Laura in Morocco

Here is a collection of my mass emails, column articles for my local newspapers, pictures, and random musings surrounding my trip to Morocco.

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My name is Laura and I travel. I also write.

Friday, April 07, 2006

Research Obstacles

So I just finished my progress report for my project and included a section called ‘research obstacles’ where I talked about lots of crap but let me write the real section to that paper right now.

Research Obstacle #1
There is no distinction between professional and personal relationships here so it is totally not out of line for anyone and everyone you interview to also mack on you simultaneously. I have now mastered what I call the Tai Chi move when I take their macking energy catch it and redirect it elsewhere. I could draw you a free body diagram. Catch the momentum and pass it on. Incoming compliment, don’t accept it but redirect it to another conversation. Take the words that are supposed to impress you and make light of them instantly. It’s all a big circular motion. So this is what I’ve learned how to do here.
Research Obstacle #2
Most people don’t wear watches or keep agendas but still make appointments with you at precise times. How does this work you ask? It doesn’t. They usually forget we had an appointment and leave me hanging out in waiting rooms. I have racked up so many waiting room hours it’s absurd. I’m basically a professional waiting room filler.
Research Obstacle #3
Behind being a professional Tai Chi expert, waiting room filler, I am also a professional ego stroker. Whenever I talk to someone (particularly male someones), I have to first listen to a list of their accomplishments, all the places they’ve ever been to or heard of in the United States and anything and everything they know about America. Sometimes it’s cute like when my cab driver yesterday told me he likes to watch documentaries about Nevada. Other times it’s obnoxious when you get a 10 minute string of every city in the US ever visited, dates included. Either way, the first 30 minutes of any interview I have (with men) involves me saying “ooh” “wow” “uh huh” “that’s so interesting”. And only occasionally does it actually pay off.
But last week after 45 minutes of such a talk with a guy I didn’t even want to interview (someone intro’d me to him as a researcher and he said, ‘I’m free, you can interview me now’) he took the last 2 minutes of the time to say “I am here to prepare the field for you, I am powerful, tell me who you need to talk to and what government documents you need and I’ll request them in my name”. So lesson is keep stroking, sometimes it pays.

I have a new shower curtain. For a moment, brainstorm all the qualities you would want in a shower curtain… ready? Yeah, well tragically this shower curtain falls short of just about every characteristic of a good shower curtain. For instance, I would generally opt for a shower curtain that was waterproof… not the case with this one, it’s rather like tissue paper. Furthermore, I would opt for one that is opaque… again, falls short. Lastly, I would go for one that was actually long enough so that the water didn’t just slip out under it. I guess overall my dream shower curtain would serve the function of keeping the water inside the shower. My new one fails on all points. However, the clever box it came in manages to hide all of these shortcomings but instead sings some of its praises “One Deluxe Shower Curtain, Tasteless, No Poison, Indestructible hooks”. What do people do with shower curtains that I don’t know about? Where in the world do people eat shower curtains? I mean, since it certainly can’t be designed to actually function as a shower curtain I guess it’s just as well to eat it. Grr.

So I’m pretty sure I told you all about my last embarrassing café conversation… so yet again there is another café I can never return to. I got sucked into doing an ‘over lunch’ interview which is awful b/c it requires mastery of Tai Chi. There was a whole lot of throwing out personal stuff which I tried to redirect to my project. Eventually I told the doctor that I was interested in the links between Islam and health and the following monologue arose, “Yes, well Islam is very good for health, yes very good. In fact, it’s even good for sexual health, did you know this? Yes, well the prophet knew that sexual health was very important for… pleasure. So he ordered that all Muslim men get circumcised and do you know what this does? It makes a very strong sensation for the woman. It is really much more pleasurable for a woman to feel a circumcised penis.” Yup, while my instinct was to argue with him and ask him if he’s done a randomized study or how he would know… I held it back, because we were talking about PENISES IN A MOROCCAN CAFÉ! The dudes next to us were looking at us with the weirdest faces and it took every ounce of energy to redirect that convo to something not incredibly taboo and shamefully ulterior motivey… Blagh!

Moroccan Arabic is a funny language. Everyday something new arises that makes me laugh half from amusement and half from acknowledgement that I will NEVER master it. For starters, nothing is ever your fault in Darija. When you bump your head, the translation is “the wall hit me”. When you miss the train, the translation is “the train went without me”. I’m sure English is equally annoying to learn but I swear I want to pull my hair out when I overhear a word like “shiwahedeen”. I know shi wahed, that’s some one, and I know plurals on occasion end in ‘een’ but does that make any sense? If it’s someone than it can’t be plural! How is there a plural of one! It’s by definition singular! Eeek

While I do enjoy writing blogs instead of doing work I should perhaps get back to proving to the Fulbright committee that I’m not wasting their money.

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

random pictures

Ismael and me playing Moroccan cards
Yum, delicious street food!

Twins turn 21!


Oh how innocent they look... it was all fun and games (tic tac toe to be exact) until someone brought out candy and they trampled me...

Eatin Cous Cous... I love Fridays

more tales of cabbies

So I’ve been traveling a lot in Casablanca, and for those of you who were around for my mass emails last time I was in Morocco, you might remember that Casa is my personal hell. However, other than a cabbie trying to pick my pocket as I got out of the car a few months ago, Casa is no longer such a scene of depravity, but rather comedy. With Casa trips come numerous cabbie stories:
Cabbie #1 is driving along, we chat a little, and then his phone rings. It’s his brother who speaks English so naturally he gets excited and says “I’m in the cab with an American!” and then hands me the phone. So I proceed to have a really awkward conversation with this cab drivers’ brother in English…
Cabbie #2 you really wouldn’t believe the topics of conversation that arise in a cab… somehow this guy started telling me about polygamy. Now mind you he was like 80 years old, massively obese, and had no teeth- with this picture in mind imagine him saying the following phrase “I know personally that while I am quite a man, I cannot physically satisfy four wives, it is just too exhausting!” and then I vomit.
Cabbie #3 lesson learned- never utter the phrase “I’m in a rush b/c I need to catch the 2:30 train” this crazy dude took that as permission to ignore ALL red lights. I’ve never been so scared in my life, it was like he thought he had the same permission as ambulances to just zip through except he didn’t have a siren, just an obnoxious horn. I was running through my brain trying to figure out how to say in Arabic “I TAKE IT BACK!”
Cabbie #4 and #5. Yeah, in a city with 7500 cabs, I got in the same one twice (I’ve ridden a cab in casa fewer than 20 times… you do the math). So the first time I got in the cab with this driver I told him the name of the association for single mothers that I needed to go to and he magically knew where it was even though it was really far away and in the middle of nowhere. So I started to call him ‘man who probably got someone pregnant and dropped her off at said association so he knows where it is’. Actually, I don’t call him that, it’s too long and cumbersome. It was also easy to remember him b/c he never shifts out of second gear, regardless of how fast he is going. So I got off the train and hopped in a cab and the guy turned to me and said “you’re going to the single mom’s association” which I thought was weird and then remembered who it was. Coincidence?