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.