WOW it has been a while since I’ve updated! Since my last post, I finished classes in Fes, visited the Sahara desert, explored the mountain town of Chefchaouen, and am currently in Tangier, Morocco, once home to Bowles and Burroughs. There’s so much to tell, thus, I’ll cover the Sahara and Fes in this post and save Chefchaouen and Tangier for the next entry.
With the exception of Abdenebi’s class (still clocking in at 2+ hours), my last week in Fes whizzed right on by. It’s amazing how thorough, useful, and thoroughly useful the darija class was—now that I’m on the road, I’m regularly employing the restaurant and transportation vocabulary we learned last week!
It seems like it was so long ago that I set out for Morocco from North Carolina not knowing a soul, when it was really only three short weeks ago. This past week was especially fun with some friends hosting a dinner party at their apartment for our darija class, trying pastilla (a pigeon or chicken pie made with thin filo-esque pastry, almonds, cinnamon, and sugar—sadly our restaurant only had it with chicken) with Romey and Hannah, and afternoons and evenings in the ALIF gardens, chatting and joking around before heading home. My first set of goodbyes to those friends not going on the desert trip were somewhat rushed (the buses taking students on the trip to the Sahara were surprisingly on time), but a tad difficult nonetheless. However, I feel (insh’allah correctly) that the goodbyes were not for forever—honestly, most people at ALIF are or will be studying Arabic for a while yet so I wouldn’t be surprised if we run into each other again at some point in the future!
The desert trip, which started Friday afternoon and concluded Sunday evening, was a wonderful, whirlwind weekend excursion that I won’t be forgetting any time soon. The first leg of the trip was the seven-hour drive to Erfoud, where we would be staying the evening before making the final 2-hour push to Mezourga, from which we would visit the desert. The drive south was gorgeous—we passed first through farmlands, then forest, then highlands, and finally the Middle Atlas mountains, stark and beautiful, before crossing into dry desert terrain.
Our hotel for the night, Xaluca (check out http://www.xaluca.com/) was, in a word, ridiculous. Honestly it’s the kind of hotel I normally love to hate (luxury hotels that create mini-paradises within their walls have never been my cup of tea thanks to the Bahamian behemoth Atlantis), but after a long, hot bus ride (and three long, hot weeks in Fes), it was perfect. We spent the evening swimming and relaxing poolside until someone had the idea to go look at the stars at the seemingly nearby dunes. Though dunes excursion was a late-night fiasco as the dunes were much farther away then anyone reckoned. And though two friends spent the early hours of the morning lying face down in the dirt (while the farmers whose lands backed onto the hotel searched for the intruders who had the gall to waltz onto their property) once everyone was back safe and sound it ended up being a fun (albeit crazy) story.
The next morning we took off for Mezourga and arrived at the second hotel around noon. Since it was still too hot to hit the sand, it was back to the hotel pool—not quite as nice as the first place, but enjoyable nonetheless—who wouldn’t want to go swimming with dunes in the distance? The camel train left at 6:00pm, and in groups of five or so our guides led us out into what can be described most accurately as a Clip-Art esque horizon of sand and sky. (I know that sounds terrible but the placer really did look like a Windows sample background, i.e. too perfect to be real).
The two-hour trek we took to the campsite was great—I’d ridden a camel once before but for a much shorter time (plus we stayed in the camel paddock—not so scenic). I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything except for, say, a new pair of legs—I was definitely walking bowlegged when I stumbled off my beast and into the campsite!
The campsite (billed as an oasis, but really some trees and Berber tents) was at the bottom of a massive sand dune. We’d seen people climbing the dune when we were still riding up to the camp, and as soon as I had gotten some feeling back into my legs, I was ready for the ascent.
Or so I thought. Dune climbing is HARD! Twenty minutes later, sand everywhere, I made it to the top with my friends. Needless to say, the climb was totally worth it: our camp and the camels were little brown specks and you could see for miles. Plus, the way back down was almost enough for me to consider climbing the dune again: racing through the sand at top speed, it really almost felt I were going to jump out of the sand, into the air, and keep on flying.
Back in the camp dinner was waiting, and though it was good, the wind and sand flying about extinguished the candles as soon as our guides had lit them, making it difficult tell what exactly it was we were eating. It turns out that the scarves we’d been told to buy for sun protection doubled as excellent sand guards, keeping the sand out but still being partially able to see. A small group of us ended up staying up late, telling jokes and looking at the stars, falling asleep just before dawn.
An hour or so later, it was time to leave! The desert heats up quickly, so it was important we got back to the hotel before we roasted. After showers and breakfast, we set off for Fes. This last part of the trip was slightly less fun, as a handful of students weren’t feeling well, resulting in the bus taking many, many bathroom/’stomach recovery’ breaks.
We got back to Fes around 9pm, and after saying a second round of goodbyes to friends on the desert trip, I headed back to the medina to stay one last night with my host family. Since the second round of ALIF summer classes starts on Monday, I got to meet one of the next Americans staying with the al-Azims, a girl named Janina from Rutgers University who just finished studying abroad in Paris for a year. She’s very friendly, and I told her she definitely lucked out in being placed with our host family.
Saying goodbye to my host family next morning was definitely the toughest set of farewells I had to make. It’s amazing how in three short weeks, they really became a family for me, and a wonderful one at that. I’m forever grateful to them for giving me a home and a family in Fes, and I already can’t wait to visit them again someday.
Well, I tried to be concise…stay tuned for Chefchaouen and Tangier, and thanks as always for reading!
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
Hammam-a mia! (& more)
Hello! It’s been another busy week of classes, etc. in Fes. This week in my darija class, we moved on to learning how to give and ask for directions, as well as how to order from a restaurant and the names of different foods and cooking styles—which, after greetings, are usually what I say to most Moroccans I meet.
The differences in my professors’ teaching styles are becoming more pronounced with each lesson. Despite the fact that the students in our class have different levels of experience in Arabic, Nozha generally teaches towards the top of the class, which sometimes makes it difficult to follow the lesson. Abdenebi’s stories about Arab culture have grown from five minutes to fifteen (or longer!) every class. After last Friday’s quiz, he lectured us in English and Arabic on everything from the history of Jews in Fes (for whom he was sympathetic) to politics in Morocco (complicated) and his opinion of Saudis (not very high).
School keeps me busy during the week, so on Saturday I went around and toured the medina with a couple of friends. First we set off for the Merenid tombs, an old graveyard on a hill that overlooks the medina. The tombs aren’t much to look at, but the view of the city is amazing—you can see how the old city, with its (estimated 365) minarets, is nestled in the valley, and the Ville Nouvelle is visible in the distance. Next, we were off to find the tanneries, one of Fes’ biggest tourist attractions. This proved to be harder than we thought, and after some wandering a shop owner led us to a viewing point with the promise that it was free to look at the tanneries.
All the guide books warn of the tanneries’ stench, and the shop owners give you mint to smell while out on the viewing platform. Frankly though, it wasn’t nearly as bad as the alleyways that take you to the tanneries—that’s where it really reeks. The tanneries look just like the postcards, with men waist deep in the dye and leather drying in the sun. We didn’t buy anything around the tanneries, where leather goods are way overpriced for tourists, but I’d like to get some small thing made of leather here as a souvenir.
Sunday I went on an ALIF trip to Volubilis, Moulay Idriss, and Meknes. Volubilis was the Roman provincial capital in today’s Morocco, and one of the empire’s furthest outposts in North Africa. Today, it’s a collection of ruins that apart from some interesting mosaics, was less impressive then I imagined (though in all honesty, that is me being a travel snob comparing the ‘Bilis to the ruins I saw last summer). Moulay Idriss was a drive-by viewing, but as non-Muslims’can’t visit the town’s shrines, that would have left little for us to do in the town.
Meknes was a nice stop: I’d been debating back and forth whether or not I should go there for research after my trip, (and ultimately decided against it), so I’m glad I got to see the city for a few hours. The Mausoleum of Moulay Ismail, located in Meknes, is, according to my Rough Guide, the only Muslim shrine that non-Muslims can visit in Morocco, and for me, definitely worth the visit.
I’ve found the Moroccan rule that non-Muslims are not allowed to almost all of the country’s religious sites a bit frustrating, as there’s lots of wonderful history and many a place for meditation that I would love to see and experience. Last summer, visiting the Great Mosques in Damascus and Aleppo were highlights of my trip to Syria. But rules are rules, and the rule here is no non-Muslims allowed.
After visiting the mausoleum, I wandered over to Place el Hedima, a large square with restaurants and the entrance to the souks surrounding it. Inside the souk, a shop keeper explained (in the fastest French I’ve ever heard) the uses for all his spices and oils, and just past the mounds of olives and lemons in perfect cones were the butchers’ stalls and sweets shops. Souks are sometimes overwhelming, with the smells and the sounds in the dark, closed alleyways making it hard to take it all in at once, but the overall atmosphere of Meknes—much more relaxed then Fes—was a nice place to take some pictures of the traditional markets and medina life, though I feel like I can’t do the places I see justice with my camera!
This post is getting long, but there’s one more thing I want to get to before concluding, but before, let me say that life with my Fassi family is great. Earlier in the week Hannah and I came home to a surprise: our own room! The family had cleaned out the spare room that serves as storage room for Najib’s shop and put the foyer couches in it as beds for us! It’s a small space, but it’s nice to have a place to unwind with a little privacy. I continue to eat very well: we had a new tajine a couple days ago that was chicken smothered in spicy noodles, potatoes and carrots, and Rashida has been making the world’s most delicious eggplant that I’ve been scarfing down shamelessly.
However, the highlight of family life though was yesterday evening, when my host mom took us to the hammam. I’ve wanted to try a hammam for a while, and for a variety of reasons: the cultural experience, the fact that hammam scenes are common in Orientalist paintings (Google “The Turkish Bath” by Ingres to see one of the more famous examples), and because the past few days of intensely hot weather (yesterday was 108 degrees Fahrenheit!) I was feeling the need for a cleansing bath.
I’m so glad that my host mother and her sister were there to guide us, because as any guide to Morocco warns (and correctly!), the hammam can be a bit confusing the first time you go. Basically, the hammam is a Turkish-style steam bah, three rooms of different temperatures (hot, hotter, and cooler) where you collect either hot or cold water in buckets to wash. After claiming a spot in the hammam (usually in the hot or hotter room), you sit down in the steamy room with your buckets around you like a fortress, and after a few minutes of sweating, you douse yourself from the buckets with bowls. Next you rub on sabon bildi, a paste-like olive-based soap which is smeared onto the skin until you glisten.
After you rinse of the soap, it’s time for a good hard scrub (or five). Using a kiis (a rough flannel glove that feels a lot like a green kitchen Scrubbie) you scrub (and are scrubbed) vigorously until no trace of old skin remains. Then, after washing and conditioning your hair, you may soap up again, rinse again, scrub again.
The hammam is not for the shy, nor the prudish. But it is totally relaxing, cleansing, and (especially being with my host family), a welcoming place to get clean. I feel totally fresh and new, and as the hammam is often as cheap as most hotel showers, it’s likely I’ll going again on the road.
On that note: I can’t believe I’m into my final days in Fes! Friday I leave for the desert (trip sponsored by ALIF), and Monday I’ll begin the second part of my summer where I’m on the road every few days. I feel like there’s still so much to do before I leave Fes, and I know I’ll be sad to go when the time comes to move on. But now, darija beckons, so thank you for continuing to follow my trip (and reading this far!)!
The differences in my professors’ teaching styles are becoming more pronounced with each lesson. Despite the fact that the students in our class have different levels of experience in Arabic, Nozha generally teaches towards the top of the class, which sometimes makes it difficult to follow the lesson. Abdenebi’s stories about Arab culture have grown from five minutes to fifteen (or longer!) every class. After last Friday’s quiz, he lectured us in English and Arabic on everything from the history of Jews in Fes (for whom he was sympathetic) to politics in Morocco (complicated) and his opinion of Saudis (not very high).
School keeps me busy during the week, so on Saturday I went around and toured the medina with a couple of friends. First we set off for the Merenid tombs, an old graveyard on a hill that overlooks the medina. The tombs aren’t much to look at, but the view of the city is amazing—you can see how the old city, with its (estimated 365) minarets, is nestled in the valley, and the Ville Nouvelle is visible in the distance. Next, we were off to find the tanneries, one of Fes’ biggest tourist attractions. This proved to be harder than we thought, and after some wandering a shop owner led us to a viewing point with the promise that it was free to look at the tanneries.
All the guide books warn of the tanneries’ stench, and the shop owners give you mint to smell while out on the viewing platform. Frankly though, it wasn’t nearly as bad as the alleyways that take you to the tanneries—that’s where it really reeks. The tanneries look just like the postcards, with men waist deep in the dye and leather drying in the sun. We didn’t buy anything around the tanneries, where leather goods are way overpriced for tourists, but I’d like to get some small thing made of leather here as a souvenir.
Sunday I went on an ALIF trip to Volubilis, Moulay Idriss, and Meknes. Volubilis was the Roman provincial capital in today’s Morocco, and one of the empire’s furthest outposts in North Africa. Today, it’s a collection of ruins that apart from some interesting mosaics, was less impressive then I imagined (though in all honesty, that is me being a travel snob comparing the ‘Bilis to the ruins I saw last summer). Moulay Idriss was a drive-by viewing, but as non-Muslims’can’t visit the town’s shrines, that would have left little for us to do in the town.
Meknes was a nice stop: I’d been debating back and forth whether or not I should go there for research after my trip, (and ultimately decided against it), so I’m glad I got to see the city for a few hours. The Mausoleum of Moulay Ismail, located in Meknes, is, according to my Rough Guide, the only Muslim shrine that non-Muslims can visit in Morocco, and for me, definitely worth the visit.
I’ve found the Moroccan rule that non-Muslims are not allowed to almost all of the country’s religious sites a bit frustrating, as there’s lots of wonderful history and many a place for meditation that I would love to see and experience. Last summer, visiting the Great Mosques in Damascus and Aleppo were highlights of my trip to Syria. But rules are rules, and the rule here is no non-Muslims allowed.
After visiting the mausoleum, I wandered over to Place el Hedima, a large square with restaurants and the entrance to the souks surrounding it. Inside the souk, a shop keeper explained (in the fastest French I’ve ever heard) the uses for all his spices and oils, and just past the mounds of olives and lemons in perfect cones were the butchers’ stalls and sweets shops. Souks are sometimes overwhelming, with the smells and the sounds in the dark, closed alleyways making it hard to take it all in at once, but the overall atmosphere of Meknes—much more relaxed then Fes—was a nice place to take some pictures of the traditional markets and medina life, though I feel like I can’t do the places I see justice with my camera!
This post is getting long, but there’s one more thing I want to get to before concluding, but before, let me say that life with my Fassi family is great. Earlier in the week Hannah and I came home to a surprise: our own room! The family had cleaned out the spare room that serves as storage room for Najib’s shop and put the foyer couches in it as beds for us! It’s a small space, but it’s nice to have a place to unwind with a little privacy. I continue to eat very well: we had a new tajine a couple days ago that was chicken smothered in spicy noodles, potatoes and carrots, and Rashida has been making the world’s most delicious eggplant that I’ve been scarfing down shamelessly.
However, the highlight of family life though was yesterday evening, when my host mom took us to the hammam. I’ve wanted to try a hammam for a while, and for a variety of reasons: the cultural experience, the fact that hammam scenes are common in Orientalist paintings (Google “The Turkish Bath” by Ingres to see one of the more famous examples), and because the past few days of intensely hot weather (yesterday was 108 degrees Fahrenheit!) I was feeling the need for a cleansing bath.
I’m so glad that my host mother and her sister were there to guide us, because as any guide to Morocco warns (and correctly!), the hammam can be a bit confusing the first time you go. Basically, the hammam is a Turkish-style steam bah, three rooms of different temperatures (hot, hotter, and cooler) where you collect either hot or cold water in buckets to wash. After claiming a spot in the hammam (usually in the hot or hotter room), you sit down in the steamy room with your buckets around you like a fortress, and after a few minutes of sweating, you douse yourself from the buckets with bowls. Next you rub on sabon bildi, a paste-like olive-based soap which is smeared onto the skin until you glisten.
After you rinse of the soap, it’s time for a good hard scrub (or five). Using a kiis (a rough flannel glove that feels a lot like a green kitchen Scrubbie) you scrub (and are scrubbed) vigorously until no trace of old skin remains. Then, after washing and conditioning your hair, you may soap up again, rinse again, scrub again.
The hammam is not for the shy, nor the prudish. But it is totally relaxing, cleansing, and (especially being with my host family), a welcoming place to get clean. I feel totally fresh and new, and as the hammam is often as cheap as most hotel showers, it’s likely I’ll going again on the road.
On that note: I can’t believe I’m into my final days in Fes! Friday I leave for the desert (trip sponsored by ALIF), and Monday I’ll begin the second part of my summer where I’m on the road every few days. I feel like there’s still so much to do before I leave Fes, and I know I’ll be sad to go when the time comes to move on. But now, darija beckons, so thank you for continuing to follow my trip (and reading this far!)!
Saturday, June 6, 2009
First week of classes, etc.
Hello again! It’s been about a week since I last posted a blog entry, and there’s a lot to tell about the past few days!
On Monday, I started my darija (dialect) class at the Arabic Language Institute in Fes (ALIF). The class meets in two sessions, from 8:00 AM to 10:00 AM and 10:00 to 12:00 PM Monday through Friday, so no sleeping in for the next few weeks. My host dad, Najib, walks me to the taxi station every morning at 7:30 (though sometimes I end up pushing 7:40) to make sure I get there safely, and though it’s early, it is a lot cooler in the morning so it’s a pleasant walk.
The darija class itself is challenging, but immediately useful and rewarding: while educated Moroccans understand fusha (classical Arabic, which we learn at UNC), darija is what’s spoken daily and immediately understood. Every day, I find myself understanding more of my family’s Arabic dinner conversations, and I can communicate more with my two youngest host sisters, who only speak Arabic.
My two professors, Nozha and Abdenebi, are both excellent teachers, though their teaching styles differ greatly: Nozha’s class is organized and executed following her detailed daily lesson plan, and Abdenebi likes to pepper his instruction with humorous mini-lessons on Moroccan culture.
Our class is small—six students, including myself—which means we get a lot of practice time speaking in class. It’s a pleasant bunch of students, and during the break between the 8:00 and 10:00 class we’ll chat in the garden outside the classrooms.
In Morocco, everything closes from 12:00 to 3:00 PM for lunch, which is family time. On Monday, I came home for lunch after class and there was a surprise waiting: another student is staying with us! Hannah is a rising sophomore from Haverford College in Pennsylvania, and she and I get along very well. She’s well traveled, and speaks fluent French so even though she’s learning Arabic for the first time at ALIF, she’s getting along fine in Morocco.
After lunch, I either stay home and study or return to ALIF for the afternoon to use their library and wireless internet. ALIF has a special research library for Middle East, Islamic, and North African studies, and there are a number of titles that I may use in my summer research. Yesterday, I happened to meet a masters’ student from the local university is specializing in media and cross-cultural studies, and we had an interesting exchange about Western perceptions (and misconceptions) of Moroccan culture.
In the evenings, my family has been going to the World Sacred Music Festival. At this point, I’ve yet to go to a concert I didn’t love. From classical Arabic music and West African chants, and Muslim brotherhoods to Ganga Vibes (there are a surprising number of young Moroccan men sporting dreadlocks, earning them the nickname “Bob Marley” from my host father), each concert has been enjoyable in its own special way.
I’ve had a pretty relaxing Saturday thus far: I slept in (i.e., did not wake up at 6:45AM), and after breakfast, explored more of the medina, first solo and later with my middle host sister, Selma. This evening, I plan on meeting a couple friends and going to another concert (this one is Oulad Bouazzaoui, never heard of them either) and maybe getting some reading done. I hope to post photos soon, so stay tuned and thanks again for reading!
On Monday, I started my darija (dialect) class at the Arabic Language Institute in Fes (ALIF). The class meets in two sessions, from 8:00 AM to 10:00 AM and 10:00 to 12:00 PM Monday through Friday, so no sleeping in for the next few weeks. My host dad, Najib, walks me to the taxi station every morning at 7:30 (though sometimes I end up pushing 7:40) to make sure I get there safely, and though it’s early, it is a lot cooler in the morning so it’s a pleasant walk.
The darija class itself is challenging, but immediately useful and rewarding: while educated Moroccans understand fusha (classical Arabic, which we learn at UNC), darija is what’s spoken daily and immediately understood. Every day, I find myself understanding more of my family’s Arabic dinner conversations, and I can communicate more with my two youngest host sisters, who only speak Arabic.
My two professors, Nozha and Abdenebi, are both excellent teachers, though their teaching styles differ greatly: Nozha’s class is organized and executed following her detailed daily lesson plan, and Abdenebi likes to pepper his instruction with humorous mini-lessons on Moroccan culture.
Our class is small—six students, including myself—which means we get a lot of practice time speaking in class. It’s a pleasant bunch of students, and during the break between the 8:00 and 10:00 class we’ll chat in the garden outside the classrooms.
In Morocco, everything closes from 12:00 to 3:00 PM for lunch, which is family time. On Monday, I came home for lunch after class and there was a surprise waiting: another student is staying with us! Hannah is a rising sophomore from Haverford College in Pennsylvania, and she and I get along very well. She’s well traveled, and speaks fluent French so even though she’s learning Arabic for the first time at ALIF, she’s getting along fine in Morocco.
After lunch, I either stay home and study or return to ALIF for the afternoon to use their library and wireless internet. ALIF has a special research library for Middle East, Islamic, and North African studies, and there are a number of titles that I may use in my summer research. Yesterday, I happened to meet a masters’ student from the local university is specializing in media and cross-cultural studies, and we had an interesting exchange about Western perceptions (and misconceptions) of Moroccan culture.
In the evenings, my family has been going to the World Sacred Music Festival. At this point, I’ve yet to go to a concert I didn’t love. From classical Arabic music and West African chants, and Muslim brotherhoods to Ganga Vibes (there are a surprising number of young Moroccan men sporting dreadlocks, earning them the nickname “Bob Marley” from my host father), each concert has been enjoyable in its own special way.
I’ve had a pretty relaxing Saturday thus far: I slept in (i.e., did not wake up at 6:45AM), and after breakfast, explored more of the medina, first solo and later with my middle host sister, Selma. This evening, I plan on meeting a couple friends and going to another concert (this one is Oulad Bouazzaoui, never heard of them either) and maybe getting some reading done. I hope to post photos soon, so stay tuned and thanks again for reading!
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