Home of the Larva Burritos.
Then our host mother was very insistent that we come home
for some reason, (she called like 5 times), because apparently she thinks that she'll get in trouble if we
stay at other people's houses, which is not really true, but whatever.
So, rather than incur her wrath and then serve us fish for dinner or something, we went dutifully home and... worked on homework I guess? I
don't really remember. Homework seems likely. That or sleep.
(Well, I've gotten very behind on blogs, haven't I?)
I must say that today was
quite an experience. A good one, mind you. But definitely an experience.
We went to the city of Azrou, which is about an hour and
half away from Meknes.
The day started with my roommate and I trying to find the
house of our friend, Mary, who lives downtown. We were going to all go out on a
trip today, and we needed to meet with her first so we could leave our stuff at
her crib (because we decided to spend the night there). Well, the previous day
I asked Mary what to tell the cab driver so he could take us there, and when I regurgitated the address, the cabbie seemed like he understood.
Tuns out he had no idea where her place was, so he dropped us off a
neighborhood that we hoped was close enough, in front of Hotel DeVille.
"How perfectly wretched!"
Fortunately, it was close to Mary's house, and I called her
and she was able to find us.
HER APARTMENT IS RIDICULOUS. Her host dad owns three gold shops,
so they are rolling in it.
Now, my roommate was very mesmerized by their house
and was unnecessarily jealous for the rest of the day, but although I found
their apartment to be lovely, I still remember going to our host-family's
apartment for the first time and being mesmerized too. And anyway, we have
everything we need at our house, AND we have internet and hot water, and Mary's
family doesn't.
After we dropped off our stuff, we took a small, inner-city
taxi to the place where the larger, outer-city taxis could take us to Azrou.
It's basically a large taxi-stop where all these dudes lay around under trees and you
tell them where you want to go and how many seats you're paying for, and then
you haggle for prices, and then you have to wait for more people to show up who
want to go to the same town so you don't have to pay for an entire taxi's worth
of seats.
Well, nobody else was taking a taxi to Azrou, and the taxi
was too expensive anyway, but there just so happened to be a bus leaving at
that exact moment, so we literally bought tickets while the bus was driving
away and ran to it and he thankfully let us on.
There was AC on the bus! Sweet heavens, it was beautiful.
It's the first vehicle I've been in since being here that had AC.
Then after an hour and a half bus ride, we got to Azrou,
which is a tiny but cute little town.
From there we took another taxi out of the city to the
nearby woods (it's apparently the biggest forest in Morocco? According to our
host mother).
Why did we go to a forest, you ask? The reason we went was
because of THESE!
IT'S A MONKEY FOREST. WHY WOULDN'T WE GO THERE?
The monkeys chill on the edge of the woods where all the
tourists are and the small shops and things. After we watched the monkeys for a
while, we ventured into the woods for a jaunty hike.
At the entrance to the forest, there's a bunch of dudes just hanging out that prey on unsuspecting white people and they try to berate you into riding their horses, and they'll follow you for a while, persisting, no matter how often you say no. I rode one for 30 seconds, paid the man
2 dollars, and was done.
"Oh God oh God oh God"
So, we went hiking, and... there wasn't really a path. There
sort of was at times, then it would vanish, and we'd occasionally see a tire on
the ground which I think indicated part of the path, but I'm not sure.
But we hiked and hiked and finally got the top of this hill
to see this.
Then when we were done taking all the pictures (of which I
have many more), we left and hiked around some more, very-off-and-on the "path", and looked at really large, really old trees and generally just walked around and avoided bees. In the end, we found our way back to the entrance camp without too much nail-biting.
Then, while we waited for our taxi driver to come back from
town to get us, we fed the monkeys. I brought bread just for them. Good bread
too. All of like 60 cents worth.
Then the taxi showed up, we went back to Azrou, and waited
for the next bus back to Meknes.
Immediately upon our return we obtained more taxis and went
to church! (Because Mary and one other person in our group are Catholic). It was
with some difficulty that we found it. Our taxi driver had no idea where the
singular church was in the city (which tells you something about how many
people ask taxis to take them there).
So, I went to Catholic mass for the first time. Which was in
French. And in Morocco.
Outside the church.
I had no idea what was going on. I stood when everyone else
stood and sat when they sat. It was the tiniest church, with maybe 15 members.
But they brought us all Bibles in English, and that was lovely, and sometimes
the pastor would speak in English for us, though it was rare.
After church, we were invited to dinner with the church
goers! Most of the older people went home, but there was at least 6 of them that stayed, in addition to the pastor and the four of us at the dinner.
It so happens that everyone spoke Italian. I was like,
"What?"
After having all of church in French, I just assumed they
were native French. Nae. This particular group was Italian, and Mary was the
only one of us American's who knows some Italian. So... we mostly just sat
there and smiled a lot and ate this fish stuff in tomato sauce.
After dinner was over, our group of four girls went out to a
French coffee shop called Le Tulip with one of the Church goers, Oscar, who was
very not Italian or French and is actually from Cape Verde. Apparently he is here in Morocco to study French, English, and... something
else. Management or economics or something. Or law. I think he said law. He
said it's common that people come from his country to study other languages in
Morocco because it makes it easier for them to find jobs if they know more
languages. Obviously.
We got a lot of strange looks at the coffee shop, four very
western looking girls with a very dark-skinned young male. But we were like,
"whatevs." (The darkness of his skin is actually very uncommon here
in Morocco. He gets a lot of looks all the time, it seems, and he doesn't like
Morocco because of it.) But he seemed pretty nice, and he's going to help one
of our friends with her French while she's staying here for the year long
program.
After all of that, it was super late in the evening, and I
and my roommate returned with Mary back to her host family's apartment. I did
not hesitate to fall asleep.
