Selfishness

I doubt that anyone is still reading this; however, I have to get this off of my chest.

I DO NOT WANT TO SHARE MOROCCO WITH ANYONE!

Tomorrow, the new batch of BU students leave for Rabat. I am so jealous. I don't want them to get to go to Morocco. That's my special place full of wonderful and terrible things that were shared amongst myself and thirteen others. I resent that others will just walk in and take over now. They'll have their own bumps and curves, but I do believe that Fadoua and Farrah and everyone involved have done their best to smooth out our biggest upsets.

These noobs will get two weeks' worth of excursions.They'll get to partake in 'Aid al-Fitr once their families finish with the fasting. Does want! However, they won't get Halloween or Thanksgiving, which is funny in and of itself.

Small things remain with me. My bghrir, couscous, and tea are all delicious and as close to authentic as I can get them. My Aladdin pants remain a big hit, and I wear my various little Moroccan knick-knacks as often as possible.

That is all.

Up Until Friday

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Well, the salon visit was fun. Four of us got the exact same haircut despite giving separate descriptions. Unfortunately, as none of us have Moroccan hair, the cut is not the best. Oh well, it was 40dhm.

The last few days absolutely flew by. We had our last culture class, and Mekouar revealed himself as the least professional man I have ever encountered. He announced everyone's grades before the entire class without asking if that would be all right. He proceeded to orally criticize everything about Carolyn's paper. She asked him repeatedly if they could talk about it after class together, he said, "all right," and then continued criticizing it in the most horrid way possible. He never once had told us what he wanted for these papers or any other assignemnt. He told us that he had lowered his expectations for us because the American grading system is different. By the end of class, every single person was either fuming or fighting tears.

The last Arabic class was so too sad. We were thrown a surprise party by our professors, but Farah made us promise not to tell because they've never done such for any of the SIT programs. That afternoon started the first of many cake fights to follow. It started with the second-level class students getting their teacher but ended with most everyone having frosting somewhere on their faces.

The Arabic final was nothing bad. Hanane had given us a practice final the day before to prep us, so we were in the right mind set for it. At one point I had to go asked Hanane what a word meant. The word in question meant "zero," and boy did I feel stupid once she had clarified that. Once we had all finished up, we took our things from our houses and schlepped to the Hotel Majestic where I stayed in room 307, directly above where I stayed for orientation.

We did the program evaluation at the center afterwards. We sat in the class where the elective classes were held and covered topics such as the homestay, Arabic class, gender class, culture class, orientation, excursion, professors, the library, etc. We were having a thoroughly good discussion and went over our time limit by twenty minutes, making us have to rush through dinner.

Still, it was a lovely farewell dinner. It was our last time with Brahim's cooking, and it was just delicious. Pear-avocado-tomato salad, carrots, peas, beef, stewed figs, nectarines, and quince fruits. Amanda B turned 21, and Susanna had made her a beautiful ice cream cake. Yes, there was another fight with that cake. The history class professor and Mekouar showed up to eat with us. Everyone adores the history professor while everyone hates Mekouar, thus the former was kept in the conversation while the latter was completely ignored.

Following dinner was a musical performance and a reception to say goodbye to the families. Hanane had told me that she would come but she never did, and I was rather heart-broken. The reception was fun enough though with all the other families and the musical group. One man was playing a percussion instrument that resembled a metal dog food bowl. He balanced it on his head and went at it with a great force. My ears were ringing everytime he had a solo, and I can't imagine what it was like for him.

Once the music was over the sadness started to happen. All the CCCL staff went around hugging and kissing us goodbye. Farah and Brahim were definitely the hardest for me to say goodbye to. I was crying by the time I had stepped out the center, for I knew that it would be my last time in there. The walk to the hotel that evening was possibly the longest in my life.

Just Turned It In

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I just finished writing up my gender final. It is in an email as I type being sent to Prof Belghazi. With that, I am done with all obligations to my elective classes, and only the last Arabic class this afternoon and the final tomorrow remain of my academic obligations here in Morocco.

A large number of us plan to go to a salon this afternoon to get some last-minute stress relievers while they're still insanely cheap. We're all getting really nostalgic now that the end of rapidly approaching. Every time we go on a run for ghaif we reminisce about how we won't be able to disappear for ten minutes and get a filling snack for a quarter. I walked with Hilary along fruit street yesterday. For 10dhm we got a kilo of strawberries. For 20dhm we got a kilo of almonds. For 15dhm we got a jar of knock-off Nutella. For 5 dhm we got a half kilo of dates. We had been given money by the group to support a nightlong study session and had every intention of leaving no stomach behind. We were probably quite a site, two blonde girls carrying around a half dozen bags of varying produce and bartering for bananas and whatnot. It was grand fun.

The family has been pretty calm. We ate the equivalent of Moroccan rice-a-roni last night. Things were going well - until I found the meat that had been buried under the mound. Every one smiled when I unearthed it and saw it. I gave them an earful for it and told them that that was the reason that I've still been feeling under the weather. They keep giving me food associated with meat! Janaat is keeping up the crying most nights, and it has affected my sleep. I have only one more night and one of each meal left. I do like my family but I am quite ready to move on. I feel like a horrid person when I say that, as I appear to be the only one in the group who actually wants to leave his/her family.

I have missed outward affection. The entire group has gotten quite close (we share everything from spoons to cups to razors to ghaif; how couldn't we?) and yet all of our families are kind of distant. Physical affection - even hugs - don't exist in this part of the world. Granted, they do do the kissy thing when they greet one another and they are very warm people in general, but still, I don't think I've ever touched my homestay mother. Not once even in a handshake or hug or anything.

We were informed that we'll be leaving our hotel at 4.30am Saturday morning. Those of us who are leaving Morocco that day are considering just not going to bed and staying up all night chatting and snacking the last bit that we can of delicious Moroccan foodstuffs (ghaif, bghrir, pistachio yogurt, etc.).

The End of Gender

I will not pretend to hide my excitement at having just left gender class for the very last time in my entire life. Granted, I still have the take-home final to finish and send off, but I confess to having performed a jig involving a mix of oriental and Moroccan dance following the class.

We had our oral proficiency interviews in Arabic yesterday. Mine involved reading aloud an article on an Arab festival in DC, and I sensed disappointment from Hanane when I said that I had never been. I also talked about what I (did not) learn in culture class and what I (did not) learn in gender class. Everybody's interview went differently. Monica had to do a dictation, Matt gave a grammar lesson on the passive voice, and Anna just talked about her homestay family.

I ate ghaif with cheese (delicious) while watching The Brave Little Toaster at the center last night. I went home and started packing my things. Once home, I did not plug Blanchette in for fear that the house would fall down or summat. Mother came in to ask me if I wanted dinner and specified that they would be eating sheep stomach. I said thanks, but no thanks. Hanane came in later to ask if I wanted some fries. I tried to tell her that fries alone does not a meal count, but she wasn't having any of it. She brought me fries, an egg, and mango juice.

Lunch just now was fun. Mohammed apologized profusely for arriving ten minutes late with the bread. We sat down to a table of potato-egg quiche, salads, and sheep feet with hummus (hummus = chickpeas but it did not look like such). The family urged me to eat the hummus off of the sheep feet and could not understand why I refused to take it. Hanane told me that I was silly for being on régime when I am not the one who just had a baby. Then she forced me to eat a quarter of bread.

Finals Begin

This morning I: did not eat breakfast because Mother took 45min to go buy bread and I was almost late to class; took my culture final; did not just draw Prof Mekouar's portrait and hand it in; turned in my gender final paper; turned in my cellular telephone; paid my bills; sent out Peace Corps recommendation information; shared much music with Hilary; made a group appt for Salon Karim this Wednesday afternoon for haircuts, massages, manis/pedis, etc.; and commenced the countdown that only takes up five fingers on my hand.

This weekend was pretty intense. I have been forbidden to plug in my computer in the house because it, you know, causes leaks and power surges and outages and solar eclipses and all that stuff. I hammamed with Monica and Rebecca, which was refreshing because I hadn't been for two weeks (it's shuma to hammam during that time of month). We went to Hilary's afterwards to partake in Arabic review, culture studying, Nutella, peanut butter, ghaif, and Twining's Earl Grey. We got a lot of work done, honest we did. We had been goofy all evening Friday by partaking in ten ghaif and The Lion King. The girls here say that I have a photographic memory because I can have a perfectly timed recitation of many of the movies that we've watched. I say that it's not photographic memory but just an unhealthy affection for pre-1995 Disney movies.

My family has failed many times in the past week to observe my vegetarianism. I did eat a scrap of meat at one meal, just to try and appease them, and then I was sick afterwards. They yelled at me this morning for not eating with the family. I can't eat what I know I will throw up! I am so furious that our homestay was extended to Thursday, for if it hadn't, I could be so comfortable in a hotel. I would be eating Brahim's EXCELLENCE every lunch and going out to restaurants for dinners and cafés for breakfast. I would be eating well and not awkwardly. Damn it.

Changes in Plan

Fadoua just came in to tell us that our homestays have been extended until next Thursday. I personally don't like this because it leaves EVERYTHING to happen on Thursday. I will probably sleep all the way through my last day in Morocco because I will have been going nonstop from 8am 'til 9pm+ the previous day. Blargh!

In addition to that, Fadoua brought in the mail for the first time in two weeks. I have three cards from Melissa, my favorite, a postcard from Kate, a postcard from Sir William, and a letter from Grandma Larson. Thank you all! I love hearing from you!

I have arranged a phone interview for Tuesday 5 May to do an internship at a speech pathology clinic in Boston this summer. I really hope to goodness that I get it despite not being a speech pathology undergraduate.

We will soon be going to Fadoua's house to eat couscous all together and celebrate yet another birthday. I was nominated to go out and fetch the cake this morning, and as it was a warm day, and everyone was in a good mood, I certainly got a lot of attention.

A few people have gotten stomach bugs of sorts and are missing out on all sorts of get-togethers. This evening we were all thinking of going to a French restaurant to kick off our last weekend together. We have so much going on that I can hardly think straight at times.

As Willy Wonka once said, "So much time and so little to do! Wait, strike that; reverse it."

More Pastilla!

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Lunch was pastilla at the center today. Unfortunately, it was the exact same pastilla as was served during orientation week when I was going through my first bout of food poisoning. I loved the vegetarian option though.

In one week we are finishing up the Arabic final, and that will be it for schooling in Morocco. I am so sad.