Irfa'u ka'askum

I hosted a small party today at my host family's house. It went pretty well, though many students weren't able to make it because they had to finish final projects. We got a good group though, and our professors even showed up for a while and we talked about Arab culture and how you just can't say the word 'penis' in Arabic whenever you want to.

After the party died down a small group of us worked on our final project, which is a pretty epic full-length movie based on an Egyptian novel we read this summer. I play an evil outlaw who accepts payment in order to carry out a revenge killing (and gets shot off a horse in the process).

Tisbahu ala kheer.

Wash kein tasheelat dyal qitat?

Sorry to do this to you guys, but this is the saddest picture in the world. I was walking around the Hamariya in the blazing July heat when I found this homeless cat sleeping in a bucket of dirt.  If you know of a sadder picture, please don't send it to me. I'm not sure my heart can take it.

Other than that, nothing much has happened in Meknes. I'm pretty sure that demonstrations continue in the country's larger cities over the new constitution due to the explosion in the number of flags I have seen hanging on government buildings.

I asked my speaking partner about the flags but she gave me a characteristically evasive answer ("Oh, they just really like Morocco").

With the program winding down, we're all working on our final projects, and (as usual) adding as much shock-value as possible to make our professors uncomfortable. Suffice to say that it's probably illegal to publish a good portion of our work within the country's borders.

My battery's about to die so I have to post quick but I hope to have more exciting adventures later this week.

Bisaha

This morning I was still sick, so I took off the day from classes to sleep (yay!) and catch up on homework (wah wah). Sleeping was a bit difficult as demonstrations have been escalating around the country both calling for greater reforms and defending the new constitution. And for some reason my neighborhood seems to be the source of all political expression in Meknes, as two marches have chosen my street as their starting point in as many days.

And other than that I've just been lying in bed today, enjoying the silver lining of food poisoning. And between cramps I felt a pang of homesickness for the US of A, where at least I know I'm free (of bacteria).

Kenabky ala al-ard

Last night I went to bed tired but content after a great day in Rabat, but at some point during the night I woke up to a wave of nausea that sent me racing for the bathroom. I clung to the toilet in agony, knowing something big was about to happen, but not sure whether to sit on the bowl or just hang my head over it. I spent between thirty minutes to an hour on the floor of the bathroom, moaning, whimpering, and half-sobbing "damn you Morocco, damn you straight to hell." Surprisingly, my stomach slowly settled down, and I was finally able to get up and crawl back into bed.

Until a couple hours later, when I woke up with my stomach screaming just one thing: RUN. Twenty minutes later, feeling as if I had nothing left in my system, I returned to bed. Even this morning, my stomach is still going through its own Arab Spring. I'm writing this post to distract myself, but I'm still racing to the bathroom every ten minutes or so at the hint of another spasm of unrest.

I promised to write about Rabat today, though, and this seems like a good opportunity (oh god stomach cramps whyyyy?).

Yesterday morning I woke up at 4:30 and walked with my friend James* to the train station so we could catch our 5:30 train. We were leaving early so that James could attend church in the morning (Rabat has one of the only Orthodox churches in the country). Once we arrived in Rabat, James asked a taxi driver to take us to the church and the driver said he knew where it was. Ten minutes later he dropped us off in front of a synagogue. We decided to just find it ourselves on foot because we knew it was nearby. After a long search we finally ended up at the gates of the church, but unfortunately the gate was locked, the intercom was unresponsive, and the posted schedule was in Russian, which neither of us could read.

So with a maalesh (never mind) we hailed a taxi and asked the driver to take us to the government district. Interestingly enough, he took us back to the train station, which is located in the district. We walked around, taking pictures of the Parliament, the Palace of Justice (a courthouse) and various other buildings. In a park across of the Parliament, protesters had hung banners stating: "Military prisoners of the War in the Moroccan Sahara demand his Majesty the King Mohamad VI intervene for their just treatment. Long live the King" and "We spent 25 years in the prisons of the enemy and we didn't see the rights of the nation" among others. As far as I know this refers to the ongoing conflict between Morocco and Mauritania over land in the Western Sahara. Other signs stated the protesters had been camped out in front of the Parliament for 61 days.

From there we took a taxi to the mausoleum of Mohamad V, where the remains of two previous kings of Morocco (Mohamad V and Hassan II) are buried. The grounds are very beautiful, with an open court yard full of old columns facing a tall sandstone tower. The site is an unfinished mosque whose construction began hundreds of years ago. On the end of the grounds across from the tower is the tomb of Mohamad V, which is guarded by (surprisingly friendly) guards in traditional military dress. There is a man sitting in one corner of the tomb reading the Quran silently to keep vigil over the tomb (he sits so still I first thought he was a wax figure).

The mausoleum overlooks the ocean, so we decided to walk down to the beach. To get to the best spots of the beach however, we had to walk through the old city, which was packed with people. It had a relaxed feel, though, as the shopkeepers were less aggressive than in other cities. The alleys were full of European and American tourists, holding copies of the Lonely Planet guide to Morocco in front of them as the walked (don't do that) and asking their guides the proper prices of souvenirs in loud English ("Mohamad! How. Much. Is. This?).

As we exited the walls of the old city, we passed by an old citadel that also overlooks the ocean. A man inside said the citadel was used for defense by Moroccans, the Spanish, and the French. There is a historic prison inside, which he said we could enter for 11 dirhams. We declined because we had used our small change.

We walked to the beach, which can only be accessed by walking through a sprawling graveyard. The juxtaposition of gravestones in front of people playing on the beach is, needless to say, weird. But the beach itself is very cool. A long stone walkway divides the beach in two. On one side, huge crowds play in the waves and sit under umbrellas that young men offer you wherever you walk. Parasol? Parasol? On the other side are rocky tide pools, beyond which surfers ride in powerful waves and bail out before they are smashed against the rocks.

At the beach we met up with some friends in our program and split up into two groups. James, Anna* and I walked back into the old city to find food while the other students went to find a restaurant elsewhere. We stopped at a little stand where the server was incredibly kind and talkative, praising our limited Arabic. The food was very good but I strongly suspect it's the reason for my current illness.

After eating we explored the old city for a few hours and then headed back to the beach to wade in the gentle waves until it was time to go home.

All in all a successful day in Rabat (oh god stomach cramps I hate you Morocco I hate you so much).

*James and Anna are not their real names.

Finally in Rabat

Rabat was so cool. It was a very long day in the capital so I'll save the stories for tomorrow. Until then, check out the pictures!

Shaq filwaqt

Today was cous-cous Friday and after class I went home to eat with my host family. As in practically every house in Morocco the family brought out an enormous bowl (about a foot and a half in diameter) full of cous-cous topped with chicken and vegetables. It's quite an experience to eat with the family as they say Kul! Kul! (Eat! Eat!) and the sound of Friday prayers is broadcast on the television. Le ila ile allah...le ila ilehu... And I love watching my host family eat cous-cous. The proper method of eating cous-cous in Morocco is to grab and handful along with some chicken and vegetables and roll it into a ball in the palm of one hand, tossing it gently to perfect the sphere. Then you pop it into your mouth. It looks easy but it's a real art to create the ball so that it doesn't crumble. I just stick to a spoon.

A friend is staying the night so that we can go to Rabat early in the morning to spend the day there. We met up with some friends to walk to the old city and do some shopping, though none of us ended up buying anything. The sooq is absolutely packed with people after sunset, and the saha, the main square, is bustling with vendors, running children, bands playing traditional music, men with camels, and snake charmers. People were buying light-up frisbees and tossing them in the air in high arcs that accented the sparkling atmosphere of night life in Meknes. Less magical are the men who walk around huffing paint from plastic bags, or even surgical gloves.

And as I was sitting here, typing away on this post, I was drinking water from a regular drinking glass, when suddenly the bottom just fell out of it, silently and without warning. Water splashed all over my lap and all I could say was "Wait, really?" Upon examination, the break was so smooth and clean as to have been cut, but there was no visible crack until the moment it broke.

I'm chalking it up to a quantum-mechanical fluke, aliens, or the Mossad.

Ya yumkinsh nafooq kul yom fisabah bakry

Today after class I went to study with some friends in the language center when we all got hungry. We walked over to a nearby hanoot to find some snacks. I'm partial to a tasty brand of coconut-flavored crackers that costs a dirham per packet (~13 cents). Today I also discovered a snack called Rondos that has a cartoon turtle on the packet and consists of cheerio-looking crisps that are "Cheese and Ketchup" flavored. I dared a friend of mine to buy a packet and we each tried one out of morbid curiosity. Our opinions varied from "tasteless" to "disgusting" to "fishy" to a look of betrayal.

Weekend plans are still up in the air for many students, including myself. I was hoping to go camping, but that would require renting a car. In theory this is possible, as rental car shops can be found everywhere. A friend of mine went to investigate, and told me that she visited every single shop she could find in the Hamariya and apparently none of them have cars available. It seems to be a trend that Moroccans will advertise that they sell something and then when you request said item, they look at you as if you're crazy.

I invited my friend to tea at my host stay and we had a wonderful conversation with my host family about religion, clothing, food, and local history. I have to say that the conversations I have with my host family makes my language partner appointments seem like a waste of time.

Pictured above is a portrait of Mohamad al-Sadiss (Mohamad VI), the current king of Morocco, looking jaunty at a ski resort. Portraits like these are hung in most public places in Morocco, and include pictures of the king in military uniform, sitting in his throne, drinking tea, playing golf, with his family, etc. etc. I wonder if a line of trading cards featuring these portraits would be a successful venture in Morocco.

Everyone has ants in their pants about getting back to the States. We're all tired of homework and missing things like Chinese food and the First Amendment.

I took a picture of the car door of a taxi kebeer because I was so impressed by the wallpaper. I hope you enjoy it as well.

Rowr.