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!

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.

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.

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.

Our Time in Lebanon is Coming to an End...

 After much deliberation the past few months, Alex and I have decided what we are going to do with the rest of our time overseas. We traveled to Syria last year to look into the language programs there, and were more than a bit disappointed. So Alex suggested the intensive language study in Fez, Morocco. We looked into it and decided we would rather spend the money taking 20 hours of classes a week for 12 weeks of Modern Standard Arabic. This is exactly what I was looking for, and Alex has had some experience there before and could attest to the quality of the institute. So we are flying to Morocco on Feb 22.

Also, as I am in the process of applying to universities in America for the fall semester and Alex is applying to graduate schools, we have bought our tickets back to America. We are repatriating on June 3. It’s going to be good to be back in America!