Coke and Cats

We're nearing the end of the program, with less than one week remaining now.  I figure now is a good time to update you all about a few of the tidbits that haven't made it into my other posts.

Around two weeks ago, we had the opportunity to tour the Coca-Cola bottling plant located here in Tangier.  It opened in 1948, shortly after the war, and as far as I understand, it was actually established by a few Americans that decided to stay in Morocco and pursue business ventures.

The gate to the Coke plant, in Arabic of course.

We started off the tour by squeezing into a small side room at the factory and putting on white coats and hair covers.  Luckily for us, there was also a refrigerator in the room full of small glass bottles of Coke, Sprite, and Fanta (we quickly decimated the contents of this fridge).  After dividing into three small groups, we began our tour.  The tour guide was struggling to use Arabic with us the whole time, as it seemed that most of the technical terms are usually referred to in French.  The factory itself was fascinating.  I'd never before seen the plastic bottles in their original forms (they look something like tiny test tubes before being heated and expanded into particular shapes for each drink) and a number of things move around the building pushed simply by blowing air.  I especially enjoyed walking into the bottling room as a large pipe overhead rattled with the sound of thousands of plastic bottle caps being blown towards their final destination.

Rosie, lazy as usual.

As for the other half of this post, I should tell you all about Rosie, the American School cat.  On our first day in the dorms, my roommate and I were rather surprised when a small white and brown cat strolled into our room and made itself at home.  At first, we thought it was just a stray, but discovered soon after that she is actually the cat of the school's director.  I was never really a cat person until a few years ago (when LeRoy was added to our family), but the presence of Rosie has definitely given the school a more homey feel.  She's certainly still a bit wild, and thus has made enemies of some of the other students by biting and scratching them, but I still like her.  I don't think the campus would be the same without her.

Also, tonight marks the end of Daylight Savings Time for Morocco (ending early due to Ramadan), which has introduced a great deal of confusion into our lives.  I maintain that this is one of the strangest inventions that humanity has come up with.  Here are a few of the things that make this so difficult:

• The US Daylight Savings Time doesn't end until October
• Morocco (until tomorrow) is technically on Western European Summer Time, an hour behind Spain, half of which lies east of us, but is nonetheless on Central European Summer Time.
• Algeria (to our west) is also on Central European time but does not do Daylight Savings and is thus currently at the same time as Morocco and an hour behind its "Central European Time" compatriots.
• Daylight Savings is brand new for Morocco, and thus my computer doesn't know about it, and when I input my location, the time is an hour off, meaning I just put my location as London, since they are the same time zone.  But London's Summer time doesn't end till October.  Thus, I will have to switch my location tomorrow to Morocco.
• Long story short, tomorrow, when it is 4:00 PM here in Tangier, it will be 6:00 PM in Santiago de Compostela, Spain, a city that lies roughly 200 miles WEST of the longitude of Tangier.  To make it a bit clearer, it would be 4 pm in Atlanta, GA and 6 pm in Chicago!  These rules make no sense.

And while I didn't do my whole junior year here, the New York Times has this interesting study abroad article, and they talk about CLS, the program I'm doing.

Look! Two horns!

When most Westerners think of Morocco, we picture camels, the Sahara, and the old French colonialism of Casablanca.  Mentions of the country rarely evoke images of soaring mountains and ice-cold streams of fresh spring water.  This is probably because very few of us have ever even heard of Chefchaouen, the destination for our final trip, and a place that goes against all the stereotypes of Morocco.

The name Chefchaouen actually comes from Berber, given that they are, or at least were, the ethnic and linguistic majority in the area.  It means “Look! Two horns!” and refers to the two mountains that rise up on either side of the city like horns.

Streets in Chefchaouen

After getting in late and enjoying a nice dinner on Friday night, we decided to get up early Saturday morning to hike up one of these two horns.  Even though it is in the mountains, Chaouen (as it is often called) can get extremely warm during the day, so we wanted to beat the sun.  The early start also afforded us the opportunity to see the city without any tourists or shopkeepers to hassle us.  The whole city is painted in blue, similar to Asilah, but to an even greater degree.

The hike started out easily enough, snaking us around the mountain until we reached a less steep area that facilitated our climb.  Nonetheless, after an hour and a half, we were all pretty tired and reaching the toughest section.

Dawn in Chaouen

We climbed up a cleft in a high cliff and stepped out of the shadows into the glaring sun.  After a moment of adjustment, we saw the beautiful view before us.  There was a small valley in between the two peaks, and in the distance, the blue of Chaouen was still just as striking as it had been when we were walking through it in the early morning.  This was definitely one of the high points of the trip (no pun intended).

Our climb down was a bit more challenging as we tried not to slip and slide off the edge of the mountain.

In the midst of the goats

As if this wasn't enough, we also ran into a huge herd of goats that were taking over the small path.  We stood for about 15 minutes as they slowly made their way past.  As I watched, I was amazed at how, even with hooves, they were able to climb rocks and perch in precarious positions with an agility that none of us humans could muster.  Further down, the goatherds watched, probably laughing to themselves about the ridiculous Americans that were being challenged by a route that they traverse every day.

After making it back to the city, we headed to R'as al-Maa (literally "Head of the water"), a stream outside the city walls that is fed by the natural springs that make Chaouen famous.  The water was freezing cold and a welcome respite from the midday heat.  We stood with our feet in the water as we watched children play and women washing laundry and enormous carpets.  It seemed that the whole town had headed to the stream.  A bit further on, a group of young men broke out in song, dancing and beating their drums until they collapsed into the water.

That evening, we were treated to a delicious dinner of --wait for it-- tagines, and went into the busy night to explore the town.  Megan, one of my program friends, had actually brought along her friend who was visiting Morocco and was coincidentally a UA graduate.  I spent the rest of the night hanging out with them and reveling in even a fleeting connection to home.  We found a fantastic cafe with a terrace that overlooked one of the main roads and the kasbah.  The man who ushered us in, Mo'ad, was incredibly friendly and decided to sit and chat with us for a while.  As it turned out, he didn't actually work for the cafe, but is just helping out the family business while on break from his normal job, teaching Arabic in Barcelona.  We had a nice discussion about Spain and Morocco, probably made easier by his clear and simple Arabic.  He was obviously a teacher.  After the cafe, we went into the kasbah, where they were having a traditional religious music festival that made for an excellent end to the evening.

Back to Fez

Two weeks ago, we completed the biggest excursion of the program, a weekend trip to Fez, and I'm taking the miraculous lack of homework as an opportunity to recover from a week without blog updates.  Most of the previous week had been dominated by the usual homework and preparation for our Thursday midterm.  Friday was our one day off for the summer, and we woke up early to head out to our first stop of the journey: the Roman ruins at Volubilis.

The Triumphal Arch in Volubilis

What was supposed to be a 2-3 hour bus ride ended up surpassing 4 hours, putting us outside right in the hottest part of the afternoon.  Thankfully, there was a cool breeze that kept the weather tolerable as we roamed around what was once a massive Roman city.  While Volubilis is a UNESCO World Heritage site, it is far less regulated than similar sites in Europe.  Why is this important?  Because it means that we were able to touch and even climb on whatever we wanted.  I feel that the full significance of ancient pillars and city walls cannot be comprehended until one has climbed to the top of them.

Following Volubilis, we rode for another half hour to the old imperial capital of Meknes for a very late lunch (try 4 pm).  We devoured the traditional Friday meal of couscous and chicken, then lounged about on the Moroccan couches in the courtyard and waited for tea and dessert.  After we finished, we began exploring the city for the few hours of daylight that remained.  However, most of us wanted nothing more than to finally arrive in Fez, and so we sat on a café terrace and looked out on the action below.

We made it to Fez about 3 hours behind schedule, and almost all of us went straight to bed, preparing for the very long and hot day that would follow.  Just to get you situated, you should know that Fez actually consists of three cities: Fez al-Bali, the oldest city in Morocco, built in the time of Muhammed; Fez al-Jdid, which translates literally as new Fes but is in fact still quite old, with the narrow streets and markets that characterize the old towns of all the cities here; and finally, La Ville Nouvelle, which as you can probably guess, is the French part of the city, a remnant of the occupation that has today become the modern business and residential area of Fez.  For those of you who have kept up with my travels over the past year, you'll know that my first visit to the city was actually a weekend trip from Spain last fall.  Even with the hotter weather this time around, being in Fez reminded me of what I love about Morocco.

An old Quranic school in Fez al-Bali

In the morning, we took a tour of the city with a couple of guides.  There are no real streets in Fez al-Bali, just a massive conglomeration of alleys of various sizes.  None of them are clearly marked, and it's shockingly easy to get lost.  Thus, the guides were a godsend.  They showed us all the sites that I'd seen last fall, but told us more about the history, and this time it was all in Arabic, the majority of which I understood!  Unfortunately, they brought us to some tanneries that were nothing in comparison to the ones I saw on my last visit, but overall, the tour was a success.  After a few hours of napping back at the hotel in the Ville Nouvelle, we ventured back to Fes al-Bali for some shopping.

Joad, the shopkeeper I'd met last fall

As soon as we walked back into the old city,  a shop owner saw me and quickly ran over to say hello.  I remembered chatting with him during my last visit (seen in the picture to the left), as he knew the guy that showed us around, but I was sure he'd forgotten me amongst the masses of tourists that pass by every day.  "My friend, where have you been?  What took you so long?" he quizzed me in rapidfire darija, as my CLS companions looked on in mild confusion.  Suspicious that he was just being friendly to get us to buy something, I asked him if he remembered me, and he said "Of course, you're Ethan's friend".  Ethan is the American who kindly showed us around during our last visit.  I was shocked, but continued chatting for a bit.  He was overjoyed to hear that I was studying in Tangier, and said my Arabic had gotten much better (this I'm certain was nothing more than flattery, as I talked to him almost entirely in French during my last visit.)  Nonetheless, some friends bought some souvenirs and we went on our way.

The rest of the day was rather uneventful, as we walked about honing our bargaining skills.  I ended up getting a very nice leather messenger bag for about US$30, so that was probably the highlight of my bargaining experience.  We then headed back to the Ville Nouvelle for a mediocre dinner at a local restaurant followed by delicious McFlurries at McDonalds!  It was fascinating to go in there at 10 am and see it absolutely swarming, with huge families, couples out on dates, older people just out for the evening.  International McDonalds are always an interesting cultural fusion.

I apologize for the long delay in writing this.  Before I head out in 2.5 weeks, I hope to update you a few times more about our upcoming trip to the mountains and just to give you a little more insight into daily life.

مع السلامة!

If you give a monkey some yogurt...

They say time flies when you're having fun.  This leads me to the simple conclusion --as if the mere fact that I'm doing hours of homework during my summer "break" wasn't enough-- that studying Arabic does not equal having fun. This past week has crawled by more slowly than the turtles that roam the school grounds.

Fear not, dear readers, I'm not about to hop on a plane back home.  You also won't be subjected to a post entirely about me doing homework (though that would be a more accurate description of my week).  Instead, you get to hear about my two "trips" over the past week: one to the small city of Asilah, about 45 minutes away from Tangier, and the other to the Grottes d'Hercules.

First up, the good trip: Asilah.  We left the compound at about 9 on a rainy Saturday morning.  None of us were very happy about losing a precious opportunity to sleep in, and the wet weather did little to raise our spirits.  After finding our way downtown to the main station, we boarded the train with first class tickets in hand.  (Before you begin to wonder about the use of your tax dollars, keep in mind that a first class ticket for almost an hour long train ride is less than 3 dollars).  The seats were certainly comfortable, but it wasn't anything too fancy.   The best part of the journey was that some of our professors and their families accompanied us, meaning that I shared my compartment with an old Moroccan woman and her granddaughter.  We had a great time chatting in a mix of Darija, Standard Arabic, and French while the little girl ran from compartment to compartment, overwhelmed with the excitement of being on a train.

We arrived at the Gare d'Assilah to discover, much to our chagrin, that we would have to walk another 25-30 minutes in order to reach the old town that we were going to tour.  Luckily, the rain held off for most of the trek, but as if on cue, it started back up again when we reached the kasbah.

Outside a calligrapher's shop

Asilah is particularly well known as a city of the arts, due to an annual festival set to begin this weekend.  We were privy to the preparations for this festival as painters were working hard making beautiful murals on the white walls of the old buildings.  They ranged from elaborate drawings of people, buildings and animals to incredible calligraphy.  Most of the town is painted with blue and white, making for a magnificent view from the coast.

The Asilah coastline, with an old cemetery in the foreground

After a nice lunch, we decided to catch one of the bi-hourly trains back to Tangier.  Leaving the Kasbah at around 2:45, we figured there would be plenty of time to make the 3:30 train.  We were right.  We just forgot to include Inshallah time in the calculation.  (In sha' allah translates roughly to "God willing" but is used for anything and everything here.  It's essentially part of the future tense.)  Call me spoiled by Swiss efficiency, but when a train rolls in an hour after its scheduled arrival, the word "late" barely suffices.

Anyhow, we finally made it back to Tangier and the Moroccans that were with us decided to head to a nearby place to get some ice cream.  At McDonald's.  This is one thing that every place I have studied has in common.  Everyone goes to McDonald's for ice cream.  That being said, there are two different kinds of ice cream fixes.  If you're looking for good ice cream, there are certainly better places, but if you're just tired and want something cold and sweet, Micky D's always seems to do the trick.  Plus, selection is better over here.  You just can't beat a Toblerone McFlurry.

After shamefully propping up a number of American stereotypes, I was itching to do something really Moroccan to assuage my guilt.  Enter Tangier Tuesday, the weekly 'language socialization' program meant to practice our colloquial Arabic while exposing us to the sights, sounds, and smells of Tangier.  In reality, we follow our speaking partners around through a series of constructed awkward situations, hoping that it will all be over quickly.  We started out by taking a taxi out to the Grottes d'Hercules, a really cool cave deep in a cliff looking out onto the Strait of Gibraltar.

We got there and opened our envelope of tasks to discover that our assignment involved going into this strange part of the "grotto" that reminded me of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.  What was once a cool cave had been reworked as an overcommercialized tourist hole complete with monkeys living in conditions that would anger any PETA activist.  While we didn't have to outrun massive boulders, we did have to give yogurt to the monkeys.

Our group with the poor monkey

This was extremely difficult given that our particular monkey was in a cage and couldn't take the yogurt container inside his cage.  Instead, he held it open against his cage and tried to get as much out as possible before dropping it and spilling the majority of the yogurt on the ground outside his cage.  As if this wasn't sad enough to watch, my particular speaking partner decided that the best way to give the monkey the yogurt was by dumping into his cage from above.  Before I could say anything, he had poured an entire package of yogurt directly onto the monkey's face.  I'm certainly no animal rights activist, but in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to let it run free.

For the second assignment of the day, we were supposed to find the tomb of Ibn Battuta, the famous explorer who set off from Tangier centuries ago.  Unfortunately, NO ONE knew where it was.  The speaking partners, breaking the rules of the activity, all worked together trying to find it, and after hours of searching, we discovered a tiny little shrine/tomb on a tiny back road.  Was it really the tomb of Ibn Battuta?  Questionable.  Nonetheless, we were happy to bring our own explorations to an end.

Monday will mark the halfway point of my trip.  I'm hoping the second half goes as quickly as the first.  I'm sure it will be exciting, but I'm also looking forward to heading back to Fayetteville for a great senior year.

Taxis, Soccer, and Turning 21

I need to begin this one with a confession.  The header on my blog is extremely misleading.  I am at the very northern tip of Morocco, and thus very far away from the Sahara.  So far, in fact, that I will not be able to go to the Sahara at any point during my trip.  Moreover, I have yet to see a single camel.

Speaking of transit, one of my favorite things about Morocco has to be the taxi system.  Most people here don't have cars (and even for those that do, I'm sure that half of them are afraid to join in the crazed tangle of humans and vehicles that makes up the streets of Tangier).  However, instead of taking public transportation, which does exist, the best way to get around here is the taxis.  For those of you that are have spent time in Europe, where a 10 minute cab ride has the potential to cost you a fortune, this might seem unimaginable, but here in Morocco, taxis are dirt cheap.  A 10 to 15 minute ride sets you back around 20-30 dirhams, roughly US$3, and that's if you're alone.  There are also two kinds of taxis, petit and grand.

A Tangier petit taxi

The petit taxis (taxi sghiir in Arabic) are for travel within the city.  They are, by law, only allowed to take up to 3 people, and they have meters.  Their color changes by city.  In Rabat, they were dark blue; in Fez, a deep maroon; and here in Tanja, they are a tacky teal green color with a particularly garish yellow stripe.

If you want a real cultural experience, though, you need to take a ride in a grand taxi.  Regardless of where you are, the grand taxis (taxi kbiir) are old white Mercedes Benz sedans. They're primarily used for inter-city travel, but are great for getting around town when you have a large group.  None of them have meters, meaning that you need to be prepared to haggle down the price when discussing your destination with the driver.

All packed in a grand taxi with awesome decor

The best part about the grand taxis is the use of space.  They squeeze in 6 people (in addition to the driver): 4 in back and two in the passenger seat.  My first experience with this was in Rabat when I ended up wedged uncomfortably between the stick shift and my program director that I had met just hours before.  I have since taken two more grand taxi rides, and I must say that the sardine feeling just never gets old.

The drivers also provide some great entertainment.  I've gotten to see the full spectrum.  Monday, as we were on our way to Marjane (the French owned Wal-Mart of Morocco that screams cultural imperialism), our cab driver was silent, yet utterly terrifying.  I've taken lots of cabs here, but none whipped through the streets like this.  Clearly frustrated with the traffic, he decided to take a side street at about 60 mph, whipping by people walking down the road.  We came up to a stoplight with a line of about 10 cars.  Rather than taking his place in line, he sped down the other lane past all the others and turned it into a two-lane one way road while waiting for the light to turn.  Just yesterday, we had a driver who was in his first week of work.  While trying to figure out our destination, he chatted with other cabbies driving in the lane next to us, and at one point actually stopped and got out to get directions.

In honor of the World Cup (that the US is sadly no longer a part of), we here at CLS Tangier have begun the Ka's Tanjah (Tangier Cup).  Every Monday, after the conclusion of our normal class activities, 6 teams take the field striving to be named the CLS champion.  My team had a decisive 4-1 victory in our first game, but the next team we face are the prohibitive favorites: the professors and tutors.  The difference in talent level makes it quite clear that soccer is much more popular in Morocco than in the States.  Below, you can watch the profs team score a goal in their typical fearsome fashion.

And finally, I suppose that it is worth mentioning that Wednesday was my birthday.  While marking my 21st in a country where alcohol is strongly frowned upon was not the ideal situation, I still had a great time.

Sarah and Megan preparing my birthday cake

My friends Megan and Sarah attempted to bake a chocolate cake in spite of a lack of leavening.  It turned out more like interesting brownies, and they even whipped up some frosting (powdered sugar and milk) and topped it off with my favorite candy bar (Kinder Bueno).  All in all, it wasn't half bad and I was very grateful for their efforts.

That night, we went to a concert by a very famous Rai (Algerian fusion folk music) artist named Rachid Taha.  It was held in a beautiful colonial era building that today houses an Italian cultural center.  As I sat on a massive carpet under the stars in an airy courtyard and listened to the music, I was incredibly grateful for the opportunity that I have here this summer.  The highlight of the concert was when he launched into a cover of "Rock the Kasbah", just yards away from the qasbah of Tangier.  Even without a drink to mark the occasion, it was the perfect ending to my day.  Regardless, I'm looking forward to coming home and celebrating properly!

Rock the Kasbah

Welcome to Tangier

I’ve finally settled in here in Tangier.  It’s been a busy week, so apologies in advance for the likely absurd length of this post.

As I sit and write this, the muezzin call is echoing out over the city, a constant reminder that I am away from the world that I have always known.  Tangier is a particularly peculiar place for me.  Neither European nor Arab, it’s a strange mix of the familiar and the exotic.  One moment finds you walking down a street lined with restaurants and hotels, reminiscent of the beach town where I lived in Spain, but the next finds you walking by an ornate mosque whose minaret towers over the skyline.

A mosque near our school

We have to get our own dinner each evening, and the communication with restaurant staff is typically a hodgepodge of Spanish, French, Modern Standard Arabic, and Moroccan Arabic.  (Ordering breakfast this morning, I requested “le petit déjeuner avec jus d’orange y café con leche.  Sa fii, shukran!”  The waiter didn’t even bat an eye.  That’s just how things are done here.)

In the midst of all this is our little compound at the American School of Tangier.  While our seclusion inside the walls of the school is probably not the best thing for our Moroccan Arabic education, it really simplifies life.  Our classes are held right next door to our dorm, and we have a soccer field, basketball court, swings, and very nice swimming pool.

Sitting outside on campus, doing some homework

The weather here is absolutely beautiful and a welcome escape from the heat and humidity of Arkansas summers.  The temperature during the day rarely exceeds the upper 80’s and a constant cool wind blows in from the ocean.  Nights are typically in the mid-60’s, just warm enough for wandering around without a jacket.

Lest all of you reading think that I’m once again living the idyllic life that I had in Switzerland, don’t worry.  There are certainly downsides to this program, namely the intense homework load.  The reason it has taken me so long to write again is that I was working on homework at least 3 hours every night for the past week.  For those of you who know me and my study habits (or lack thereof), this would normally be inconceivable.  They certainly meant it when they said that CLS would be an intensive program.  Each day we have class for 4 hours, and the afternoons are filled with optional tutoring and required half hour sessions with speaking partners.  The addition of homework to these already busy days makes for very little free time, but my Arabic will certainly improve by leaps and bounds over the course of the next two months.

Out for breakfast with the crew (minus one Sarah)

As for my social life, I’ve found quite a good group of friends in the program.  All 30 of us get along quite well, but a certain few of us have quickly gotten close (Mike, Megan, Sarah, Liliane, and Sarah: here is your blog mention).  The speaking partners and people working in the program have also begun bonding more with the group.  Many of us went together to a café on Wednesday to watch the US vs. Algeria in the World Cup.  Though Algeria and Morocco are not exactly on the best of terms, most Moroccans were strongly supporting their North African neighbors.  This made for an interesting afternoon as we alternated cheers and jeers throughout the game.  I felt especially bad for one Algerian man who decided to sit in the middle of the crowd of Americans (though he was very kind to us throughout the match and in the end, applauded our victory).

Of course, it would be very un-Walchuk of me to end a post without a mention of food and drink here in Morocco.  While Tangier does not have the greatest variety of dinner options – it seems that every restaurant has paninis and pizza – our food here at the American school is quite good.  We get breakfast and lunch every day, the former typically consisting of lots of bread, Laughing Cow cheese, hard-boiled eggs and cereal, and the latter packed with vegetable and whatever delicious thing the cooks decide to serve that day.  Fridays are the day for tagines, the quintessentially Moroccan meal of couscous piled high with slow cooked vegetables and meat.

As for drink, Morocco is a very homogenously Muslim country, meaning that there are not really any good wines or beers to speak of, but what they lack in alcohol, they make up for in the most delicious juices and tea that I’ve ever had.  Our classes every day are broken up by a 30 minute tea break, when we sit and drink green tea loaded with mint and sugar.  Breakfast each morning is accompanied by freshly squeezed orange juice that cannot compare to anything the US produces.  Most cafés also serve a variety of other fresh juices, ranging from strawberry to banana to avocado.  While avocado juice may sound strange, it’s actually a refreshing mix of milk, avocado, and sugar that is closer to a milkshake than actual juice.

That’s about all I have for now.  It’s time to head off and watch the US play against Ghana!  Check back soon!

5 Days in Rabat

Having finished our program orientation in Rabat, we are now headed off to our new “home” in Tangier.  As seems to be the trend with all of my study abroad programs, it hasn’t taken long for all of us to get quite close.  I’ve also seen the emergence of another trend: everyone is fascinated by the South.  As usual, I’m one of the only southerners on the program, and discussing this fact with everyone has been extremely entertaining.

Anyhow, back to my current continent, our time in Rabat was busy, but quite well spent.  My picture taking was not quite up to par given that I left my camera on a tour bus one day, and that I did not charge the battery, so it promptly died upon being returned to me.

The CLS staff is excellent.  Our site director is impressively energetic and very excited about seeing us learn Arabic.  Her zealousness can border on intimidating, but all in all, it’s for the best.  Without her watchful eye, I know that our preferred language of interaction would always be English.  The rest of the staff, all Moroccan, is laid back, but always willing to sit and work with us, both in darija and in fus7a.  (more explanation about that later)  One of them would even wander around the souq (market) with us during our free time, helping us barter and choose the right products. We were also very grateful to the staff of the two beautiful riads (homes in the old part of town that have been remade into small hotels) in which we stayed.   They tolerated our mix of broken Arabic and French, and the man who worked in my particular riad, Dar Aida, would sit out with us each night and help us as we studied.

Our days were filled with class, lectures, tours, and eating.  We were able to see some remains of the old dynasties that ruled Morocco and parts of southern Spain (including the Romans).

The stork nesting grounds in Chellah.  I sense a baby boom on the way...

One of these sites, Chellah, has become little more than a massive nesting ground for storks and egrets. While there, I was convinced that I had been transported into one of those Lion King games for Super Nintendo where you have to jump from nest to nest without falling into oblivion and losing a life.  Also memorable was the visit to Hassan Tower and the mausoleum of Muhammed V, the grandfather of the current king.

On Wednesday, we were able to go to the home of a woman who is friends with our site director.  The woman lives alone with her daughter in the heart of the old Andalusian part of the city, the qasbah.  From the roof, we had an amazing view out over the city and the river.

Making couscous with Sa'adia

In the kitchen, we were able to watch as a master showed us how to make delicious couscous with chicken.  (The Moroccan word for couscous clearly demonstrates their maddening penchant for dropping all vowels: ksksu)  The following day, after some annoying failed attempts, I finally succeeded in getting another Moroccan classic dish.  It consists of a semicircular piece of bread that is opened up and stuffed with a fried potato/garlic dumpling called maqooda.  You can add whatever you like to this, but I particularly like it with a fried egg and a spicy pepper sauce.  They then mash it all together and 70 cents later, you’re walking away with a very satisfied stomach.

As I mentioned in the last post, there are two different kinds of Arabic that we will be learning during our time here.  Primarily, we will be studying fus7a (the 7 represents a strongly aspirated h sound), or Modern Standard Arabic, which is the language of the media and of higher education throughout most of the Middle East.  However, we will also have classes in darija, Moroccan Arabic, which is essentially a language unto itself.   While its disregard for vowels can be annoying, it is saturated with French words, a fact that makes it somewhat easier for me to learn.  In addition, Moroccans often speak with little regard to whether they’re speaking French or darija. Being white, they usually begin speaking to me in French, but if I insist darija, they tend to accede.  Unfortunately, many of them are not educated enough to talk to me in fus7a, the Arabic that I learn at home, leaving French many times as my only option.

That should be all for now, but just know that I am loving the time that I have been given here, and I will write again soon.

بالسلامة!

Looking out over Rabat

New Season, New Continent

As you can see from my previous posts, my semester in Switzerland was not exactly what one might call a blogging success.  However, I fully intend on letting you all know what is happening this summer on my (mis?)adventures through Morocco.

First, to quickly explain why I am currently sitting in the old medina of Rabat rather than my humble Arkansas abode...  As a recipient of the State Department's Critical Language Scholarship, I will be spending the next two months in Tangier (طنجة).  (Per the blogging guidelines that we signed, I must mention that this blog does not reflect the views of State nor those of the CLS program.)  For those of you concerned that I'm passing my college years on vacation, don't worry.  I'll be having 5 hours of class daily, combined with mountains of homework.

We began with an orientation in Washington, DC, during which I used all of my free time to see friends.  I was able to have a reunion with some of my classmates from Geneva, complete with some delicious enchiladas loaded down with scallops and shrimp.  While there, I just happened on the 21st birthday dinner of another friend that I haven't seen in 3 years.  My 8th time in the city only confirmed for me that I need to live there for more time than I had last summer.  The orientation itself consisted of the usual warnings and advice (along with a lot of advertising for the Foreign Service), but I finished the day feeling confident that I was going to enjoy the next few months.

An abbreviated trip description: Bus to Dulles broke down due to radiator issues, place from DC to Paris delayed two hours, late Paris arrival changed flight plan for Casablanca, waited 7 hours in Charles de Gaulle, arrived in Casablanca, took 2 hour drive immediately to Rabat.

Anyhow, now we are here.  I am loving it.  Remembering all of the Arabic I've forgotten over the past year will be quite a challenge, but I think I'm up to it.  The issue will be using it.  Moroccan Arabic, or darija, is very different from the formal Modern Standard Arabic that we study.  In the street, more people understand French than MSA, thus making it really difficult for me to practice Arabic (the aim of my summer) and really easy to practice French (not exactly the aim of my summer).  Hopefully, our daily darija lessons will make the colloquial easier for me!  Si non, c'est pas très grave...

I had hoped to add some pictures, but it seems my camera has gone missing.  Here's hoping that I find it soon. As they say here, inshallah!

سأكتب لكم أكثر عن حياتي في المغرب الاسبوع القادم

How time flies...

I am sitting here in a cozy, smoke-filled café in Vienna, finishing off my first Easter without family, much less any familiar face.  Nonetheless, my first hours here have been fantastic.  I went to Mass at Stephensdom, the obligatory beautiful, towering Gothic cathedral here in Vienna.  After what was probably the most heavily-incensed mass of my life, I emerged with a bit of a cough (which has yet to dissipate), but also a newfound respect for the global nature of Mass.  This is the 5th language that I've heard it in, and every time, I am able to follow just fine and feel comfortably at home, though admittedly the homily becomes an exercise in maintaining consciousness when you can't understand a word being said other than "Gott."  Anyhow, after Mass, I went for a stroll around the city center and came upon a gorgeous neo-Classical building (later discovered it to be one of the two main Habsburg palaces) where an amazing cellist had decided to give a free concert. He was not your normal street musician.  He was clearly a professional, and I couldn't help but stay and listen for a good half hour.  Now, a döner kebab and a beer later, here I am.

First, I apologize deeply for my failure to keep this blog up to date.  It's remarkably hard work, and when life gets busy, blogging drops to last place on the priority list.  Since my last post, I have:

1. Gone to Bern, the capital of Switzerland
2. Eaten dinner with a famous Polish tennis star (unbeknownst to me.  My Polish friend later informed me)
3. Gone to Luxembourg, for 1 day too many
4. Gone to Brussels and eaten delicious waffles, washing them down with fantastic beer
5. Fallen in love with Paris again.
6. Gone to Zurich and Basel (bratwurst lunch for the win)
7. Been chosen as a finalist for the Truman Scholarship and flown back to the States to interview (In the end, didn't get it.  Mais c'est la vie, ne c'est pas?)
8. Received an all expenses paid scholarship to spend the summer in the Middle East, improving my Arabic
9. Broken my thumb skiing in the Alps
10. Gone to Prague

If you'd like any more info about #'s 1-9, let me know.

For now, I'll just talk about Prague.  I absolutely loved the city.  It's certainly different from most of what I know (e.g. the Metro still has a remarkable Soviet feel to it).  Even though I don't really know any German, I feel like I can understand so much more in Austria.  In the Czech Republic, I was for the first time surrounded by a language that didn't have any semblance of English cognates.  Bizarre.  While there, I met up with one of my friends from last summer's internship in DC.  While it started out with just the two of us, we made hostel friends, and by the end we were out at a 80's and 90's music video dance club with a bunch of Londoners...  Things happened quickly.  All in all, it was a wonderful time.  As always, my updated pictures are all on Picasa, accessible from the link to the right.

*Now a quick update.  I'm finally back in Switzerland, back to the daily grind.  But I didn't get to mention that I also was able to take a quick day trip to Bratislava, Slovakia.  It was absolutely beautiful in spite of a constant cold rain that turned my cough from Mass the previous day into a full blown cold.  I happened upon a free choral concert in an old Jesuit church.  I also stopped in for Mass later in the same church to escape the rain, thus adding Slovak to the list of languages I've heard it in.  Interesting.  Vienna ended spectacularly, as I visited more palaces and stopped in the Sacher hotel for the original Sacher torte.  Delicious.

I continue to love Switzerland, though I leave to Croatia in just a week and a half, and I love and miss you all.

A plus tard!
(Check out my pictures!)

Finally, yet another reason not to watch FoxNews
http://www.thedailyshow.com/watch/thu-april-8-2010/the-big-bang-treaty

One week down...

Today, I watched from the train window as some of the largest, fluffiest-looking snowflakes that I have ever seen gently coated the countryside, turning the bare pastures of winter into vast expanses of white.  I chose to ignore the fact that I would later be trudging through this snow to get back in time for dinner at the Mulone house, and instead took the opportunity to appreciate the life I get to lead this semester.  I may be living in one of the most beautiful places on earth.  My breakfast this morning serves as further proof of this fact.  I get up quite early in order to have time to eat before walking to catch my bus to the train (the joys of public transportation).  This particular morning was the first one I have seen with clear skies.  As I sat hurriedly eating the croissant that my host mother, Vita, had taken out of the oven just moments before, I looked out the doors to the patio and saw the outline of Mont Blanc against the first rays of sunlight.  (Mont Blanc is the tallest mountain in Europe and the photo that is currently the header of this blog.)  This was followed by my "arduous" commute to Genève, during which I get to see the early morning sun reflect off the water of Lake Geneva (Lac Léman) as our train runs along the shore.  C'est la vie!

But not to fear, dear readers, I'm not just spending a semester gawking at the natural beauty of Switzerland.  I'm also in class for 6 hours most days of the week.  Our mornings consist of lectures on international issues and visits to international organizations -- Wednesday is a visit to the International Red Cross HQ -- while our afternoons are dominated by French, except for some Wednesdays and Fridays.  With the vast resources available in Geneva, I feel certain that this will be an extremely beneficial experience academically as well as personally.  While I have had some issues with certain lecturers, the topics have been stimulating and pertinent.  Last Wednesday, we even got our UN library badges that give us access to a lot of the UN complex!  I'll probably be spending a lot of time there during our month long independent research period...

As a Walchuk, I feel obliged to discuss one of my favorite parts of my experience thus far: the cuisine.  Living with an Italian family has its gastronomic advantages, but last Thursday, I was introduced to a dish that is vraiment suisse.  It is called raclette and it is beyond delicious.  Essentially it is nothing more than a plate of melted, slightly burned cheese that you eat with little potatoes (and pickles if you so desire).  I have a certain soft spot for toasty cheese, and the raclette had a lot of it.  The rind gets the crispiest, and they call it la religieuse, an apt name in my opinion.  To top it all off, you're not supposed to drink cold water so as to not harden the cheese, leaving you with the options of hot tea or white wine.  Once again, being a Walchuk, I opted for the latter, in copious amounts.  The dinner was hosted by SIT and was an opportunity to bond with our host families, and I chatted the night away with the Spanish-born sister of my host mother.  It was nice to get back to a language that I feel comfortable with...

Of course I can't forget to mention the chocolate, which, needless to say, is incredible.  We even tried "alcoholic chocolate", essentially a chocolate bar that had a half shot of cognac in each square, straight liquid.  Interesting to say the least, but not my favorite.  Though the Jack Daniels bars will make excellent souvenirs.

For the weekend, we took a day trip to Lausanne, the HQ of the International Olympic Committee.  The waterfront, an area called Ouchy, is absolutely beautiful with a view just across the water to the Alps.  The various restaurants and stores tagged with "d'Ouchy" were also a hit...  In addition, the Old Town and the Cathedral were spectacular, offering amazing views down the hill upon which the city is perched.  A few pictures follow this.

Well, if you've gotten to this point, I appreciate your dedication, and I'll release you now to spend your time more wisely.  I'll try to update more frequently to limit posts this large.  I leave you with the cool video of the week.

Mont Blanc in the distance from our kitchen. (The white kind of blends with the sky.  It's far better in person.)

Lausanne

View from Ouchy across Lake Geneva to the Alps

Bienvenue en Suisse!

I am writing to you today from the unbelievably small town of Borex, Switzerland, in the canton of Vaud, the site of my homestay for the next 3 months.  The total population of Borex is roughly 800 souls, about the same size as such Arkansas gems as Cow Lake, Oil Trough, Cotton Plant, and Romance.  The bus to Nyon (where we catch the train to Genève) comes just once an hour, though that is only on weekdays.  Today, Sunday, it runs about once every 3 hours.  With such an excellent location, one might think that my life is miserably boring.  However, one would be very wrong...

My house sits at the foot of the Jura mountains, and from the porch of our house, I can look across Lake Geneva and see Mont Blanc.  My host parents are Italian, thus I have become "Andrea" for them (yes, it is a male name).  Their nationality has several benefits for me.  First, when I don't understand something, they can say it in Italian and sometimes I know the word from Spanish.  Second, I get delicious fresh cannoli.  My host mom is just an amazing cook in general.  She is obsessed with making her own food from scratch, so this morning, my breakfast consisted of freshly baked croissants and petit pain with homemade jams and jellies.  Also, my host aunt lives upstairs and hosts another student from my program.  On Sundays, all of the family gathers together for lunch, and several of the children (all of whom are grown now) speak English, so it is nice to have a break and translation help while still being immersed in Swiss (slash Italian) culture.

As for getting here, my flight was remarkably uneventful.  The plane from Chicago to Frankfurt was less than half full, meaning that I was able to stretch out across the 3 empty seats next to me.  Unfortunately, my comfort did not translate into any sleep, so jet lag hit me rather hard the following day.  The Frankfurt airport was quite an experience at 5:30 in the morning.   Apparently the Germans like to make their terminals into endless hallways with gates only on one side, with miles of space between each one.  I arrived at the end of said hallway, on the second floor. The flight to Geneva departed from the end of the hallway, but downstairs.  Thank you Germans for making it difficult.  Much to my chagrin, I had to walk to the end of the upstairs hallway, go downstairs, go through security, then walk down the 3,000 miles again to my gate.  All the while, I was chuckling to myself at the ridiculousness of the German language.  Do the monitors that display flight info really need to be one word? (Fluginformationsmonitoren, for those of you wondering.  Though I did appreciate some words that were just right to the point.  Life vest is much more appropriate as Schwimmweste.)  The last leg went by quickly, but was memorable.  There was just so much to like and dislike about flying in as the sun rose over the Alps and the flight attendants were serving us "breakfast sandwiches" that consisted of a piece of bland cheese between two half-pieces of bread smeared with a mixture of butter, dill, and chopped up onions.

Thursday and Friday consisted of the typical orientation drudgery, but I got to know the other students in the program, who seem like a very fun group with a wide variety of fascinating backgrounds.  I think the IR seminar will be very beneficial.  We get UN library passes this week, and we'll be going to numerous major international organizations like the Red Cross, UNHCHR, UNESCO, ILO, WTO, etc.

Now some photos of Genève and my stroll to France, which is just 15 minutes away on foot

Geneva from the SIT office

Lakefront, where the Rhone runs into Lake Geneva

In my village, Borex, at the foot of the Jura Mountains

La France

Hope for 2010: Blog Success

Well, here we are.  It's January 16th, and I am officially at the halfway point of my (academic) year abroad.  Thus far, the count stands as follows:

Months in Europe: 4
Countries visited: 5
Wonderful Italian roommates: 3
Spanish learned: un montón
French learned: negatif
Arabic forgotten: it hurts me to think about it
Blog posts: 0

Now, as we begin a new calendar year, I am aiming to pump up that final statistic.  I'll begin simply by saying that, as always, I love Spain.  The semester I spent there was incredible, and I'm extremely grateful for the opportunities I have had.  I won't even try to summarize it all here, but for those of you interested in seeing pictures of Alicante and my travels, you can find them here.

For Part 2, I will be traveling to Geneva, Switzerland, where I'll be in a program focusing on (take a deep breath) International Studies, Multilateral Diplomacy, and Social Justice.  Hopefully, I'll also be doing research on Muslim immigration in the UK.  The one catch is that I'll be living with a French family and taking a French class.  I fear that whatever I may have learned in my one year of French has been beaten out of my head by Spanish, so we'll see how this goes.

One final note:  I know that this is just the latest in a glut of recent blog creations, but I've been planning this for over a semester.  I'm not being trendy.  I'm just an extremely gifted procrastinator.
Extra final note: I've included a Spanish page and French page that I will update like a blog (these pages don't really allow new posts).  For those of you who can't read them, I apologize.  I just need to practice.  For those of you who can, I apologize.  I do not claim to be fluent in either, particularly French.