Adjustments

I will consider myself officially adjusted the day I pick up my arabic text book and open it the right way. I literally open this book at least four times a day and each time I have to flip it over and around and remind myself that the pages go from "back to front" since the script writes from right to left. It's really absurd that there doesn't seem to be any learning curve here… everything in this country with words on it opens the same way, yet I can't seem to anticipate that when I reach for my books every day. I guess 22 years of conditioning is hard to shake off.

So I think it's really funny that the word for 'beef' in Moroccan Arabic is 'ham'… it's even funnier b/c ham doesn't exist here because everyone is Muslim.

In other news my host brother is a tool. He desperately needed me to tell him yesterday which of his two identical pairs of glasses was cooler. He also is obsessed with tongue twisters and comes into my room about every 30 minutes to tell me how many pickled peppers Peter Piper has picked. The other day when we were all doing homework together he erased something, then formed the eraser bits into a line and pretended to snort them... Silly Ayoub.

We've been meeting a lot of former Fulbrighters… because they are all married to Moroccan men and living in Morocco now! Not kidding- have already met five girls who met their husbands during their grant periods. We already have a bet about which of the girls is going to be the next victim in our group and I'm pretty sure I will be making money on this deal b/c the girl I bet on is already pining for cute Moroccan babies. I thought only Supna suffered from ovary pain atthis sight of cute kids…

I'm slowly learning how Instant Messenger works in Morocco… there is an intensive code. I hung out with my friend Neda who was talking online with her friends and I think there needs to be a separate class at my school to understand this stuff. First, it's Arabic written in latin letters so they use numbers to represent sounds that don't exist in Latin (3=swallowed A, 7=phlegmy H, 5=exhale H…). Then there is the weird French hybrid too. So for example," kwoi 2 9" is followed by m3rftch. It hurts my brain to decode it. I'm scared to download MSN messenger and enter this world.

And some practical knowledge before I go: If you plug two transformers into each other, the one closest to the wall blows up.

Tales of the Host Family

So living with the host fam in a surprisingly sweet set up(read western toilet and "shower" present). My host father is a French prof and speaks English and my 16 year old host brother Ayoub is learning English so tragically they want to practice English all the time. However, the current set up is they ask me something in English and I try to answer in Arabic and when that fails, I answer in French.

Ayoub is funny as probably all 18 year old boys are. He took me on a walk around town totally strutting his stuff and I had to physically stifle my laughter. He also took me to McDonald's which is the place in Fes to see and be seen. Ha. He's desperately studying for the TOEFLs and wants my help but I am useless to him since I never learned English grammar and couldn't tell you what the past continuous was to save my life.

I have two host sisters, Chaimae (14) and Eeman (10) who are cool although they spend most of their day playing an ancient computer came called "Dave" which consists of jumping over fire by pressing the space bar. Host mommy is cool and is teaching me lots of words which I promptly forget.

There is also a grandson Saad (which I only realized was a boy when I saw the naked picture in the family room and promptly had to switch to referring to him as a 'him'/'hooah'). He is 8 months old and is all about pulling out my drawers and leaving pieces of bread in my bed. It's fun to have a little kid around though. I get to be his official car seat when we drive places; which makes me a little nervous considering the crazy driving but so far no problems. So the other fun thing about life with Saad is that his mom stops by randomly for breast feeding and always manages to be right next to me when she whips out her boob. Yeah, so that's a little weird for me… I don't even know her name.

Host fam life is good though and I'm sure there will be fodder for many more tales.

Rockin like a Moroccan,
Laura

Top ways to die in Morocco

So fun fact- your tax dollars are paying for me to be here! How does that make you feel? How about after I send you thousands of pictures of me frollicking in the country side instead of in a library researching?? Well as for now you're lucky since I haven't actually taken any pictures yet. It's actually really nice that I"ve been here before because I don't feel deperate to take pictures and buy things since I've already done that... I can kinda just let it all sink in.

MOM STOP READING NOW

So for those of you who thought I was going to get blown up here by a terrorist, let me entertain you with way more likely ways that I am going to die here.
TOP FIVE WAYS LAURA WILL MEET HER DEATH IN MOROCCO
5. Brain explodes
4. Concrete building collapse
3. Asphyxiation by Boutagaz fumes
2. Hit by a little red Fiat
1. Actually just hit by any car really...

So explanation in order.

5. Yeah so I actually feel brain pain during my arabic class. It's an interesting phenomenon. My poor teacher is the nicest dude in the world (he says goodbye to every word as he erases it off the board) yet I am in so much pain for four hours every day. It's especially funny now that we're doing a unit on directions which I can't even do in English.

4. So the medina is really really old... like really old. And old things kinda fall apart sometimes... such is the case in Fes. Apparently one year ago a house just collapsed in the medina and killed ten people who were praying in the mosque next door. So now they have some scaffolding holding up the buildings with the biggest cracks... but can't say I'm confident in any of the gov't sponsored initiatives around here...

3. Ha, so all power here is from Boutagaz containers that look like they may have been new at the turn of the century... so one has to be VERY careful with how well ventilated their house is if they have any kind of power in use. Tragic (yet funny) story relayed by a Peace Corps dude here who shared that a girl during a romantic rendez-vous used her boutagaz to heat up a bath and didn't have enough ventilation and got CO2 poisoning when she was in the tub and could only wake up long enough to stumble out into the street butt naked before she collapsed. She made it to the hospital, is fine now, and got kicked out of the peace corps...

2. Taxis are red fiats and I'm not sure if it's more scary to be in a taxi while they drive or to be a pedestrian while taxis are driving by. I guess at least if you're on the sidewalk you have a little more control and can jump out of the way whereas inside the taxi you just have to pick a religion and start praying.

1. Ha, so last time I was here I was impressed at how few traffic rules there were, now I am impressed at how futile the traffic rules they have since instituted are. For instance, there are a few cross walks now... yet pedestrians don't actually have the right of way in them or anything... it's more like road art. Also, there are now 10 pedestrian walk lights (out of 300 intersections). But alas, they lack that critical feature of the red blinking hand that says 'hey, the cars are gonna come pretty soon'. Instead, you walk into the street when the little green man is glowing and then within a nanosecond, the cars floor it because the light instantly changed and it doesn't matter if there is a person in front of them. Currently using the buffer system wherein I keep at least one other pedestrian between me and the oncoming traffic. I get to walk through 2 major roundabouts, four times a day, so I'm sure I"ll have more near death experiences to share soon.

MOM START READING AGAIN.

Life with the host fam is fun. My host brother desperately wants me to teach him English slang and I am so tempted to mess with him... so far I've been very tame but if he annoys me... it's on. Open to any suggestions anyone has for words to teach him... Yesterday I was watching Moroccan music videos (which are amazing) and my host bro asked me if I watch "melody hits" in the US (ha, americans listening to foreign music... yeah right) and I said no, we have a channel called MTV. To which he replied "MTV won't let me be" yeah... had no idea what he was talking about... He kept saying "MTV won't let me be me let me be me be me" and I mentally rewound my brain to the three pictures of Eminem flipping me off that hang above my bed in the host fam until I realized he was throwing out his interpretation of Eminem lyrics... yeah. Apparently I have to brush up on my rap if I"m going to communicate with him in English.

So there is this cat that is taking arabic with me. It's really weird. It walks into the class room at 8, sits on the chair next to me, and then during the break it goes outside and comes back in for the second session until lunch. I don't feed it, touch it, like it, or give it any encouragement... so I can't quite figure out it's motivation.

Yesterday I was walking with two friends through a really conservative part of the medina in a big open square where men stand around and tell stories and as we were walking a gust of wind blew and my friends skirt flew all the way up... like above her head. It was phenomenal. What makes it better is that she had flesh colored underwear on... and instead of helping her, we just laughed a lot. It was pretty amazing.

COLUMN: The streets of the Medina or the Halls of GHS

How does one describe the streets of the Medina in Rabat, Morocco? For those who aren’t familiar with the winding, whitewashed, concrete walls in one level of Quake the video game, the old Medinas of Morocco are places for which most do not have a visual.
Well, start with the halls of Guilderland High School during passing time. Everyone is walking in different directions at the same time, packed tightly in the space that is too narrow for its purposes. Each person has their own destination, route, and gait. There is noise, but no discernible words. The boys who have not yet learned the line between a pleasant, subtle scent and the reek of too much cologne try their attempts at attracting girls who pass by. Young girls use ignoring their admirers as the ultimate form of flirtation. As the bustle continues past lockers stuffed to the brim, the loudspeaker sounds.
The Medina of Rabat has all of those elements with just a few additions and slight variations. In the Medina the too-narrow streets are filled with the chaos of different trajectories that might look like the paths of pigeons from above. That constant noise is the combination of words in Arabic and French piled on top of each other until they creates the same sound as when GHS students pile their slang and English, like creating two different mixtures of vibrant colors that both end up the same shade of brown.
Take the students of GHS and add animals, stray dogs, chickens with their feet bound, and parakeets for sale to children. Add to the scent of pungent cologne the odor of fresh mint, wool, and street animals. The girls dress is different but method of flirtation identical.
Instead of lockers lining the hall there are stalls selling various wares scrunched together along both sides of the street. The interior of each stall is packed with a random array of goods like any high school locker- some snacks, some beauty products, some books, and some bags. From above you hear not the sound of a loudspeaker announcing the day’s events, but rather the call to prayer.
The same survival skills apply to both settings- walk in groups, watch where you step (while in GHS you are likely to step on some papers, the back of someone’s flip flops, or some old chewing gum in Rabat it’s more likely there is that ubiquitous brown puddle of unknown origin or an uneven cobblestone that is centuries old). We equally pity the occasional person on crutches as they try to navigate their way through the masses.

It seems that where I have grown up has followed me around the world.

The host fam

So let me give you an idea of what I am doing right now. After a LONG search for a converter which consisted of a 20 minute attempted explanation of what a converter was and then digging through a box of random electronic pieces and cords in three separate shops, I finally came out with a converter. If only my process ended there. Now I have all the parts necessary to use my computer in my house, it's just putting them all together which is the hard part. It turns out the electricity doesn't flow unless you are physically pressing the plug into the outlet… so that's fun. Right now I am sitting against the wall with my back pressed up against the plug to try to keep it in. It's making me wonder whether the computer is really worth it here. My battery only lasts 2 hours and then I have to start the back bruising process again…

Host sister Eeman (10) is a cutie and is my official Arabic tutor. She goes over my notes after class and fixes them since I am prone to leaving out essential dots that change the entire meaning of the word. She is also the official 'sticker-putter-oner' for my letters and eagerly awaits me finishing each one so she can choose a smiley face with which to seal the letter.

I have discovered that I am absolutely useless helping Host Bro Ayoub (18) with his English homework because I don't know any English grammar. He asks all these questions about when you use 'who' and 'that' and 'could' and 'would' and I don't have a good answer for him. Have any of you heard of the past continuous tense? Oh well.

Let me describe for you the room in which I sleep. I think it was Ayoub's room before I came because it is covered in posters that came from French Teen Beat. There is a lovely picture of Eminem flipping off the camera, many Shakira, Britney Spears, and Lorie pictures. I'm not sure who Lorie is but I imagine she's a French star. There are also French boy bands on the walls, it's great. We can't forget the massive American flag hanging from the wall right over top of my bed. Yeah, so that's a little weird for me, I'm American and the flag creeps me out… I wonder where he bought it? Ayoub desperately wants to study in the US, hence his Americaphilia. Okay, just made up that word but you get the point.

My host father has written a French dictionary to help students, complete with pictures and sample sentences and he is furiously proud of it so I need to read it in its entirety. I will probably buy one at a store to support his efforts and to add another few kilos to my luggage because it isn't already heavy enough. Yesterday he showed me his thesis and I think he wanted me to read it… good thing it's only 1000 pages…

More soon, I have to stop being the lame American who comes to Morocco and uses the internet.

Lessons so far

Been in Morocco for 6 days. Lessons so far:

• Body shuts down after 24 hours of awake… I admire you med school people (or pity, not sure which) .
• It's not fun to sit next to someone on a plane for 7 hours when you don't speak any common languages.
• Sucks to be the guy who doesn't read French, Arabic, or English when it comes time to fill out the customs card.
• Sucks to be the girl sitting next to said guy who has to try to do it for him… ever try miming "what is your profession"? So basically if he gets deported due to inaccuracies on the customs form it's my fault.
• Spend less time guarding computer and more time guarding Nalgene. Former can be replaced and I can live without… latter is ESSENTIAL and IRREPLACABLE so I hope the dude who stole mine gets eaten by monkeys.
• If you steal someone's Nalgene, you will incur their wrath.
• Furthermore, you will be easy to spot in the street as the only non-foreigner with a Nalgene… I'll find you!
• Never take for granted the importance of a container that can be dropped from a ten story building without breaking (okay no more whining about my Nalgene, but it even had a splash guard!).
• Try to remember people's faces because they remember you. Just because you haven't gone for 2 years and only saw the owner of an internet café 2 times in your life, doesn't mean he won't see you on the streets and expect you to know his name…
• Receiving messages at hotels is awesome and makes you feel important
• Don't go to former host family's house expecting to be able to leave in fewer than 4 hours and without gaining 8 pounds.
• Learn the metric system, it's useful
• Every Moroccan I know has learned at least one language since I was here last, interesting I have lost at least half a language in that same time period.
• Jokes are not funny when translated
• Get to be an Ambassador, their jobs are sweet. Obstacle- must meet president to get appointed.
• 10 hour days of lessons in politics, literature, social structures, history, economics, and law when jet lagged is the formula for sleep.
• People ACTUALLY get exiled! Met a historian who was exiled to Senegal for writing smack about the King.
• International Fall Minnesota is the coldest place in the Continental US (where said exile is now going to teach)
• It is vital to actually be on the email list of information for Fulbright scholars… They might just provide you with information on how your life is supposed to work. WIFI exists in Morocco
• ANDAK! Means 'get outta the way, overloaded donkey coming through narrow passage'
  

In other news, as you may have guessed I am alive and well enough to at least type. I'll be getting an apt. in Rabat if any of your want to visit- all are welcome (except Brett). Here's my contact info:

+212 77-93-04-55

Laura Frye

MACECE
7 Rue Agadir
Rabat, Morocco

Alright team. There's more to come for sure but I'll spare you for now. So congrats if you made it to the end.

Besslama,
Laura