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