Frogger

             If I die in Morocco, it will be because I will have been hit by a car.  I could be in a car or just walking across the street.  Either way, each time I get into a taxi or want to go to the other side of the road, I pray.  But actually.  The amount of times that I have almost been hit by cars, bikes, motorcycles, taxis, large dump trucks and donkeys is a little ridiculous.

            Driving is no easy task.  It takes practice and some skill to be able to maneuver the car and avoid crashing.  One part of driving that I think is essential and should be one of the first skills to develop is staying in your own lane.  Apparently, however, Morocco does not believe in that.  The dash lines are not merely suggestions, they simply mean nothing.  People swerve back and forth between lanes, while others simply avoid swerving by driving in the middle of the road, right over the dash marks.  Maybe they think it is a trail that they should follow.  It isn’t.  And it is terrifying.

            Morocco is also really into roundabouts.  The rules of who has the right-of-way in the roundabout still confuse me, even after being here for almost two months.  That fact that I have not seen an accident in a roundabout yet is actually shocking.  All I know is, I will never drive here because I could cause some serious damage and receive a lot of angry honking of horns.

            It makes me laugh when people honk their horns here because it is constant and they all sound so wimpy because the cars are so small.  It is like another language.  Sometimes people honk as if to say, “Hey, I’m here.  Don’t run into me please.”  At other times it is complete road rage where the taxi driver throws his hands up in anger causing me to panic even more because not only is he upset, but his hands are no longer on the steering wheel.  I think I have a mini heart attack most days.  At least my heart is getting a good workout though, right?

            The taxi drivers are very nice people though.  They always ask me where I am from and I say, “Chicago.”  They stare blankly for a second and then yell, “Ohhhh, Shee-cago!  Shee-cago Bulls!!  Michael Jordan!!”  It makes me laugh every time, which is quite often.

            In other news, teaching first grade is an adventure.  I know that each day I will be able to leave school with an interesting story.  I have to do things I never thought I would have to.  Here are some things that entertain me/surprise me:

1. We have been in school for 5 weeks and one kid still calls me Mr. John for some reason.  That’s not my name.

2. I have to teach the calendar.

3. The letter d and b are very confusing and oftentimes switched.

4. I have started giving high fives to kids who are doing well.  There are a couple of reactions.  The first is that they get really excited and you would think I was handing out free candy.  The other reaction I get is confusion.   The kid stares at me, wondering why I am holding my hand in the air.  Then I have to awkwardly put my hand down and lurk away.

5. I have to say things I didn’t think I would ever have to say in my life such as, “Please take the pencil out of your nose.”

            I am having so many adventures and it is great.  Hopefully I will post again soon.  Sorry for the long hiatus!

That's Morocco

 I was irritated because I woke up on Saturday morning at 7:30, the only day that I can sleep in.  I tried falling back asleep and after about five or ten minutes of simply lying there in that weird state between sleep and not sleep, I heard a noise near my window.  I turned just in time to see a LARGE black bird flapping its wings near my window.  Then it kind of fell into my room, right on my bed.  Both of us made weird noises.  He made one like he had flew to the wrong place and I made the noise where your breath is taken away and you can’t really say anything, just a weird terrified grunt.  I pulled my feet away from the bird in a panic and it managed to flap its wings loudly and it flew back out my window.  I could not fall asleep because my heart was racing so fast.  I closed the window after that.  No more birds for me please.

Sometimes I set weird goals for myself.  This past week I discovered a delicious bakery only about a block from where I live.  My goal was to become a regular—the kind where the workers would eventually have my order ready before I came, and they would give me a free sample here and there.  I am proud to say, that I am definitely on my way to accomplishing that goal.  The lady who works there smiles and seems excited to see us every time and she has started speaking to us in Arabic.  We try to respond as best we can in our broken Arabic.  She also gave us a free sample already!  The bakery only opened about two weeks ago and I think we are their most regular customers.  The chocolate filled croissants are delicious and I am sure I will probably gain some weight—probably not a bad thing for me actually.

This morning I went to church for the first time here.  I have been trying to figure out where it is and what time Mass is celebrated.  I am so glad that I went.  All parts of the Mass were in different languages.  Although the majority of it was in French, there were also parts in English, Polish, German, Italian and Latin.  I thought it was kind of odd that practically everyone knew the parts in Polish.  Who knew there were so many Polish people in Agadir?   And, the church was packed.  It was really neat to see that so many people from all over the world who speak different languages could come together and celebrate something they have in common.

After church we found out some unfortunate news.  We would not have electricity or water for the next 3 days.  Apparently they are working on fixing something in our apartment, but they did not feel the need to mention that to us.  So that is pretty cool.  Luckily our friend Driss is letting us use his apartment, only a couple of buildings away.  When Kristen mentioned that she was surprised that no one had slipped a note under our door that we would not have water or electricity, he simply responded with “That’s Morocco.”  Interestingly enough, we have been hearing that expression a lot, which always makes me laugh.  For example, when we went to the water park and it seemed like you could easily fall off the water slide and die, he said, “That’s Morocco.”  Now I use that expression a lot as well because it is applicable in so many different situations.

Drinking Mint Tea and Being Tall

Over the past couple of weeks I have discovered a few things:

1.                  Sometimes I am really helpless when pouring my own tea.

2.                  I am too tall for certain things here.

Kristen and I went to a cafe late at night with our friend who lives in Morocco.  I ordered mint tea because I would have stayed up all night if I ordered a coffee.  When I got the tea, I didn’t know what to do.  They served me a teapot, a cup with some mint sprigs, an empty cup, and a plate of large rectangular sugar cubes.  I thought I would just put the mint right in, but my friend took the tea from me first.  If I shoved the mint in, I would force some of the tea out of the pot.  My first mistake.  He poured a little bit of tea into the empty cup, then put the mint in, then poured the tea back in and added the sugar.  Then he handed it back to me.

            It’s traditional to pour a cup of tea several times and then pour it back into the cup in order to mix all of the ingredients for the best possible tea.  Since I knew this, I poured my first cup.  I attempted to pour it back into the pot.  Somehow I missed most of it and it ended up on the tray.  My tea was snatched away from me again.  Oh well, I will get it eventually.

            My second discovery is that I am too tall for some things, like attempting to blend into society or walking in general.  People stare at me a lot because I am tall and I don’t even look a little bit French.  I don’t mind the staring, but I can’t tell if people are talking about me or not.  I guess it’s better that I can’t understand anything they are saying.  Next, I can’t walk down a sidewalk properly.  The bottoms of the trees are cut so low that I am always running my face into branches.  I am constantly ducking.  At least my agility skills are improving.

            I began teaching this week.  After a confusing start of not knowing exactly what to do, I am beginning to get a handle on things.  I am working with all age groups.  In the mornings I am with the 6-9 year olds in a Montessori classroom.  Some kids know a lot of English and some have no clue what is going on.  I read a story to them in English and they asked me questions in French.  Nodding and smiling has become my signature move.

            The main subject that I am teaching is science and I just finished my first lesson.  I am doing a unit on melting points and boiling points, so we read an article about ice cream.  They learned lots of new words and they understood some of what I was saying, but I am realizing that this is going to be a huge learning experience for everyone because all of the kids are at very different points in their English education.  I think with a few months’ work, though, a lot of them will be rapidly improving and forming simple sentences.  I hope for that at least!

            The kids are funny and I have to ask “What?” a lot of times to them and they have to do the same to me, but by the end, we usually figure things out together.  We are able to reach a common understanding, which is the most important part in the end because that lets us get things accomplished.

Hola?

            The past couple of days have been pretty great.  The language barriers are still entertaining.  I spoke only three times in the taxi yesterday and it was all in Arabic.  I was very proud of myself.  Promptly, however, the taxi driver asked, “You are American? No?”

            “Yes, I am,” I responded.  “Is it that obvious?”

            “Yes,” he replied, “it is.”

            Well, at least I tried I guess.  I also had another tough time at the beach today.  We were told to ignore people who come up to you and try to sell you things.  Well, it is hard to completely ignore someone who comes up to you on a not very busy beach who is holding a large bouquet of roses and hovers in front of your face saying “hello” until you respond.  So, I said “hello.”

            Then he muttered something unintelligible and I said, “La, shukraan,” meaning no thank you (that has been my most used phrase here), and he continued to stand there in front of me.  Then, he said something that sounded oddly like, “Hola!”  I quickly responded with “Hola,” and he walked away from me unhappily.  I am pretty sure now that he did not say hola, but at least I was prepared, right?  I just know so many languages I don’t even know what to do with myself.  Joke.

            Anyway, today was my birthday and I had a really wonderful day.  Kristen and I went to the beach for a couple of hours, and then our friend came over to our apartment with a birthday cake for me.  He then took us to the Old City, located on top of the mountain that looks over the modern city.  Agadir was destroyed in 1960 by an earthquake, and the new city is located right on the beach.  It was a really pretty view of the city, and it is a popular dating spot.  

Apparently the Old City is a popular place for camel rides, and my friends insisted that I ride a camel on my birthday.  So, I climbed on the camel and rode for a couple of minutes at the top of the mountain.  It was definitely not a smooth ride.  It was really fun, but my camel made some bizarre noises.  It sounded a little gross.  Well actually, a lot gross.  When my ride was over, the camel put down its front two legs first, which was pretty smooth.  It took a little longer for the back legs to go down, and when the back legs started to bend I started to panic that I was going to fall off, so I held on for dear life.  Obviously, since I am still writing, I am alive.  So don’t worry everyone, I did not die falling off of a camel.

            After our adventures on the mountain, we headed down to the boardwalk and walked around for a while.  We went to a café and sat outside eating dinner and drinking mint tea.  I have been making mint tea everyday since I learned to make it here and it is glorious.  I think we should drink it more often in the US.

            I am beginning to like the city and Morocco more and more with each day.  I am not in quite as much culture shock, and I am really appreciating the country’s beauty, living in a touristy town with a beach, palm trees, being stared at because I am an American, and learning more and more Arabic.  Hopefully I will begin catching on more quickly to the Moroccan dialect the longer I live here.  Things are going well for now and I am happy here!

The Beginning

             The apartment that I am living in this year is really great!  It is pretty big and it is in a safe neighborhood, which is comforting.  All of the apartments have one or more balconies and none of the windows have screens, and people hang their clothes across them or from the roof.  Since the windows have no screens, I am slightly worried that a bird is going to find its way in some day soon.  I suppose we will cross that bridge when we get there!  A few bugs have managed to find a way in, but not too many. 

            One interesting part of the apartment is the shower.  There is no door, nor is there a shower curtain, nor a place to install either of those things.  The tile around the small square shower area is only raised about one inch from the ground, therefore the water goes all over the bathroom.  I guess this is a typical shower though, but we have to clean the bathroom every day.  Ugh.

            After sleeping for about 14 hours my first night, my friend and I made our way to Aswaak Alsalaam, the Moroccan equivalent of a Wal-Mart.  I was really glad to find that this kind of store exists because I was not sure if there was going to be a place like that that here.  We have been taking taxis to various places, and I have been practicing my Arabic.  The taxi drivers are really impressed when I even attempt to speak Arabic, because interestingly enough, I do not look like the typical Arabic speaker since I have brown hair, fair skin and freckles.

            Last night we went over to my professor’s brother’s apartment about 300 feet away and ate a typical Moroccan meal cooked in a tajine, which is a pointed pot to cook a stew-like meal.  We arrived at about 9:00 PM and ate sometime around 11:00.  This is because it is currently Ramadan and Muslims are supposed to fast during the sunlight hours.  Once the sun sets, they can eat, and many of them eat 3 meals throughout the night.  We ate in typical Moroccan style, not using forks or knives, but instead using bread and our fingers to scoop up the food.  It is important to only use your right hand because the left one is considered unclean.

            So far, everything seems to be going pretty well.  The language barrier makes things a little difficult, but we are managing to get by.  I have been learning so much in such a short time, and things constantly surprise me, such as the stores do not sell some things like milk, but they do carry High School Musical and Disney princess backpacks.  Well, that’s all I’ve got!!  We are going to watch Friends now!

The Journey To Agadir

The first 24 hours or so of traveling to Morocco were some of the most stressful hours of my life.   Traveling from O’Hare to New York is obviously not that stressful, but having just left my family and not knowing exactly when I would be seeing them next made that leg of the trip difficult.

I found my way around JFK and went to my terminal and got through security which actually was not as stressful as I thought it would be.  So there’s that.  Walking through the international terminal was really cool because I got to hear a bunch of different languages.  I found my gate easily and sat across from a man and his son.  They were speaking Arabic and I thought I would eavesdrop and test out my skills.

I was pleased that my 3 years of Arabic education really paid off!  I understood 3 words.  One per year right?  That is okay right?  Now that I was truly confident in my skills, I was no longer nervous.  Joke.  The knots in my stomach only increased with my insufficient knowledge of the language.

We boarded the plane, and I was happy to find that it was not full.  I had a window seat and the man who was originally next to me decided to move over and sit in an empty row so that I could stretch out.  The announcements began in Arabic, then thankfully in English and then in French.  I started to settle down a bit because I knew I was in for a long journey.

We pulled out of our gate and waited on the runway.  Then we continued to wait on the runway.  I looked at my watch nervously, trying to calculate the amount of time the flight would take to Casablanca and if I would make it on time to my connecting flight to Agadir.  We waited for 3 hours on that runway because of a torrential rainstorm.

Finally we made it into the air and they served us lasagna.  Since I can’t eat when I am nervous, I ate almost nothing.  The flight was not bad at all and we landed and I made my way into the Casablanca airport.  Since there are not very many directional signs, I had to ask where I was going next.  I went to a desk that dealt with transferring flights.  I waited in line for about 10 minutes, and when I got to the front of the line, they told me to run to my gate.  I sprinted down a dark hallway and then another and it seemed that I was in the wrong place.  Finally I saw a sign and two desk workers.  I asked them about my flight to Agadir, and she gave me an unfortunate look and said, “Oh, you just missed your flight.”

I walked back to the transit desk sweating and waited another 5 minutes in line.  I told them I missed the flight and the girl promptly said, “You should have just gone straight to the terminal earlier.”  This really annoyed me because the gate on my original ticket printed in New York was not the same as the one that was printed when I waited in line for those ten minutes, so either way, I would have been probably missed the flight.

Fortunately there was another flight leaving that day, but I just had to wait for about 8 more hours in the airport.  After not sleeping much, I about fell asleep about 12 different times but then jolted awake in a panic worried that someone would steal my things.  My family had taught me safety precautions well!

It was really cool to see everyone walk through the airport because they were all wearing such different clothing.  I had dressed conservatively, wearing long sleeves and pants because I did not know what to expect in a Muslim country.  I was surprised to find both men and women in shorts and t-shirts as well as extremely conservatively dressed people.  I was happy that I fit in.  Well, except for the fact that I speak no French and limited Arabic.

Finally, the time for my flight to Agadir arrived and I made it on time.  The flight was only about 45 minutes long which shocked me.  I exited the plane and was extremely thankful that I had arrived safely and so had my luggage, and that there were an abundant amount of palm trees.  My friend Kristen who I am teaching with for the year met me at the airport with her mom and my Arabic professor’s brother.  We drove home to the apartment that I would be living in for the next year and I was able to settle in.