Day 35: I've Herd Enough

Friday, July 26

OMG dude. Classes are so long, that when they're finally over, the students are a lot like this:

Class was especially long today. One of the students was sick, so there was only four of us. So, there was a lot of just sitting there and doing this:

And once classes were  mercifully over, I didn't do a thing. Well, I that's not true. I was expertly putting off homework, and successfully avoiding going to office-hours (aka "extra-class"). I mostly just messed around with a ongoing project on Adobe Illustrator, which is simultaneously soothing to work with and infinitely frustrating. But everything turns out all right in the end.

Then I spent part of the day trying unsuccessfully to catch up on blogs, which I'm not very good at because I drag some of them out too much to the point where I'm sure your eyes are bleeding by the time you are done. I'm sorry. I'm long winded sometimes. But I've been in a very "writing" mood lately, and there's just not enough time in the day to do everything I want to do and everything I have to do.

Before we left the school, we wrapped up our plans for the weekend with the other dames who were going to be traveling with us, and then we braved the streets home. Taxis are a daily adventure, especially to someone who's never been in one before this trip to Morocco, and now I'm in at least two a day and I have to speak in Arabic/pretend to know French. Oh snap.

I honestly don't remember what we had for dinner. Chicken maybe? I think I may have blocked it out. I don't really enjoy the food in general, but that's my own fault. Well, it's not my fault. I didn't choose to be picky. In fact I hate being picky because it heavily limits the things I can eat, but I have been surprisingly strong overcoming that particular fault of mine throughout this trip. However, that does not mean that I enjoy the food here. It's just bland and boring and it all tastes the same. The salad tastes like the soup which tastes like the chicken which tastes like this weird salad-pastry thing. Anyway. It's all just very old. It's tolerable, and not bad really, just boring.  

I tell you what though, if anyone ever suggests going to Pizza Hut, I am all like:

(Note: Though there is a lack of pictures in this post, there will be plenty in the next blog.)

Day 34: Coca-Coma

Thursday, July 25

Cultural Adventures: Regular Edition

Part # 8: Advertising

This cultural difference is very apparent when comparing the East to the West (and you, South Korea): In Morocco (and likely most of the Middle East) they do not use sex to sell.

I find this image to be both highly accurate, and very smartly designed. 

It's very simple: here in Morocco all the commercials and programs have the most modestly dressed women, in (what Americans would consider) large clothes, but which are nonetheless lovely. And in addition to that, many of the women themselves are very average looking. They don't have this strange standard that we do in the West where only sizes 0-2 are considered beautiful by the media.  You see every size and shape of woman and men on TV, and while the same could be said for American television, across the board on every channel and show people on Middle Eastern television are very normal, and on most American shows, many (if not most) of the main characters are beautiful and idealized.

It's an interesting difference is all I'll say.

(But yeah. South Korea is really bad about using sex to sell. Look at this video of Korean commercials, if you dare).

The reason I bring this topic up is because we had a guest speaker in our class today. She is a seamstress, and she makes Jalaabas. Jalaabas are basically long robes, sometimes with hoods, and sometimes with varying sleeve lengths. They are probably the most common type of clothing worn by older women here, because they are simple and conservative but lovely. (It's not as common to see the younger generation wearing them, unless they come from a more traditional family, but the same cannot be said for other Middle Eastern countries, because Morocco is more liberal than most of them.)

These are pretty standard. This is what most women's jalaabas look like.

She explained to all of us ignorant Americans just how you would go about getting one made, how it's fit, and how much they generally cost. Considering all the work that goes into them, they're pretty cheap. (Unless you want a fancy one, cuz you fancy.)

Then she showed us a bunch of pictures and a short runway fashion video of the latest Moroccan styles. They're really beautiful clothes, and very modern on the world scale in that they are sort of a mismatch of colors and patterns, but they still remain conservative and beautiful. 

This is actually a wedding dress.

You would never see on a Moroccan runway a transparent dress, or tiny undie-shorts, or for that matter something like this:

FASHION

But we did get to try some of the things on that she had made, which was nice. 

Note: that guy on the left is actually wearing a woman's Jalaaba, as there was only one man's robe.

Apart from that, class was not as mind-numbing as usual, which is good, but it did still have a few of its slow spots where I felt very nearly comatose.

"No, no. We're listening. Please continue."

Then once early evening rolled around, we went home. For dinner, Noura gave us something BESIDES soup, after complaining to me the previous night that we never eat and I had to tell her that, while the soup was good, it would be nice if we had something else with it. So she made us meat in this sauce stuff, and when I saw it, I thought, "Yay! Meat!"

Nae. It was not meat. As I took my first bite of the "meat" the sky darkened and the seas turned red, and I'm pretty sure somewhere a puppy died, because that flavor in my mouth was not the beef I thought it would be.

Basically my reaction.

Now, what it actually was is not something that most people would have this reaction to. It was merely a very large, very expertly camouflaged mushroom. But I loathe mushrooms with a burning passion so fierce I daresay it would make most ordinary mushrooms shrivel up in fear. This was no ordinary mushroom, and it has bested me this day.

Day 33: Echo Echo Echo

Wednesday, July 24

Listening to my "Sleepless in Seattle" soundtrack and feeling all nostalgic and thinking of my Mum.

"Men never get this movie."
*sniff*

The internet has been super sketchy at the school lately. It's harder for me to upload blogs because I can only do it at home, and because that's the only place that I have internet, I tend to do a lot of my homework at home, and therefore blogs get put on the back burner.

But after class today, I and a friend went to a nearby shop, which is fortunately open during the day despite the fact that it's Ramadan. The owner gives such good prices on things, I plan on returning on Thursday, once I've had more time to think about the cost of things and what will fit in my bags without being too heavy.

After we returned home from school, I collapsed on my bed for at least an hour. I think I was sleeping, but I'm not really sure, because out of nowhere there was this sudden and startlingly loud sound that was so loud, I couldn't imagine ever having slept before in my life. It's not even that interesting. It was a guy playing THE LOUDEST FLUTE I have ever heard in my life. He was playing it directly below our apartments in the courtyard, which, I must add, is an ECHO CHAMBER CHAMBER CHAMBER CHAMBER CHAMBER

He was out there playing, his kids following him, and he was trying to attract the attention of the friendly apartment residents. He would play, and then someone would open their window, and he'd talk to them for a minute, and then they'd throw/toss something to him/one of the children. Then they'd move on to a new area of the courtyard, blasting his horn at new and unsuspecting residents. I hope they weren't trying to nap too, otherwise that flutist should be very wary of the things that people throw at him.

Then it was dinner time, and Noura made TWO soups, one for everyone and one "light" soup for my roommate who can't eat the heavy stuff without getting sick. I ate the normal one to be polite, but once everyone left the kitchen, I tried the other soup, and OMFG IT TASTED LIKE CUP-OF-NOODLES (sans noodles) IT WAS SO GOOD. (I think it was "so good" because the flavor was so familiar, and I miss Cup-Of-Noodles.) But yeah. So I ate too much that night.

Then, after dinner I had to go out with my language partner, and the other two people whom she is partners with (who are my classmates and my friends). It was fun! First we went to a coffee shop:

Then we went to the reservoir, which is lovely and a super, super popular hang-out spot for evening-goers, i.e. everyone.

Next to the reservoir was a little fair/carnival!

It had most of the rides that you'd normally see in the average, annual carnival back home in the summer, except they looked much older and more faded. (I have my suspicions that the Middle East is where American carnival rides go to die. Needless to say, I was not willing to ride most of them.) However, with my language partner and one friend, I did ride that one that's fairly close the ground and goes around in circles, and it was pretty fun and we didn't die.

They played Gangnam Style super loudly during the ride (which was surprisingly long), and I did the horse dance as much as I was able. (If you don't know what I'm talking about, see this video, but you surely know what I'm talking about because you've already seen it. Surely)

It was a good night, though it did leave little time for homework in the end. Oh well. Sometimes, some things are more important. Like living.

Day 32: There Wolf. There Castle.

Tuesday, July 23

Tuesday was a very long-seeming day, to say the least. In class we had to read this really, really boring article about economics and investing in Arabic nations, and there was something about sovereign funds in there, but I honestly have no idea. I suspect that even if it had been in English, I would have been just as lost.

When we got home, I was craving ice cream hard-core, and since we needed water anyway, we went to the tiny store next door, and while my roommate was paying for the water, I stood outside next to the ice-cream cart (which is locked and they have to open it for you so those hoodlum children don't snatch ice-cream, because they will). Knowing the price of the ice-cream, I got my money out of my bag, but there was this homeless woman sitting on the ground nearby, and I see her all the time, sleeping under trees, against buildings, on the sidewalks. I had the money in my hand, and I just thought about how much I didn't need ice-cream, and that it might actually make a difference in her life. So I gave it to her instead. She seemed very grateful.

Then some crazy old guy appeared out of nowhere and started berating me. I literally didn't understand a word of it. "Arabic Arabic, Arabic. Arabic arabic arabic. Arabic!"

So I was all just like, "Sorry." And I retrieved my roommate who was finished paying and we left quickly.

Then at dinner, as always, Noura worried about how little I was eating, simply because I didn't want soup AND bread.

Noura: "You haven't touched your bread." 

"There! Now I've touched it."

Day 31: One for the Monday

Monday, July 22

You know I always thought it was hardest going to school on Mondays, because the weekend just finished, and life is pulling you out of relax mode into structure and work once more, and it is just a cruel and endless circle.

"Yeah, I'm gonna need you to turn around. And then again. And again." 

But here, I find that I get so little sleep during the week itself, that when the weekend rolls around and I'm actually able to sleep for more than just 4 hours at a time, Monday doesn't feel quite as bad as the rest of the week, because I've gotten rest.  (Maybe it's like that in America too, but I don't think so, because I procrastinate more with my homework in America and I put it all off until Sunday night, and then I'm super tired on Monday AND I have to go to class.)

Monday is on the other end of that leash.

But yeah. There was class. And then there was a bunch of sitting around at the school and getting mad at the internet for not working, and then at 7 my roommate very suddenly wanted to leave, so we did, and lo: there were no taxis at that time. Well. Let me rephrase: There were plenty of taxis, but none of them were willing to drive far enough back to our apartment when it was so close in time to Iftaar. So, not having any way to get home except for an hour and half trip uphill on foot while carrying the equivalent of an elephant's weight in paper on my back, we decided to go to Pizza Hut instead, despite me having gone there on Saturday. Admittedly, I didn't complain.

Then when we got home finally at 8:30 or so, I worked on homework. We had to read this story from "One Thousand and One Nights," in Arabic, and it was about this trader who is traveling with a group of bros who one day decide take all his stuff while he's romping about in the woods and then they abandon him. Then he's sitting under this tree being all upset and he finds this large shiny ruby in the ground, and then after a few days he's all hungry so he travels to the city and goes to the palace to talk to the Sultan, and he gives the Sultan the ruby because the Sultan was all like, "Dude. That's the sweetest ruby I've like ever seen. You should, like, give it to me and I'll pay you a ton." So he does, and the trader gets paid a ton, and he's happy. And the Sultan's all got his ruby now, and suddenly the ruby is not a ruby and it's actually a prince (?). Cuz that happens. And the king handles that news like a boss, and he's all, "Whoa, bro. Who are you?" And he turns out to be the "Ruby Prince," so the Sultan's all impressed with him and then the prince kills a wild beast or something and then he marries the Sultan's daughter. And they're happy. Except they're not, because the prince is all mopey, and the princess tries and tries to ask him why but he won't say cuz he's a man and so they take a trip to the beach and a giant wave swallows the prince and he's dead (presumably). Then the princess cries for a long time and generally becomes very lazy in the palace while she weeps, and then one day she ventures to the beach to share her depression with the local beach-goers, and then this old guy pops up out of nowhere in front of the princess with a bunch of genie chicks, and they all dance for a while cuz that's what they do, and as it turns out the old guy was the Ruby Prince's dad and he says to the princess, "You wanna know why he's unhappy? It's cuz you bother him all the time, dude. Stop it." So she says she will, and then the Ruby Prince is all alive again and the princess is happy and they live happily ever after together never communicating their feelings, because if you don't talk about your problems, then you must not have any!

And that was that story.

Pretty sure not much else happened on Monday. 

Day 30: Keeping up with Sleeping

Sunday, July 21

Well, not much happened on Sunday. I slept a lot and woke up super late, thank heavens. And afterwards I did laundry, risking the light colored things with the intense green things (and just so you're reassured, everything evened out in the wash, you might say). Then I washed some of the rest by hand and hung them all out to dry.

Afterwards I had leftover pizza, which, by the way, has beef pepperonis because  ham is forbidden in Islam, and it'd be pretty pointless to buy non-beef pepperonis just for tourists in a country that is 99% Islamic. That's just silly. And also presumptuous. Maybe they're French tourists but also Islamic? How could you know? Way to judge, Pizza Hut.

Then I had to write an essay about a city, and because I think the city is so beautiful and wonderful and mysterious, I wrote about the same city I talked about in my presentation: Las Vegas. But mostly I chose it because I'm lazy, and I already did the research.

"And I'm not about to do more work than I need to."

Then homework for the rest of the day, then fanfiction writing bed.

Day 29: Chillin' Out Maxin', Relaxin' All Cool

Saturday, July 20

Cultural Adventures: Ramadan Edition!

Part 5: Iftaar (the meal after sunset) and Suhoor (the meal before sunrise)

So, I discovered today upon entering the kitchen and seeing piles of chicken bones and bowls of cooked vegetables in the sink that apparently the family eats better at night than they do at Iftaar, which is after I and my roommate go to bed.

But! It's not like they're holding out on us. I was a little offended at first when I saw all that chicken of which I did not partake in or even know of its existence until it's morning smell permeated my nose cavities. But later that night I was watching TV with Noura and they were showing a program about Iftaar, and as it turns out they were eating the exact same thing that we always eat at Iftarr: soup, bread, and eggs. And Noura said, "Yes, the soup is necessary at Iftaar. Always, always. That and eggs."

So that's why we always have soup. It's not like they live off of soup alone. It's just hyper-traditional since forever to have soup at Iftaar, then at dinner or Suhoor they have meat and veggies, etc. What time Suhoor is varies on the family, though. Everyone eats Iftaar at the exact same time, (right after the sun has disappeared from the sky), but dinner or Suhoor can be at midnight, 1am, 2am, or later. And I'm generally asleep at those times, so I had no idea the food was different at different meals.

So yeah. Personal discovery success for the day.

As for everything else: Today started with a shower. Awwwww yeeeeeeah. It's been a while. (See above image).

Afterwards, I went to the school just to work on homework and update my blog and draw and mess around on the internet, etc. Why didn't I stay at home, you ask? Who could possibly want to go to school on the weekend?

Well, it's nice and quiet at the school, for the most part. And there's optional AC. And there's tables! 

For most of the day, I had this lovely classroom upstairs all to myself. (It's not my normal classroom, which is on the bottom floor, but this one is a little bit prettier).

At about 7:30, and it seemed like the one person who was still at the school (probably because of me) wanted me to leave, so I left.

I had very strong intentions of going to Pizza Hut. And not just all day, mind you, but all week long. I was like, "I'm going to Pizza Hut on Saturday. And it's going to be awesome."

So that's where I walked to. It was about 7:30, the time that people start eating Iftaar, and I have to say I've never actually been out at this time of day. 

There was no one outside. Like, at all.

The roads, which are normally so busy with cars it's a bit dangerous to try and cross them, were barren. So I walked to Pizza Hut anyway, feeling kind of weird and alone, but when I got there, there were only two people sitting at a table, and while I figured the restaurant was probably open, I'm sure the workers did not want to make me food after fasting all day and they had just sat down to their own Iftaar. So I waited next door outside McDonald's at one of the many lovely outdoor-tables they have for an hour or so before returning for pizza.

It was so good. And despite my hunger pains, I ate very, very little before I was totally full. I ate about half of what I would've normally eaten back in the states.

I ate two of these tiny slices.

But they were delicious, and I got more than enough to have leftovers for Sunday.

Then, after I got home, I was able to talk to Habiibii and Mum and my friend on Skype! Didn't get to bed until 2:30 am (which, btw, is when our family eats Suhoor), but that's alright. 

Day 28: Oh Happy Day

Friday, July 19

Happy (Dating) Anniversary to my Habiibii! It's been 2 great years! I love you! And I miss you. More than food, which is saying a lot. (See Wednesday's post).

So Friday started busy, and then progressively slowed and got better as the day went. It started early again because I had a test and I needed to study the vocabulary. So I got up earlier than normal for that.

Then I went to school alone again (my roommate is still sick), and on the trip there because I have just been having ALL the taxi drama lately, the taxi got pulled over! This is something unheard of! Which reminds me...

Cultural Adventures #7: Driving

Driving here is like nothing you've ever seen. There are rules and signs and lanes and such, but apparently they are totally optional, because I've never seen anyone actually stop at a stop sign, or actually use the lanes that are painted on the road. Imagine the driving here as more like a herd of large, deadly animals, filling the roads however they'll fit best, going when and where everyone else goes. Or like blood cells in the veins; they just move with the flow.

I spoke ignorantly when I spoke of the devilish circles and triangles in Washington D.C. I didn't know. Here, there are TONS of road circles. Everywhere. It's madness.

"Madness?"

And I've never seen a single police car throughout my whole trip. I've seen a few ambulances, but never a police car. So when I say that my taxi driver getting pulled over was a thing unheard of, I mean it. He didn't get pulled over by a police car (I've still never seen one) but you do see traffic guards on foot occasionally, braving the scarier parts of the roads. So, when the taxi next to us ran the red light, and our taxi did too because he assumed it was green, there just so happened to be one of those police bros on the other side of the intersection, and he signaled both cars to stop. They pulled over to the curb, but after one second of being there, the other taxi sped quickly away!

My taxi driver stayed dutifully and angrily and waited for the police man to check his license and lecture him. I don't really understand everything that was said, just that the driver was very angry that the other taxi had just driven away like he had even though it was his "fault".  Based on the amount of thanks when we finally drove away, I'm guessing the police let him off easy. But he was still angry.

Fortunately I wasn't late. I even had enough time to buy a Coke so that I wouldn't fall asleep in class (which, I never buy soda. I've bought 4 Fantas this whole trip, and one coke when I was at the cafe with my language partner). It was awesome.

Then we had the test. There was one section on there where I was just like, "I have no idea what I'm doing." So I made educated guesses 'cause that's all I could do.

Then after class, we had a mandatory lecture to attend. It was about the Imazighen people (or Berber people, as the rest of the world refers to them), who are native Moroccans that have been here since before Arabs or Islam or Christianity, (though, they are primarily Islamic now). They live more traditional lives than the average Moroccan, living in tribes in the mountains or deserts, and though their language is similar to Arabic, it's written with a different alphabet. Many of our teachers are of Imazighi descent.

A couple of Imazighen women

Then when that lecture was over, I was able to just chill. And so I did. I did not touch homework, or even look at it. It was nice.

After I got home, and after dinner (which was the same as always + little turkey bites), I was able to talk to my boyfriend on Skype. It was so lovely. And by the time that was over, I turned my computer off, set it on the floor, and fell directly asleep without further ado.

And, I would just like to note: TODAY WAS THE HALFWAY POINT. 4 WEEKS ARE OVER. ONLY 4 TO GO.

Day 27: Take a Hint

Thursday, July 18

Cultural Differences: Regular Edition

Part 6: McDonald's

Just look at it. LOOK AT IT.

(The reason it is so empty is because of Ramadan. Normally that place is jumping because it has air-conditioning.) 

McDonald's here is considered more of a luxury than it is in America. It's a bit more expensive (I think?) than it is in America too, but not by much. $2.70 for a small cheeseburger, fries and drink. But here, Moroccans consider the food expensive, so it's a real treat to go here. Like, going-on-a-first-date-to-McDonald's type of treat. (If that happened here in America, the girl would probably start exploring her options).

"And I just looked up your credit score. It's terrible."

So today, in an effort to avoid the daily soup, I went here instead of going directly home after class. I've never been so excited to go to McDonald's. (In fact, I don't think I've been to a McDonald's in America in more than 10 years.)

*****

As to the rest of my day: So, I woke up at 5am to work on my presentation for today, because there was no time to work on it last night. There never is. And at 9:30 I took a taxi to school alone (because my roommate is still sick). 

So, our presentations this time had to be about a famous city. Much like our last presentations, everyone else chose all these old, historical, lovely, important cities like Beijing, Rome, and Mexico City, full of rich cultures and history. Then there was me, and since I'm the classy one, I chose Las Vegas, which is famous for its "night life" and all that that entails.

"Deal with it."

Didn't realize the city was only established in 1905. It's just a baby!  But it turned out to be a good city to use my new vocabulary with. So, as before, I regret nothing.

I'm super craving (the newer) Ocean's 11 now, though, after doing all that research. I swear, Brad Pitt is always eating in those movies.

"I don't see the problem."

Then, as I said, I went to McDonald's after chilling at the school for a few hours.  I feel a little bad, eating in front of the few people who were actually there and who couldn't eat yet because the sun hadn't gone down, but I didn't feel bad enough to stop stuffing my face.

Afterward, I caught a taxi from there back to the apartment. The taxi driver was super-friendly-like, asking me all these questions about where I was from, what my name was, trying to pronounce my name over and over again. Then, of course, he was like, "What is your phone number?"

Me: "Ah. No, no. Nope. I have a boyfriend."

Him: "Here? In Morocco?"

Me: "No."

Him: "Then what is the problem?"

And this went on until we got back to my neighborhood. As I paid him, and he turned around to give me change, before he would actually hand it me:

                Him: "Your phone number."

                Me: "No."

                Him: "Please."

                Me: "No."

                Him: "Please."

                Me: "No."

                Him: "Please."

                Me: "No."

                Him: "Ok."

Then he gave me my change and I got out of the taxi. He didn't seem angry, just defeated.

At 9 that night, I had another meeting with my conversation partner, with one of my classmates this time (because she skipped her conversation time the previous night). We walked around the Old and New Cities for a while, but everything is still mostly closed from 9-10pm. So we went to the mall, but everything there is all from Paris and it's all got Paris prices.

But after a while, the shops started opening back up, and we went to the Old City into the maze-like market, because our conversation partner knows how to navigate it.

Me and Habiba.

Then at promptly 11 this time, I and my classmate had to leave, because we were going to have a test the next day and we needed time for studying, or whatever. We shared a taxi back, and halfway through the trip the "counter" (the thing in the taxi that counts the price) went off. Now, they always warned us never to get into taxis that don't have "counters", or that have "broken counters", because then the driver will try to rip you off and charge you more than necessary. (They tried to pull this one on us in Fez. "Oh, the counter is broken, but it's 20 dirham per person to the Old City from the train station anyway." Not true! We eventually found non-sketchy taxis, and it was actually 12 dirham for everyone.) So, when the counter went off tonight, we thought for sure he'd turned it off and that he would try to overcharge us.

He didn't! We paid 12 dirhams (which is actually cheaper than normal at night), and that was it.

And then I didn't study at all when I got home. I went to sleep instead.

But all-in-all, it was a very busy day.