Because everyone love to see other people's travel photos:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2107953&l=91b7f&id=1013451

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2107955&l=bd7af&id=1013451

final moments

Well, for those of you who have somehow managed to keep up with my lack of posting the end of this semester, you are in for a treat.  A final treat, as I leave on Thursday.  I present, the chronicles of my trip to Jerusalem as excerpted from my journal (the one that got me into some trouble):

day one:

-turned away from border b/c border closed for holiday.  spent day in friends' house pretending to be in jerusalem.

day two:

-buy your stamp for the paper to leave jordan.  then, the old woman left her passport at the window (inside building), but she was on the bus to cross the bridge anyhow.  delay ensues.

-get to otherside after passing through the no man's land of landmines.  wait for 1st checkpoint.  arrive, passports scanned (5th time of the day).  see someone bribe the checker.

-inside, get visas (on separate sheet of paper).  victoria delayed for hour because of palestinian roots.

- get photographed & have digital fingerprints taken of both hands.  passports checked.

-in line to have passport checked for unclear reason.  i am singled out.  escorted to back room.  luggage & personal effects searched.  this book (i.e. my journal) found – arabic inside creates commotion – asked to wait.

-interviewed by angry man.  first question: "is this your second passport?"  proceeds to ask why i was in russia, how well i speak russian, why i'm going to israel, why i'm in amman, what i study, what religion in religious studies do i study (early christianity), why i'm studying arabic, why did i say i'm studying anthropology and religious studies but not arabic, how many years have i studied arabic, where did i study arabic, where in the us am i from, what do my parents do, who pays for college, do my parents work at home, what hospitals, national jewish!, am i jewish, do my parents know i'm studying arabic, what do they think about me studying arabic, am i still in college, how can i study in amman for three months if i'm in college, how can i get credit for my classes, do many americans study arabic now, why don't you study hebrew?

-"enjoy your visit to israel."

-returned to line.  passport checked last time (eleven times in total, in addition to inspection of student id from brown, jordanian residency card, us driver's license, atm card).  escape border.

-arrive in jerusalem.  walk from damascus gate to jaffa gate.  check in at east new imperial hotel.  fat palestinian christian worker gives us great room overlooking david's tower.

-go to lunch at papa andrea's.  food decent, but rooftop view well worth it.

-go to church of the holy sepulchre – huge – and see sites of the cruxifiction, washing, and burial of christ.  swarmed with russians.

-go to armenian chruch on the via dolorossa.  starts to rain.

-accidently go to coptic patriarchate.  see reservoir beneath.  hear chanting.  run back to holy sepulchre to see inside an overlooked side door.  group of monks chanting.  we listen alone in the rain.

-try to find armenian quarter, get lost in jewish quarter, eventually work our way into armenian quarter to see armenian orthodox patriarchate.  armenian quarter somewhat boring.

-cassie & i go to find sweets (success, but i prove to be allergic to them).  after sunset most things are closed.

-go to new city to find waffles (called babette's feast).  locate waffles.  everything in hebrew.  i realize i only know two letters in hebrew learned from a dreidel.  fails to help order waffles.  tiny store, but packed with the only people i've ever seen who have both braces and an automatic weapon.

day three:

-wake up early to go to haram al-sharif.  israel has closed haram al-sharif because of holiday.  go to wailing wall instead.  strange man proud of me for coming to holy land, takes my picture with wall when i'm not ready.  looks like i'm having an extremely intense jewish religious experience.

-walk to mount of olives.  take many pictures of haram al-sharif.  see garden of gethsemene (very old olive trees).  swarm of russians.  enter the basilica of the holy suffering.  swarm of russians.

-proceed up the mount.  visit jewish cemetery.  more photos of haram al-sharif.

-visit tomb of virgin mary.  swarms of russians.

-re-enter city via lion's gate.  walk the via dolorossa.

-climb mount zion (not hard).  see the supposed site of the last supper as well as king david's tomb.  i am skeptical that these are in the same building.  visit monastery of the dormition (mary didn't die and get buried in the tomb we saw earlier for these christians.  she eternally sleeps beneath them).

-see oskar schindler's tomb.

-return to old city.

-tour the tower of david.  bizarre animated film proving the right of the israelis to jerusalem.  film in hebrew, with english subtitles, but credits are in hebrew, english and arabic.  what did arabic-speakers get out of this film?

-cassie mistakes statue of king david for a little girl despite goliath's head at his feet.  does kind of look like a little girl though.

-wander into the jewish quarter.  find (type of present – not giving away what and for whom).  need to pass through throng of about 50 fully armed israeli soldiers (i am older than all of them).  felt very uncomfortable.  find bagel store – eat bagels in heart of jewish homeland next to the wailing wall.

-wander into canyon-ish mall in new city next to jaffa gate.  fail to understand what is in bakery (more hebrew), so don't purchase baked goods.

-go back into new city with cassie for dinner.  find falafel (not as good as jordan).  hebrew overwhelms us again for ordering.

day four:

-border much easier in this direction.  go figure.

i remember when i updated my blog...

To Whom it May Concern,

I'm kind of surprised that you, whoever you are, are still reading this blog. Because Lord knows that I'm not very good at posting on it apparently.

As for my updates, lots of work. Lots and lots of work. I have now (somewhat) successfully written the first draft of my first 20 page paper in Arabic. While the language used is probably more appropriate for the medium of crayon on construction paper than typed and printed, it has been completed. I am proud.

In celebration of this (well, not really, but I'm celebrating it), all of us (i.e. the 9 people I see all the time) are heading to Madaba this weekend for a night of R&R. To a surprisingly nice hotel. So yeah, Holy Land round 2.

Other updates that I thought people should know: what Arabic television is like.

1) Ton of Cash. This is my favorite gameshow idea ever. In order to win a "ton of cash" the two teams of contestants literally just carry a ton of cash around obstacle courses in the same remote desert beach locale each episode. They don't really ever do anything new. Just move the money from place A to place B, then kick someone off. It kind of reminds me of the Phantom Tollbooth with the Demon of Trivial Tasks, who assigns them to move piles of sand with tweezers 5 feet away, then back. This show is pretty much the same thing. Which is an amazing punishment for people who want to be on reality television. Note: this show is really boring to actually watch.

2) Public Service Announcements: Abu Dhabi television has launched a new PSA campaign that air all the time. They all tend to show a group of 20-something, laughing Arab women gathered in a house around a copious amount of tea, pastries, sweets, etc. Then the maid walks in and starts laughing with them. They all stop laughing, glare at her, and she returns to the kitchen, where she begins to cry while scrubbing the floor. The voiceover then reads an ayat from the Qur'an to us about how all life should be respected, then the campaign's slogan comes on: "Maids are people too." After recent accusations of Abu Dhabi citizens virtually enslaving their Filipino or Indonesian maids, this is probably a good idea. It's still a very weird commercial message to encounter. Especially because it looks like an ad for a soap opera.

lesson learned

Previous comments on rain, all sad little statements. I was trapped on campus yesterday because the university flooded in the deluge. I tried to forge my way to the library, was blocked by a river of water about 6 inches deep, then was trapped in a crowd of people trying to get to the university administration, which, for whatever reason, has a somewhat sunken foundation, so there was about two feet of water between them and the door. Benches had been dragged in and people one by one were walking across. Defeated, I returned to the Language Center and skyped Megan. When it was perfectly sunny an hour later, I sloshed through the mud now coating everything, and tried to find the books I wanted in the library for my term paper. There was one. In the French translation. So somewhat of a waste.

I think I'm utterly unprepared for winter in this country.

and i want to know...

It rained yesterday in Amman (get the reference? anyone? maybe? I don't get to make jokes to often these days because they're in Arabic and even I fail to understand them). Which is the 3rd time I have seen rain in the last 6 months (once before here, although that was a very light drizzle at best, and once in Denver between Morocco and Jordan). Yesterday it was actually cold and wet though. As in, the rain had substance to it. It was a very off-putting experience, and forced me to realize that I am probably totally unprepared for winter in this country (there was no thought in my mind of even considering to pack an umbrella). Well, we'll see where this goes for my next two months...

And a clarification of the previous photos:

The Roman Show is this bizarre tourist experience in Jerash (one of the largest sites of a Roman city in the Middle East) that is mostly staffed by retired police officers. Basically, they all dress up in the AUTHENTIC ROMAN COSTUMES as seen in the photos and "re-create" gladiator battles and chariot races for us, the spectators (please don't think I paid for this. It was one of our many voluntary-obligatory experiences in Jordan. Though this one was totally worth the free I paid for it in its oddness). So, anyhow, the entire time we get a commentary by the one ROMAN who spoke some English (although he had that interesting speech condition kind of like a lisp but where all Rs become Ws. Like the bishop in the Princess Bride. Is there a word for this?), mostly about how fierce his legion was in this, the time of Hadrian, while the others ran around responding to commands in Latin. Then the slaves were dragged in to do gladiator battles, which the officers, who otherwise seemed rather bored, got really excited for, as they could pretend to hit each other with tridents and throw nets over each other before the announcer asked us if we preferred life or death. Our audience was in generally fairly not Roman, at least by my standards, and tended to prefer life, but I think he was obligated to show us what death looked like, so he began to ignore our verdicts and kill the gladiators anyhow. Finally, we got our AUTHENTIC ROMAN CHARIOT RACE, which consisted of about three laps while the soundtrack from the movie Gladiator played. I kid you not. After the show ended, we were encouraged to go down and take pictures with the Romans. There are certain things I never expected to do in the Middle East. Then I do them.

more photos (i.e. dead sea and THE ROMAN SHOW)

This time, I'll actually post photos with that cryptic remark:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2102841&l=6284b&id=1013451

more photos (i.e. dead sea and THE ROMAN SHOW)

mmm.... america flavored

Let me just begin this by saying I'm sorry if I broke my own blog. I may have done just that no more than a second ago. I was trying to log in, and because I am tired forgot that the buttons all flip from right-left and versa vice when the computer is set in Arabic (as the university's computers are wont to do). Therefore, in aiming for the log-in button, I accidentally flagged my blog as being inappropriate (which is oddly something that I can read perfectly well in Arabic). So, when the censors take this down, I did this to myself (literally. Not in the "I opposed the 1984 Party" sort of way, or the "I wrote inappropriate things" sort of way. The "I flagged my own blog as being inappropriate because I didn't bother to be literate" sort of way).

Anyhow, a few thoughts from the last few weeks that didn't make it into my sister-is-visiting-themed blog entry.

1) Thanks to Krys (okay, maybe still sister-themed), I made pistachio instant pudding for my family. Which, do to the failure of the word "custard" to be universally understood was explained to them as "warm, but not hot, but not cold... cool! cool ice cream!" However, seeing as the box said Jello on it, their understanding was something like, "Alexander is speaking nonsense, but is clearly making pistachio-flavored Jello for us with milk..." Needless to say, their reactions to the final product were somewhat mixed, (i.e. "At first I thought it was gross, but now it's not so bad. No, I'm fine without seconds."). However, the entire experience reminded me of an amazing part of the US. Pudding is instant! INSTANT! I poured powder into milk and it INSTANTLY began to set and within MERE SECONDS we had full-fledged, firm pudding. How cool is that? Actually, I think it's kind of gross, but that's beside the point. The point is that this is what US science spends time on: making kind of weird foods faster. And as much as I am repulsed by this notion (go slow food! go! but don't hurry!), for some weird reason, it made me very happy to see the instant-ness of pudding, as it is something that only we as Americans would value this much.

2) The Qur'anic lesson books gets better and better. I have learned what springs of Heaven the Righteous Believers drink from (The Spring of Ambrosia of course!), I have learned the word "ambrosia" in Arabic, I have learned which forms of oaths and swearing are blasphemous (anything that doesn't acknowledge God as the source of it's action, including phrases like, "If not for the pudding, I wouldn't have noticed the obsession with instant-ness in the US." Correctly: "If not for God, then the pudding, I wouldn't have noticed the obsession with instant-ness in the US."), I have learned why the evil eye amulet is stupid and no one should wear them (amulets don't protect you from disease), and finally, I have learned the different types of heresy, and their punishments... through grammar exercises ("The great heretic sinned against God and therefore was expelled from the Circle of Islam. The great heretics sinned against God and therefore were expelled from the Circle of Islam. The great female heretic sinned against God and therefore was expelled from the Circle of Islam... etc.).

vacation from what is (somewhat) a vacation

Who's sister is in Jordan? My sister is in Jordan. My real sister. The one I can speak English with. In other words, this was a good weekend. Krys, two of her friends and I spent Saturday at the Dead Sea, renting out access to one of the elite spa resorts there for the day (totally busted my wallet, and totally worth it). The Movenpick of Switzerland (is that seriously a word in German? because it sounds ridiculous) is the luxury hotel chain of Jordan, specializing in recreating small imitations of Paradise in earthy realms (except with little signs that say things like, "Blackberry: a touch of Switzerland" or "Wine: Swiss perfection," so if I pictured heaven with ads for the Swiss tourism board, it'd be pretty close). Anyhow, we checked into their elite spa (complete with a million weirdly named pools that were in theory different if I had understood what they were, i.e. the hydrium, or the kneipp foot pool, or the caldarium, or the thermorium, etc.). That said, many of them sprayed you with jets of water while people handed you new towels (during the course of the day there, I must have received at least 20 towels). The entire thing also overlooks the pristinely blue (on this clear day) Dead Sea, and the rose-colored mountains of Israel. So, after we wearied of the hydrium in the morning, we headed down to the Dead Sea, by gondola (yeah, no stairs. You had to take the gondola to the shore). The Dead Sea itself was quite the experience. It is indeed disgustingly salty (as Krys can attest to, it will burn out your eyes if any water enters them, and the taste is far beyond the gross-out factor of the ocean. Imagine sticking your tongue into every jar in a high school chemistry lab and swishing.). That said, it is also weirdly buoyant. I had been expecting the Dead Sea to be sort of like my experience in the Holy Land. "Cool, I saw that. It was kind of dumb in person, but I did it." Totally wrong. The Dead Sea is amazing! You float! Now, I know that's kind of obvious, but once we were in the water, we realized what floating actually entails. You can just sit in the water, bobbing on the surface, while touching your hands to your toes. Or flip onto your back, grab your ankles with your arms, and do a back bend. On the water. Not sinking. We lay on our stomachs, arms, legs and head in the air, and did not die in the water. So buoyant in fact that if you try to sink (e.g. stand upright in the water and do nothing), you can slowly feel your legs slip out from under you as you rise back up to the surface, winding up on your back or stomach. Swimming as we all know it is actually somewhat impossible in the Dead Sea. You're not far enough into the water for most strokes to work. Rather, it's more like laying down on a kickboard, then propelling yourself in the direction you want to go. So, we bobbed over to the next exclusive resort, took some of their legendary Dead Sea mud, covered our entire bodies (arms, legs, torso, back, face, hair. Everything.), sat out, let the mud dry and do whatever it is it's supposed to (which mostly seemed to be the hilarity factor of what people look like covered head to toe in black mud. Apparently I resemble Gollum in this state), then washed off by floating back to our spa, for more relaxing multi-Roman-derived pools, then finally ending with glasses of Holy Land wine (which tastes a lot like Communion wine, begging the question, does Communion wine actually come from the Holy Land, or does transubstantiation just make it seem that way?) in the Infinity pool overlooking the sea at sunset with he cool jazz-stylings of Bruno in the background. It turns out that Bruno was a little old man wearing a panama hat wielding a laptop, but he still had impeccable jazz-stylings. Or maybe the setting just helped.

Then, yesterday, we did the tourist sites of Amman (a.k.a. old Roman things, cheap Backgammon-filled cafes, and falafel joints frequented by Jordanian royalty), before ending at the Amman modern art museum (Darat al-Funun, the House of the Arts) for an opening at (yet another sunset). The best part of the Darat al-Funun is by far the location. Set on a hill just outside of downtown, it consists of three restored houses (where T.E. Lawrence is said to have written the Seven Pillars of Wisdom) in a lush garden with fountains, and the ruins of a Byzantine church. New favorite locale in Amman.

All in all, not a bad weekend (although very little work was done. Obviously). Hopefully, pictures forthcoming.

catch up

Updates:

1) I have new photos for everyone. They are here:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2101478&l=7514d&id=1013451

This album features my trip to the Holy Land of Jordan, like Mt. Nebo, where Moses is supposedly buried, although it's completely unmarked and still proves elusive to surveying scans, with a view of the Baptismal site of Jesus by John the Baptist, the West Bank, and the Dead Sea. I'm not going to lie; in many ways the coolest part about seeing the Jordanian part of the Holy Land is just being able to say that I've been to these places; as you will see, it proves to be a pretty, but rather unspectacular, hilltop. Also, the trip to Madaba (the bastion of Christian Jordan), where you will see lots of mosaics (some of which feature "remixes" by the Iconoclasts! I hope someone else finds that horrible pun funny...). Basically, all Madaba had was mosaics... and a really good restaurant where we ate lunch. I have a photo of the restaurant too; don't worry. The tour guide we had for this trip also had a fascination with the fact that he should be giving the tour in Arabic, but failed to believe that we spoke any Arabic, so every three words he'd repeat himself four times, then make one of us affirm that we knew what the word is. "Through the window... Through the window. Win-dow. Ruth, what's a window? Right. Through the window, we can see... we can see..." So yeah, the trip to Christian heritage sites of Jordan was a little strange.
Also featured: the Eid/ my birthday trip to Aqaba and the Red Sea. My birthday was indeed spent snorkling in the Red Sea, followed by a trip to the one and only Chinese restaurant of
Aqaba. Which was empty, as it was Eid al-Fitr (the holiday for the end of Ramadan), but the food was good, and we had fun.

2) Speaking of which, Ramadan ended! It was pretty close at the end (Eid al-Fitr started on September 30th... and was announced the night of the 29th at 9pm on the news... There was a countdown to the decision.), but it has ended, so things like food are once again available during the day.

3) As a result, I've been able to explore more internet options! This mostly relates to Skype, but I realized how weird this situation is last night, so I thought I'd elucidate for y'all. I currently have three internet-using locations: the university computer lab, Gloria Jean's Coffee (laptop... and one of the better store names), and the university language center wireless (laptop). However, each is used for separate things. At the lab, I can check my email and write this blog and such, but can't use my computer, so no pictures or skype. At Gloria Jean's I can upload pictures from my computer, but their connection absolutely fails when it comes to Skype
, as well as the fact that for some reason they have the non-standard electrical plug shape of Jordan (there are three different types of outlets here), so I can't recharge my computer there, and the university language center's wireless (where skype works and nothing else). See how much effort I put in for all of you to hear from/see pictures of me? That said, I think I'm going to start bringing my computer here for Skyping, so email/ message me if you want to talk and we'll see if we can set something up.

4) I moved families. The night before I went to Aqaba, but that's a another story. The new family is very nice, very full of kids (the two kids, 13, and 6, as well as a herd of cousins, all boys, all under the age of 7 who are over everyday) and a dog (claimed to be half-husky... I'm pretty sure it's a variant of a chihuahua) named Lucky (actually, not as obnoxious as he first seemed). When I first got there, my host mother, Hala, and Karin (like, Arabized Karen), the 6-year-old, commented in the first five minutes that I look like Muhannad, the star of the hit Turkish soap opera Noor (for information on both: Muhannad: http://www.diziler.com/gallery/46d86dc400906b6e9cb26600b2fc6715a821656dm.jpg
Noor: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/27/world/middleeast/27beirut.html?_r=1&scp=3&sq=noor%20turkey&st=cse&oref=slogin

by the way, all the shows mentioned in that article are amazing). I personally don't see the resemblance, but I will let y'all judge.
The other part of moving is that now I live in a really bizarre place (if I wanted to get exactly to my house by cab, which I normally don't, I'd have to say next to the Israeli Embassy. Street names in Amman mean nothing, as most were created last year.), and to get to the university every morning I walk 10 minutes to the main road, take a cab for about 5 minutes to get to where I can pick up a bus, then take the bus to the university (total time: about 40 minutes). Then repeat to get back. This is for a distance that, if I had a car, would take about 10 minutes tops. However, this morning I discovered that, by taking a taxi from a slightly weird point, I can get to the university directly from without needing the bus, for only 10 qirsh more (about 15 cents). So, the new policy is that I take a cab if I can't get a ride to the bus from my host family, but if I can I spend only a third as much. Basically, getting to the university is a lot like getting internet.

i am sooooo bored

Well, that's really only for this particular block of time, and even then and exaggeration slightly, but my Ramadan class schedule on Monday/Wednesday is really obnoxious. I have class from 8:50-11:20 in the morning. Then 2-3:30. This is made worse by the fact that I am the only one in the program who has this second class block. So, basically, I have decided to take over the internet in the university's language center for this period of time. The silver lining? Ramadan is (in theory) ending tomorrow. In shah Allah. At least, the country has decided it is enough to declare the national Eid al-Fitr holiday to begin tomorrow (which, apparently, is the first time in Jordan's history for this to happen. Normally, holidays starts and ends are just called as they happen). So, if the moon decides to cooperate with the national government of the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, Ramadan ends tomorrow and the Eid begins. In either case, I'm not going to class tomorrow. I'm going to the Red Sea for my birthday. Woot.

Other stuff to make up for (since I so rarely post).

1) I am switching families. Today, at 4:30. I don't know too much about the new one, other than that there are 4 of them (mother, father, 13-year-old son, 6-year-old daughter), and a very vague idea of where they live in the city. We'll see how this goes. I have pretty mixed feelings about the move, since I've grown quite attached to my current living situation, let alone the simple stress of needing to readjust to a different family and schedule. I think having kids in the house will be interesting though, and hopefully help out the language some.

2) Amman got "cold." It rained (well, the dots on the ground connected) here on Saturday (which actually is a legistics/safety nightmare, because so many of the cars here are old, so in the summer they leak oil, which boils into the burning hot road, then when it rains, it's traffic slip-&-slide!). It has since been sort of cloudy every morning, with a breeze. This was described to me yesterday by someone as "wintry," which seems to be beating a Providence winter.

3) On Saturday (despite the torrential rain in this horrible Amman winter), we had a trip down to Mount Nebo (said to be where Moses is buried), and Madaba (the Christian center of Jordan). Basically, this trip consisted of seeing a lot of mosaics (pictures hopefully forthcoming), as well as now being able to say that I've seen the West Bank. We did have really good food in Madaba though. Like, really good food. It was pretty amazing. The experience was kind of aggravating due to the fact that our guide was very into talking every single minute of the day to us, which is probably a cultural notion on what a tour should be, but one that I am not warming to. This included by the end of the day him making us translate soccer fan jokes into Arabic with him on the bus back. He kind of took teaching us Arabic to be his number one goal for the day, which is fine, but he also assumed that we spoke no Arabic, so he'd repeat everything at least 5 times, then make us repeat it back to him, which is really annoying when you want to know where the bathroom is. Anyhow, I can now legitimately say I have seen the Holy Land, which is possibly the best part of the trip.

4) Random observations of Jordan:

The buses: I try to take buses to/from the university everyday, because they're cheaper. That said, they're a pretty amazing system. They don't really have routes per se (well, the government ones do, but I've never actually bothered to take one of those), so you just ask someone when they're pulling up if it's going to where you're going. Then, the inside is normally somewhat threadbare in terms of the seats, but then will have thick, dark green, faux-velvet curtains, and often lots of black tastles hanging from the ceiling. Best buses ever.

Grammar exercises: For my class on the Qur'an, I'm currently using a Saudi textbook for 3rd grade religion, which is a very fascinating cultural experience in and of itself. Qur'anic Arabic differs significantly both from colloquial Arabic and Modern Standard Arabic (unsurprisingly, as those two have evolved from it for 1,400 years). As a result, the textbook often just needs to explain the grammar and vocabulary in the Qur'an. My favorite drill on this so far was on the emphatic (which doesn't really exist in English, but Arabic has many ways to make it, especially in Qur'anic Arabic. Basically, all it does it emphasize whatever the sentance is saying). So, my drill was just on putting two variants of the emphatic in one sentance. It would give two words, and you had to put them in the construction, "The BLANK is in the BLANK," then, "THE BLANK IS IN THE BLANK!" Same exact form, everytime. However, the words to be inserted were things like, "sinners/hell," so "The sinners are in hell." "THE SINNERS ARE IN HELL!" Or, "believers/heaven." "The believers are in heaven." "THE BELIEVERS ARE IN HEAVEN!" There was a complete page of these things. I'm not sure it helped me with the grammar per se, but I'll definitely think of where the sinners are whenever I see an emphatic from now on.

Proverbs: For our colloquial class, one of our textbooks is on phrases, proverbs and adages in the Arabic Arabs use a lot of these when they speak (eloquence is much more emphasized in Arab culture than in the US for example, and quality of speech is as, if not more, important often than what is actually said). That said, it has some pretty great examples, some of which are closer to English than others. Like, "The son of a duck is a good-swimmer," ("Like father like son"), or "Turn the jar upside-down on its mouth and the girl still resembles her mother." Some are fairly universalist, "Ignorance is its own enemy," or "Speech has a taste like food" (Watch your tongue!). Some of them though, are rather unfathomable, like my personal favorite, "A lover's hit is a raisin." I think this means something like, "Sometimes we fight with those we love as we get closer." I mostly just say it as an excuse to hit someone else in the program.

Food: Living with an Arab family has given really interesting insight into Arab eating habits. Food is always a collective affair (proverb: "The one that eats alone chokes."), so whenever something is brought out by the family, not only for meals (2 a day, breakfast and a lunch-dinner thing at about 3), but also a whole slew of snacks that last for the night, that's what I'm going to eat for a snack (and to get enough food for a day). This has led to some interesting food options, like, 9:30 pm. Whole cucumbers. Or 8:30 am. Beans. Or, 5:00pm. Sweet pancakes stuffed with cinnamon and walnuts soaked in honey (albeit better than cucumbers. The beans are pretty awesome too though.). Also, food has meaning (which it probably does in the US, but I'm too tired to think of an example). Like, serving guests coffee ("Thanks, but it's time for you to leave."). I guess that's like getting coffee in the US as a code for dating now that I think about it. I don't think we ever ply food as a means of kicking someone out though.

Ramadan: Did I mention Ramadan is supposed to end tomorrow? Cool.

updates

In case no one has noticed, getting internet in Jordan (during Ramadan) is a bit harder, so my posts have definitely been fewer and farther between. For that, I apologize, but today is a good one. Because I spent my weekend (meaning Thursday, Friday and Saturday) doing the ultimate Jordan tourism experience! Beginning with the authentic Jordanian camel ride in Wadi Rum (just like Lawrence of Arabia!), before the authentic Jordanian Bedouin tent overnight in the desert (again, just like Lawrence of Arabia!), snorkling in the Red Sea over an authentic wrecked Israeli tank-turned into a coral reef (probably not just like Lawrence of Arabia!), and then touring the authentic Nabatean ruins of Petra (real old stuff!). Well, despite all of the shmarmy "authenticity" (which is my least favorite word in the English language I have discovered), it was actually really cool to see all of this stuff, if a bit rushed for three days. Luckily, now that I know how to get to all of the places, I can go back and have a slightly more leisurely, less touristically-authentic trip later. That is, when I don't have tons of homework (all last night I fought with the internet in Gloria Jean's cafe to research the burial of infant girls in Jahiliya [pre-Islamic] Arabia. Christina can vouch; she accidentally skyped me during this battle]. By in large though, everything is going well (although my stomach this morning decided it wanted to hold its first revolt againt my body by suddenly throbbingly hurting. Nothing some pepto bismol and immodium can't cure...). I must say though, in the last two days I've seen enough sunrises over deserts to last for a few days... I need some sleep.

And the reward:

http://www.new.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2100192&l=1d43a&id=1013451

http://www.new.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2100199&l=1b999&id=1013451

That's right, so many photos they didn't fit into one album.

a week in review

With everything that has been going on (see last several entries), I actually feel like I have been quite negligent in writing to everyone about the mundanities of life here (I may have just made up that word, but it seems appropriate, and my English language skills aren't so hot right now, so we'll all just have to make due). In that spirit, here are a couple of my recent musings on Amman that have yet to make it into a typed version. In no particular order, I present:

1) Outside of my host family's house, there is a row of trees and plants. One fig, three almond, about six olive, and three massive grape vines. All of which are currently covered in their respective products. Deserts do grow stuff.

2) Two days ago, Chris and I were talking to Nawwal (our host mother) who kind of opened up to us for the first time, assisted no doubt by the fact that 'Issa's medical condition has stabilized and that he is back at home looking better. She informed us that we're really good students because we're clean. Coming from a Jordanian woman, this compliment is pretty amazing. Jordanian houses are completely cleaned from top to bottom everyday (like, moving furniture to scrub the floors, removing all the pictures to wash the walls, etc.). She also showed us the information on the previous students they've hosted, including the discovery of the host family briefing on "So an American is going to be living with you..." Highlights: "If your American student wants to be alone in a room periodically, it is not because they are angry or sad. Americans are used to occupying space alone." Or, "Many Americans are not used to be touched often, especially males, so find a manner of greeting your student that both of you are comfortable with."

3) New program. The new program is actually going really well for me (aside from the fact that I had to redo most of the same orientation activities, just in formal Arabic this time). I feel like I have a lot more in common with the majority of the group, which is also much smaller (9 students), and Chris has switched programs as well, so even if I have to move, we'll still see each other plenty. Also, as we got back our new placement exams yesterday (much more difficult than the previous), it was a nice symbolic confirmation of the fact that I'm in the right place. Through whatever act of higher power, I got the highest placement score on this exam, and will not only be taking the History of Jordan and Arabic Literature in Arabic this semester, but Dr. Najeh (our program's coordinator, and an amazing person) said he wanted to do a special class with me, which, per my previous request, will probably be religious/Qur'anic Arabic. So yeah, good decision, even if I don't get concentration credit for it.

(re)orientation: the remix

http://www.new.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2098976&l=46f83&id=1013451

go for it.

internet: the priceless commodity of my culture

Good morning everyone out there,

I am currently waiting for my new program's orientation to begin (I guess that's re-begin for me at this point), and am using the wireless of their hotel's lobby shamelessly.  Jordan's internet infrastructure does not quite live up to what we are used to as Americans for whom instant communication and accessibility seems to have become less of the privilege that it probably should be, and more of a necessity.  In the spirit of Ramadan all around me, I am trying to reorient (the word just keeps finding applicability in my current life) myself less to the things I think I need (e.g. the internet, food, water, etc) and more to the things in life that really matter.  Not always the easiest of exercises, but I have begun to appreciate the insightful depth of this particular tradition of fasting: it's not about denial of the self, or even willpower, but rather a conscious observation that the things that seem so important in our day-to-day lives might actually be just the opposite.  Yes, we do need to eat, drink, and communicate, but how often?  How much of our lives can and should be spent in pursuit of a relationship with these instead of cultivating other relationships (e.g. family, friends, or, most importantly especially within this culture, God)?

I leave you with this thought today as it has been in my head a lot over the past few days.  For anyone who has not heard, my family is now struggling with a sudden and unexpected death.  I can't offer any advice, and I can't offer any real consolation, although I wish I could.  All I can offer is my own experiences, which right now are very much reflected in the sentiment that there is plenty in life that is more important than food and water.

new study abroad

Hey all,

So, my biggest update is that I have (somewhat) been kicked out of my study abroad program in Amman for one of the stranger reasons under the sun: I was too good at Arabic. On my Arabic placement exam last Sunday, apparently the top level class was supposed to place within about 70-75%, which the rest of the class did. Somehow, I got a 92%. Go State Department Critical Language Scholarship! The downside to all of this is that they no longer really had a way for me to take Arabic within in the program, so the director and the language director asked me to move into the intensive, Arabic-only program. Which means that starting on Sunday, when a new group gets here (though this one is significantly smaller, 7 people instead of 69), I'll be going through another orientation (week three) with them, before signing away my right to English-language communication for the second time this year, and enrolling in all-Arabic classes. Unfortunately, this also means I have to move from my current, very nice family, as Chris and I have both been living there, and apparently he contaminates my Arabic-only-ness or something, so I'll be finding a new family, as well as meaning that I probably won't be getting any credit from Brown towards my degrees when I get back. Looks like spring semester will yet again involve taking five classes.

ramadan begins

Hey everyone, so I have a bunch of updates, which hopefully will be correctly formatted. I have yet to find a convenient wireless spot, so I am using an internet cafe computer, which has an obsession with punction moving from right to left, which creates interesting looking English sentances from time to time. So, we'll see how that turns out.

Anyhow:

1) I moved in with a family, who live in an area very near the university, that no resident of Amman has ever heard of (Hay al-Baraka), but it still a very nice taxi/ bus commute (nowhere in this city can be reached on foot by virtue of the heat and the traffic and the hills). They are a Christian family (somewhat split between Orthodox and Catholic) and at home lives Nawal (the grandmother, aged 61), Issa (the grandfather, aged 71) and Carole (one of their daughters, 31). The other four daughters are all married and live in Amman somewhere, and their only son is off in Bahrain. So, kind of the exact opposite of my mother's family. While very nice, I have not seen much of them, as the morning after Chris and I got there (the two of us are living with them), Issa was hospitalized. He had had a stroke three months ago, and apparently his white blood cell count is very high, and, from what I understood, I think he's on dialysis. Hopefully, he'll get better in the near future. According to our resident director though, they're still very excited to have us there; it's just currently a little awkward.

2) The university: We also getting ready to finally start classes next Sunday, so we've had plenty of tours of the university and orientation stuff going on. Yesterday was Arabic placement test day, where I learned that this might not be the right program for me in terms of Arabic lessons, as my Arabic appears to be a lot stronger than most of the other participants, and my oral exam kind of degraded into a rambling conversation about what I, as a Religious Studies major, thought of the Da Vinci Code, followed by an affirmation that I speak fine. So, yeah, we'll see what I can do to get a little better Arabic practice in academically, but my current thought is trying to find another Qur'anic memorization class.

3) The city: Amman is huge and entirely made of light yellow sandstone buildings, and is very modern. That about sums it up. It's also really hot. However, there are a lot of very cool little areas for one to find here, like the Arab sweet store Habiba, where the best kunafa of my life is on sale (it's like melted mozzerella cheese with dough on top, pistachios, and rosewater, which is actually delicious despite that description. also, i have no idea how to spell that cheese). Getting it is also an experience as the store is about four feet wide, and filled with tons of people. Luckily, as always, a kind old Jordanian man pitied me and helped me understand how to get some, for which I profusely thanked him in Arabic.

4) Ramadan: Ramadan mubarak everyone! The holy month began this morning, meaning that all Muslims, from before sunrise to after sunset do not eat, drink (including water and medicine), or smoke. In fact, said activities are henceforth illegal here on the street, so I am also engaged in my Ramadan fast, even though I live with a Christian family, until the cannons fire tonight letting everyone know that the fast has ended. This continues for a month.

So yeah, that's what I'm up to. Once I work out a way to do wireless, we can start skyping/ I can put up some pictures again!

amman

Hey guys,

So internet in Jordan is pretty expensive and hard to find, but before I leave this hotel, which will have some of the best internet I'm going to get here, I wanted to just put up some pictures yesterday from the Roman ruins of Amman.  These are of the Citadel and the Roman Theatre, back from when Amman was Philadelphia.  I'll try to post more later, including stories, but in the meantime, know that I am well, orientation is boring, but when I'm free to taxi through the city it's great.  Especially because Jordanian is much closer to formal Arabic than Moroccan, so by virtue of geography, my skills have become radically better.  Anyhow, enjoy.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2097552&l=9b1ba&id=1013451

on the road again...

Well, that was a much-appreciated short break, but, equally thankfully, I am back to the traveling game.  Now, Jordan.  But first, I'd like to just put one post-Morocco thought in here.  After finishing up with my Critical Language Scholarship, I have to say that while the program was a rather odd experience to go through, I really got a lot out of it.  I feel that my Arabic skills are vastly improved, and all for free.  So if anyone out there from the program is reading this, expect to see my application again for next summer.  To anyone interested, apply, it's great.  Just don't steal my spot.  Now, seriously, Jordan.

Stories about getting here.

1) In the Toronto airport, the news was playing a story about a new crime epidemic to hit our north-of-the-border neighbors: someone keeps stealing exotic animals from zoos and returning them several weeks later.  Currently a snake is missing.

2) Frankfurt airport is obsessed with the Finnish air guitar olympics.  I am sick of seeing that clip repeated at me for 8 hours.

3) Customs are oddly semi-optional in the Amman international airport.

Stories about being here:

1) After really not sleeping for the night (I got here at 2 in the morning, in bed by about 3:30, asleep by about 5, then up at 8), went to the center of the city this afternoon.  Amman is very-modern city wrapped around Roman ruins (everywhere) and is horribly hilly.  I have to say that the hardest thing about getting around, other than not being on the top of my game, is that I kept beginning to speak in Moroccan colloquial whenever I opened my mouth.  However, despite this slight hesitation whenever I started speaking, after a conversation or two I significantly improved at reverting entirely to speaking in formal Arabic.  So, I may have sounded like a dubbed cartoon or Mexican soap-opera, but at least I figured out the language.  I can't wait until I can get some Jordanian colloquial down and speak like a foreigner, but at least not a television personality.

P.S.  For any of those concerned/ out of the know, my sister, Krystyna, is about to start her first triathlon.  Just a reminder to anyone interested to make a donation that goes towards curing cancer (what a good cause) as well as helping her out.  Check it out: http://pages.teamintraining.org/nca/nattri08/kwamboldt.

show's over.

That's it folks.  Show's over.  Go home.  That's what I'm doing tonight.  Been a pleasure entertaining you all this summer, but we're done.  See you all in person soon.

Tune in next week for...

-Readjustment shock.

-Packing, the remix.

-The Arab East.

more photos.

The last photo album has been slightly updated.  It now even includes photos of the olive man hamming it up for the camera.

grande finale of a weekend

For those of you who are unclear as to the exact details of my summer stay here: recap.  I leave Morocco on very late Friday night for Denver, before I continue on to Jordan on August 21st.  It's sort of shocking to me that my time here is already almost up.  I'm excited to see all of you guys, but there's plenty more for me to see and do here I feel.  For instance, in the Tangier medina, through some of the narrow, twisting alleys that often become narrow, public staircases winding around buildings, there is the Prince's Center for the Blind.  If there is any one building in Morocco that I would love to become my thesis, it is this center.  What do they do?  How do the blind even find it?  Mental note to return.

Moving past this nostalgia for a country I have yet to leave, let me reorient this back to physical things that I have done, not those I don't have time to discover.  For this weekend, Joe and Daniel convinced me (thankfully) that I should leave Tangier for Chefchaouen.  Good idea Joe.  While it took us about 3 hours worth of sitting in the backs of stuffy, hot, crowded shared taxis to get there (always more taxis), once in Chaouen, I realized what a special place this one little mountain town has become for me.  In our two days there, it seems less like we did anything that we wanted to do, as opposed to just bouncing in between conversations with locals and being drawn into discussions and activities before finding another.  Seeing the sacred spring where locals still come to wash out their laundry and rugs, then hiking up to the now semi-ruined Andalusian mosque's minaret in the mountains above Chaouen, looking down on a city that seems bright blue close up, and deep orange from a distance, or even just having someone explain how Berbers write through carpets to us, I realized how much I really have been able to see while here.  As cheesy as it may sound, thanks Condi Rice.  Seriously, this trip, by being oddly well-funded, has really just let me use my own money to wander around, and try to exploit my free plane ticket to the extreme.

As a final thought, whenever I travel, I always have semi-obsessive thoughts about how I'm portraying my country abroad.  Can I break the stereotypes of the loud, obnoxious, blundering American and their dominating viewpoints and politics, or on some level, are all of my actions either just a drop in the bucket, or, even worse, actually conforming to this view?  In some small way, this exquisitely blue city gave me a little view into what I'm actually doing here.  Before leaving Tangier, Emily asked me to visit the Hat Man one more time for her to pick something up, so we found ourselves on Friday night back in that narrow cave of a store, lit entirely by candles and the glow of the hash-pipe of its proprietor.  When I walked in, and greeted him in Arabic, the first thing he asked was, "Are you American?" clearly not remembering me from before.  I answered, and inquired as to how he knew.  "Americans, when they come here, they always speak Arabic.  Just, oh, maybe three, four weeks ago, there was an American man like you and a woman who studied Arabic in Tangier, and they spoke amazing Arabic too."  This story oddly resonated of a description of Emily and I (although I believe he gave our linguistic ability more credit than mine at least deserves), however, my point being, that even if in the mind of this delightful, if drugged, man, Americans are now the tourists who speak Arabic, that's doing pretty good for changing stereotypes.  At least, with that anecdote, I feel a little better about what I've been up to here before returning to Colorado.

Also, pictures:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2094563&l=98d33&id=1013451

the hammam

There are few things that I am willing to say are cultural universals, few things that I would say are shared by all human cultures all the time, be they values, practices, or even objects.  That said, there is one constant I am willing to wager.  Whenever you want a taxi, they are nowhere to be found.

To explain, tonight Joe, Matt and I decided to brave the hammam of Morocco.  The public bath-house.  We knew which one we wanted to go to, but, not knowing exactly where it was, wanted to take a cab there.  After vainly trying to flag one down for the three of us for about half and hour, we decided to split up and share taxis with others in an effort to get there at some point.  So, Joe and Matt get in the first cab I hail, and I wait for a second to take.  This takes a few more minutes of me looking like a crazy white man in the street, which I suppose is exactly what I was, but that's beside the point.  Eventually, I get to the bath-house, which is somewhat in the middle of nowhere in the suburbs of Tangier, with Matt and Joe nowhere in sight.  I walk inside, which is clearly not a very foreigner-visited locale, where the attendant starts talking to me.  Now, I knew that this question would either get me the precise information I wanted, or make him think I was insane depending on the answer.  "Have you seen my friends?"  Naturally, he had not, so, I was stuck trying to explain that I was looking for two white people who resemble myself.  No such luck.  After waiting outside for them for another few minutes, I give up and decide to wait inside.  The building was clean, but shabby, and smelt slightly of the gallons of sweat that must be released there everyday.  Hammams are gendered, so inside there was a group of Moroccan men in bathing suits looking quizzically at me.  I must have obviously been failing at whatever one is supposed to do in the lobby of a hammam, because pretty quickly I was in possession of a cabinet of advisors and amused onlookers trying to explain to me where to put my shoes and how to fill a bucket properly.  I needed all the help too.  Behind the first room of the hammam, there was a large, metal door, behind which one enters a series of humid, scalding halls with low, rounded, tiled ceilings that connect to each other until in the final, hottest room one wall holds a fountain of the boiling water.  At this point, I was starting to consider the implications of going through my hammam experience alone, before going back into the main room just to see if Matt and Joe were somehow there.  They came ten minutes or so after I had gotten there.  We entered the steam rooms.

Before going to the hammam, we had run to the market quickly to buy the necessary supplies: soap and scrubbers.  The scrubbers are little, rough glove-like cloths, but the soap is another thing entirely.  It is sold in spice stalls, and comes in a huge, plastic bin.  It is dark amber-brown, and smells strongly of musk.  If I didn't know better, I would assume it was whale-fat.  These were the key ingredients to the hammam ablution.

So in we go, soap and scrubbers in hand, as I fill my bucket with the spout indicated by one of my bemused onlookers.  The water is scaldingly hot, and the room like a bikram yoga room, but hotter, wetter, and with a more pungent odor.  The general idea of the hammam is that using the soap, water, and scrubber, you slowly remove all of your skin in an OCD-esque fashion, often with a group of friends assisting each other in rubbing off each others' epidermis.  When in Rome...

Back in the compound now, while still slightly dizzy (drinking lots of water, I promise), I am feel pretty great.  Enough so to possible even brave another cab ride before I go back stateside.

living russian literature in north africa

So, lots to tell in this post, and not a ton of time to do so (I have my Qur'anic memorization in half an hour).

1) In an ongoing attempt to satisfy Aunt Joy's curiosity, there are some new photos up of the Tangier sights (smells, sounds perhaps as well).  Link forthcoming.

2) For those of you looking for reading material, Disorienting Encounters, the Travels of Muhammad as-Safar was very good.  I would highly recommend it.  It is Muhammad as-Safar, the secretary of the ambassador of Morocco to France in the 1800s.  He describes his trip to Paris.  Highlights: cultural differences between Morocco and France, the description of the toilets of France, and why it is important to talk to French people's wives.

3) This weekend, I had another trip to Asilah, the seaside art town, which is currently getting ready for its festival.  After a little tour, we were set free (got some people presents on the State Department's dime), then I spent the night with two other people in Asilah in order to go to the beach.  However, as my planned roommate (and Tangier roommate- Matt) decided to be sick (well, maybe not decided, but it's harder to hold an unreasonable grudge without him having made the conscious decision to be sick) I had to get a room to myself.  My immediate reaction to seeing the room that I was going to be spending the night in was that it was the room in which Raskolnikov plotted his murders.  A small bed, blue chair, sink, and shelf with a bar under it with a lone coat-hanger as a closet, all in about 5 feet by 8 feet space.  It was clean, but shabby.  I did not plan any murders to become extraordinary in it however.  Maybe other murders, but not ones for greatness in any case.

However, in this hotel, we also met Lena, an NYU grad working in New York vacationing solo in Morocco for two weeks who then accompanied us around the city that night, where, as part of the upcoming festival, we witnessed the white-washing of the murals I had so enjoyed in Asilah the first time so they can be repainted this year.  I am sure there is some profound statement in this about the transience of human work and art.

The next morning, we went back to the Ramilat beach, this time though, because there was no cab that would take us for a reasonable price, we went by horse cart.  Keep in mind that Morocco is an incredibly car-filled country, and they almost hit me all the time outside the school, but no, we missed them all and took a horse cart.  We took an hour long horse cart ride to the beach, driven by a man named Jamal (which means Beauty) who kept talking to me about the difference between hash and weed in Darija (apparently it is very clear to others that I know nothing about this subject, and they feel the need to enlighten me often on it).  Quite the experience.

4) Photos.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2092985&l=f6999&id=1013451

Corrections

That last post probably should have ended with the words "sipping fresh orange juice" and not sitting it.  Although the later is possible more (magnetic) poetic, it was not exactly the meaning I was after.  Amazing what writing while sick can do.

you haven't really lived in a place until...

... You are horribly sick in it.  I have now lived in Morocco.  Actually, by horribly sick, I don't mean malaria or anything; I just feel nauseous and my muscles ache.  Basically, I have a cold.  That said, it has given me some perspective on the limits to my sense of wanderlust, i.e. once I feel sick, I really just want to be sitting on the couch in Denver.  Nevertheless, I do have some updated information on Morocco and what I've been up to, now that I'm done ranting about feeling ill.

1) On Friday, went out to dinner with the program's Moroccan coordinator, who is a fascinating anthropology PhD candidate from Utah, who has been working in Morocco for ages now.  It's not too often that during dinner someone can reply to someone's concern about where their Arabic studies will take them, "Please, I'm a Mormon girl from Utah who married a Muslim."  Yeah, Becky's pretty great.

2) As a result of this dinner, we got back too late for the gate to be open.  After surveying the compound, unable to find a guard, we tried to jump the fence.  Naturally, right when I reached the top of the gate (I went first), a guard found us.  I was politely informed to get down while he opened the gate.  Luckily, I have abandoned my embarrassment in America.  It's on a vacation of its own.

3) In Tetouan on Saturday, we met one of the 14 remaining Jews of the city accidently in a bazaar.  After being told how small and marginal the Jewish population had become, it seems rather ironic that three of us should stumbled into one of the 14.

4) Reading at a sea-side café at sunset while sitting fresh orange juice is exactly as great as it sounds.

listening comprehension: or what i understood from the last 15 minutes of a mexican telenovella dubbed into arabic

(scene 1, a man and a woman, both in their 40s, sitting in a living room)

woman:  I hate ––––.  I really hate him/it.  Sometimes I want to –––– him.  (I notice that she is holding what is either a knife or letter opener in her hand).

man:  I ––– ––– –––– ––––––– ––––––.

(doorbell rings)

man:  I'll go.

woman:  Yes, go, you always go!  (angry) –––– –––– you –––– –––– ––––!

(scene changes, see a man slinking around in the shadows of a palatial home while dramatic music cues.  we see the man from the previous scene in the lit area open a door.  man with glasses enters.)

glasses:  Hello.

man:  Hello.

glasses:  Hello lady of the house.

woman:  (Angry yelling)

(scene 2.  two young women in a large room that looks like the study in clue.  one is flustered and attractive.  the other has frizzy hair, is pudgy, and clearly sassy.)

attractive:  Where is he?  Do hear what I am telling you?

sassy:  Yeah I hear.  I just ––– –––– ––––!  (probably very sassy)

attractive:  That's it!  I'm, I'm going to call him!  (instead of getting out, say, a phone, instead walks over to the window.  we see a close-up of what appears to be a private residence imitating the white house lit entirely in bluish-purple, where a man and a woman are conveniently getting out of a car and going up the stairs to the front door.)

attractive:  I can't believe my eyes!  I can't believe –––– –––– he –––– –––– –––– me! (random man walks in)

random man: Hello!

attractive:  I can't believe –––– –––– –––––!  She saw everything too!  (points to sassy, who has somehow in the last two seconds nuzzled under random man's arm.  she looks up at him knowingly).

(scene 3, a opulently dressed woman lounges on a bed.  she is around 40.  another woman stand by.)

opulent:  Where is he?  Where is Carlo?  Where did he go?

woman:  –––– –––– okay.  (probably consoling)

(door opens, man and young woman walk in)

man:  Mother, this is my special female friend I want you to make acquaintance with.

young:  Hello ma'am.  (walks over and kisses opulent on the cheek.  opulent glares.)

young:  Haven't we met before?  (dramatic music queues as opulent's expression becomes fiercer.)

(show ends with credits as a woman dances in the rain with happy music)

fact checking

Never wanting the journalistic quality of my student travel blog to be questioned, I offer the following corrections:

1) The Roman Graveyard did indeed contain a series of Punic rock tombs.

2) As Melodee (who has become one of my few regular readers of the programmers) has informed me, Morocco (de facto Chefchaouen as well) does not trade in weed as its major export; it is in fact hash (the difference being between what part of the marijuana plant is being consumed – the leaves versus the resin from the buds).  I am assured that Melodee has an entire scholarly work to her name on this topic.  I'm taking her word for it.

the مقهى

photos:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2091358&l=0edf3&id=1013451

the best place to play parcheesi in the world...

... Is Cafe (مقهى) Hafa in Tangier.  Because that is where I learned how to play tonight.  With two Moroccans, two Americans, bean-pea soup, and sweet tea with mint and wormwood.  At sunset.  Overlooking Gibraltar.  With the breeze from the Atlantic and the Mediterranean.  Oh, and I learned what Portugal looked like, because you can apparently see it from Tangier as well.

To flesh out this story a little better, one of the most famous cafes in Tangier is مقهى حافة (Cafe Hafa), where Paul Bowles (and friends!) wrote many of their works.  Turns out, as I learned on Sunday when I went there the first time (of what will hopefully be many), that this is because it is located in the beautiful rich neighborhood of Tangier, and located entirely on outdoor terraces on a cliff overlooking the ocean, the sea, Spain, and yes, even Portugal.  And on the way there, when we stopped out what turns out is called the مقبرة رومية (the Roman graveyard), which is a rocky outcropping looking out on the same view and where I feel that at some point some dead Romans were probably found in order to explain the name (confirmation of this theory pending).  Anyhow, while eating popcorn purchases from an old man for 1/7 of a dollar, one of the Moroccans who works with us at the school just happened to come by, and, long story short, Khalil and his friend, 'Adl, invited us to the cafe for Parcheesi.  For the record, Parcheesi is a baffling game that makes no sense, and is kind of like Sorry, which, the one and only time I played it (also this year), I was also really bad at.  That said, somehow, the context made it really fun.  See above for details.

chefchaouen (is that not the greatest place name on earth?)

Okay, so this week I have indeed been up to interesting things; I've just been bad about relaying them.  That means this post might be a little epic.  So take a minute and think, "Do I really have time to read this rant right now?  Am I caffeinated?  How much do I care?"  Then begin:

1)  On Thursday, we had a scheduled lecture with Vanessa Paloma, a Fulbright scholar currently in Morocco studying the Northern Moroccan/Andalusian Jewish folk music at the Tangier American Legation Museum.  A couple of cool details on her lecture:

-Judaism in Morocco is actually pretty unique worldwide, with a syncretic practice that in many ways reflect the mystic Sufi traditions of Morocco (including more animist practices like shrine pilgrimages).

-A Brief History of Jewish Morocco:  According to Paloma, the first records of a Jewish population in Morocco are from over 2,000 years ago, meaning that there easily could have been a Jewish population before that.  However, during the Islamic conquests, additional Jewish groups immigrated as fighters within the Islamic armies (all that nonsense about Islam not tolerating other religions has some historical accuracy flaws).  These two groups by and large did not mix, and are still separate today.  Then, after 1492, the Andalusian Jews and Muslims were expelled from Spain, and many traveled to Morocco.

-The Jewish population of Morocco is once more on the move, with the number of Jews in Tangier currently at about 100, most of whom are over 60.  Where to?  Contrary to what many might assert, most of the population is not going to Israel, but rather to Venezuela.

-Jewish folk music in Morocco is mainly in Spanish, or a hybrid language that consists of Arabic root words being conjugated in Spanish and written in Hebrew characters.  This music draws from both Spain and Morocco, as well as Talmudic chants.  One can only hope that it will continue to grow in Venezuela.

-King Muhammad the Sixth of Morocco (currently ruling) is very pro-Jewish, like many of his predecessors.  The famous quote dealing with modern Jewish history and Morocco was uttered by then-Sultan King Muhammad the Fifth when Morocco was occupied during World War II.  When asked for a list of the Jewish residences of Morocco, he replied, "I have no Jews, only Moroccans."  Many Moroccans therefore lament the modern exodus, as they fear a loss of what was once such a vital part of their culture.  I understand this concern, but also feel that efforts to "preserve" (e.g. museum-ify) the Jewish population are also unreasonable.  If people want to leave, they should have the right to "vote with their feet" and leave.  That said, I hope current efforts to keep emigrants involved with Morocco will succeed so that the Muslim population left behind can keep in touch with the Jewish aspects of their culture.

2) Friday was the 4th (Happy America day everyone!), and we did indeed celebrate in the compound.  Despite my initial skepticism, Kory's planned party was quite a hit (and thank you Joe for cooking our food in a delicious and safe manner.  Yes, I was slightly worried about food poisoning going into this.).  We had a great dinner with watermelon, meat on hamburger buns ("hamburger" is probably a misnomer for what they were though), and even some cake.  Then Mohammad attempted to give us fireworks by throwing some rubbing alcohol on the embers of the grill.  While impressive to all, a fireball flaring up on foreign soil is a kind of weird symbol for American independence.

I do have pictures of it though.

3)  Today, we headed out to Tetouan and Chefchaouen, two of the neighboring cities of Tangier (the later being 2.5 hours away).  

-For Tetouan, we had a very nice guided tour by the second-class's teacher Radouan through the Medina.  However, the notable part was the Tetouan traditional art school.  To preface, I am dropping out of Brown and forsaking my Ivy League education and diploma to come to this school for 7 years and learn how to carve wood.  It was amazing.  The building is beautiful in and of itself, and the school itself specializes in the 5 traditional crafts of Tetouan, zellij tile work, wood carving, mother-of-pearl inlay, brass work, and weaving.  I want to come here and learn to make awesome wooden things.  However, as soon as I realize the impossibility of myself fulfilling this plan, I would like to point out that there is a picture of a desk made at this school that would make a very nice graduation present to me when I finish Brown by any interested parties.  Please?

-Chefchaouen was (literally) a horse of a different color.  The city is blue.  Like, whitewashed but bluewashed instead which is a million times more impressively beautiful and in the mountains and kind of like the Moroccan version of Santa Fe.  Except there are more Europeans who come there for marijuana.  It turns out Chefchaouen is actually Morocco's largest exporter of weed as well (which, in turn, is Morocco's largest export in general).  For us, that really just meant the hilarity of walking into this really famous hole-in-the-wall hat store that's been in this one family for years where all they do is knit things called "The Hat Man."  While this life might seem horribly boring to the sober among us, while I was talking to the delightful owner while the three people I was with were outside, he (already clearly altered) took out his kif (marijuana) pipe, and starting smoking more.  Then exclaimed as a cat walked in, "!الحيوان هو رمز السلام" (The animal is a sign of peace!) and started laughing and welcoming us profusely to his store/town/country again.  Needless to say, this man was a fascinating glimpse into how Moroccan small town life is different than American small town mountain village life.  So, while none of us were about to join in the town's substance-festivities, we thoroughly enjoyed watching them from afar.  And buying some hats from this man.  Someone will have a souvenir.  

Wandering around the rest of the city was also incredibly relaxing, even when removed from the smoky interior of the shops for the soft blue glow that radiates down all the small streets.  Should anyone ever go to Morocco, I would sincerely recommend this almost ethereal city (which I am sure many of the inhabitants perceive as incredibly otherworldly).

4) Lastly,

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2090912&l=900ed&id=1013451

Alas, I don't have a shot of the hat man.  I'll see if anyone else got one.

gum in the medina

I guess this is, above all else, a self-validation for myself, for me to continue to do what I am currently doing, but I may as well share it with all of you anyhow.  Maybe it's interesting for someone other than my own inflated ego.

This afternoon, I went out with three other people to go down to the aswaq around the Medina, as well as just to get out of the compound.  It's kind of amazing how much cabin fever I get on a daily basis here, even though I'm on a fairly large campus with 28 other people with whom I can talk whenever I please.  Despite this fact, I have found I have the compulsion to leave here at least once a day for a significant amount of time, most of which ends up being spent in the Medina, as it is my favorite part of Tangier.  Anyhow, today, I went out with three people who haven't really been in the Medina much.  This, in an odd sort of way, became a kind of pop quiz for me within the city: can I really navigate from the Petit Socco with its wafting marijuana smoke of old men to the tip of the Qasbah facing Gibraltar?  Would any of the stores I visit periodically remember me?

Sometimes when learning a new language or studying somewhere far away, there are moments when you realize how far you still need to come, moments in which the progress that you've made is revealed to be as trivial as it actually is.  There are moments when you realize learning one word won't really help you go too much farther than you could go before.  I am happy to report that tonight was not one of those moments.  Tonight was one of the brash and triumphant moments when you feel like you've conquered some unknown foe (perhaps a Phantom Tollbooth-styled demon of ignorance) and passed through some imposing gate into the land of milk and honey.  Needless to say, tonight I feel inordinately proud.  And while I know that such a feeling will pass, and in time I will realize once more how out-of-place I am here, I am trying to actually indulge my vanity and bask within this feeling.  A little confidence one day goes a long way towards pushing through the more challenging ones.  Hence the ego tonight.

Getting into the Medina, I realized how comfortable I've actually become in this city.  Not only can I now twist through the alleys of the Medina and roughly know where they'll come out, but I actually know what's in each one.  I'm no longer navigating by cardinal directions and the location of distant traffic noises; I'm walking past that store selling pastries, and this cage full of yellow parakeets.  Most impressively, as we began to chat up two guys in a store, I realized that, despite all I don't know, I can hold a conversation.  I can hold a conversation without saying, "I didn't get that."  It doesn't even need to be a conversation taken straight from the book.  We began talking about Tangier, and why I was here, what I thought of Morocco, whether or not I'd die of the heat, is Arabic hard?, had I seen this film from about 6 years ago where these kids are stuck in this haunted house and can leave the ghosts until they read this book and it's in a bunch of languages and Arabic's the last one but luckily one of them can read it and they all escape, no? well it's a good film, and where are you from by the way?

Which is were I've been going with this whole entry I suppose.  Prior to today, I was answering this sort of thing with a "Where do you think I'm from?" trying to catch people off-guard for the Arabic-speaking American.  Now I've learned a better word though.  I am a مسكة (miska), which, in the bazaar-parlance of encoded sales drops, is how one signals an American customer.  Literally, the gum-chewer.

As I said before, sometimes there are days when one extra word doesn't seem to make a difference, but today was not one of those days.  Today, I liked not needing to apologetically explain I'm American, but rather jokingly own the stereotype, gesturing to my mouth and saying, I'm a gum-chewer.  And for tonight at least, I feel like that one little word was opening some doors.

hafiz and courtesy of

Just a few updates, though none quite as photogenic as my trip to Asilah (if you haven't seen the photos, I strongly recommend them, as do others.  More on that later).

1) So, one of my teachers, Bouchra (the teacher of small children) has started a Qur'anic memorization class (or حفظ ) for a few of us that meets twice a week.  It's by far my favorite activity here, and so far we have memorized two Sura (albeit of the shortest Surat).  They are Sura-t-al-'Asr (سورة العصر ) or the Sura of the Age/Evening (those are interestingly enough the same word in Arabic) and Sura-t-al-Kaffiyin (Sura of the non-Believers).  While I'm a long way from becoming a حافظ, Hafiz, a memorizer of the Qur'an, it's a start.  When I get back, you should ask me to recite.  I'm hoping to remember these for a while.

2) A lot of people here have been complimenting me on my photos.  Apparently I take a good photo.  Maybe I'm just feeling sentimental, but I would like to thank Bill Z. of D'blick studios for that one.

seaside photos

Oh yeah...

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2090162&l=02d12&id=1013451

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2090164&l=35313&id=1013451

everybody's working for the weekend

I've been up to a fair amount in the last few days, but I'll at least touch on the highlights before I go to bed exhausted (which will also be explained).

1) Thursday night, three of us went out to Cinema Rif in the Medina to see the Moroccan film Argana, which was entirely in Darija, with somewhat worthless French subtitles (I wasn't wearing my glasses, and can't read and listen at the same time anyhow).  The movie was mostly based around a young man coming back to his village in the mountains of Morocco to discover that it's being financially oppressed in a neo-colonial empire headed by the man who appeared to be both the plastic-junk salesman at a roadside both as well as the mayor.  Anyhow, to get back at him, this man starts a labor organized production of Argan oil (a nut oil from the Rif), and, although he looses his leg, ends up righting the ills of the town.  Hurrah!  Also, the villain's henchman drank a lot and smoked a lot of marijuana, in a sort of Bill and Ted's comedic break style.  The best part of the film however was this creepy old woman who would periodically look intensely at the camera, and then say cryptic things about the weather.

2)  Yesterday, I ran out of my program money.  For the first time this whole trip, the US taxpayer was not paying for what I was doing, and I had to go to an ATM.  Naturally, I manage to pick the one ATM in the entire city that is entirely in Arabic.  So, going into this endeavor, I have these worries about the many warnings we received about how Moroccan ATMs will always eat your card, and yadda yadda yadda.  I would like to say that I successfully navigated this financial transaction in Arabic.

3)  I accidently bought a souvenir for someone yesterday, because I was looking at it in a store, and the owner came and out of curiosity I asked him how much it costed.  He told me 100 dirham (7 dirham is a dollar).  I didn't have immense interest in it, but thought I'd try out my bargaining skills, as I needed to hone them a little, so I started ridiculously low (30 dirham), and he scoffed, went to 85, and I said thanks but no thanks, and left.  As I was walking back down the street later, he pulled me inside and said that now, it's 60.  I said I was still fine, and made to leave again.  50.  I retold him 30.  He gave me 35.  At this point, I decided I kind of needy to get it was I was haggling over about 80 cents for what was actually a fairly nice object that was being given to me for $5.  So, someone now has a present.  Congrats.

4)  Today, Emily, Matt, Ariel and I went to Asilah, which is a small, former-Portuguese port town (by this, I mean that they founded in the 1600s, and kept control over it for about 20 years, so it's pretty much all Moroccan construction and history) on the Atlantic that's about 40 kilometers away.  We grabbed a taxi from here down there after some haggling, and had the guy take us to this famous beach there.  What we didn't know is that this beach was outside of town along a dirt road that began by winding through farmland, and ended up being a one-lane rocky road with a sheer cliff drop on one-side into the ocean.  Needless to say the beach was beautiful, and we spent most of our day there.  It even had the stereotypical Arab-world image of camels on the beach, and while I did not ride a camel, I do now have camel pictures.

After the beach, we grabbed a cab (surprisingly, and serendipitously, one can get a cab from this middle of nowhere beach) back to Asilah, which might be my favorite town in Morocco yet.  It's pretty small, but the entire town is gorgeous.  It prides itself on its arts festival every year, so the town is kept very clean, with white-washed and blue painted buildings along a sandstone rampart into the ocean.  Then, the town is also filled with murals from these festivals that just appear on random buildings.  After walking through Asilah, we had a delicious Spanish paella dinner, then grabbed a cab ride back.  And as I write this, I am borderline asleep, so photos will come tomorrow, as my computer is being kind of whiny about it.  That said, they are beautiful.  Get excited. 

i truly am my father's son...

I learned a pun today in Arabic, and it is my new favorite joke ever.  It will make no sense to the non-Arabic speaking readers of this blog, and I apologize for that, but explaining a pun in another language in which it does not work is just sad.  So I won't.  But I still apologize.  Anyhow.

-كيف الحال؟

- منصوب

This is the best joke ever.

more photos.

Aunt Joy very nicely requested that I put up some photos of a few of the places I've been describing.  While this is no means all of them, here's the few I had up on my camera from the last few days.  Enjoy.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2089840&l=5b29b&id=1013451

the one in which I become a mujtahid

So, I just wanted to tell you all some linguistic things too, which the last post (from last night technically, even though it was posted now) failed to mention.  Plenty of you probably know this, but for those who don't, I thought it was interesting.

1) In Arabic, the sun (الشمس) rises by "easting" (يشرق) and sets by "westing" (يغرب).  So, one of the words for sunset (المغرب) is also the word for Morocco.

2) Good students in Arabic are مجتهد (mujtahid) or "the one who endeavors/strives/thinks logically".  Today, I became a مجتهد, not to be confused with مجاهد (mujahid), a freedom fighter.  I confused them today.  It was awkward.

from where I get my daily bread...

What have I been up to?  Well, the most important thing, by far, is that I'm starting to get a gauge on where I go to for what.  I have the man I buy spicy olives and pickles from (who is also the one person in this country who speaks and I cannot understand a single word of what he says), the man I buy garlic-y olives from (two stalls down from the spicy olive man in the Medina market), the woman I buy Rif (the country, or, for Morocco, the Atlas.  Also, she's in the same market as the olive people) cheese from, the woman I buy bread from, the three people I buy pistachio ice cream from (yes, I need three of them, two near the Medina, one from a truck on the walk through the Ville Nouvelle), the man I buy figs (in season!) from (fruit souq, near the school), the man I buy plums from (also in the fruit souq, also in season, but not as cool as figs.  Figs are in season!), and the man I get my bottled water, yoghurt (also pistachio), and other assorted goods from (which is Muhammad, the coolest person ever.  See previous.).  Keep in mind that these are kind of daily purchases for me right now, meaning that I'm doing a far amount of walking to buy from the people I like.  Throw in coffee, tea, juice, and actual meals...

 

flickr was a terrible idea, but that's all behind us now...

So, as per my parents' request, I've been looking for a better way to show photos, as flickr has failed miserably, and discovered that this works.  Hope everyone enjoys.

1) Tangier shots:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2089077&l=59fc1&id=1013451

2) (Mostly) Fès shots:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2088568&l=391a1&id=1013451

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2088393&l=36f06&id=1013451

3) (Mostly) Marrakech shots:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2088390&l=3ca06&id=1013451

4) (Mostly) Rabat, Casablanca, and Germany shots:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2088388&l=9e1fa&id=1013451

As always with photos and the internet, please tell me if you still can't see these.

back on blogging (about ambergris!)

Hey everyone,

So, funny story.  I actually thought that I had lost my ability to get into this blog earlier today as someone had logged me out of google and I had no idea what I email/password I had used to log-in.  Luckily, that has been sorted out.  Whew.  Amazing what a lot of trial and error can accomplish.

Secondly, I thought I'd update everyone on what I've been doing.  Yesterday and today were kind of awesome.  

1) Yesterday, after doing even more homework (so much all the time!), I headed out to the city with Emily, and we walked out to the Qasba (Kasbah, or old fortress/palace of the city) at the edge of the Mediterranean, Atlantic, overlooking Spain, and went to the Qasba museum.  The museum had a terrible collection (some excavated Roman pots from a different city sitting in little exhibits of gravel with labels like "Pot, Roman") but the actual building was beautiful and contained a Roman mosaic of Venus that's about 20 by 10 feet and mostly perfectly intact in its center.

2) Then we bought a ton of food.  Like, spiced olives, and a cheese from the Rif (country interior of Morocco) that can wrapped in braided palm leaves) and ate a picnic with others out in the compound.

3) Then more homework...  sigh.

4) Today, I bought a pair of بلغة (bulgha or babouches in French), when I went out with Matt and Emily, which are a type of shoe only in Morocco and they're really thin, yellow leather and have a pointy toe.  They are my new slippers, and I am currently very proud of my ability to both learn what they are called, as well as successfully obtain a well-made pair for a reasonable price.

5) I also went to the Ensemble Artisanal today, which is the city-operated craft emporium, which generally doesn't have as good of prices or quality as you can get in the aswaq, but you can walk around and see things getting made.  We talked to the basket-weaving man (who also makes chests and purses and furniture...) for quite some time, as he was friendly, then watched someone weave for a while (though he was not particularly into our presence), and finally worked our way deep into the Medina to find Madini Perfumerie, which is the one store my somewhat preachy guidebook views as being worth visiting in this whole city.  It was pretty incredible.  Which brings us to...

6) Madini: The man who owns it has been working their his whole life, same story with his father, etc...  He was very friendly as we slowly massacred his language and poorly named the smells we wanted to sample from bottles (e.g. "LavEHndir."  "Lavender?"  Yes, lavendir."  Except in Arabic with the Arabic equivalents.)  He also brought out some bottle of something called "soundous," which smells amazing and I bought some oil of (mostly because I felt bad that we took up 40 minutes of his time, so I bought two bottles.  More on the second later.) but cannot figure out what this time actually is.  All of my google/wikipedia searches have only given me "islamicmarket.com" where a bunch of people rage about its scent without explaining what it is or what it's from.  If anyone can find out more about this, I'd love to know.  The other thing that I kind of felt a compulsion to buy was a tiny vial containing essence of ambergris.  Now, before coming here, I didn't know the full story of ambergris, but as more and more people mentioned it (it's still very popular in the Arab world), I decided I at least needed a sample as a souvenir.  So, ambergris is, in its pure form, one of the most expensive and rare materials in the world.  It is also supposedly part of Charles II's favorite dish (eggs and ambergris), and the seasoning that Satan uses to tempt people with according to Milton.  It's scent is the most coveted property, and was historically both the fixative as well as a desirable addition to most perfumes.  Wikipedia described this scent as "sweet, earthy, marine, and animalic."  It is also only obtained from one source (I feel like the novel Dune had to be referencing ambergris with its spice): sperm whale vomit.  Scientists think (how often do you get to actually begin a sentence that way?) that sperm whales produce ambergris within their stomachs to help them digest the sharp giant squid beaks that they ingest (seriously?  I couldn't make this stuff up.), then, for whatever reason, they periodically vomit up ambergris, which drifts along the ocean, until it eventually lands on some shore, where, the oily residue over time hardens into a grayish-amber gel (hence the name "amber-gris"), with this smell of heaven.  Now, ambergris' expense comes from the fact that you only can get it when you find whale vomit, which is (I want to say, "harder than it sounds," but I guess finding whale vomit already sounds hard, right?) a difficult task.  Ambergris finds only happen every few years, and the substance itself has a difficult legal status in most countries (US included) as a result of marine mammal protection legislation (although, the current legal opinion in the US is that it's probably legal since it's not really harvesting the whale to get ambergris as they just vomit it up sometimes and you don't need to even interact with the whale to get it, unless someone found a way to make whales bulimic to get more, in which case I guess it reverts to being abusive.  I digress.), and is currently not sold in the US due to this difficult legal status.  That said, in the Arab world, it was traditionally used as a brain and heart medicine, as well as a fragrance, and at good ol' Madini one can still buy a small vial of its essence.  It smells kind of like sweet leather, musk, citrus, and cinnamon.

7) After the three of us got covered in different scents, we went out to lunch at راي شارلي / Ray Charly (like, Ray Charles... yeah, I thought it was amazing too) in the center of town before tramping back here with our goodies.  To shower off (hot today, about 88).  And do more homework.

where do you think i'm from?

So, I learned today that I have a fascination with being nationality-ambiguous.  By that, I mean that when people ask me, "Where are you from?" I answer, "Where do you think I'm from?"  Walking around the Medina today, I was talking with two kids, the oldest of whom, Mustapha, was probably about 6 (they were being my guides, and afterwards demanded payment for their services, which I expected and was more than willing to offer them each a few of the government's dirham – they were nice enough kids, and I think they really did consider themselves to be doing a job for me.  And they did help me get out of the Medina.  I digress.).  Anyhow, after I started speaking to Mustapha in Modern Standard Arabic with a little Darija thrown in (I use Darija when I can, but for speaking proficiency, I am more comfortable to speak quickly in MSA), he asked me, "Are you Saudi?"

Now, while a good chunk of this can be understood from the fact that a) Saudis often do learn very good MSA and use it abroad instead of their dialect, and b) this kid is 6, I thought it was an amazing compliment.  I laughed for a minute, and said, "Do you really think I'm from Saudi Arabia?"  I then explained I was American, and talked to him for a while about the view (I was trying to figure out where the Mediterranean ended and the Atlantic began, but Mustapha's knowledge of oceanography was about what I would expect from someone asking a 6 year old me in bad English about which mountain was which in Colorado), as well as his school (his favorite subject is the Qur'an al-Karim – the holy Qur'an – and he is beginning to learn the Surat, but he hasn't gotten to my favorite yet, which is Surat al-'alaq, the Sura of the blood clot or embryo, which describes how the world was created).  His brother, Josaif (normally, Joseph in Arabic is Yusuf, so I kept getting this poor kid's name wrong) kept pretty quiet during this, and I think was a little freaked out by the three white guys trying to speak to him.  I don't blame him.  Anyhow, I guess the main gist of this story is just that I felt really good about being mistaken for a form of an Arab (albeit by a 6 year old), as, even if my language skills still seem to be incredibly lacking, it was a good reminder that MSA is kind of a second language to all of its speakers, and being able to communicate is far more important than knowing exactly what's going on grammatically.

Later, getting ice cream (pistachio ice cream and yoghurt are the best things ever and they are everywhere and are cheap and I love it), the guy asked myself, Matt, and Daniel where we were from, and after going through about 30 European nationalities (including some I had never really thought of being confused for, like Finnish... I guess there are enough Finns abroad to be confused for one), before he gave up and we told him we were American.  He was pretty surprised that Americans were trying their hand at Arabic.  Well, I suppose this program is (re-)building goodwill abroad, one Moroccan at a time, right?

As a final note to this post, here's an article that Megan brought to my attention today when I skyped her (as always, skype dates are welcome).  

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/20/world/middleeast/20inshallah.html?ref=world

It's about the use of ان شاء الله (In Sha' Allah – If God wills it) in Cairene street slang.  Not that I'm in Cairo or anything, but I thought it was a) interesting, and b) pretty much what I must sound like to anyone else.  Everything I say is followed with an ان شاء الله or الحمد الله (Alhamdullah, thanks be to God), or ما شاء الله (Ma sha' Allah, what God wishes) pretty much all the time.  Next time I answer the phone, stop me if I go into the Shahada.  I think I should still probably be avoiding using that one too much...