Video Recap: The Southern Excursion

Hello again, everyone. Today, the J-Squad returned from our weeklong excursion around the southern part of Morocco. I thought that the long bus rides were a great time to start compiling footage that I’ve taken since I arrived in this crazy country, so I did. Below the video, you’ll find brief descriptions of the footage marked by the time of appearance, but as always, I can answer any questions in the comments section. Enjoy…

0:00 Rabat. The first week or so. Random video includes a time lapse walking through the souks in the medina, hanging out on the terrace of the CCCL, and taking a walk down to the beach.

1:09 The night of Chellah Jazz Festival, drinking wine on the patio at Hotel Balima, one of our favorite local spots. Then, the festival itself, which took place at the Chellah ruins near Rabat.

The J-Squad in the Sahara.

2:00 Southern Excursion begins.

2:18 Fez. Footage includes the medina, a room at the Univeristy of Al-Qarawiyyin, the oldest still standing university in the world, and a man weaving fabric on a loom.

2:34 The cedar forest at Azrou. We didn’t see any monkeys, but apparently they’re there.

3:16 Lunch in Rissani at the Panorama Restaurant. Khobza Medfouna, or Buried Khobz, is bread stuffed with meat and vegetables and cut like a pizza.

3:29 Visit to local NGO “Hassi Labiad”

Just me on a camel. NBD.

3:43 Saharan excursion. In Land Rovers, we caravanned into the desert to our camels, which we rode for about an hour towards camp. Footage includes Sarah rolling down a dune, and eating dinner at the camp. We stayed in tents for the night, but I’m hesitant to call them tents because they were furnished with beds, sinks, showers, and a western toilet. We were also lucky enough to hear a traditional Gnawa music group play. We watched the sunrise from the top of a dune the next morning, and then rode our camels out of the desert.

4:35 Visit to Association Tishka, a girls’ dormitory in Ouarzazate. We were greeted with a couscous dinner and some of the girls’ songs and chants.

4:52 Jardin Majorelle (Majorelle Gardens) in Marrakech, a beautiful oasis where Yves Saint-Laurent lived for a short period of time.

5:18 Tour of the Marjana Women’s Co-Operative project near Essaouira, wear they produce argan oil and products derived from it.

5:43 The ports and beaches of Essaouira, a very liberal and beautiful coastal city tailored to tourism.

The Rockin' Moroccan (Thanks, Joey)

Hello again friends, family, and random strangers. This post was actually written about a week and a half ago, but I have had limited access to power to charge my laptop and internet.

As I mentioned briefly in my last post, two weeks ago on Friday, the J-Squad paid a visit to a Moroccan nursing home, Daar a Senine in the Yacoub Al-Mansour neighborhood of Rabat. I was gravitated to Fatena’s corner when I saw a group of my fellow journalists gathered around her, smiles all around. As I approached, she waved me into a seat next to her, and of course, I obliged. Right away you could feel her warmth.

She was wearing a long pink nightgown, and an orange and yellow hijab. Her fingertips were stained with henna. She took my hand between hers, smiled at me with a genuine smile if there ever was one, and told me her name. It was difficult to keep a conversation going, but with Eloise’s limited knowledge of Arabic, we were able to get to know her a little bit.

I kick myself for forgetting to bring my camera to the home, but soon there will be an extensive library of photos posted on ReportingMorocco.org. The above video is a short cell phone video I was able to grab. The noise she is making is known as zrarit, a celebratory sound which means happiness, welcome, and good fortune. She did it at least 15 times.

A violinist places at the Chellah Jazz
Festival in Rabat. It doesn't make sense
placed here in the post, it's mostly just
to keep your attention. :)

A fellow resident warned Fatena about talking to us. With the help of Badr translating, we were finally able to understand what Fatena was telling us. “You should be careful when you’re around people,” said Fatena. “Don’t tell all your secrets. Don’t play all your cards. Be silent, but not too silent. Talk only when you need to talk.”

She talked about being alive during the Years of Lead, a term used to describe of political oppression under King Hassan II. She was in Salé, she said, during the 1971 failed coup d’état attempt. “Everyone was scared,” she told us. Some reports had said the King was killed, others said he was still alive.

In our final minutes with Fatena, she gave us some advice. “Take care of your mom, your mom, your mom, and your dad,” she said. Your mother, she explained, is taking care of things you probably aren’t even paying attention to.

That weekend, we took a trip to Casablanca to celebrate our cohort Caitlin’s 21st birthday. We took the SNCF, the passenger train. The ride was short and sweet and cost only four or five USD. We managed to book a very nice, albeit a little sketchy, hotel in downtown Casablanca. We spent the majority of the night exploring a strip of nightclubs along the coastline. I’m going to choose not to go into much more detail on that…

The festival took place at Chellah, ancient Roman ruins that
were destroyed in the 18th century. Lit with red spotlights,
I maybe, just a little bit, felt like I was at Red Rocks. It was
a fantastic night, and I have the pictures to prove it.

In the following days, we started to feel the grind of school coming back. Journalism lectures, language classes, homework assignments. The “study” part of study abroad.

Saturday night, we attended the Chellah Jazz Festival in Rabat. It took place at the Roman ruins at Chellah. It was packed, and apparently just having a nice looking camera means you can act like press and nobody really cares, so that’s what we did. We heard some fantastic acts, and although the crowd wasn’t really dancing, that didn’t impede us.

I apologize for the lack of pictures in this post and it being so late. As I write, we are sitting in a girls' dormitory in Ouarzazate (in Arabic, "the door of the desert") closing out Day 3 of our Southern Excursion. We have done so much , but I'll go into it all next time.

Talk to you all soon!

Maroc the Kasbah

For lack of a better word, an alter-like
stone structure which stands in the
Andalucian Gardens.

Our first full weekend in Rabat was dedicated to exploration. Everyone took their own time exploring the souks of the medina, the downtown area, and the beautiful beaches. It was a weekend devoted to finding areas of comfort in a sometimes very uncomfortable situation. Oh, and mulling over our first story ideas.

On Sunday, a large group of us explored the Kasbah des Oudaias, located just across the road from the old medina towards the Bou Regreg River, which divides Rabat from its sister city, Salé.

The Kasbah is basically a mini version of the medina, but with a consistent white and blue color scheme, slightly narrower streets, and a hefty dose of tourists. Surrounded by massive ancient ramparts, the Kasbah offers some beautiful views of the beaches on the Bou Regreg, an overpriced café area, and the beautiful Andalucian Gardens.

One of many stray cats perches next to
us on our bench at the café in the
Kasbah. Stray cats are literally
everywhere in Rabat, fed by food scraps
in the streets and cat food scattered
on doorsteps.

We sat at the café area for a while and talked about our story assignments, looking down on the swimmers at the beach below. We seized the opportunity to take some photos in the picturesque streets of the medina, where we were harassed by a henna artist claiming to be an art student.

The Andalucian Gardens were packed with locals and tourists alike, but it's easy to see the attraction. Beautiful flowers, tropical plants, grapes, and detailed architecture. We went home feeling accomplished and tired.

That night, Zoe, Hannah, Maya, Katherine, Cassie, and I went to Hotel Balima, a restaurant/café/hotel about a half-mile from the medina. I ordered my first Moroccan cheeseburger. If you know me, you know how I like my cheeseburgers, and I was not disappointed. Well-seasoned meat, the classic toppings, and some shockingly good fries. I guess fries aren’t much different halfway around the world.

Then, Monday came along and slapped us all in the face. Arabic is one difficult language, but it certainly helps that a lot of us are struggling together. Our teacher, Fatiha, is a Moroccan who speaks limited English, but somehow manages to get us to speak Fus’ha, or Modern Standard Arabic.

As my host parents eat from the tajine, notice that Mr. Azami
uses the Moroccan bread khobz to grab vegetables, while
Mrs. Azami uses a fork. Traditionally, only the (right) hand
would be used.

In our journalism courses this week, we turned in our first story drafts and did peer revisions. The story was based on Moroccan cuisine. I photographed for Cassie’s story, which concerns the evolution of table etiquette in Moroccan culture. Much like in the United States, traditional beliefs of table etiquette and family ties are changing. If the story is published, I will post it here.

A quick side story:

On Monday night, I was eating dinner with my host dad and brother tonight and I was asking some questions about the generational gap in table etiquette. The whole conversation is in broken French and broken English. Then he said, "You Americans eat everything with a fork." And I said, "Not sandwiches." “Ah yes, Americans have good sandwiches,” he replied, “That's all you guys eat."

The conversation moved to his work. He told me he moved to working part time last year and I was telling him that my own Dad was recently having difficulty finding work. We started talking about how bad the economy was and I said, “Nothing is as good as it used to be in America.” After a pause he gave me two thumbs up and said "Sandwich!"

A Moroccan Water Seller standing outside the
Kasbah. These days they make more money
from tourists who photograph them than they
do on water. Luckily, he didn't know I took this.

Probably the hardest I’ve laughed since I’ve been here.

Anyway, this week we were also introduced to Peter Prengaman, a seasoned journalist who is currently on sabbatical in Morocco and will be helping turn the cogs of ReportingMorocco.org, the publication to which we will be contributing for the next several months. We talked about logistics of the website, design tweaks, and assigned everyone jobs they will undertake over the next few months.

Peter also accompanied us on today's trip to a Moroccan nursing home. With the residents gathered in a large room, we all took about an hour to introduce ourselves, use our limited repertoire of phrases, and try to get to know them. It was truly an amazing experience. The oldest resident, at 112 years old, proclaimed to Badr that she still needed to get married. After a quick game of rock-paper-scissors with Al, I proposed and was promptly and rather adamantly rejected.

We also took some time to get to know Fatna, a charismatic woman who's energy exceeds mine on most days. With the help of Peter and Badr who were able to translate a good deal, we were able to learn about her life and hear some pretty amazing stories. I will most certainly be writing about her. Stay tuned.

Upon returning home, I started my laundry and threw on the comfortable outfit I mentioned in my post, #RecklessinRabat (Titled by Cassie). Mrs. Azami promptly informed me that it's the uniform of the Taliban. So, no Mom, I will not be posting a photo.

This weekend, a trip to Casablanca to celebrate Caitlin's birthday. Talk to you all soon.

Meet the Azamis

I'd like to start this on off by thanking everyone who has been keeping up with this blog and supporting it. I'm not sure if I even know you all, but I appreciate that someone else acknowledges that this experience is as cool as I think it is.

Looking from the top level of the CCCL onto the dining
patio where all meals are held.

On Wednesday night, we had a welcoming dinner at the CCCL. I sat at the same table as one of the founders of the Center, Abdelhay Moudden, and we picked his brain about Moroccan culture. We enjoyed a dinner of pastilla, essentially a shredded chicken pie with werqa dough (like phyllo dough). It's covered in powdered sugar, making it a really interesting combination of sweet and savory. It's the most delicious thing I've eaten here so far.

That night, you could tell that nerves were high. As SIT gave us no information about our host families, everyone was expecting the worst. In Rabat, there is tremendous diversity as far as quality of life. Beggars, often suffering from physical ailments like blindness or deformity, litter the streets of the Medina holding their hands in the air. Some people flaunt designer clothing. No one had any idea what to expect.

Sitting in Survival Arabic. The J-Squad in a nutshell.
Raven, Alex, Olivia, Cassie, and Caitlin

The next day was devoted largely to preparation. After a short Survival Arabic course at the CCCL, it was back to Hotel Darna to pack our bags and check out. I can't imagine how it looked to the locals; a group of sweaty Americans lugging tons of luggage through the souk with faces communicating a mixture of "I'm tired," "I'm excited," and "I'm scared out of my mind."

Next up were a couple classes in the CCCL annex, located a short distance away in the Medina, about living in a Moroccan home. The home stay coordinator, Ms. Doma Lmachichi, covered basics such as table etiquette, the dutch toilet, and other essentials. She could hardly make it through the presentation, interrupted by questions and giggling. Never before have I seen an entire room of adults get potty trained at the same time. It was a sight.

Mary Stucky, the Academic Director of the Journalism program, then took over to talk about a general overview of the program. While slightly overwhelming, it was clear to everyone that the program would be unlike anything we had ever done before. It will require tremendous determination and engagement, but will result in even greater opportunity for us all.

We descended the stairs to find host moms, brothers, sisters, and aunts scattered around the main hall. Separated like a game of red rover, we were called one by one to the center of the room to meet our host family members. I was met by my host mom, Mrs. Bouchra Azami. Although we had a little trouble communicating, we greeted each other and walked to my new home for the next two months.

In the front; Malak (27), Jade (19), Mr. Azami, Mrs. Azami,
and Ms. Benkhye, In the back; Mehdi (24)

Mr. Rachid Azami and Mrs. Bouchra Azami have three boys, Jade (19), Mehdi (24), and Malak (27). All three of them and even Mr. Azami speak some English and help me to communicate with Bouchra. Souad Benkhye, Mrs. Azami's sister, is also frequently at the house cooking or cleaning and speaks some English. The whole family speaks French, so I can use that pretty effectively as well.

Rachid works as a dentist and Bouchra, a hairdresser. Malak works as a mechanical engineer and Mehdi is finishing his university education. I haven't seen Jade leave at all, so school may not have started yet for him, but I know he loves to surf.

The kitchen/dining/living area of the Azami home.

Located next to the hammam (public bath house), the home is extremely western. They have a gas range, full size refrigerator, chest freezer, washing machine, western toilets, and a working shower. It seems everyone in the family has a smart phone or tablet, and the house is equipped with wireless internet. I was rather relieved.

The first night, I finally did some laundry, Skyped with Jesse from back home, and slept like a rock.

In Survival Arabic Part II, the next morning, I heard stories of the other host families. Some of my fellow students were not as lucky as me, and were placed in a much more culture-shock inducing home. By the end of the day, though, most concerns were resolved.

It's about time to start the academic portion of this trip. As challenging as it will be, I think I'm ready. First story draft is due Wednesday, and will concern Moroccan cuisine. I will keep you all posted.

#RecklessInRabat (Titled by Cassie)

One of the many faces of Cassie Odneal. She promises more.

Hello again! The last few days have been equally busy and exciting. Everything is so new and so amazing it's hard what to think about it half the time.

Breakfast is served at the hotel every morning, and it's the same everyday. Some type of cornbread, traditional Moroccan bread, hard boiled eggs, coffee, juice, and Moroccan mint tea (which is insanely good and generally served everywhere).

Monday consisted of four-ish lectures about general topics in Morocco such as safety, health, fears, and expectations. Mary Stucky, our program's academic director, put a lot of our minds at ease and answered a lot of questions in our first session.

J-Squad heading to the CCCL annex, also in the Medina.

Meals are generally served at the CCCL, and are very, very good. Usually beef or chicken, served with a couple different steamed vegetables, potatoes or pasta, Moroccan bread, rice, and a random piece of fruit. It's my understanding that the chefs at the CCCL live in the medina.

That night, the J-Squad (journalism squad) and some others from the other programs found a bar in the downtown area of Rabat that was doing karaoke. A group of 15 of us split into cabs (which only allow two or three people each), and did our best to find El Barrio Latino. Driving in Morocco is an experience in itself, essentially a free-for-all between cars and pedestrians, which explains abnormally high amounts of traffic fatalities and injuries each year.

Some locals were at the restaurant drinking and a few of the them had exceptional karaoke voices. I'm sure we were quite obnoxious, but we had a few drinks, everyone sang something, and we had a great time. It felt good to have successfully navigated the city for the first time, and survived.

Perched on the Atlantic

The next day started with an interesting (and slightly intimidating) informative lecture about the Arabic courses that we will start next week. The next few hours we had free, so the J-Squad took a nice walk down to the beaches. We all had our cameras and were looking like some hardcore American tourists. It was great. The view of the Atlantic is amazing. It's weird being on the other side of it. I really lucked out being in a study abroad program with all of these people. I have a feeling these are some life-long friends in the making.

After lunch, Badrdine AKA Badr AKA B-Dogg (our program assistant) gave us a presentation on bargaining, an important part of Moroccan culture and something that I'm quite terrible at. He taught us some Arabic phrases; "Hello! What's up?" (salam alaikum, la-bas) , "How much, please?" (besh-hel, afak), and "I'm a student" (ana talib) to name a few.

The souks are colorful, energetic,
aromatic, and a little intimidating.

Armed with 20 dirhams each (about $2.50), we set out to the expansive, bustling souks of the medina to try out our new skills. I bought an outfit for about 130 dirhams, which I bargained down from 180. Very comfortable, pretty excited. Other students managed to stay within the 20 dirhams, buying tea pots, wallets, necklaces, etc.

That night, we found our way to a few places in downtown Rabat again to hang out and have some beers. I find that I keep having this feeling of "I don't want to the be the annoying Americans that ruin things for the locals," which we might be at times. However, every interaction I've had with a Moroccan has been pleasant. They generally like Americans and welcome you graciously to the country, especially when you throw them a "Salam alaikum!" and a hefty tip.

Boats parked on the Bou Regreg, the river that divides
Rabat and its sister city, Salé.

Today started off with the Drop-Off, which is exactly what it sounds like. In groups of two or three, you are dropped off somewhere in Rabat and have two hours to find your way back. You are given 20 dirhams as a last resort to get a taxi (which are very, very, inexpensive). Working with Katherine McMillan, a CU Boulder senior, we found our way back in about 30 minutes. We both felt pretty accomplished.

Next, we had a bus tour of Rabat and Salé, the sister city. A lot of us had a difficult time keeping our eyes open, but it was an informative tour and it was great to see the different parts of the city. As I write, our welcoming dinner to the CCCL is beginning.

Tomorrow is a big day. We are beginning the day by learning all about the schedule and specifics of the journalism program. Then, we pack our bags, and its host family time. Everyone is a little nervous, but also more than psyched.

Stay tuned, more to come. If you have questions, ask, and I'll respond in a post. Much love.