LES CHANGEMENTS!
So, I talked to Doha, the homestay coordinator, this morning, and I am getting a new family. I felt bad throwing it on her now because tomorrow the SIT kids all go to their families (all forty-five of them), so she has a large workload, but after the past few days, this needs to happen.
Fayçal sat in front of me at breakfast today and insulted me to my face in mixed French and Darija for almost five minutes straight. Both Maha and my mother were there, listening, and neither did anything. I will certainly not stay in a house where such a demon is allowed to roam free. I have eaten dinner by myself three times this week alone. This absolutely is not all right. I am never interacted with but am never allowed to go do things. My mother wouldn't let me stay out any night past 10 or 11pm, she wouldn't let me go to Casablanca, and she won't let me go to the hammam with my friends. This is just a terrible situation. I am moving elsewhere and hopefully before the weekend arrives.
Classes are better. We keep flying through material in Arabic. We are already on chapter 19 and we are only going to chapter 6 of the next book, meaning that in all the weeks we have left we are doing eight chapters. I dont' understand the rush. We've so far been doing a chapter and a half a week, but are we going to spend two weeks on each chapter here on out?
Culture class has been such a strange experience. We each were given a poem that we were told to prepare a ten-minute presentation for. The professor always reacts in opposite to how we do. If a student barely touches on a poem, the professor spends twenty-five minutes analyzing it to minute detail. If a student does a bang up job preparing the text, the professor looks confused and moves immediately onto the next text. Yesterday we had to prepare poems that he had written himself and the academic director ran class. Prof Mekouar sat in the back of the class with a huge self-satisfied grin. His poems were very impressive as far as vocabularly goes but lacked any sort of profound message.
Gender studies is quite dull. I love all of the readings, as they have greatly enriched my knowledge and awareness of Islam, but the professor is one of those men who can talk nonstop for ten minutes but not say a thing. Also, the students are never able to speak. It's purely him making references to people we "surely already know."
The rain will not stop. Everyone speaks of how exceptional it is, but I am starting to not believe them. It pours nonstop through the night. Afternoon showers occur three to four times daily. Students living in simpler houses have everything soaked for days on end.
I have been told by several friends that I can expect a great deal of mail soon. Morocco is so slow in doing everything, so I can imagine me getting a humongous lump of mail on or around 30 April despite that it was all sent a week or more ago.
Fayçal sat in front of me at breakfast today and insulted me to my face in mixed French and Darija for almost five minutes straight. Both Maha and my mother were there, listening, and neither did anything. I will certainly not stay in a house where such a demon is allowed to roam free. I have eaten dinner by myself three times this week alone. This absolutely is not all right. I am never interacted with but am never allowed to go do things. My mother wouldn't let me stay out any night past 10 or 11pm, she wouldn't let me go to Casablanca, and she won't let me go to the hammam with my friends. This is just a terrible situation. I am moving elsewhere and hopefully before the weekend arrives.
Classes are better. We keep flying through material in Arabic. We are already on chapter 19 and we are only going to chapter 6 of the next book, meaning that in all the weeks we have left we are doing eight chapters. I dont' understand the rush. We've so far been doing a chapter and a half a week, but are we going to spend two weeks on each chapter here on out?
Culture class has been such a strange experience. We each were given a poem that we were told to prepare a ten-minute presentation for. The professor always reacts in opposite to how we do. If a student barely touches on a poem, the professor spends twenty-five minutes analyzing it to minute detail. If a student does a bang up job preparing the text, the professor looks confused and moves immediately onto the next text. Yesterday we had to prepare poems that he had written himself and the academic director ran class. Prof Mekouar sat in the back of the class with a huge self-satisfied grin. His poems were very impressive as far as vocabularly goes but lacked any sort of profound message.
Gender studies is quite dull. I love all of the readings, as they have greatly enriched my knowledge and awareness of Islam, but the professor is one of those men who can talk nonstop for ten minutes but not say a thing. Also, the students are never able to speak. It's purely him making references to people we "surely already know."
The rain will not stop. Everyone speaks of how exceptional it is, but I am starting to not believe them. It pours nonstop through the night. Afternoon showers occur three to four times daily. Students living in simpler houses have everything soaked for days on end.
I have been told by several friends that I can expect a great deal of mail soon. Morocco is so slow in doing everything, so I can imagine me getting a humongous lump of mail on or around 30 April despite that it was all sent a week or more ago.
posted by Athena | 9:34 AM
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