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...

American Legation Museum

So, today, after class (so much class), about half of the group headed out to the city to go to the American Legation Museum (where the US was first recognized as a country... by Morocco.  How many of you knew that, because I sure didn't until I began looking up Tangier?) to meet with the director, Thor Kuniholm (for those interested, check out http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_Legation%2C_Tangier ), who took us on a little tour of the building, before we ended on a rooftop view of Tangier, the Mediterranean, and yes, even Spain.  I saw Spain today.  How cool is that?  

Actually, I see Spain whenever I make it down into the center of town from the American Compound of Obligation, which is not as often as one would like, but this was really the first time I've gotten to spend any amount of time in the Medina itself.  Emily and I walked around the aswaq (anyone remember that word?) within the city itself, and I must admit it felt really good to be outside of the academic environment and actually talking to people on the street and seeing stuff again.  While I am infinitely grateful for this program and its free-ness, my one major critique is that, in trying to get their money's worth out of us I am sure, the program has also made sure that all of our time is dedicated to studying Arabic.  While I am definitely here to learn the language, it's a little weird to mostly be doing it in the compound when a whole country that speaks it is right outside the gate...  Today was a good reminder that in order for me to really get out of this what I want, I need to put special emphasis on getting away from the other Americans, as the program's a little too designed to keep us together.  Tomorrow's the weekend at least, so there should be some time to explore.

Digression: so, "explore" (استكشف for those interested) is one of the words I'm being tested on tomorrow, but it comes up a fair amount when you're in a new place and are trying to do just that.  The unfortunate part of this is whenever I tell someone what I either am about to do, want to do, or actually doing, I feel a little bit like a kid's show "Word of the Day!" type of thing, and flashing lights and a siren should go off whenever I say it.  Anyhow...

Okay, I guess I'm just going to leave that "Anyhow..." awkwardly floating, as I've realized that I don't have too much more to say tonight in addition to really wanting to go to bed.  So, good night all, and for those interested/able, there are photos up on facebook of the rooftop view today, including Spain.

السلام عليكم ورحمة الله وبركته

Salaamu 'alaikum warahmatu–Allah wa barakatuhu (translation: hi)

Why do I greet you in Arabic now you might ask?  Because I have been doing nothing else with my day.  Seriously.  Greeting people is kind of the strongest part of my language skills (followed closely by thanking and apologizing... when in doubt, I figure it's better to be impeccably polite above all else), and we as have entered the sinister Day Two of this Arabic-Only (outside of this blog) program, I'm feeling a little fried.  The workload of having class from 9-1 each day, lunch from 1-2, then six-ish hours of homework a night, in addition to needing to find a way to get myself dinner outside of the compound (my roommate and I looked up the word.  Should anyone want to know, the Arabic word for compound is المركٌب.  As in, نحن ندرس في المركٌب الأمريكي – translation: al-marakkib, as in "We study in the American compound."  Actually, we tend to call it "The American Compound of Obligation, which just so happens to be the Arabic word for homework as well.  Imagine that.  That was quite the digression on my part.) is a bit of a commitment.  Let alone the fact that I don't understand the language I'm doing all of this in.

That said, I get to do it with some great people.  My two teachers, Bushra and Abdullah 'Aziz are both great.  This morning, for his first day, Abdullah 'Aziz must have just decided that he was really only dealing with three of us in a class of ten, because he sat down next to Emily, Matt and I and didn't leave for the rest of the 1:45.  Instead, he wanted us to, in his words, "Speak Arabic like normal people.  You learned how to speak, now do it without sounding crazy."  (Actually, his words were in Arabic, but you all get the idea.)  He really did help us too, which was nice.  It's sort of nice in general to be able to review sections of the book that I have covered before in fact, because I feel like this time around I'm not quite being overwhelmed by it, but am actually able to learn both the new words and the grammar, instead of picking/choosing between the two based off of memory and time limits.  Bushra is a slightly different story.  Unlike Abdullah 'Aziz, who is a university professor, she's actually a third grade teacher in Meknes, which gives her a very different perspective on how to teach.  It's really interesting to learn from someone who teaches small children now that I'm not one, because I feel like it helps her operate with us in a very different way than intellectually everyone assumes you need to operate after a certain age.  There's less rote repetition, but also less flat-out assumption that after hearing a new word once we know what it is.  Instead, she sort of just directs the class to have conversations with itself/herself and 'Aziz, and will make corrections when necessary, but really focuses on us using the grammar and vocabulary as we see fit to talk to each other.

Also, she has taken to eating lunch with three of us from the class (actually, the aforementioned triad of myself, Matt, and Emily) each afternoon, which is a hoot.  She's very nice, and sort of soft-spoken, but has told me exactly what she thinks of my eating habits (read: I eat too fast/too little).  When I told her today that I was learning how to both talk like an Arab as well as eat like one (i.e. a lot of food for a very drawn-out lunch, which has apparently been socialized out of me), she said that in the classroom I was Iskandar al-'Athim (Alexander the Great), but didn't live up to my name at the table.  Zing.  She's also decided that apparently I need more work on this program (did I mention my 12 hour days of Arabic work?) because she felt like a few of us weren't being challenged enough or something, but unfortunately also learned how to get me to do it, which is to offer a class each week in Qu'ranic Arabic, where we'll read the Qu'ran and do traditional Qu'ranic memorization (if ever there was a way to draw the religious studies nerd in me like a moth to the flame...).  Yeah, my teachers are awesome.

We also had our first official Darija (again, that's the name for Moroccan Arabic) class today, although I was actually a little disappointed by the pace of it, possibly because after giving up my use of English, it was sort of a let down to go back to a classroom environment where things were being translated for me.  That said, I think in the long haul it'll be useful, and I hope becomes a little more rigorous.

I did need to use my Darija skills several times today, walking around the city attempting to get myself/others dinner, but, in the process of buying a sandwich had my first conversation with Moroccan children, which was pretty fascinating.  The restaurant I was in was clearly not geared from tourists (i.e. everything was in Arabic and Zach and I were the sole white people in the room), so I think this group of 3 12-year-old girls (as well as the employees) assumed when I walked in there that I'd be incompetent, so all of them were pretty shocked when I greeted the guy at the counter (more uses for greetings... well, I guess the same use for greetings, but it comes up a lot), then ordered what I wanted in Darija.  He did keep asking me though if I wanted to speak French or English, which I kept declining.  Anyhow, somewhere in this process, one of the girls came up to me as I was talking with the men behind the counter (who were also baffled as to why I'd want to learn to speak their dialect as a foreigner) and asked me, "Are you trying to speak Darija?"  I responded, "I am trying to speak Darija very much, but maybe I am not speaking very beautifully?"  To which I got, "No, I understand you.  You're just very white."  I laughed pretty hard at that, as did the guys behind the counter, then we all continued to focus intently on the vegetables whose names in Darija they were trying to teach me.  I must admit that Moroccans are by in large incredibly friendly and helpful, and have been very understanding of my inability to speak Darija, but once they understand that I'm doing it because I want to learn, and not because I think they don't know a language that I know better (I am sure that 90% of this population speaks impeccable French and strong English), they have been incredibly excited to help me learn.  Unlike other places I have travelled to where using the language on the local population is somewhat harrowing due to either their dismissive tendencies toward those who don't speak the language or their condescending demeanor to a poor-speaker, pretty much all of my attempts to speak Arabic (either MSA or Darija) here have been very gratified with great social interactions.

I guess it's all good incentive to go back into my 12 hours of work tomorrow.  Goodnight all!

P.S.  I am still trying to get this flickr thing to work.  It is the worst website ever and I would never recommend it for any use, but that said I have photos on it, and I don't know how else to show some of you them, so, the new plan is to try:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/tangier2008/

so you don't feel your tax dollars are wasted...

I had 12 hours of Arabic language classwork today.  Also, this is the only English I have used today.  Just thought everyone should know.

By the way, I have a new favorite person in the world.  His name is Muhammad and he is a little old Moroccan man who owns a store down the block and is infinitely nice to me when I go in there to buy water (literally, we are on a first name basis and call each other brothers...  Granted, you can call anyone your brother in Arabic.  Ever.  But we're still on first name basis.).  Tonight, I went in with my roommate Matt to get some water, and we ended up talking with him for about 20 minutes, as he tracked down someone to go buy Matt a notebook from somewhere else in the city to take back to him, so he could then sell it to us.  I told him I'd be there everyday this summer; I'm not sure he understood that I wasn't kidding, but it'll become clear that I wasn't when I am in there each and everyday to get water.

انا سأنام (I'm going to sleep).

Good night all.

really, i'll get you photos this time

As has been called to my attention, the photos are still unreachable, as many Tangier 2008s come up that are not me.  Mine should be in some way connected with either alexander_wamboldt@brown.edu, or arzamasrussia@yahoo.com.  Hope that helps!

photos!

Hey all,

So, I got to Tangier this afternoon after an amazing tour-de-force across the country.  Just as a quick note to all before I continue, there are photos.  They can be seen at flickr.com, where you should search for the Tangier 2008 photos.  Please let me know if this does not work, and I will try to correct it asap.  As always though, facebook, while creepy, works better, so if you have access to that, I suggest that you look (if you feel like it) at the more comprehensive collection.

As to what my last day in Fès consisted of, let me just say a lot (which has been the trend here).  First off, the dinner I had that last night was quite good, though a little Western-oriented and Orientalist (those of you who live in Denver, think like a much more authentically located and decorated Mat'am Fez).  However, the food was delicious.  That night, we also went up to our riyad's roof, where you could look into the next courtyard at the late night portion of the Fès Sacred Music Festival, as there were several Sufi Tariqas (Brotherhoods) performing their dhikr chants next door.  Naturally, we watched from the roof until much to late to get a good night of sleep (I think I have been chronically under-slept this entire trip).

The following morning, we toured Fès el-Jedid (the "new" medina of Fès, built in the 16th Century by the Saadians), which includes the royal palace and the Jewish quarter, or Mella.  For the afternoon, I ventured out into the aswaq with a group of originally 6, though we then split into two groups of three when we realized the crowds were overwhelming to move 6 people through.  Believe it or not, my sense of direction was good enough to find my way through the labyrinthian medina of Fès, then I promptly got the other two lost immediately after leaving a gate into the new city.  Sigh...  However, we did talk with several store keepers in the metal and leather markets, including negotiating a successful teapot purchase for Daniel in Arabic (probably overpaid, but at least we did it in Arabic).  After a rooftop late lunch, Emily and I went back into the souq, where we ended up talking to a particular merchant for over an hour (I won't say the type of good, suffice it to say that someone's getting a present from Fès).  Immediately after getting back, we unfortunately didn't have time to clean off (Fès is so hot!) before going out for Fassi fruit salad (a very tasty – like all Moroccan food – concoction of different fruits, fresh and dried, along with walnuts in a sweetened avocado-milk paste), then headed off to the main venue of the Sacred Music Festival, where a tariqa from Senegal (there's a lot of Senegalese pilgrims in Fès as the Sufi saint who brought Islam to Senegal is buried there) as well as the Moroccan Hamidcha were performing.  The concert was great, and as we slowing snuck our way up to the front and the sun set, it got to be an unforgettable experience.

This morning, we left for the 4.5 hour bus ride up to Tangier, where I am currently residing, soaking up all the English media I can before my Arabic-Only language pledge goes into effect tomorrow morning (this blog and whatever phone calls I manage will be my only English used for the next 8 weeks... so when that English gets really bad, you all know why).  Well, at least that'll further incentivize my staying in contact.

fes el-bali

Hey everyone,

So, in case the subject heading didn't clue you in, I am now off in Fes, possibly the most beautiful city I have ever been to.  First off, it doesn't hurt that the State Department is apparently trying to woo us not with the rod (a.k.a. "you owe the government, join us immediately after this program!"), but rather the carrot.  We're staying in the two most gorgeous hotels (and some of the most beautiful buildings I have seen in general, although much of Morocco is holding that title).  Both of them are what is known as a riyad (literally, garden), which are buildings built around a central courtyard covered in zellij (Moroccan tile work), then intricately carved plaster and cedar, all around a fountain (one of which was filled with rose petals).  Seriously, win people over by housing them in places like these.  

Next bonus for Fes – immediately upon getting here we were treated to Moroccan al-tay on the rooftop terrace overlooking the city as the sun set.  

This morning, we went out into Fes el-bali, the old city, which is also where our hotel is.  The entire city is built upon narrow alleyways and streets far to small for cars that weave in and out through it, sometimes being so built around by high adobe walls that you're actually in a tunnel.  We were led around by 'Aziz, one of the leaders of a World Bank (I know, I know) sponsored project to revitalize the medina, in charge of bringing back the traditional water system.  Once upon a time (in other words, 12 centuries ago), Fes had three distinct canal systems: spring water (drinking), river water (washing), and sewage.  Each had its own series of intricate canals that brought the water to over 3,500 fountains throughout the city (many in private homes), or, in the case of the later, took it away from the city in cedar-lined (so as to perfume it) canals.  Naturally, when the French came, they decided the whole system was worthless, stopped it, and set-up a series of lead-pipes...  Go colonialism!  Now, 'Aziz is working to restore both this system (much of the city is still stuck with the lead), while also restoring the traditional homes (like the aforementioned riyad) throughout the city.  His tour was given to us entirely in Modern Standard Arabic (though we did have our excellent guide Muhammad translating), as he lead us through one of the canal centers near Bab Jeloud (one of the city gates), then to the traditional water clock (which worked by having tightly controlled streams of water knock down a window with a ding every hour on the hour), followed by a visit to the Bou Inania Madrasa and Mosque (another center of learning in its day like the one in Marrakech), before ending at the traditional arts museum where we had tea and lunch on the roof, again over looking the city (rooftops here are fantastic).

After lunch, we headed down to Muhammad's prior place of work, an amazing (Fodor-rated as the man working there informed us, then he read his description in the guide.  All glowing I assure you) carpet store in, you guessed it, a riyad.  The building was beautiful, and the carpets really are a masterpiece of art in and of themselves (if anyone sends me $700 I'll get you one), and he was a delightfully enthusiastic character who took out piles of rugs for us and explained their craftsmanship while treating us to... more al-tay.

We then headed out to the tanneries, which smell awful, but are visually beautiful red clay wats with brightly colored dyes in them that you look out upon, before heading back to the riyad, where I write this to you.

I have uploaded some photos to facebook for those of you who can check that, and will be posting more (probably later tonight).  Unfortunately, they are about to serve dinner where I am writing from in the (yep) riyad, so I should scaddatle (how do you spell that word?).  My own dinner is apparently très chic tonight, complete with basilla (a pigeon, saffron & cinnamon pastry) complete with dancers, hakawatis (storytellers), and more (seriously, carrot!).  But, I will be writing more later (probably about that), as well as putting more photos up on facebook, as well as somewhere where all of you can get at them.

No it’s free; he’s Moroccan…

Okay, for the record, this will be posted slightly post-facto, as my hotel in Marrakech does not have free internet.

However, the time spent in Marrakech has been pretty great.  After driving down from Casablanca (Kaza in Darija, the dialect of Morocco) yesterday, we very quickly went to the Ben Youssef Madrasa, a former training school for judges in a dynasty long past, with facilities that I must admit make anything that Ivy League Brown can offer me look tacky and ill-adequate.  For the record, electricity has been retrofitted into this beautiful building, and although the rooms are certainly not air-conditioned, nor would they receive wireless internet, let’s be honest; I didn’t get those at Brown either.

Enough griping about not being able to go to a school because it closed centuries ago.  The building itself from the outside is, while nice, unimpressive.  It’s a two-storied, white painted abode building with very small windows with elaborate iron grating in them (although they’re few and far between) with a green tile roof.  However, once inside, everything is beautiful.  The floors and about five feet up on every wall are all complex zellij (Moroccan geometric tiles in blue, black, white, red, and yellow), followed by about two rows of loose floral patterned tiles that, on closer inspection, are all Qu’ranic calligraphy.  Then, the entire ceiling is ornately carved cedar.  Keep in mind that all of this is then set-up in traditional Moroccan style of having an open courtyard with a fountain in it (that still has all of these features), then two stories of rooms set up around it with similar features in them, but each is still unique).  Yeah, this school is incredible.

We were then lead on a tour of the aswaq (pl. of souq, or market.  Good Scrabble word by the by.) of Marrakech, which, while informative, was a little weird as it was in essence a gaggle of white people traveling through the souq speaking English.  A little more touristy than I normally care for.  However, on the other end of the aswaq is the Jama’ el-Fna (the Assembly of the Dead in Darija), which is the stereotypical vision of Morocco that most people have (snake charmers, acrobats, hakawatis [storytellers], monkeys placed on your shoulder, roasted sheep’s heads, and lots of food sellers).

Thankfully, last night we were also set loose for really the first time, and so with six other people I went back to the Jama’ el-Fna (and a little into the aswaq) to try out our Arabic a little.  Keep in mind that all I’ve studied is formal Arabic, not Darija, which is what I really want to learn while here.  I’d gathered a few choice words, and decided that my goal for yesterday was to conduct a successful commercial interaction.  So, while everyone else was looking at dates, I went to the orange juice cart and mustered up my Darija as he was finishing helping a very whiny French woman (she was busy accusing him of having short-changed her.  He didn’t.).  So, when I came up, I was greeted with a somewhat weary bonjour, to which I very enthusiastically replied salaam-u-‘alykum!  To which I received Qu’est-ce vous voulez?”  Un-phased, I continued with shnoo hada (What’s this?, in very colloquial Darija).  Jus d’orange.  Okay, getting a little saddened that my Darija is only getting French in return.  Bghit wahid (I’ll take one, again, very Darija).  [Big laugh] Oh, you speak Darija!  Why do you know Arabic?  All of the sudden, he fully switched over to Darija and was incredibly amused to be speaking in Darija with a white person.  I’ve since realized this is because Moroccans code-switch between Arabic and French to such an amazing degree that subsequent conversations with people, as well as observing conversations between just Moroccans, have shown me that neither party really necessarily knows what language is being used until the third or fourth exchange.  However, in this particular case, once he got that I was trying Darija, he lit up, and, even though I kept making blunders (e.g. I asked again what I was drinking, and got the answer in Darija, but then almost stole his glassware), he still chatted with me while I was drinking it, talked about why I was in Morocco and how it was nice that I was trying to learn Arabic, then, as I was leaving, he turned and told me to come back (I assumed I was accidentally stealing again) but was instead pleasantly surprised when he told me to take another cup for free.  The man in the stall behind him looked at him oddly (I think retrospectively that they were coworkers), and told him not to do that, at which point he answered, “No, it’s okay.  He’s Moroccan.”

This may have been the nicest compliment I’ll ever receive.

One of the things that has struck me about this since (I spent today in the aswaq again, which was a lot of fun.  There were only four of us, and we spent most of the time just trying to learn the names of things.  Sanuj = eucalyptus, yagiya = hat, qaqulla = cardamom, khurfa = cinnamon…  The spice stores had the least intimidating sales staff…) is that to a Moroccan, me speaking in Darija probably bears no resemblance to say, me speaking French in France or Russian in Russia.  One, my accent is unquestionably better in those languages, but two, I don’t look like I should be speaking it.  What I mean to say by this is that even those foreigners who do know Arabic are probably doing the highly formal Modern Standard Arabic.  While that alone is probably unfortunately uncommon for white people (hey, that’s why I’m here, right?), it might be nearly impossible to find a non-Moroccan learning Darija.  The closest analogy that I’ve been able to come up with is that it is probably similar to me code-switching to Ebonics in the States.  As a white person, it is a language that I am expected to neither speak nor value.  I think this is why I’ve gotten so many double-takes for even trying, followed by very, very, very (I can’t stress that enough) kind and sincere conversations with people despite my blatant language inadequacies.  Sadly enough, I think that with the huge amount of tourism in Morocco, they still see very little interest in their living culture, but only people looking for the “authentic” Morocco of Jama’ el-Fna.  Snake charmers, exotic foods, and a quick taxi back to their French-speaking hotel.

While I get ready to leave Marrakech bright and early tomorrow morning for an eight hour bus ride to Fes, I’m trying to leave behind that “authentic” Jama’ el-Fna experience of the country as well.  Whether or not it’s possible, the Morocco I really want to see here isn’t exotic while accessible.  What I really want is to be the “Moroccan” of my juice-selling friend’s compliment – painfully foreign and obviously awkward, but sincere and earnest. 

In sha’ Allah (If God wills it).

3 vignettes about my trip thus far...

1) So you’re joining the State Department forever…
Or my time in Washington, D.C.

For those of you who haven’t heard why I’m in Morocco, here’s the down-low.
The government decided that Americans don’t know certain critical (ahem) languages, so, to encourage people to do so, they offered scholarships to go abroad and better learn these languages (I believe they are Arabic, Chinese, Korean, Persian/Tajik, Bangla, Russian, and Hindi, but maybe there’s more) on an all-expense paid trip out to a country that speaks said language. If any of you are interested in one of these languages/ FREE TRIP, check out clscholarship.org, or caorc.org (Council for American Overseas Research Centers, who sponsors the program with the State Department).

With this in mind, our pre-program orientation in D.C. before leaving was a making it pretty clear who was footing the bill. The vast majority of the day was taken up with “career panels,” which, disappointingly, was really just the trivia and minutiae on how to apply for the civil or foreign service in State. I had really wanted the CIA to have a representative there, not because I’m interested, but it would have been kind of flattering to be asked (though, if any of you are looking into the State Department, I now have tips). I also get U.S. Department of State Alumnus status, meaning that I can get a (I kid you not) myState social networking page to make contact with other State Department Fellowship alums. Facebook could only get creepier by being affiliated with the federal government. Anyhow, long story short, we were all ready to leave the country after hearing about this for an entire day.



2) Frankfurt, the other Arab nation…
Or how I didn’t sleep for over 48 hours.

While this program has demonstrated to me that the federal government can organize large trips very well, and take good care of people learning critical (yet again, that bizarrely used word) languages, it has also proven that my least favorite piece of legislation is the Fly America Act, as it forced our group to have a 15 hour layover in Frankfurt. Naturally, we decided to explore the city, which is why there will soon be several awkward photos of tired people wandering aimlessly around a distinctly not Moorish city. It did let me brush up my German from that summer when Krys and I were bored and decided to learn it. I can now very well forget any of my dignity as I try to glean directions on how to use a commuter train in German. Then we arrived in Morocco at 2 in the morning, and were nicely informed that we’d get to our hotel in Casablanca by 6, but needed to be up at 8 to get to Rabat for our day.



3) White Americans trying decidedly un-white things…
Or how I got laughed at for trying to say thank you.

It turns out that this free trip is way nicer than just being in Tangier for the summer. Rather, with the first week, they’ve decided to show us anything they can in this country. Today, Rabat, where we met with Morocco’s foremost state religious scholar, Dr. Ahmed Abadi (who had a television show where he explained Islamic law to the masses. Sort of like Ask Amy + traditional Maliki-schooled jurisprudence. He now is training imams, as well as piloting a program to get Moroccan women to become religious figures and scholars). Then, tour of the Medina (non-French part of Rabat), Kasbah (the fortress of the non-French part of Rabat), the Souk (market of Rabat), and royal tombs (resting place of king Muhammad V). Then we met with more State Department officials! We have now been asked to become Fulbright scholars by a countless amount of people.

Tonight, we got back to Casablanca to walk along the beach, including seeing the very poetic image of a horseback rider galloping into the ocean at sunset. This was followed by a dinner (free!) in our rather stunning hotel on the ocean (also free!). During the day we had been encouraged to try to expand our Arabic essentials (greetings and thanks) by using more complicated phrases to get by. I attempted this at dinner. After the waiter brought me my salad, I thanked him with “Barak Allahu fik!” (May God bless you!). And he started laughing. Hard. Followed with the explanation of “Mais c’est bizarre ça!” I am fully prepared for an awkward summer to being the random white guy who’s speaking poor, but oddly formal Arabic. Oui, c’est bizarre ça.

Over the course of our meal, the four of us bonded with the wait staff, as we attempted to make small talk with them whenever they came over.

Ex.

- “Permit me sir?” (in lieu of excuse me, as this is our only known way of getting someone’s attention/ excusing yourself for running into someone.)
- “Yes?”
- “We please want the tea… “
- “Ahh, Moroccan tea?”
- “Yes. For [pause], four people. For [pause] all people at the table.”
- -[laughter at the white people] “Okay unknown word, unknown word, unknown word 4, or unknown word big?”
- [in unison, slightly inappropriately loudly] “Big!”
- [laughter] “Why do you speak Arabic?”
- “We student… students.”
- “From America!”
- “We will learn Arabic in the Tangier!”
- “Oh, Tangier! Tangier is beautiful! I am from Tangier! Lots of unknown words. Two oceans meet. More unknown words. Up. More unknown words. North.”
- “Tangier will be beautiful!”
- [laughter, tea is poured]. Here you go.
- May God bless you!
- [laughter] “No thanks necessary.”

At the end of the meal, we attempted to ask for change. Then realized that we were asking the waiter for the tip. Repeatedly and earnestly. While having not handed him enough money in the first place. By the way, the word for change is sarf. Tip is turns out, can be the French pourboire, or just plain ol’ tip.

Did I mention the State Department is paying for this with all of your tax dollars?

Anyhow, tomorrow we’re off to Marrakech on leg two of our world wind tour. Hopefully, I will be able to hack into free internet from there too. Until then, ma’ salaama!

#1

Hey guys,

So, here's my solution to the mass travel email that otherwise you would all surely be getting from me over the next few months: the travel blog!  Now, as I journey from Tangier to Amman, you all can keep up with me exactly as much as you want.

A little background on the blog name, because I at least thought it was kind of cool.

-Interzone (or the International Zone) – back in the colonial era of Morocco (formally 1904-1956), Tangier(s) – yes, there is an optional s on that word, spell it as you see fit– was actually not a formal part of the French colony, nor the Spanish colony (Western Sahara).  Instead, it was an international zone (informally called the Interzone) under the joint custody of Spain, France, Britain, and eventually Italy.  From this unfortunate colonial history, I picked the name Interzone as an interesting metaphor for my upcoming journey: is an American in Morocco ever truly in Morocco, or with that American-ness, does one necessarily become permanently stuck in an Interzone of sorts?

-Philadelphia – the original city bearing this name is not, of course, in Pennsylvania, but rather in Jordan... conveniently right where modern Amman is.  Although I really wanted to put in a reference to the city's name of "brotherly love" indicating some auspicious start of international friendship and camaraderie, it's actually named for the Ptolematic emperor Philadelphus.  Let's just pretend.

So, here's to the beginning of this adventure, on which I hope all of you will follow me.  Tomorrow's the start of something big.