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.