Someday I'll be Saturday Night

Right now I am really enjoying the view from my second floor, kitchen/living room window. The day is absolutely gorgeous, just the right temperature with a mild breeze, and our two trees in the front yard, which are interestingly melded together, are creating a nice mixture of shade and reflection of sunlight.

My washing machine/dryer (yes! It is an all-in-one machine) is making a gentle vibration throughout the kitchen, humming happily as it does its duty. Every once in a while I can hear some movement underneath me, and I guess it’s the sound of my neighbor taking care of weekend chores.

Usually all these things are a trivial part of my day, but today, after reading my last blog and realizing the intensity my defeatist outlook was taking on my physical being and that particular week, these sounds and sights make me the happiest person alive – it means I have a place to live and some things to call my own.

Only a few days after I posted the last blog, Alex and I stumbled across a cute little apartment that fit our needs perfectly. We were pretty down about our situation, and were just about to give up the search for an apartment and go the subletting route again. I mean, we really had no choice by then. Not only had we managed to NOT find a suitable apartment, Alex almost got into a fight with an unemployed (and very bitter) black man in Anacostia, we had walked all of DC and into some of the worst areas in the region and were getting blisters, we missed July 4th festivities, and we were finding it particularly hard to balance work, studying and an apartment search.

So take all of these emotions and frustrations and apply them to this scene: After viewing three other apartments – one of which was wayyy to small and overpriced, another which wasn’t too bad but was a basement apartment and also pretty small, and skipping out on one that was in Anacostia where we didn’t know if we should be more worried about our safety or the quality of the building.

We managed to schedule one more apartment viewing, but we were really unenthusiastic and became increasingly so as we walked to it. At first the area didn’t seem so bad, but then we hit the street just one block away and it looked as if it may get really ghetto. I expressed my dissatisfaction to Alex and we ALMOST turned back, but Alex persuaded me to just put in the five minutes to see the place.

At this point, I just wanted to get it over with. When we approached the building, it was very plain looking but had a fresh coat of paint. It was an ok start, and it went uphill from there. The man renting out the apartments was a contractor who had gutted the whole building and redid EVERYTHING. All the appliances were new, the flooring, the bathroom, the carpet, the fans – EVERYTHING! And we would be some of the first tenants.

I’m not sure if we liked the apartment of the landlord more. Ken, the landlord, is an extremely wholesome guy with a huge heart and an even bigger family – 8 children! We immediately took to him and as far as we can tell, he liked us as well.

As for the apartment, we acknowledged that it was a bit smaller than we were hoping for but that it was ideal. The salon has two big windows that keep it well lit during the day. The kitchen comes equipped with granite countertops, more than adequate cabinet space, a brand new refrigerator and oven, and a washing machine that doubles as a dryer (which I mentioned earlier). Moving along, the bathroom is pretty standard and has a large Jacuzzi style tub. Lastly, the bedroom is a bit on the small side but has a wonderful large window that faces the sun in the morning.

The surrounding area is pretty small, with a recreation center and field on one side, and residential area on the other. We are a quick 15 min walk to the Eastern market and ten minutes away from the nearest metro. We also have a huge grocery store, wholesale store, Blockbuster and sports store only three minutes down the street. Alex and I agree that we couldn’t ask for more right now. The place is ideal.

Last weekend Alex’s family came over to see the apartment and it was really enjoyable. It was pretty much the first time Alex and I had a chance to visit family, and just enjoy being around children and chatting.

His sister, Vicky, bought us a huge slow cooker as our housewarming gift. I have never operated or used a slow cooker, in any way. It was definitely a huge surprise, although welcome because Alex can eat like a champ.

In fact, I used it just this past week. I tried out my vegetarian chili recipe in it, and although it took eight hours to cook, it was the easiest clean up in the world and now I have enough chili to last me two weeks! Even better, the chili turned out great. I think the slow cooker and I will become very good friends. Thanks, Vic!

Our next adventure? Missouri! Alex is super excited to get cruising along I-70, and listen to some good ole country music. Last time there was also a great classic rock selection. So if anyone is up for a visit in StL just shoot me an email!

Oh if you get a chance, go to www.psychologytoday.com and take one of their quizzes. Or just read one of their hundreds of interesting articles. I am addicted, and spreading the word!

Let It Be

Although I took far too long getting around to updating my blog, I am finally doing one stateside. For those of you I haven't had the chance to speak to, we are safely in Washington DC and slowly on our way to being fully settled. Alex and I returned a little over 3 weeks ago and it has proven to be a tumultuous return. We will get to that.

I must apologize for my neglect to blog about the rest of our European backpacking adventure. Suffice it to say that those three weeks in 5 different countries was an absolutely priceless experience (although the euro had its way with our wallets). Paris was by far one of the most beautiful and exciting places I have been, and our hosts, Kevin and Fabrice, were fabulously wonderful. They showed us endless hospitality, and I will always be grateful to them for it. I hope to scatter the blogs following this one with stories of Europe - so tune in.

Onto the present. The title of this blog is - yes, you guessed it - after the soothing Beatles song. If you haven't heard it, please find it on the world wide web and inform yourself. The theme of the song only has a small role to play in this blog, instead it represents my mood. As I made dinner I couldn't stop thinking about this song. I just had to hear it. Maybe I'm lying - maybe it has everything to do with this blog.

Ok, I need to stop being so....vague. The situation in DC is a bit different than I imagined it. Especially after the few days of media coverage on the political situation in Lebanon, I am beyond happy to be back in America in one piece. In the fall I will be attending the university that was on top of my list, in order to finish my undergraduate degree. My internship is interesting and, as long as take advantage, shows plenty of opportunities for me to move upward.

You would think I couldn't be happier. But reality has reared her disgustingly ugly head and Alex and I are at her beck and call. I know we have nowhere to move but up, but there seems to be 4 rungs missing in the ladder and we have no tools to fix the problem.

So many things Alex and I thought would present no challenges have proven to be the most difficult tasks to accomplish. We got lucky by finding a place to live a couple months in the DC area. Alex knew a guy who knew a guy...you know the story. We have until August 1st here, and we are desperately looking for a nice apartment to call our own after our sublet expires.

Since Alex has a full-time and part-time position, I am tasked with the job of everything else. Of course I don't mind, it's the least I can do. Alex likes being the bread-winner - how can I take that dignity away from him? I am in charge of logistics - errands, dinner, laundry (and other such duties that fall into this category) and most recently, apartment searching.

The former has proven to be the barbed wired fence for Alex and I. New York (not to mention apartments overseas) was a bit more casual was a bit more lax in this respect, and so we were not expecting the obstacles we've encountered. Alex and I are, across the board, unable to find a nice apartment in a good location due to extremely inflexible leasing contracts.

Across the board, apartments in DC require that occupants prove they are making four times the amount of rent per year. Usually this cannot be a combined total, meaning Alex alone must make more than 3 times the price of rent per year. I would average the cost of an ok apartment in an ok location at about $1500 per month. Let's do the math together. $1500 times 12 equals $18,000. And $18,000 multiplied by 3 is $54,000.

How can a 21 and 23 year old couple prove that just one of them makes $54,000? I realized something like this may be a problem and I had a few tricks up my sleeves. I asked: Can we override the salary requirements with a substantial savings/checking account? Can we put in an application and put the apartment on hold since Alex and I are waiting on calls from places we interviewed at?

Unfortunately, they were all pretty adamant about sticking to their policies. And so we are left in the dust, one apartment viewing after another. Every time they try and console us with talk of the possibility of a cosigner...haha. Anyone who knows us, knows that is just a laughing matter.

I guess it wouldn't be so damn frustrating if the DC job market wasn't so tight. I just had to move across the world to get a few plush internships and jobs. I made money just being American. And now I'm up against thousands of others like me...according to my resume, I'm a dime a dozen.

Funnily enough, someone said something to me this past Friday that hit on this exactly. At the Friday after-hours gathering the organization I intern for holds, an employee for the private military company MPRI came to join us. As a joke I tried to leverage my organization's close relationship with the company into a job interview. He jokingly replied, "What do you have to offer MRPI?" Goodheartedly, I started to describe my overseas adventures. To which he replied, "Well, we all have that."

And in a sense he is right. I don't doubt that going overseas was a unique experience in the broad range of being an American. But in places like New York and DC, I am one among the thousands who are excited to take life by storm. So what do I have to offer the world? Guess I'll spend the next year trying to find my niche.

How does one go from traveling the world, finding it easy to adapt to different cultures and environments, working with some of the most recognized institutions in the MENA region to struggling in the workplace and living conditions in her native country? It's not a lack of confidence. Believe me, when I ask the Fortune Gods to let me through the golden gates of success I ask with a hearty and strong "please"...and the answer has so far been a resounding "no".

I think I may be so bold as to say that I understand adults, who I always chalked up to losers, that say they never have time for certain things, or they don't know where all the time went. Working a 9-5 has been an eye-opener. This is my first white collar job, and I applaud those who are able to break into the white collar job market and maintain it. And the saints who go one step further and create families (functional is optimal) should be eligible for the Nobel Peace Prize.

I don't mean to make this blog into a sob story. In fact, that is quite the opposite of my intention. Of course obstacles are a part of life, and in a few months I'm sure this will be all finished and gone. Yes all of this is on my plate right now, and I would rather not have to deal with it, but just today I realized that it is only driving me.

I know many who would use this as the perfect excuse to quit. My situation isn't even anywhere near rock bottom, but a lot of people would go the easy route. They would settle. But I didn't leave my hometown in Missouri to quit now. I didn't work at a retail store during the first two years of university to pay the rent and have food on the table, and have nothing to show for it. I didn't go overseas to party for a year. I have a goal, and it will be seen. Alex has plans for his life, and we have plans for our life together - we are not going to stop now.

This emotional rhetoric may seem contrary to the message of the song, "Let It Be". A good friend once told me he hated this Beatles song because of the message, but I have to disagree. In times of trouble, you sometimes have to realize that there is a reason and rhyme for things. To let your emotions dictate your actions, especially in hard times, can have bad results. The song is not about giving up, or settling.

No, not at all. One has to realize that the circumstances will change. The winds will blow a different song, and things will always work out as long as you listen. In the meantime, realize that the answer may not be clear at first but, in the words of the Beatles, "Up there will be an answer." Up there is different for everyone - a God, perserverence, knowledge, time.

My favorite lyric is by far, "When the night is cloudy there is still a light that shines on me. Shine until tomorrow, let it be." And that's what keeps me going. Regardless of the situations Alex and I face, I am still the enthusiaist I set out as. But it takes an unGodly amount of effort. Those who have tried know that patience and reason truly take work to put into practice and the Beatles captured that idea beautifully in their song.

European Euphoria

Rovinj is a cute little village on the Northern Croatian border, and Alex and I found our way there today. We were planning on staying in Dubrovnik, but somehow we overlooked the fact that there are no ferries to Dubrovnik from Venice. Oh well. That was the least of our troubles the last two days.

Thursday night we decided to sleep overnight in Casablanca airport because there were no trains early enough to check in for our flight, and usually there are no taxis running that early either. So from 11 pm - 5 am we slept surprisingly well at a cafe and were up right on time to check in.

Unfortunately the airport in Milan decided to go on strike that day so our flight was delayed for 12 hours. We had no place to go and nothing to do. We spent the time reading a bit and napping a lot.

Our plane did not actually take off until 7 because a Moroccan man did not like the fact that smoking on the plane was prohibited. He put up a really unnecessary fight and even tried to get some of his comrades to boycott the flight. In the end he gave in, and sat down like everyone else.

We arrived in Milan pretty late, caught a late bus into the city center and crashed at a two star hotel. For the price (which was still a bit expensive) it was a pretty nice hotel in a nice area. We finally got to sleep at 3 am and were up again at 8 to head to Venice.

Getting to Venice ended our traveling troubles. We ate well, walked much of the city and just relaxed until we hopped on a ferry to Rovinj. We found a cute little apartment for 50 euros a night, and although the price is a little more than we wanted to spend it is definitely worth it.

Will tell more later in the week!

Final Boarding Call for Terminal 18

In one of my previous posts I added a little commentary about an interview I had for an internship position in Washington DC, and said that I would not name the organization so as to not jinx my chances. Well, it worked! I was accepted as a summer intern at International Peace Operations Association!

In other news, Alex and I are flying out tomorrow morning at 7 for Italy. We will be spending a day or two there before taking a ferry from Venice to Croatia...I think I detailed this in another previous post so I won't bore you with all the details again.

Since we are backpacking through various parts of Europe, I will not have many chances to blog, etc. I will try my best to keep everyone updated and detail some of our adventures. Don't worry, I will give a complete update once we are stateside.

Speaking of returning to the states, Alex and I will have to get our butts down to DC basically as soon as we land on American soil. I do not know how much time we will have to visit, or what areas we will hit. But we have plans to travel back up to New Jersey for the two weekends after we get back and visit Missouri for the 4th of July holiday. Will give more details in the coming month.

Now you have basic idea of what's going on for the next month, let me tell you about the last week. My friend and Alex's editor, Matthias, visited us this last week from Beirut. We were both really excited since it was the first time in a long time that we hosted anyone. And we couldn't have asked for better weather or a better way to spend our time.

We spent the first couple of days in Fez. Alex and Matthias had a few necessary meetings, etc, but a lot of time was spent on exploring the area. I took Matthias down to the old medina to do a bit of shopping and we exploited Fez like pros. The best part was Matthias' choice of restaurants. I had the best meals in Morocco during his visit.

This trend continued when we bussed it up to Chefchaoun. It being my favorite Moroccan city, I had to take him there. We spent a couple relaxing days there, ate great food, bought cheap textiles and ventured in and out of Chefchaoun's sites. I must say that during our shopping escapades, Matthias and I mastered the bartering system with a game we like to call "good cop, bad cop". It's pretty self-explanatory, and really works.

Our last stop together was Rabat. Of course we ate amazing food and just had fun exploring the medina. We also visited the Kasbah, and the gardens of Rabat. It was definitely worth the trip.

Matthias is finishing up his trip in Marrakech, and so you will have to find out from him how his Moroccan adventure ended! I do know that he is returning to Beirut a couple carpets and textiles richer!

As for Alex and I, we are in Casablanca just waiting to board our flight. We went to see the Hassan II Mosque, which is the biggest in Africa. It was one of the most majestic buildings I have ever seen. The outside is just as decorative and intricate as the inside. Walking around the mosque at sundown is definitely the best time of day.

Right now I am going to recharge with a pain au chocolate. Get ready Eastern Europe, here we come!

Find Your Voice: A Cross-Cultural Forum on Political Participation and Civic Activism

Last weekend I attended a conference in Morocco’s capital of Rabat, and had the opportunity to hear some of the opinions and concerns of Morocco’s youth. Alex and I both agree that our experience in Morocco differs quite a bit from our stay in Beirut, in that we have not had a chance to befriend or discuss any important issues with Moroccans of any age. In fact, up until last weekend, the extent of our interactions with Moroccans were with shopkeepers and Arabic professors.

The conference, called “Find Your Voice: A Cross-Cultural Forum on Political Participation and Civic Activism”, was jointly sponsored by Moroccan and American NGOs (including POMED and AID) in which 50 participants were selected to participate. Surprisingly it was a great array of Moroccan and American students, all willing and eager to engage panelists and express their opinions in group discussions.

To read more about the conference (and future conferences you could apply for) here is a link to POMED’s website:

http://pomed.org/activities/conferences/

Our main topics included Moroccan youth and the barriers they face in political participation and the lack of youth involvement in all areas of society, societal problems like illiteracy rates and poverty, role of media and civil society, role of government in all of these areas and finally the tools in which Moroccans and Americans can increase their involvement and the involvement of others.

We were lucky enough to have four great panels throughout the conference. Some of the panelists included US Embassy staff, members of Moroccan parliament, NGO representatives, a manager from Barack Obama’s campaign, a radio broadcaster from a Moroccan radio station and a well-known Moroccan blogger and activist. After the panels we were invited to participate in discussion groups in order to express all our personal opinions, add to the opinions of the panelists and suggest “policy recommendations” (which I will get to).

Of course, as students and young adults, we (Moroccans and Americans alike) were all very opinionated. Group discussions, in particular, tended to become very intense. It become very clear that Moroccans and Americans had completely different thought processes and ideas on the definition and ways to create change.

We began by discussing some of the problems facing Moroccans, including: a 50% illiteracy rate, a political infrastructure that catered to a political elite and no programs for youth involvement, media facilities distrusted on a wide scale and the poor development of the Moroccan media industry, inadequate number of schools of journalism and training for journalists (there are only 2 schools of journalism is all of Morocco), the slow rate of growth of civil society in Morocco and their low impact on political and societal issues, and finally how to get youth more involved in political participation and civic activism that had a positive affect on the development of Morocco.

Of course these are problems faced by governments and populations all over the world, and so it was fun to get the American and Moroccan perspectives on all these issues. During the course of the conference, it became increasingly apparent that there was a huge gap between American and Moroccan mentalities. Americans took it for granted that they were dealing with other students who were completely aware of individual rights and a culture of individual responsibility, as we are. And Moroccans, who grow up in a culture completely different than ours, tended to make suggestions that did not in any way to attack fundamental problems, rather their solutions were to amend one law or create another in order to change the system.

Of course, it is important to be able to work in a system, that is government or business structure, and make small changes for the better instead of try and attack a system as a whole. If the youth rose up against the Moroccan kingdom the king would not just give up his power, but seek to squash the revolution and consolidate his power. Maybe the king would institute some reform, but this would not be the best way to tackle the situation.

And, of course, the Americans are used to a system that actively engages the youth and creates countless opportunities for the youth to get involved and use their creativity and enthusiasm for the betterment of the country.

What both groups tended to ignore were fundamental issues that needed to be addressed. Like the illiteracy rate, or awareness of the culture of individuality and change. Americans have been told since they were old enough to speak, if not by their parent then definitely in school, that they have certain rights that no one can take away from them and that they have every opportunity in the world to be successful. We forget that.

To create awareness, there needs to be a change of mindset in Morocco and it has to start with the real youth. The youth young enough to be educated in a way that inspires them to be academically productive without the worries of family and monetary responsibilities. If an American child had to worry about doing all the daily chores instead of dream of all the things they want to do when they grow up, our culture would be wholly different. The education system in Morocco has to encourage students to think as individuals and also to expose them to other cultures and mindsets so that they can formulate opinions and criticisms for themselves. I am not an expert, but I have not seen any of this kind of education on a wide scale in Morocco.

Anyway, back to the conference. Throughout the conference, the participants were given the task of coming up with “policy recommendations” based on the insight of the panelists and the developments during group discussions. These recommendations were directed toward the American and Moroccan governments as suggestions for reform in order to open the doors for greater opportunity for political participation of the Moroccan youth.

I personally felt that the policy recommendations ended up being too vague and not creative enough. The end of the conference probably let a bitter taste in everyone’s mouths because it seemed all of our discussion did not yield as optimistic results. On the other hand, I met a lot of great people and learned a lot about the Moroccan youth…overall the conference was a success!

On the Road Again...

My stint in the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) region is coming to an end, in about two weeks. I have a few last adventures, and then its back to the Western world for Alex and I. Admittedly we are more than looking forward to our return, but of course I am leaving with great memories and a desire to return sometime in the near future.

Our last two weeks are jam-packed with plans and here is a brief run down of them. First, Alex and I were accepted to attend a conference in Rabat run by the Project on Middle East Democracy (POMED). It is a cross-cultural and political forum for Western and Moroccan youths. Alex and I decided to do a home-stay, or stay with Moroccan individuals instead of a hotel, during the conference to get a little taste of Moroccan life. I will definitely let you know how it goes.

The final ceremonies of the conference are on Saturday night, and we plan to stay in a hotel overnight so that we can join our mutual friend from ALIF for a Mormon gathering in Rabat on Sunday morning to afternoon. We will meet many of the American embassy families staying in Rabat, and will join them for dinner after the Mormon church service.

We only have two days of study and rest next week before we head out to Ifrane, a Moroccan town that looks like it was modeled after a Swiss village, for my birthday. The town has the only university in Morocco modeled on the American education system. It has a sister high school, which is rumored to be switching from the American system to a French education system and Alex just wrote a story on it for Executive magazine.

On May 1st, Alex’s boss is traveling to Morocco to do a bit of sightseeing and business. Although we will not be hosting him right away as he is traveling to Marrakech alone, we will meet up with him the weekend after he flies in. We have plans to visit Chefchaoun and show him around Fez, and then we will finish up with one day in Rabat and another in Casablanca. For Alex and I, it will be our last sightseeing opportunity in Morocco. I will miss Chefchaoun the most.

Our time in the MENA region may be ending on May 9th, BUT the fun doesn’t stop there. Alex and I just finalized our travel plans from May 9th to June 4th and our plans would make even Kofi Annan jealous.

From Morocco we are flying into Venice, Italy. We may spend a full day there, but our real goal is to take the ferry from Venice into Croatia. We are arriving to Eastern Europe with only a backpack and lots of suntan lotion. We have no concrete plans except to eat well, enjoy as many beaches as possible and do a bit of partying in Serbia’s well known clubs. Who knows what will happen.

Then somehow…we haven’t figured this part out yet…we are going to travel from Serbia to France. We will make our way up to Paris, where we will meet Amy and her cousins Kevin and Fabrice for a relaxing week in the City of Love. Paris is, of course, the most exciting part of our month of backpacking through Europe and I cannot wait to see it!

Undoubtedly it will be hard to depart from Paris, but we won’t be giving up much as we are going straight from Paris to the beautiful countryside of Portugal. Alas, we only have a few days to indulge ourselves in delicious Portuguese food and activities before hopping on a plane back to Casablanca.

Now, I know that I just said we wouldn’t be returning to Morocco after May 9th, and it was a bit of white lie. However, it only counts as half a lie because we are just flying into the airport for a layover on our way back to America. We spend about half a day in Casa, and, if everything goes well, we will arrive in America on June 4th.

So, I know what you are thinking and yes, we do know – in fact, we have a list of what we want to do as soon as we land in the amazing red, white and blue. They are:

1. Drop $100 in the most quality and price efficient store that has ever existed…Walmart.
2. Find a restaurant with pork steaks and potatoes.
3. Get American coffee.
4. Buy normal sized cups.
5. Listen to American Radio.
6. Get phone plans.
7. Shop for normal American clothes.
8. Literally talk in the English language as much as we can.
9. Take a jog on residential streets (without the fear of being yelled at).
10. Alex will probably burn his Al Kitab (Arabic Texbook).

On the last note, Alex and I are working diligently to set up internships and jobs in Washington DC so that we can set up shop there immediately after our return. We both already have interviews with a few places. If anyone knows of any job openings or any opportunities please let us know. Or if you know of any vacant apartments for rent. Thanks!

Hammams Galore

A friend once turned to me and said, “In a culture that was once known for its hammams, soaps, perfumes and cosmetics, there is truly a lack of cleanliness among the people now.” And in a sense he is right. If you casually walk down the street and take a look around, you will find many children and people covered in filth.

Of course some of there people may be beggars and do not have access to running water. The children may just like to play in the dirt. And others are shopkeepers, farmers or something of the sort and do not place as much importance on daily hygienics as, say, Americans.

On the other hand, he is absolutely wrong. The hammam culture in the Middle East is still thriving. At least in the three Middle Eastern countries I have traveled well, hammams were readily available to men, women and children. One trip to the hammam will leave you cleaner than you have ever felt, or been, in your life.

Mondays are now the official day Tove, a fellow language student and friend, and I grab our towels, olive oil soap and exfoliation mitts and head down to the old medina to get a good scrub down. It’s an experience like no other, and actually quite addictive.

So let me explain this hammam thing to you. Hammams are pretty much a sauna and bath all in the same place. It usually consists of two to four public tiled rooms: a hot room, a cold room, a sauna and sometimes a massage room. Nicer ones, of course, have more goodies inside like private showers, pools, etc. The hot room can sometimes serve as the sauna which makes cleaning much easier (I will explain this).

So the process is pretty simple, although time consuming. But, take it from me, it is definitely worth it. Trips to the hammam are really inexpensive as you only need a small rinse bucket, olive oil soap, a matt to sit on and an exfoliation mitt. I also bring shampoo and body wash, but there are preferential and not necessary.

You take your goodies and a couple of buckets and take your place on the floor, either in the hot or cold room. The cold room is only a little cooler, as it is either further away from the sauna or the hot water fountain, but it is a bit easier on the lungs. And then you take your buckets and fill one with hot water and another with cold, unless you have the luxury of having water heated to the right temperature.

After you mix water to a nice temperature, you sit in the hot room or sauna and let your skin soften. Wet your hair and body and just relax. After a good ten or fifteen minutes it’s time to get to work. Sitting on your mat, you lather yourself up in olive oil soap and let it sink into your skin for five minutes. Rinse it off and prepare yourself.

The majority of the time you spend scrubbing yourself vigorously with the exfoliation mitt. It is pretty much a glove of sandpaper. Maybe a better way to describe it is a pumice stone that you can wear. And you start at your legs and work you way up, leaving yourself raw and red afterward. Bring a friend to do your back!

It may sound a bit overexcessive, but while you are scrubbing yourself down you will see and feel rolls of black or grey dead skin detach itself from your body. It is the most disgusting but absolutely invigorating experience. After you rinse all the dead skin off, you can finish up by washing your hair and doing a final rise with body wash.

When you leave the hammam you will literally feel like your body was freed from a prison. Your skin will be able to breath and your sense of touch and feeling will be slightly different…a bit more acute.

For some women and children it is their only bath for the week, but in essence they cleaner than I was for the first 20 years of my life. During my first hammam experience in Morocco I paid a lady to exfoliate and massage me, and she found amusement in pointing out the sickening amount of dead skin that was coming off my body.

These people grew up being scrubbed down by their mothers and now spend at least one day a week indulging themselves in the king of all cleanings. And Americans spend their time nitpicking over cleaning behind the ears with a washcloth and making sure a child spends at least 20 seconds washing their hands with soap after using the bathroom.

For anyone who has the opportunity, I would definitely encourage they go to a hammam, but this experience is not for all. For women (not men) and children, the hammam is pretty much a big public bathtub. Everyone is naked or with underwear on at the most, and everyone is just doing their thing. Those who like privacy or are germophobics should not even give hammams a try.

But for those up for the chance, hammams can be found throughout the Middle East. In Lebanon it was almost impossible to find a hammam with women’s hours but I know they exist. In Syria there was a really nice one in the old medina, and the prices were ridiculously cheap. I paid the entrance fee, for soap and supplies and a massage all for like ten dollars. In Morocco the prices are even cheaper. The entrance fee at the hammam I frequent is ten dirhams, or a little over a dollar, and the massage is about 50 dirhams or eight dollars.

Speaking of hammams, after my scrub down today (which put me in a really good mood) I went online and received an email from an organization in Washington DC that I had applied to for an internship position.

I came across the position by chance while surfing the web, but it immediately grabbed my attention and it’s been on my mind ever since I sent in my cover letter and resume. I worked really hard on the application because the position seemed really competitive.

Also the organization said they were only contacting those for interviews that they were considering for the position. Getting the email really made me feel good because it was an affirmation of all my accomplishments this year. Needless to say it put me in a giddy mood, and I really needed the lift in spirits.

I won’t name the organization because I don’t want to jinx my chances. I will have an interview in the next two weeks, and I will give an update after it takes place.

Bibi Begs Bills Behind the Bodega!

While at lunch yesterday, Alex made an interesting observation about the people we have become while in the Middle East and North Africa. Of course, we have essentially adapted to a new culture with different standards and taboos but this has translated into disturbing changes in our attitudes.

So here was the situation: we were eating chicken and rice at one of the restaurants we frequent in Fez, and a little girl, no more than 5, approached us with a couple packages of tissues. It was quite obvious that she wanted to sell us the packages for a dirham apiece, but we treated her like any adult beggar and shooed her away.

The fact that an older woman, presumably the cute little girl’s mother, was encouraging her to sell the tissues to us did not pass our attention. But I am not so sure if that is a justification for being rude Westerners to such an adorable little girl who happened to be born of a beggar woman.

What bothered me most was the little girl’s demeanor. She held herself almost like a grown woman. She had the facial expressions of a seasoned beggar, and the insistence of an adult. These are learned traits, most likely from watching her mother approach countless people on the streets. Regardless, she had lost the innocence of childhood in her face and it was replaced by something much colder.

To tell the truth, I don’t remember the episode well. We come across so many beggars in the street and around the restaurants we eat at that I don’t even notice anymore. In contrast, during my first year in New York City it was a shock to see homeless people and beggars in the streets or subway stations. I almost felt obligated to give money, although friends and elders dissuaded me from doing so.

So what has happened to Alex and I during our travels? Has being subject to widespread poverty pushed us into an elitist or ethnocentric mindset? Definitely we appreciate being Americans more than ever. And often I try to convince myself that the problems of Middle Eastern nations do not concern me, and thus I should not have to hand out money to the desolate citizens of defective governments.

Living in areas consumed by poverty, Morocco being much worse than Beirut, must desensitize us to the effects of it. The little girl cannot even get twenty cents out of us, and the woman asking us for money for water is answered with a wave of the hand. This vicious circle began when we simply declined the services of “tour guides” and bothersome shopkeepers, and after months of this our indifference shows no preference to men, women or children.

Of course we are only students, and we would go broke if we shelled out money to every beggar on the street. I am not so optimistic that I can save the world poverty single-handedly. At least not right now. Maybe our indifference is the only way we can cope in a society that doesn’t care for its poor.

It is true that citizens of both Lebanon and Morocco usually do not give a second look at beggars. In fact, we have witnessed some terrible acts carried out by Morrocans against their own poor.

Not too long ago, while having dinner, a group of tourists called over a little beggar girl who was selling fake flowers. She had a sad face, laced with dirt, and she didn’t make a sound when they asked her how much the flowers were. She probably sold them every day for hours, and made only a handful of dirhams. Who she gave the returns to at the end of the day, who knows?

The tourists seemed to like her enough, and they wanted a couple of pictures with her. Although Moroccans are not keen on having their picture taken, she didn’t seem to mind. If I was in her position and I thought the tourists would buy more flowers if I cooperated, I would’ve amicably agreed to take pictures with them.

The waiter of the restaurant was not so happy about the situation. He approached the table like a pissed off father, unreasonably angry that his daughter was being intrusive. The girl, however, was being nothing of the sort. She was invited, and the tourists had no qualms. They even tried to calm the waiter, saying they would love to have some pictures with her.

But the waiter was determined to shoo her away. She probably picked up the fact that he was irritated, and she began to walk away, looking more sad than ever. He made her walk around him, and as she was leaving he hit her extremely hard on the head. I don’t mean a slap, he PUNCHED a little girl.

In his American way, Alex found himself unable to let it go and yelled at the waiter. It went something like this:

Alex: “Hey, don’t you ever hit a girl like that.”
Waiter: “What?”
A: “You heard me, if I ever see you hit a girl like that again I will hit you. You are not her father. That was unacceptable. And stupid.”
W: “You have no business in this. She is not allowed here. You can eat here, but this is no business of yours. It is our policy not to allow them here.”
A: “A man shouldn’t hit a little girl like that. I mean it, if I ever see you do it again…”
Me: “Alex, don’t. We are going to eat then leave. Just stop yelling.”

Rather than try to change the situation with yelling and more violence, I tend to be more passive and so I was trying to be the calm one at this point. I was just as upset as Alex, but there was nothing we could do to change what had happened. Alex’s intentions were good, but we are currently living in a country where hitting beggars, no matter the age or gender, is acceptable. Although I doubt the man would’ve so readily hit a 30 year old beggar man.

We don’t see such episodes everyday. In the handful restaurants we rotate lunches, we have witnessed waiters handing leftover food to beggars, or letting this sit down and have a plate of food for free. Not everyone treats the poor with such disdain, but animosity toward them is quite prevalent.

Everyday we see something very strange. One evening we were walking through a popular square, and we caught a ten year old smoking a cigarette. Well, we didn’t really “catch” him – he was doing it in plain sight of everyone. He was just walking around smoking, as if kids smoking at such a young age was perfectly normal.

Even more bothersome, was Alex’s story the night he had to catch a train at one thirty in the morning. At that time usually the streets are deserted, and nothing is open. But as Alex was walking, he came across a boy which he guessed to be younger than eight, sitting on a street curb and crying. He was crying loud enough for Alex to hear as he passed, and Alex guessed he was hurt or something. Alex did not stop to help.

It is our indifference at times like this, where if we were in America we would react in a completely different manner, that make me wonder what has happened in the last nine months. Surely, when I return to America I will throw a bit of money into the hat of a teenager trying to make some money playing the guitar on the streets, or my heart will go out to the deaf man selling sign language cards.

But what is the difference? In fact, shouldn’t it be the other way around? Didn’t the teenager in America, the deaf person or the bum in Central Park have numerous chances to be successful in life? Isn’t it still possible for them to get a minimum wage job and get off the streets? Why does my gut tell me to care for those living in poverty in America, in the land of opportunities and capitalism, and not the poor subject to the whims of usually less than desirable governments.

Perhaps it is nationalistic sentiments – I feel some kind of obligation toward my fellow Americans. I mean, it has to be more than just philanthropy. If I just had a big heart my obligations would extend to all peoples. Right?

More important question: Why, when seeing these things, are some people emotionally caught up in the injustice of it all – of all the poverty and desolation in the world – and put all their efforts into fixing it, while others resolve improve their own lives?

For instance, I have a friend who went to the Palestinian territories and after seeing so much tragedy and poverty can only think of how she is going to tear down the occupation wall and stop Israel’s human rights abuses against the Palestinians. It is a brave endeavor, without a doubt, and not one that most would take on.

Others can travel the world, see the same things, and afterward feel only fear that they themselves will fall into the same trap if they don’t ____________. Fill in the blank with whatever you like: finish their education, get a stable job, marry, prove themselves, etc.

In a nutshell, living in a region where poverty is rampant, and signs of it exist at every street corner, has truly revealed some aspects of our personalities that are a bit disquieting. When we return to America I’m sure this won’t extend to the Girl Scouts selling cookies, or the occasional fundraiser for high school sports, but it just makes one wonder…

Birthdays...

My birthday is not going to be like most other 21st birthdays. I’ve known this for a while. Not only have I experienced alcohol many times, Morocco is the kind of country in which liquor stores probably wouldn’t care if a ten year old walked in and put down 15 dirhams for a shot of straight vodka.

Furthermore, Fez, a city in a Muslim-dominated society (and where Muslims are banned from converting to Christianity), is far from being the kind of place where I can walk a few blocks over to my favorite local bar and get krunked on my birthday. A few liquor stores are operating but they are inconveniently located and have horrible selections.

Bar-hopping isn’t my style anyway. In reality, there is a much bigger reason my attitude has changed toward my birthday - the day is just not important to me anymore. No giddiness is arising in my as the day comes closer, even when Alex mentions to me that it is coming up so soon. I have no preference in plans on the actual day.

Even up until last year I found it hard to believe adults when they tried to convince me that they didn’t care about celebrating their birthdays. Birthdays were all about going out, having fun, skipping school to do whatever you wanted, and getting gifts – so of course who wouldn’t be excited about it?

The thought that I may be growing up is a bit scary. I’m starting lose that slacker high school/college mindset and am replacing it with a practical frame of mind. . I don’t really get bored and don’t plan partying into my schedule, because I can’t find enough time in the day to do all my errands, study and spend time with Alex. It’s like I went from being the college kid to being a woman in less than a year.

And I guess what goes along with being a woman is letting go of frivolous occasions, like birthdays. My studies won’t go away on my birthday. The dishes won’t clean themselves on my birthday. And it is definitely not a reason to damage my liver. I really want to see what womanhood brings and I’d rather not begin it by drinking so much that I blackout and wake up embarrassed and sick.

Nevertheless, I still have a birthday list. To be completely honest, gifts of any kind make me happy all the time. That is the one nice thing about birthdays I guess…people actually want to give you gifts (or feel obligated to).

Anyway, here is the small list of things I wouldn’t mind having for my birthday:

~An acceptance letter to Georgetown University (George Washington is a great second) so that I can kick ass in my studies.

~An Amazon reader (digital book reader) so that I can kick ass if I ever decided to join Oprah’s book club.

~Gift card to Walmart because convenience shopping kicks ass.

~Athletic Jump Rope in order to kick ass with toned legs and triceps.

~Hybrid car so that I can kick the ass of outrageous oil prices.

~Pure white Quinoa for outrageously healthy and ass kicking recipes.

~Dr. Scholl’s Cut-It-Yourself shoe inserts to increase my ass-kicking methods (I guess if you got me the Walmart gift card you would be kicking ass by killing two birds with one stone!)

~Season 5 of Nip/Tuck (which I must say kicks the ass of all other TV shows).

~An authentic hoodie - unfortunately the Middle East is not on the same ass-kicking level as America when it comes down to comfortable and long-lasting clothing (I love college hoodies, and any will do fine).

~A bright ass-kicking red leather bag I saw in the old Medina of Fez.

Well, that’s about it. I’m all about ass-kicking if you didn’t pick up on that. And I will be doing the same on my birthday…can’t let it slow me down. I will probably indulge in a great glass of wine or two.

Alex and I have plans to go to Ifrane for my birthday weekend. It is a cute little village an hour outside of Fez and it stands out quite a bit. This is because it is modeled after a Swiss village, with the steeped roofs and all. There is a famous university there, and it is a really nice clean little town with lots of green. It may just be one of my best birthdays yet….

Confessions of an Arabic Professor

Finally the weather is beginning to resemble springtime, so I’m going to make the most out of it by blogging under the sun. I have a wonderful Arabic professor, who goes by Usteth AbdelHafid, and he says the most interesting things during class. I would just like to share a bit about him.

Not only is he one of the greatest professors I have ever had, at least in the language department, he is one of the most intelligent men I have met. First I’m going to explain a bit of his teaching method.

I can only imagine how difficult it is to teach classical Arabic – to Middle Eastern students as well as Western students – but he manages to make it seem easy. Never before have I understood the methods to learning to a language as much as I have this past six weeks. My understanding of Arabic has grown tenfold, and my vocabulary is becoming quite extensive.

Of course my success also comes from my drive to do well while overseas, but I cannot deny AbdelHafid has a great deal to do with my success. In fact, he makes me want to do well and has the ability to guide my energies so that I am getting the most out of my studies.

As there are only two of us in the class – Alex and I (we had three but she choose to do the 3 week option instead of the 6) – we can monopolized the class with our interactions with the teacher. We are able to move at the pace we desire, depending on how much we study and work toward understanding the material completely. Thus far Alex and I have moved very fast, and have grasped concepts of grammar that some students far above our levels still cannot.

One of my favorite aspects of our class is the fact that AbdelHafid has an extensive knowledge of the etymology of Arabic words. For Arabic, it is a bit easier than the English language because every word is a form of a three character root. I will give a brief example of this, and maybe you will understand why I love it so much.

The verb z-a-l (zaal, alif, laam) means he went away, or disappeared. This is not exactly the meaning, but that is the best way to explain it in English. The word “mazal” means “he still is”. This is because the “ma” negates the verb “zal” literally meaning he is not not gone from it.

The masdar, another form making the verb a noun (like running), “izzuwaal” has a meaning that I did not expect at all. It is usually used to mean “12 noon”. However, there is a more commonly used expression meaning noon, and that is “ithuher”. So of course I asked why there were two, and the difference between the two expressions.

Unbeknownst to me, the term “ithuher” actually refers to one of the five daily prayers Muslims are obligated to, and this one takes place at noon. Because this is done daily, it was just adopted as the term for noon.

However, “izzuwaal” has a much more interesting history. It is the exact word for “noon”, and it originated from the position of the sun. At noon, when the sun was at its highest, all shadows would disappear. So they used the verb for “to be gone” to describe this time of day. It is just small things like this that make me appreciate the language, and appreciate my professor for sharing them.

Outside of the realm of Arabic grammar and vocabulary, we have had some interesting discussions in class. Usually the discussions originate from a question that Alex or I have about a word, and we somehow get into deep discussions on the difference between Western and Middle Eastern culture.

One of his most interesting views is on the English language. One day I brought up the problem of dualities of the English language, as he was explaining that Arabic has a word for everything, no matter the degree of it. And he broke into a monologue about Arabic language and the English language and their respective cultures.

He said, Western thought has evolved to a higher level of consciousness. That is, we understand the concepts of respect, individuality, privacy, and protecting people’s “rights”. We are brought up acknowledging that life is sacred and we have to treat each other to show that.

Even if a family or individual is not religious, we are conscious of this fact. Even if one chooses to kill they know by doing so they are committing an inexcusable act, thereby proving they are aware of the sacredness of life.

But, he said, the English language is still on an elementary level because we do not have the means to express our rich ideas. Arabic, on the other hand, is a very rich language with a way to express anything you want, and more. Many words and expressions cannot be translated into English because the idea of them does not exist in our language. But the majority of MidEasterns are not able to put their language to use and cannot grasp the intricacies of the language because they themselves are not on that level.

Abdelhafid pointed out that many Middle Eastern people have no concept of individuality, privacy or respect for others. People are advantageous and are fed information and religion by one source.

He mentioned Sufism mantra as the most similar frame of mind to Western mentality. I am not sure if he is Sufi or not, but he seemed to hold it in a high regard. And he said that Sufism requests that Muslims acknowledge that they have a physical body, a mental body, an ego body, and a godly spirit. This godly spirit, or soul, is in every one of us and so we must treat others the way we would treat god – with respect and love.

As a Westerner, I definitely notice a huge difference in my way of living than the Middle Easterners I have lived next to for the past year. I have no judgement on whether it is better or not, but it is interesting to ponder why we are so much different.

Anyway, back to AbdelHafid. Alex and I have decided to hire him for private tutoring for the last three weeks we will be in Morocco. We will be taking a media Arabic class alongside the tutoring, so we will have a lot on our plates. However, AbdelHafid has already pledged to make sure we finish Al Kitab, which means we will have completed 11 chapters in only 9 weeks. Quite the feat, if you ask me.

Last class I encouraged him to write a book on what he has learned from teaching Arabic to western students, because he sheds so much insight into different cultures by sharing his observations during his career as a teacher. He was meant to be a teacher, I am pretty sure. I couldn’t imagine him doing anything better.

And I mentioned that he should move to America and teach there. He could make so much more, doing the same job. America needs more language professors like him. I really hope I inspire another American to spend a bit of time studying at the ALIF center in Morocco, and studying with Usteth AbdelHafid. If only I could import him to America…..

Mr. Sandman, Bring Me A Dream

The funniest thought occured to me the other day, while atop a camel: What the hell am I doing in the Saharan Desert? I couldn't help but laugh outloud, but it was a bad idea because all I got in return was a mouthful of sand.

Seriously, I really could not recount how I ended up traveling in a caravan two hours into the dry, expansive Sahara. It wasn't my short term memory I was having problems with, rather it was the past eight months that were baffling me.

Somehow I managed to find myself leaving my home, the great US of A, for the first time in my young life. And I ended up in Beirut, of all places. I didn't even go to Europe or Canada before packing my bags for an extended stay in the Middle East.

As if moving to Beirut wasn't exciting enough, I found myself exploring Central and Eastern Europe, visiting countries like Syria and now I am studying in North Africa. The whole trip has been a blur really. One great big dream, which I seem to drifting in and out of.

And suddenly, I was in the Saharan Desert. I think I remember reading about this region of the world when I was a freshman in high school. Wow, never did I think I would experience first hand how it looked, smelled and tasted.

The ride was so...interesting. It had its own sort of beauty. The scenery was all the same color, made of all the same substance, and did not boast any sort of wildlife, except the occasional beetle. But there was something so wonderful about how the sand blew off the tops of sand dunes in long brown streams. And the wind was sooo dry and pure. Elongated shadows of sand dunes, or riders atop their camels shed the only contrast to the blue sky and the brown sand, and the shadows made the desert come alive.

For the first hour the people in our chain of camels, and there were four of us (Me in the front, and then Karl, Alex and finally a good-natured Brit named John) we played a few rounds of 20 questions and commented on how unbearably uncomfortable it was to ride camels.

But after a while all the riders fell quiet, and if any of the others had an experience similar to mine, it was because we were pondering how we ended up in the desert and how surreal it all seemed in that moment. Of course these thoughts only came to me during the moments I could take my mind of the huge wedgie the camel and the saddle were creating.

After arriving to the "oasis", the hotel's sort of resort in the desert, I climbed the sand dune with Karl to see the view. The climb was ridiculously difficult, but it was well worth it. To get back down I tried an unconvential tactic, which was to slid down on my bottom. I didn't get too much sand in my pants and actually it was a lot of fun as the dune was very steep.

We spent the rest of our time playing cards, socializing, eating a feast and being entertained by the Berber men who served us and danced for us. Our board for the night was to sleep in tents, and there were surprisingly comfortable but that may be due to our exhaustion from the day's activities.

We went to bed late, and got up early to see the sunrise. Our return trip was nothing special...just as uncomfortable, and this time everyone was just a bit more tired. Upon finishing our Saharan excursion, we showered, ate a hearty breakfast, and then hit the road back to Fez.

Most of the students, including myself, slept and stared out the window. It was nice and relaxing. And we were probably all wondering what the hell happened...and if our trip into the desert was just another dream.

Idiosyncrasies....Time For Replacments?

Usually I think of idiosyncrasies as the building blocks of great personalities (usually), but I am starting to notice that some of mine may be a bit unhealthy. Of course everyone has their “thing” or multiple peculiarities, but there is a point to where it becomes a bit much.

Case in point: when someone begins to joke around about themselves in the third person – like John saying to Jim, “Well, how is Jim doing today?” and Jim responding, “Jim is doing awfully well, thank you very much.” Once can make a few people giggle at the absurdity of the joke, but when Jim starts to talk about himself in third person at least once a day, it becomes really lame.

The last example could just be performed by someone with a really bad sense of humor. So let’s say Donald is some 25 year old guy and a huge germophob. At first it just seemed sanitary, and all the girls thought he was different from all the other guys. He kept his room clean, and always washed his hands before cooking. One day, however, after he spent too many years being too meticulous, he refuses to take out the trash because he doesn’t want to touch it. That is going a bit too far.

That is an extreme case, but hey that’s what this generation is all about. All or nothing. One extreme or another.

Anyway, back to my unhealthy idiosyncrasies. Over the years I have groomed a few “things’ into full blown idiosyncrasies and I’m starting to wonder if I can break out of the mold. So let me just list a few…a few that I know myself and others contributed by Alex.

To begin, if I listen to a new musical artist for the first time and find that I enjoy his/her/their tunes then I almost always download/buy the CD and listen to it to exhaustion. How this started I have no idea, probably during my middle school days when I had nothing else to do except ignore my homework and my annoying little brothers.

But this did not stop when I entered high school or even college. In fact it has only gotten worse. For example, Alex introduced me to The Beatles (I know, I know, I got a late start) and I swear I played The Beatles for three months straight. And then I just couldn’t do it anymore. I had to take six months off before I could listen to them again.

A bit more concerning are the days when I get it into my head that I HAVE to buy something. I am not a shopaholic, but sometimes I will convince myself that I absolutely cannot live without something and I go on a rampage until I find exactly it. One week I will decide that I hate every pair of pants that I own, and I spend way too long trying to find a pair that I actually like.

Usually I am not successful, and my shopping kick is more annoying (for Alex and myself) than helpful. Nevertheless, I continue to spend days at the mall looking for something that I don’t actually need.

As for Alex’s first contribution, I get really when we do something new. He has pointed this out to me on many occasions, even though I never notice anything different. Supposedly when I get excited, I start to walk really fast and giggle way too much. When we were living in Beirut and on our way to a Jazz concert, Alex pointed it out to a whole group and I took every effort to conceal my excitement. His observations are correct, but I never notice them until he says something.

As for his second observation, which is probably a bit more annoying than the former, I can be a bit indecisive at time. But not the usual ambivalence that women tend to carry with them. I like to ask everyone’s opinions, to take them into consideration when making a decision, and then can’t make up my mind if there are any conflicting opinions.

Sometimes I am demanding and will only do things my way, but usually I am neutral and just want other people to make the decision. Even if it is just Alex and I, and we are deciding on what to do for dinner, I will ask him what he wants to do. Usually we will both not have a preference, but I will demand Alex make the decision. That goes the same for a group, and that usually creates a problem as I do not care to make a decision.

All these idiosyncrasies are trivial, and do not affect my overall functioning in society. It is interesting, rather, to dissect how I came to have these peculiarities and observe how they will evolve in the future. It’s fun to think about. Maybe I will work on getting some new ones. Hmm…sort of like shopping for new personality traits.

Idiosyncrasies are nothing to be embarrassed of, and I am not having a mid-life crisis that is making me rethink my whole self. But idiosyncrasies are just traits that we have allowed to consume ourselves. If I change my approach to new music I will not lose an overwhelming part of my personality. Maybe my experiment will be more revealing that I imagine it will be. It can’t hurt to make a concerted effort to break out of the mold and try out some new idiosyncrasies….can it?

Traveling, Arabic...and more Arabic

Alex and I have taken Morocco by storm. We are sticking to the same mentality that we had in Beirut, which is to get our shit done during the week and then take off on the weekends. In Beirut we were absolutely successful and we hit all the spots outlined for Lebanon in our Middle East travel guide, and more.

In our couple of weeks in North Africa, we have been able to travel to the mountain village of Chefchaouen, explore the sights and old city of Meknes and tour the Vilubolis Roman ruins. This weekend we will be traveling to the port city of Tangiers. The weekend after Austen, our roommate, will be joining us for an extended weekend in Marrakesh. The weekend after that we are riding on the back of camels into the desert with students from ALIF, for an exciting desert camp out. We have no other plans as of yet, but I am super excited to find out what is in store for us!

I really have no idea what I will do when we return to the States. Of course I have been waiting eagerly for our repatriation, but I know I will miss traveling so much. I have come to realize, however, that I have traveled more outside of America than within. I have come up with a list of places I want to travel, and they include many places on the West Coast as well as Northern East Coast and the Grand Canyon. Sometime soon I need to hit South America and Canada.

The weekdays spent in Fez are no less exciting. My life is now consumed with Arabic courses. I only have two, but I have spent all my free time the last two weeks reviewing the first six chapters of Al Kitab (our textbook), and simultaneously completing all the homework given to us by our two professors.

I absolutely love the courses, and I have two great teachers. Sometimes the studying gets hectic, but it is so worth it. I am excelling in my classes, and I am enjoying it so much. On the other hand, I am beginning to notice a couple of bothersome things. I fall asleep repeating Arabic words and conjugations in my head, and I wake up thinking of them. Last night my Arabic teacher was in my dream, and I distinctly remember that during my dream I was conjugating the noun homework (wajib) with suffix endings. Like his homework (wajibuhu) and my homework (wajibee).

I am sure that it is normal due to my current overexposure to classical Arabic, but still scary nevertheless. In all honesty, I could not think of a better way to spend my time – in the Middle East or North Africa. Undoubtedly all my hard work will pay off.

In other news, I am eagerly waiting to hear back from the universities I applied to for this coming fall semester. I applied to George Washington University, Georgetown University, American University, Johns Hopkins and the University of Virginia. It will probably be an interesting mix of acceptances and rejections – but we shall see. Alex is also waiting for the results of his applications to American, Georgetown and George Washington. Of course when we know, you will know.

I am going to get back to my ridiculous amount of Arabic homework, and will update soon.

The Manipulation of Music

A couple of weeks ago, in small town Utah, 30 miles West of Salt Lake City, the Crossfield City Council organized a talent show as a community builder. Crossfield is a town known for its musicians, at least for the neighboring towns whose families travel there on the weekends to hit up the local bars and cafes. It is something straight out a movie. You can go to any hang out place and find a local band or solo musician rocking their tunes, hoping to make it big.

But Crossfield is one place you won’t find Simon Cowell looking for talent. Other than the local musicians, the most exciting part of Crossfield is an imploded mine that has become the hottest hangout for high schoolers looking to party it up, undisturbed. Driving through the center of town you would never guess the city had a thriving night life, because during the daytime it takes on the appearance of an abandoned city perfectly suited for a Stephen King novel or horror film. The streets are bare, the building have broken windows and badly weathered paint jobs, and old rusty trucks line the streets.

What set Crossfield apart from other towns was its diverse population. Each street hosts a different ethnic group, which may contribute to its popularity in music in surrounding areas. On the Western outskirts of the town Mormon and Jewish communities live harmoniously in close proximity. On the opposite side of town you can find a small community of American Baptists, as well as Russian. A bit more towards there center, a mix of Middle Eastern, European, and Amish communities make up the population. Regardless of its small size, it is composed of several ethnicities and religions.

Despite its shabby appearance, the city council announced it was planning to host a talent show. The aim was to end Crossfield’s isolation from surrounding communities, and make a name for it in the state of Utah. The thought was, if the talent show was a success then maybe the next year it would attract people from other communities, or even other states.

Well, the town council members were probably not expecting that their first attempt to gain a bit of recognition would send shockwaves throughout the whole of Utah. Only ten contestants, all residents of Crossfield, entered the contest. They were split equally between male and females, but the music genres ranged from American folk to modern Arabic music. The judging panel was composed of the five music teachers living in Crossfield. Five days of competition later, a Lebanese native emerged as the winner.

Ali Hussein, a quiet young man studying in the local high school, won by a small margin, followed closely by an older Russian woman whose genre was classic rock. The judges’ reason for giving Hussein the first place title was that he was an extraordinary singer in several different genres. One city council member, who preferred to be unnamed, said Ali was “one of the best vocal artists Crossfield has ever produced.”

The famous actress Glen Close, a former resident of a town neighboring Crossfield and well aware of the musical community, publicly endorsed Hussein as the representative of “America’s new generation of music.” All of the attention given to Hussein was certainly putting Crossfield on the map.

There was only minimal criticism from the audience toward the judges’ decisions, and any of it came from the friends of the runner-up. That is, until Hussein turned his success into an opportunity to speak out on behalf of his formerly unknown affiliation to Hizbullah.

During a televised interview with News Channel 5, which is broadcasted in over half of the greater Utah area, Hussein revealed his love for music began during his childhood in Lebanon. As part of the Hizbullah choir, an institution funded by Syria and Iran, and organized under the guidance of top Hizbullah officials.

It seems as though no Crossfield community member ever suspected the family’s ties to the group, labeled by the US and several other countries as a terrorist organization. When asked about the shocking news, a resident speaking under anonymity said, “ The family was generally a nice, quiet family that participated in all community events. Everyone liked them. They never hung flags, spoke about politics and I never even saw them step out on Sundays to go to church.”

In several follow-up interviews, Hussein revealed the inner working of the Hizbullah choir and how it helped to create the person he is today. “We are not really supposed to talk about being in the Hizbullah choir. It is a secretly run branch of the party. The boys are selected through an application process and series of auditions, and then we are placed into the level which best suits us. For the more advanced, they go on to compete internationally. But of course not under the Hizbullah banner.”

He went on to say that being a Hizbullah choir boy taught him unity with his fellow Hizbullah brothers, as well as discipline. “I wouldn’t be the great musician I am today, or even the person I am today, if it wasn’t for my mentor Nasrallah,” he said. Apparently, he was one of the few students able to intern under Hizbullah leader Sayyed Hassan Nasrallah, as he still holds the top honors from the choir.

Only hours after Hussein’s revelation, the Crossfield community president as well as Glenn Close both issued public apologies for endorsing Hussein. Within a few days of the event four West Coast states – including Arizona, Nevada and Idaho – introduced bills to their state legislatures allowing intensive background checks for any applicants into local or inter-state talent shows.

So what does this mean for the international music world? Are terrorist organizations now trying to infiltrate the realm of music, and then use their success for a platform on which to base the ideology? In the 21st century, music has proven that it breaches international borders very quickly. We see it as a form of freedom of speech, but could the manipulation of our beloved form of entertainment by people like Ali Hussein make it something we fear?

*This piece of literary journalism is completely fictional and for the entertainment of my blog readers. I am not trying to deface Hizbullah so much as point out the absurdity of such a report. Thank you.

A Sort of Literary Venn Diagram

Our adventures have taken us from the Levant and into the Maghreb. Alex and I are now as settled as we can be in Fez, Morocco and are beginning to enjoy the Moroccan culture. If you can call my adaptation to the Lebanese way of living culture shock, then Morocco has turned my world upside down. Moving from one country, with its own set of customs and way of life, to one so different has been quite the experience and kind of fun…so let me give you my detailed comparison of life in Beirut with my observations of life in Fez.

Unlike the Western-mimicking city of Beirut, Fez does not have a large community of English speakers. In fact it is hard to find anyone who can communicate, even on a very elementary scale, with me in English. Alex is a real godsend on this trip, because everyone here speaks French (and Alex really paid attention in his French courses). The Lebanese colloquial I studied in Beirut is also not helping me, as the Moroccan dialect is much different.

Everyday, however, I am learning small similarities between the two dialects of Arabic. For example, instead of putting a “b” in front of every verb, Moroccans put a “k”. So “bashrub” for “I drink” in Lebanese becomes “kashrub” in Morocco. Or so I am told.

The overwhelming language barrier, however, is making everyday life extremely difficult. In Lebanon if someone did not speak English very well, they could easily find another in the immediate vicinity who could translate. Here, that luxury does not exist. Fortunately the names for fruits and vegetables are the same in Lebanese and Moroccan Arabic and I can at least grocery shop on my own.

Although Fez has much of the same elements as Lebanese suburbs, or even American suburbs, much of their native culture still exists. They dress and behave very North African-ish (quoted by THE Alex himself). Men and women alike all dress in Jelabas. This is a long robe, covering the ankles, which is usually made of cotton and has long sleeves. The men’s robes have hoods, whereas women have the option as most of them already accessorize with a hijab, or head scarf.

Although not everyone wears the Jelaba, I would say about 95% of the population in Fez rocks the Jelaba. I’ve seen fifteen year old girls skipping around in pink Jelabas, and 80 year old men shuffling around with their pointed hoods up. They wear them to work, to shop in, to go out in, and probably to bed – although my last hypothesis is not yet confirmed.

The remaining 5% are part of the younger population who are perhaps getting tired of the monotony of the Jelaba. But then again, everyday there may be a consistent 5% that usually wear the Jelaba but just want to be daring and switch it up.

In any case, this is the extreme opposite of the flashy and skimpy clothing Lebanese women love to clad themselves in. If you choose any random closet of a Lebanese woman, you would probably find no less than ten shirts with animal prints and sparkling sequins. Every shirt and pair of pants would probably be at least one size too small, and the shoes with ridiculously high heels. And those who wore observed the Muslim tradition of the hijab usually sported the same kind of wardrobe, with just a bit more covered up.

As for their daily schedules, all of Fez shuts down between the hours of noon to three. This is for none other than their daily lunch rituals. Even the center where we take Arabic courses officially shuts down. We can meander in and out of the garden or building, but there are virtually no employees to help a disoriented student.

I am not sure how this aspect of their culture came about, but it is really inefficient in my opinion. There is no way to conduct business during these hours. And that is a huge chunk of the work day. Just ask Alex, who is constantly trying to get ahold of big Moroccan figures during the day for his interviews…and who always seem to be on their lunch break.

Speaking of lunches, Moroccan food, which is quite tasty, is also very limited in variety. Dish number 1: Couscous with either vegetables, chicken or beef. Dish number 2: Tagine with vegetables or meat (tagine refers to the bowl it is cooked and served in). Dish number 3: Shish kebabs of vegetables or meat. And these dishes usually served with either a Moroccan salad or soup.

Thus far I have had pretty decent experiences with the food, but the day that I exhaust all the possible variations of the dishes is very near. And one can eat only so much couscous and tagine before they hate it. So what do I do then? There are only a few restaurants that serve other kinds of food, and the nearest one to us is McDonalds. And as an American used to McDonald’s dollar menu, I am not about to spend the outrageous prices of McDonald’s here, because then I can’t even enjoy the money I’m saving on a meal while simultaneously taking years off my life. If I have to pay a lot of do damage to my body, it’s just not worth it. A Big Mac here is like four bucks, and that is unacceptable.

As much as Alex tries to persuade me that he will not miss Lebanese food, I know he is already putting his foot in his mouth. I was rather pleased by Lebanese cuisine, and now I would give anything to have their variety and flavor. Beirut also had a nice array of restaurants, with everything from Middle Eastern and European to Japanese.

More upsetting was my run-in with an older man on my first attempt to jog in a residential area. Fully covered in black sweat pants and a black long sleeved hoodie, I was jogging on a fairly empty street when I was verbally harassed by a man walking past, on the opposite side of the street no less. I am not quite sure what he was yelling, but I heard “haram,” which refers to that which is prohibited under Islamic Law.

Now I was used to the occasional awkward stares of soldiers toting huge guns, and catcalls from the local Lebanese men, but nothing prepared me for the Moroccan man’s blatant disapproval of me jogging. I may have continued if it was not for the numerous honks from cars passing by on the street, or the woman who made no attempt to do her staring discreetly. So five minutes into the run, I was done.

I spoke to Alex about it that night because it really bothered me. At least in Lebanon I could partake in my Western habits, even if the Lebanese didn’t do or understand them. Alex, who is on his second visit to the Maghreb, said the Moroccans are much more closed-minded than their Levantine neighbors. Of course, being the respectful visitor that I am, I will probably not do any jogging in and around my apartment…maybe I’ll look for a nice gym to join.

Morocco, however, has its beauty as well. It is about 68 times the size of Lebanon, which is only a little over 4,000 sq miles. On our trips in and around Lebanon it took only a couple of hours to get anywhere. To travel from Beirut to Damascus it was three hours. To travel from the north of Lebanon to the South was no more than one hour and 45 minutes. In complete contrast, it took us four hours to travel from the airport in Casablanca, Morocco to Fez. And that spans only a fraction of the country.

This weekend we took a trip up to a small mountainous village, called Chefchaouen, and the travel time was a little over four hours by bus. The travel time did not, however, affect my overall enjoyment of the trip. It may have, in fact, heightened it. We mostly traveled through the countryside, and it was one of the most beautiful regions I have traveled through.

Alex had taken the trip to Chefchaouen three years ago, and swore that he didn’t remember it being so green and lush. I may be wrong, but it was probably because he last visited during the hottest and driest months of the year.

This time, however, it was one green mountain after another. With fields of orange trees and wide, still lakes scattered throughout the valleys. We passed countless fields, where young children were herding sheep or helping out in the fields. Women carried small stacks of hay on their backs up the road, and older sheepherders could be seen taking an afternoon nap under the sun while their sheep grazed. Everything about the scenery was relaxing and beautiful.

The village, Chefchaouen, was a sight itself. We made our way through the medina, in and out of a maze of alleyways lined with shops filled with trinkets and textiles from Spain to Mauritania. In the center there was a cobblestone square, surrounded by little cafes and restaurants. There were American tourists, a lot of Spanish backpackers, and other tourists from around the world. Refreshingly, the menus at most of the restaurants included seafood and burgers.

Today, we took a trip organized by the ALIF institution we are studying Arabic at and toured the Volubilis Roman ruins, which had the most beautiful mosaics floors that were surprisingly preserved. Of course I will post the pictures as soon as possible.

We also visited the city of Meknes, where there is another American center for students wanting to learn Arabic. We were able to jaunt around the medina, but after spending a lot of time in Fez we weren’t so impressed. It was a bit more touristy and all the shops in the souks looked as though they had imported all their goods from China. Fez’s medina kadima (old city) is filled with very Moroccan textiles, paintings, trinkets, rugs and leather goods. And most of it is made in the city or from surrounding areas.

Anyway, to wrap up my comparison of Beirut to Fez…I am pretty content here. Other factors that I should mention are that Alex and I are rooming with three other students studying at ALIF. That is quite different than our living situation in Beirut, where we had a furnished apartment to ourselves, with daily maid service. Now we are re-accustoming ourselves to doing the dishes, cleaning the bathroom, living with other people, and having to buy and hook up our own butane tanks to heat water and use the stove.

I wouldn’t exchange my experiences in Lebanon for anything, and I am already quite fond of Morocco. The most exciting part, of course, is the intensive language courses I am enrolled in. Everyday I have four hours of classes, and in all my spare time I am studying. One of my professors thinks I have a future in the Arabic language, and I am learning so much so fast. It’s such a great experience and I would recommend this program to anyone wanting to study Modern Standard Arabic, or even just wanting to travel.

Hey Man, What is This Thing in My Bathroom?

I miss about thirty percent of life. Although Melissa and I have traveled a lot and seen a lot of interesting things, I miss the little things. Only recently have I realized that this could be a bad thing. I spent a solid ten minutes on the toilet today and didn't have any reading material, so I looked around the bathroom and the things that give it its character. I noticed the wet towels on the floor and connected them to something Melissa has been complaining about. I guess we have water trouble, but I never really paid attention. I saw some other things: the Q-tip I threw out last week but somehow escaped the maid's cleaning, a thrice-used toothpick hiding in my special spot, and some other odds and ends. However, what stood out the most in the bathroom was a procelain monstrosity neighboring the toilet. Melissa refers to it as a 'bidet', but I'm not sure of its place or purpose in the bathroom. It doesn't have a large hole for stuff to leave it, but it would offer a convenient target to any man seeking to relieve himself. Melissa assures me that it is a female hygiene something or other, but I am still not certain what I should believe. I would like to get responses on this post from both guys and girls on bidet culture. Who hear knows what a bidet is? Who has used one? What did the experience feel like? Did any of you guys try to urinate in one?

Findings of a Research Assignment

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would agree to do research for a journalist on suicide bombings in Iraq. In all actuality, I didn't really agree to it, rather my boss kind of signed me up. But I probably would have anyway. Just for the experience.

Anyway, even as a Middle Eastern Studies major, I really never took an interest in America's current war in Iraq. To be perfectly honest, the situation is just confusing - from a historical, political, and moral standpoint - and I find it easier to ignore the topic instead of annoy people with empty postulations. It may sound a bit overly apathetic, but I realize that I have nothing groundbreaking to add to the situation.

And doing this research is having the effect I knew it would - it is depressing me beyond belief (and making me slightly paranoid). My research is pretty straightforward, and the process is ridiculously simple - I look through computer-based archives under the keywork "Iraq", and any article documenting a suicide bomb/mission I paste onto a word document and save them all in one folder. Really simple, eh?

Well, I'm not sure if the money - combined with the assignment's simplicity - is really worth it. Yea I'm making a few bucks, but all I do is stare at headlines of suicide bombing, car bombings, air strikes and shootings. I have gone through four years already - 2008 to early 2004 - and I cannot believe how many suicide bombings there have been. On top of all the other atrocities in Iraq.

The news is just one horrible story after another. Even better, imagine me blocking everything out because my imagination is running rampant with visuals of the news I am reading, and then some stupid young driver revving his engine incredibly loud. Yea, it did make me jump - I was scared out of my mind. It took a good ten seconds to bring myself back into my work office.

This is why I choose not to think about it. Or Palestine, anymore. I wish I could do something about it. Maybe one day I will. Right now I have a voice, and the power of the written word and the media, but even I am not so optimistic to think I will change the world by simply exercising my freedom of speech.

I finished the project today, thankfully. When I finished there were 565 documents I saved in my folder. Although some of them were carbombs, which I included because sometimes they did not specify whether it was suicidal or not. And did I get something out of it? I like to think that I know a bit more of the realities on the ground in Iraq, although I can only imagine since I have not witnessed it firsthand.

What bothered me the most is the number of people who have volunteered to carry out the suicide missions. The suicide bombings seemed to really take off eight months after the US invaded in May 2003. But these groups and their ideologies behind the suicide bombings had to be in place long before American invaded. I am interested in doing more research into that aspect of the equation.

Also there were some trends that I noticed - for some the reasons were apparent, and others not so much. There was definitely a lull in suicide bombings during the winters, and a surge during the summer months. During the Muslim celebration of Ramadan a couple of years there was a decrease, but in other years there was no change. And like I mentioned before, during the first year of the American invasion there were hardly any reports. During a few months the number of reported suicide attacks were incredible - almost one every other day. And the corresponding fatalities were outrageous. Just this past week two women carried out twin suicide bombings in seperate pet markets, killing 99 total.

Obviously this war tactic, and this ideology, is a dangerous one. It is certainly succeeding in spreading terror, and I can't imagine how Iraqis still living in their country go about daily life.

Malaak: Angel of Peace

RecentlyI interviewed a woman who just launched her first comic book in Lebanon, and I submitted it to a popular Middle Eastern women's/fashion magazine. Then I realized that my American audience is missing out on all the fun! Just a fun little interview with a talented young writer/artist (And you are getting the better, more fun version!).

*

Cool cover, eh? ------------>>>

*

Joumana Medlej just released her new comic, Malaak: Angel of Peace. The main character is a young woman, living in Lebanon, whose mission is to find out who she is and her purpose in life. "Basically it's a young girl that is found and no one knows where she comes from and she doesn't know until she comes of age," Joumana said of her young character, Malaak.
*

Malaak comes to live in a war-torn Lebanon, and soon realizes her powers are to be used to end the bloody conflict. Although Lebanon was entrenched in a civil war only two decades ago, Medlej says her comic expresses no political opinions or statements on the war that still looms in the minds of older generations. "Coincidentally, or maybe not...the idea came to me after I came back from Germany where I was exiled during the war. I was so sick of war, its so senseless and I think we all realize at one point there was one superhero who could end it. But I don't deal with politics, I deal with bigger things."

One of those things is exporting Lebanese culture. Medlej hoped the comic would capture audiences around the world because "there are not a lot of cultural exports from Lebanon in this field and I really would love for comic lovers worldwide to like a comic from Lebanon." Throughout the comic you will find drawings of building which actually exist in the country, historical references littered throughout the text, and a bit of the tri-language dialogue the Lebanese are famous for - that is, their affinity to speak Arabic, French and English all in the same sentence. In fact Medlej took the liberty to include a dictionary of terms at the end of each issue, to accommodate those who don't speak all three languages and aren't familar with Lebanese-speak.

Although religion doesn't play an integral role in her comic, there is a discreet acknowlegment of it. She explained, "I'm not really going to bring religion into it except small touches. There is a hajibe character. There are mosques and churches in the background." Hijabe refers to the Muslim tradition for women to wear a scarf over their head. And of course she does not fail to highlight Lebanon's love for fashion and beauty. "The main character has to be a woman...It's because Lebanon is so famous for their beautiful women, and any superhero woman in Lebanon would have to be a super babe." She added, "The female characters in the comic have their own fashions. There is, of course, the very well dressed and then the conservative.

We all know Superman, Batman, and Spiderman, and to the average comic book reader men dominate the heroic scene. The only woman superhero that comes to my mind is Wonderwoman. Portraying a young, independent woman as the main character in her new comic, Medlej may find her comic being educational as well as entertaining, especially for Western readers.

"[My Character] is definitely an independent woman." And the author may be even more of a statement than her character. "I think my existence makes a statement...I set an example as a liberated and active woman. I don't set an example, I just do it", she said. And apparantly the ladies are taking a liking to her liberated character. "Women are loving the powerful woman, because she is not just liberated but taking things in hand. She is not a super confident woman - she's growing, she's nice, she's cute. I think the women are really reacting well to her", she explained.

Medlej became interested in comic books when she was 12, saying it was what started her drawing. But it was her imagination that spurred her first attempts at comic book illustrations. "I'm very much a storyteller at heart. I love to tell stories, but not just in writing. I like to show them," she said. Like so many others, her dreams to publish a comic were put on hold due to life's plans. "It took so much time and I had to work and study and so I left it aside for ten years. In the meantime I worked on illustrations and drawings. So by the time the idea came for [Malaak] I was ripe conceptually and technically."

The idea of Malaak came to her during her exile to Germany, where she stayed during the civil war in Lebanon. "In 2000 I had the idea for something that came from Lebanon," she said, explaining her choice of location. She added, "I don't know exactly where the idea came from, it was just sudden inspiration bit it takes on so much influence from my life. My expose to things caused a sort of alchemy that ends up influencing the comic...certain world views." However, she stressed that the war portrayed in her comic was not supposed to represent Lebanon's infamous civil war, although she did "[grow] up ten years in war and this was daily life during those days."

Her passion for illustrating and narrating were not the only things that got her to the publishing stage. She gives credit to the support of her friends, family and her audience. "I ended up publishing because the response for the first few pages was really great, from everyone." Surprisingly she added, "I actually didn't tell my family [that I was publishing] until I was ready to print because the theme was so personal, and we all went through the [civil] war together."

Medlej, however, doesn't intend to cater to just a Lebanese audience. Currently she publishes her comic in English, to accomodate a large international audience. She plans to possibly translate her comic into Arabic and French, to cater to a wider Lebanese and Middle Eastern audience as well as a broader international audience. Also Medlej promises entertainment for all ages. "I have fans who are 12 and 50. I know Lebanese who like it because it's Lebanese. It's fresh, it's new and it has a root in reality", she said.

The first issue of Malaak, in print, is out and circulating. I personally bought and read it, but I promised not to reveal any of the juicy details. I asked Medlej if she had the whole plot thought out, she surprisingly answered that the ending is what is keeping her going. "I want to know how it ends. I'm serious. I have to continue because I only see the story as I go, so I want to see how it develops."

As her comic develops, Medlej is looking forward to her Malaak taking off and becoming an international icon. She expressed one last ambition as an author, and for Malaak - and that is to one day see her character worn by adoring fans. That is, she says, "The day I see someone at Halloween dressed like her, then I will be happy!"

To read an online version of Malaak visit Medlej's webpage: http://www.malaakonline.com/