J'entre la famille

So, I got home from a social event at the center last night to find no one in the house. I had just turned around to turn on the light when there was a knock at the door, and it was my mother, Fayçal, and Maha. They were about to go to the beach and wanted me to come with! So, I went with them and played soccer in the sand and taught them Monkey-in-the-Middle. Mother bought us all candy on the way home (I got first pick) and we had a very social dinner afterwards. It was such a turnaround from the previous few days that I hardly knew what to make of it.

Everything yesterday went pretty well. Gender class didn't make me want to cry from boredom, my first quiz in Arabic was three questions involving fill-in-the-blank, comparative form, and making a few sentences with given vocabulary. I even called out my professor on a spelling error that she had made. We then learned parts of the body, and I was able to go home and TEACH these words to my siblings (yes, in Arabic) becauase they themselves did not know them. I helped Fayçal with English homework and he helped me with Arabic. Mother even came in to get some pronunciation clarification. The weather was sunny and mild and balmy. It was just so swell overall!

Farrah (head of CCCL) had a small social hour for us to talk about any issues we had or things we felt necessary to share or talk about. There were vegetables served with salsa, roasted almonds, dried apricots, mountains of spiced popcorn, cokes, and carbonated fruit juices. I asked about the national symphony orchestra. Apparently, they only perform once a year, shortly before the winter break, and a girl from another program here at the CCCL performed with them this past December! It is free to watch them rehearse, so I really hope to do that. Also, some kids are making plans to go see an art exhibit at Baab Al-Rouah that has paintings demonstrating the Italian-Maghribi connection in art. I wasn't aware that such a connection existed but it's apparently a very big, very modern movement.

So, like I told so many people would happen, the first two weeks were pretty difficult but now, after having put in just a tiny bit of personal effort, things have improved drastically. While still not glamorous, Morocco is very fun. The men are still scumbags but I can handle them at this point. The weather still isn't warm, but now that I have clean clothes again, I can layer up and be comfortable. The food isn't as exotic it is posed in American Moroccan restaurants but it is bountiful and every-present. Most everyone has gotten sick in some way so far, but Amanda B, who had to go to the clinic, said that the health system is amazing. Within five minutes of walking in the door, she had been taken to a room via wheelchair, given an IV, and had two nurses in her room quizzing her on her health since her arrival in Morocco. Classes were very overwhelming at first but now things make sense, there are enough copies to go around, the reading load has been lessened, and I well acquainted enough to my professors' terrible accents to make sense of what they're saying. My family, while not traditional at all, is stepping up and taking me in. I can't help but always smile now!

Things Are Better... Sort Of

I realized that I hadn't really been trying that hard to interact with my family. I have taken some small steps towards fixing this. I asked my mother how to do laundry (they have a washing machine; they're so rich), I lost my multivitamins and asked the family to help me search, and I seek people out, wherever they are in the house, to let them know that I have returned to the house or am about to leave. It's better already. I still eat a surprising number of dinners by myself, but this week is odd because the children do not have school (they had finals last week). I've eaten lunch alone all week because no one is home at that time, and I have eaten breakfast alone every morning because no one else is awake at that time. The milk here, even when not heated and sweetened, tastes quite different from American milk. It's still pasteurized and kept cold in the fridge, but there's an aftertaste that is hard to describe. It's still delicious, and it kills me that I get only four ounces of it every morning. I bought a carton of milk from a vendor the other day and chugged it all right then and there. The man stared at me, but I didn't care. Matt and I found a man who sells freshly-made donuts for 1 1/2 dhm. We stop by every evening on our way home from Arabic. Before we found him, there were virtually no sweets in our diet at all.

Yesterday in Arabic we had a field exercise at a café. We were split up by class and given a budget of 10dhm. Well, nothing on the menu was less than 12dhm, so I was slightly annoyed about that because I had no money on me and had to bum from a classmate. Still, it was the first time that I was able to order in Arabic and be responded to in Arabic, though we were given funny looks for speaking in Fus'ha (standard Arabic) instead of darija (Moroccan Arabic), but it is progress. We have a quiz today in Arabic that covers vocabulary from four chapters and nomical case endings. Arabic syntax is the craziest thing that I have ever seen. Take the verbal syntax of German, put in the nominal syntax of Gaelic-Irish, the adverbial syntax of French, and the writing system of Hebrew, and you have Modern Standard Arabic. I can't tell if my linguistics background is beneficial or not in trying to grasp this language.

Most everyone in the group has gotten sick at some point so far. One girl had to go on an IV in a clinic from dehydrating so much after an instance of food poisoning. Half of us, myself included, just cannot handle drinking the water here, and as bottled water is incredibly expensive (30dhm for a standard bottle of water), we're very carefully keeping ourselves slightly on the dehydrated side. The weather is warming up slowly, so those with colds are finally being given a chance to recover. However, the pollen count goes up with the temperature, so the poor souls with allergies are suffering more and more. Pharmacies here are very oddly arranged, and it is next to impossible to get a pharmacist's help because they ignore white people on average.

The readings for our gender class are scary. They go into detailed description and justification of Islamic practices of the veil, marrying the paternal cousin, ird (familial honor), patrilineal loyalty, and such things. Reaading them makes me feel like such a terrible, promiscuous, provocative harlot. Women are regarded as carnal beings constantly seeking physical pleasure, and while a man has no choice but to succumb to her seduction, he must not invest himself emotionally in her because he must save his emotions for God. Even music sung by women is seen as musical, even if it just a woman singing a Quranic verse. A few times I have worn a scarf on my head in public, and while it does generally deter men from calling on me, if they get a close look at my pale face and eyes, or if any blonde hair sticks out, I may as well be naked in the street for all the unwanted attention put on me.

On a lighter note, I found the one grocery store in the city that sells cereal. I am hitting that up this afternoon, for sure, and will probably consume the entire box in one sitting. If people want to send me cartons of milk, I would have absolutely no objection to that whatsoever.

Pictures Update

http://www2.snapfish.com/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=275048669/a=72121623_72121623/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink

Voilà le deuxième album des photos.

Last night I talked with Doha, the homestay coordinator, about switching to a different family. She said that she would have it done in a day or two at the most. I went home and sat in my room alone, as usual, when my brother Fayçal came over to tell me that the family is going to have a party on Satuday. I asked why, and he said that it is because I have come here. I was so horrified that I couldn't even respond. After a week and a half in this home, of taking no part in the family whatsoever, they are deciding to celebrate me. Fayçal said that there weren't any guests being invited, but still, this is just terrible. They're trying to make me the bad guy! This is wrong on so many levels, but I cannot stay in that house. I don't do anything there.

We BU kids are talking about going to Casablanca this Friday afternoon and coming back Saturday morning. I sure do hope that it goes smoothly.

It keeps raining here! Spring better be beautiful for all this rain. I am running out of clean socks and underwear but I cannot expect my laundry to dry if it is raining once every thirty-six hours. I don't even know how laundry is done at my house now, i.e. whether they have a machine or do it by hand. Now I am changing families, and I don't know a thing about them. I'll feel terrible as the first thing I'll ask of them is to help me do my laundry. I may not have hot water or a western toilet at this new house. Oh dear, what have I gotten myself into?

I noticed yesterday that Coke here has four ingredients - carbonated water, sugar, caramel flavor, and coloring. American Coke has like twenty ingredients. I shall certainly try to bring back a few bottles to the States. Speaking of trying to bring stuff into countries, a girl in the program found a little bag of surprise in her laptop case. This little bag made it through security in America and in France and was not discovered. Without even realizing it, this girl smuggled marijuana across a whole ocean and two continents.

Oranges are just passing their prime here. The first week, it was as if God were presenting Himself everytime I ate an orange. Now, they're just plain old good. We plan on going to the super-marché to buy some necessities. Specifically, we girls are dairy deprived and craving it like whoa. We've been flying through rounds of cheese every hour or two, so now we're going to buy our own yogurt, cheese, and milk. It will be so glorious. That's been one of the hardest things for me, going from drinking three to five tall glasses of milk a day and cheese and yogurt galore throughout the day to having one itty bitty glass (a shot really) of hot milk with sugar in the morning and that's it. I NEED DAIRY!

Horrific Weekend

So, I caught my siblings in the act of trying to break into my (locked) luggage, and I know for a fact that they were using Blanchette while I was just downstairs eating lunch. I hung out several times with BU kids wandering the city, eating pizza, but I had a curfew of 11pm, so I was never able to go out to experience the night life. I covered my head one evening to see the effect, and boy howdy, no one gave me a second look. Except for the drunk asshole who grabbed my arm and kept following us for a few blocks until I indicated that I was heading to the police station. This happened despite the fact that we were walking with one of the boys. I actually spent more than ten hours on homework this weekend. Even on the Charles River campus this would be a ridiculous amount of work for a first weekend. My family had three strange young men over yesterday; no one told me anything. They walked by my room a few times but never looked at me. I feel like I am in a boarding house because I am only spoken to when it's dinner time or to get yelled at for having left something plugged in.

As I may be changing my home, if you mail me stuff, send it to the school:

P.O. Box 6291
Rabat Instituts
Rabat - MOROCCO 10101

I just had culture class. I still have short bouts of hated towards the professor. Our homework is to pick a poem, analyze the hell out of it, and prepare to lead class on Wednesday. There are several problems with this assignment. First off, it's poetry. Second, they're the Arabic equivalent of haikus. Third, we don't know enough north African culture, history, or politics to be able to do much with these poems. I can hardly wait.

It keeps being cold here. The weather man keeps saying it'll be 65 tomorrow, but it stays around 50 no matter what. I am so bummed out. Semesters abroad are supposed to be the most wonderful thing about college. I went into college with only one goal - to go abroad. Now that I'm doing it, I find myself not enjoying it - at all. This city is dirty. I cannot go out and see it because I'm stuck in class or at the center during the day and I risk physical violation if I go out at night. I don't interact with my host family, and I can't interact with my real family. I have been not been warm for fourteen days straight nor have I ever felt full at a meal. I think I've lost some serious weight because my pants won't staying up.

We went sightseeing this weekend. There is an artsy pier at the beach that we walked all the way out on and sat on the edge of the sculpted puzzle pieces and watched the waves hit against the rocks fifteen feet away from us. We were there for half an hour with no problem, but as soon as we made ready to leave, a huge wave came and soaked us all. Considering that it was cloudy, windy, and 55 that day, we were miserable for a while. The beach was covered with trash because Moroccans don't believe in public trashcans. There is a public garden near the medina that we went to, and while it was really pretty, it was also dirty but at least here there were trashcans. I felt like I was in a zoo from all the stares and calls and attempts at conversation from the passersby. One man gave a girl from our group an umbrella because it was slightly raining. We got some gelato afterwards. I got raspberry, some people got chocolate, cookie, and pecan, but one girl got date-flavored gelato. I adore dates, but I do not think that I liked that gelato.

Last night my mother asked me to help her read the letter that I written to the family back in the fall. That was the first time we carried on a conversation that didn't revolve about my going out with BU kids or dinner. She brought me tea on Friday for the very first time since I had been, and I got tea and coffee yesterday. Sadly, that is the full extent of Moroccan hospitality that I have experienced.

Snail Mail... Literally

So, I sent off a few letters in the mail on Tuesday. I was told today that normal mail takes a minimum of twenty days, so people, don't expect anything anytime soon.

This class deal is ridiculous. Because there are so few copies, we have to sit in groups and switch them around. We are not allowed to take the copies elsewhere, so we must stay in the center to read them. The center closes at 6pm and is not open on the weekends. Thus, we cannot possibly do any readings in the afternoon because we are at the annex building taking Arabic until 5.45pm. So, we are limited to mornings. Elective classes are in the mornings, so there's only an hour to two hour window in the mornings for reading. However, it is only at the center that we have Internet, so it is a real strain to get this work done. I have no class Friday, but I, and many others, have come here to the center to get the readings done. We need to summarize each chapter and write a reflection. Thus far I have four pages single-spaced on six of the eight summaries. This is only for one class. Something needs to be done. None of us are able to see the city because we have to spend our entire day at the center getting work done and then must be home once it gets dark. We aren't ever given the title of the book that we need to do a reading from, we're just given chapter titles. Thus, it just takes a while to even find the readings!

My calling card was pretty nice but I get charged for a minute even if I talk for five seconds. Also, it starts costing me as soon as I dial regardless of whether I connect, so all those missed calls I made yesterday cost me almost half of my card. I was able to chat with Jessica for a while, and I am sorry Jess that I was just ranting the whole time, but I was cut off after maybe ten minutes. If people want to talk to me online, it will have to be done early in the day y'all's time, as in absolutely no later than 8.30 or 9am and as early (or late, you crazy college kids) as you can manage. My family is awake at 7am no matter what, so I am always up and often at the center when it opens at 8am. For the weekends, one could only contact me by phone.

Familial Concerns

Last night was the second night in a row that I ate dinner by myself. I do not really interact with my family. I ask that we speak in Arabic, but they only speak French to me, and that is NOT why I am here. I was invited into

If y'all want to talk to me on the phone, it would be cheaper for everyone involved if y'all call me. There's a calling card that can be used to call me from the US that is about 2¢/minute. If I call y'all from here, both of us will have to pay, and I know that for my part it will cost 4dhm/min (50¢/min). A classmate regularly uses this one special international calling card, and I will get back to you as to its name. Remember that I am on Greenwich Mean Time (5 hours ahead of Boston, 6 hours ahead of Alabama/Houston).

Our readings for Women in Islam are not going well. Six chapters, all saying the same thing, that we must read, summarize, and reflect upon and do so by sharing three copies of each chapter among fourteen people; further, these copies cannot leave the center for additional copies to be made. Yea, like I said it would, it has not gone well. I must return to these readings though. Eventually, they will get done.

Address Edit

Hey there, my address is not quite what was given to me originally

10 Zaouia Gherbia
Derb Lfassi
Medina, Rabat
MOROCCO

Also, I just got a cell phone. My number is (from US 011 212) 052 39 62 56.

I have to get an international calling card thinger later on, and then I can call people in the US!

Also, there aren't textbooks here. Everyone makes photocopies of stuff, but there are never enough photocopies made. We have just been told to read six chapters. There are five copies each of these chapters, fourteen of us, and an hour and a half to read them. I am so sure that this will go poorly.

OBAMA!

I left my house this morning and was greeted by the first passerby with "OBAMA!" I made it to school just before the downpour began. Most upstairs in Rabat have a skylight, such as the one here at the center, and I actually cannot hear the girl next ot me for the rain is so loud. Buckets are being thrown at every angle. It comes in waves not unlike those of the ocean. Everything is damp and cold and unfun right now.

We'll be in the middle of Arabic class today when Obama is to be sworn in but I think that there are some arrangements being made so that we can watch it. Hell, I'll walk out of class and to the nearest café to watch if I must.

I've done tons of writing since I've been here as it seems one of the few decent ways to pass the time. I have eight letters waiting to be sent off and almost fifteen typed pages of personal journal. Last night I started on my Arabic homework, and Maha came over and started telling me how funny my handwriting was. She's a little smarty pants sometimes. Fayçal is hardly any better. He's a classic Arab son, full of self-entitlement, arrogance, disrespect, and other things. I do not think I have ever disliked a child so very much. When he told me yesterday that I have big feet and wear clown shoes, I told him that at least my face and teeth don't look like those of a clown. He shut up. It was not good of me, but the boy needs a verbal whipping or summat. I will not tolerate his behavior around me.

I think Maha adores me though. I am the big, protective sister that she never had. I get Fayçal to leave here alone, help her with homework, and sat for an hour yesterday playing American pop music for her and going through lots of photos of me and my friends. I spent fifteen minutes trying to explain to her what camp is and how I worked there, but I think not that she understood fully.

Until today, Fayçal, my homestay father, and Maha had not changed their clothes. Pajamas are not really known here, so I get funny faces from Maha whenever she sees that I have changed for bedtime. Everyone gets really nice and dolled up for school and work but they take the art of relaxation and comfortable clothing to a level that Americans can hardly rival. It really creeped me out. My blanket last night had some loose fibers that attacked my poor left eyeball, and I thought I was blind in it when I first woke up this morning. I'm not though. I can see perfectly fine. Contact lenses are considered a luxury over here, so I know that my family thinks that I am rich beyond all belief, especially because I take a shower every other day in the hot water. I must be rolling in dough. :/

There is a machine downstairs that gives you 4oz of coffee for 4dhm (50¢). There's espresso, regular, latte, cappucino, tea, milk, and plain hot water. Some things here are just awesome. Though In the vendor avenues there are rows of places that sell name brand clothing for incredibly cheap. I think the single most expensive thing was 100dhm ($12.50) and it was for a knee-length leather jacket. I by no means need to or intend to do any shopping here apart from a few necessities, like my soft pillow. I have asked and searched and I cannot find anything of the sort. Maybe I'll have to order one.

There has been some serious complication with the readings for our elective classes. Our books are supposed to be covered by our program fees but that didn't happen. We were told the Wednesday before we left that we needed three novels for our culture class. So, two people ordered them because they could actually find them (on Amazon France) and afford them (about 85 Euro plus shipping). The rest of us are going to have to borrow from the people who bought them or else make photocopies of them. Apparently books are a rare commodity in Morocco because they're too expensive. Instead, everybody has photocopies. Also, they're very fond of using ancient texts that have been out of print since the Depression (e.g. one of our culture novels).

Arabic yesterday went well enough. It was a simple review day but it lasted for more than three hours. Classes are as such:
Arabic: Mon-Thurs 2.30-4.30pm or 5.45pm depending on the day
Post-Colonial Aesthetics and Culture: Mon and Wed 8.30-10am
Women in Islam: Tues and Thurs 10.30am-12 noon

There is also a history class on Fridays from 9am-12 noon, and surprisingly it has almost ten people in it. I will enjoy having free Fridays.

The First Weekend

I hardly even know where to start. My mother is a French teacher, so from the get-go my house is pretty westernized. I spoke French to everyone the entire time, so that is a mixed blessing. I helped Maha with her French and English homework a lot, so that made me feel smart. We ate pizza, pasta, and fish for all the dinners, bread with Nutella and milk for breakfast, and there was couscous the one evening. There is no such thing as decaffeinated coffee here, so even though my parents insist on coffee with dinner, I have to refuse if I want to sleep at all. Despite having eaten my fill at most meals, I think I have lost weight based on how my pants fit.

My siblings love my stuff but not me per se. I had to lock all my stuff up when I left because Fayçal has no class today and Maha is sick, so the parents are gone and they are home alone. Fayçal is a very mean big brother, and I pretty much act like another mom to him. Maha has just started her English studies in school and Fayçal has been studying for three years. They love to come to me and ask, "what is this?" while pointing to an object in their hands. I taught my mother a bunch of kitchen terms.

The house itself is not like a normal house with a central counrtyard. It is all white with nothing on the walls. The echo is so terrible that one can drop a pin and here it anywhere. I noticed that my family members never changed their clothes all weekend long. I may start wearing some shirts twice before putting into the laundry but I will be changing regularyly. They don't even change into pajamas. No one took a shower either, though the BU contract states that we need to have our own rooms and access to a daily shower. I felt weird taking just one this weekend. I will take one every other day, but it's quite an ordeal to even turn on the hot water. There are only two trashcans in the whole house, and they're maybe a cubic foot each. There is no floss here, so I sure am glad that I brought my own plus back up.

Everyone wakes up at 7am via the small alarm clock in the parents' bedroom. SO LOUD! O my god, I cannot handle the noise level in this house. I do have my own "room" but really it is an alcove, as in there is no door. I have the option of sharing Maha's room so that I have a door and maybe even access to a closet but I lived with enough eight-year-olds this summer, so I will stick to my alcove. The bed is fine but the pillows are rock hard and leaving my neck aching, so I need to get a soft pillow.

Fayçal and Maha wanted to get some Coke, so I went with them to a vendor to buy a liter. It cost 7,50 dhm (8 dhm = $1) because they bought Coke in a recycled bottle (the new bottle price is 9,50 dhm). The Coke here has so much more sugar than that in America. Everything that one drinks has lots of sugar. Milk is served with breakfast but it is served hot and with a sugar cube, so it's delicious. Coffee is either black or with milk but always with sugar. Nobody else drank water but me. I am not made to feel like a foreigner but it is still taking time to adjust. We sit at the very low table in the kitchen on stools to eat. I am taller than the dad by about five inches, and I don't fit well at the table and my feet stick out the end of the bed if I have my legs straight.

I did a lot of letter writing and book reading over the weekend, as I quickly tired of Pog and backgammon playing with my siblings. My father wasn't really there during the day, I suspect off in a manly area like a café, smoking and staring at women. He did take me, Fayçal, and Maha to the supermarket to buy pizza crust. He pointed excitedly to Oust and Tide and said "American products?!" I nodded. He seemed happy. The children and mother speak French fluently; the father is pretty competent but it is mostly darija.

Today is the first real day of school. I had my post-colonial aesthetics and politics class this morning. He lectured mostly on the significance of poetry. Education, until the 1950's, was taught wholly in verse including the sciences and mathematics. Kids, err boys, had to have the entire Quran memorized by age six or seven in that age. Even foreign languages were taught in verse, often accompanied by music. We will have our Arabic class this afternoon at the CCCL annex, which is apparently not even in the medina. I haven't figured out exactly how to navigate by myself, and the fact that I get harassed and proposed to every time I go out alone does not encourage my wanting to explore on my own.

I have to leave now to take passport pictures to extend my visa. I will write more!

Orientation Ends

سلام عليكم

ُThat right there is the traditional greeting in Arabic (salaam 'alaiikum) and it means "Peace be with you." One responds by reversing it ("And with you peace)".

So, after elective classes, two sessions of darija, food poisoning, six lectures, and over fifty instances of harassment in the street, orientation here in Rabat is finally over.

We only have Internet at the Center, and even then it is only for fifteen minutes once or twice a day. I apologize for the lack of detail as to what all has happened while we have been here.

I meet my family later today. The parent-welcoming reception starts at 4.30pm today and goes until everyone has left. I still feel ill and had to ask one of the boys in the group to carry my bag from the hotel. Let us hope that my dad comes with my mom to help me carry my things or I will have to leave some things here over the weekend.

Every time we have Internet it crashes because we flood it so quickly trying to upload pictures or chat with people on Skype. I have not had a problem dealing with not having a cell phone, but the lack of Internet while still being in civilization is indeed difficult to do.

The food, except for yesterday's lunch lamb, has been incredible. Oranges are at their peak here, and absolutely no orange in the world can even compare to them. Each meal has been fresh vegetables, sometimes vinegary, sometimes spicy, sometimes sweet, both hot and cold, but nothing raw (we Americans are advised against eating raw vegetables). I haven't had a drink of milk this whole trip, and I think I will cry if I go longer without it. I've decided to keep my own supply of it separate from my family's storage. Milk here is UHT (ultra-high temp) and boiled before boxed. It has a long shelf life but must be refridgerated once opened. Breakfast so far has been done in a café (croissant, coffee or mint tea, fresh OJ).

The locals complain about who cold it has been. The actual temperature has been in the 60's at the lowest but the buildings retain the cold and never let go of it. And the dampness, oooooh the DAMPNESS!! Nothing gets dry once wet and it makes it seem ten degrees colder. Last night I was having rather violent whole body shivers. My roommates at the Hotel Majestic, Anna and Amanda, put two blankets on me in addition to the comforter and sheet and then sat on top of me rubbing my back 'cause I had had some aches from dry heaving. It was a pretty poor evening for me, and still today I am not much better. Everyone at the Center says that every student gets sick at some point, so it is better than I have gotten it over with now.

It is Friday, and today is the big holy day in Islam. A lot of kids just ran off to the souks to get things done before everyone closes until 3pm. I am so tired. I think I will nap again.

Long Awaited Photographs

http://www2.snapfish.com/thumbnailshare/AlbumID=275029601/a=72121623_72121623/otsc=SHR/otsi=SALBlink

This is the link to my SnapFish photo albums. For now it's just covering orientation week. I should be able to update it once a week with new stuffs.

Also, I was just given my family information. I am SO fortunate! I have a western toilet AND hot water!! I also have a sister and a brother. The funny thing is that the sister's name is Maha, and in our Arabic textbook one of the characters we follow is a mildly depressed girl named Maha. All of us students joke about her all the time, so hopefully I can behave myself around her.

Also, I expect my house to be absolutely gorgeous. I am almost dancing, despite having mild food poisoning at the moment. Nothing to fret about, but another girl and I started feeling ill this afternoon shortly before we were supposed to leave to go into the medina and bargain for something. Oh well, I will try again tomorrow. Tonight we are having a beautiful meal with some of the staff members that will include a Moroccan delicacy, pastilla (Dad, Jess, Shan, this is the phyllo mound with chicken, egg, and cinnamon from Marrakesh).

In order to mail me stuff, you can send things to:

20, Zaouia Gharbia, Derb Lfassi, Medina, Rabat

ANA FIIL MAGHRIB!

So, I have finally arrived in Rabat after four plane rides totaling fourteen hours. I have thus far been hit on around thirty times, spent an hour wandering the city by myself after having been dropped off and told to find the CCCL, drunk my weight in mint tea, and pushed a button three times to take a lukewarm shower. I don't have my camera cord with me but pictures will soon follow.

Frustration Manifests at T-Minus Four Days!

I have never known more difficulty in anything ever in my life as this preparation for my semester in Morocco. Things as simple as renting a movie or getting gas into the car have proven almost unbearable.

I have filled out my paperwork to include BU specifics, finances, passport, medical things. I have applied for a loan. I have contacted the pharmacy for my meds for five months. I have obtained gifts for my family. I have done Arabic homework for several hours a day for most of the week. I have packed my things. I got four vaccines. I just want to be on that damn plane.