One foot out of the Door–Peace out Morocco

Today, the Dickinson College class of 2011 gathered in front of Old West and closed out a chapter of their lives and graduated from college. Unbelievable. Inshallah that will be me next year. 

This morning I woke up in my room at my homestay in Rabat with the realization that I have now hit the single digit amount of days left in the country. It’s amazing how fast time can whiz by, even just at age 21. Back in August, an academic year felt like an eternity. 

I’m not sure if I’ve ever felt so ambivalent in my life about something. While I have one foot out the door, ready to go back to the U.S. and there are so many things I’m looking forward to, I still seem to have this other foot planted so firmly in Morocco and am not ready to give it all up. 

To most clearly demonstrate this I made a list of things I’m craving in the States and on the flip-side a list of things I don’t want to leave behind. Interestingly, the lists are paradoxical, which I guess explains the tugging and pulling of wanting to leave and stay at the same time. 

Some things I am so excited for: daily showers, the Rocky Mountains in lovely Colorado, non-overly-milky and diarrhetic coffee and Starbucks, cold coffee drinks, my car, tank tops, shorts (basically any somewhat revealing clothing or should I say weather-appropriate clothing?), drive-thrus, 24-hour diners, late-night strolls, clean animals, diverse and ethnic food/control of what I’m eating, cheese (I guess I shouldn’t list all foods, that could be a whole post in itself), 24-hour Fitness, customer service, free re-fills, movie theaters, the public library, being able to flawlessly communicate in a language a.k.a. speaking my native tongue, air conditioning & central heating, NBA and MLB, coupons and not stressing over having to negotiate everything down to a good price, bike rides, and probably many more things, oh and of course and foremost, my wonderful family and friends–love and miss you all so much!

Things I am sad to leave behind (notice many parallels): Maxi Form and fitness classes (my awesome gym with special thanks to instructors Hicham and Hassan), couscous Fridays (a tradition I’ll bring back home), the call to prayer, Islamic architecture, spontaneous weekend trips, never knowing what each day will hold, the hammam, my ladies at Salon Zohra and affordable A-lister treatment, Moroccan mint tea, banana juice (also bringing back to the States), cheap DVDs, walking in the medina and then getting lost and then finding my way again or going back the next time knowing how to navigate the maze, bargaining and getting that amazing deal, being able to afford taking taxis all the time, cafe culture (just ordering one coffee and staying at a table just chilling for hours), learning and advancing and communicating in a language other than my own, cute old Arab men, adorable Moroccan children, football-centric sports culture, love, watching Turkish soap dramas with my host mom, and each member of my host family

In my final abroad column in the graduation issue of The Dickinsonian I further get in to lessons learned and my feelings on leaving Morocco–in perhaps a more sophisticated way. Boom, here it is:

Me and my bird-watching guide Hassan in Moulay Bousselhem, Morocco. This was easily one of the happiest times of my year abroad. Some friends and i hired Hassan and took a boat out in this beautiful lagoon filled with birds with a wild flamingoes sighting!

I look back at myself when I first got to Morocco, arriving smack in the middle of Ramadan, and I cannot believe how quickly my study abroad experience flew by and how much has changed in just a year.

Last August I knew zero Arabic, knew no one in Morocco, knew almost nothing about the country and its people and knew as much about Islam as the average American—which, in all honesty, isn’t too much.

Today I cannot claim an expertise in Islam and Moroccan culture (there are still so many mysteries I have yet to crack) or fluency in Arabic, but I can say I have a pretty solid understanding of them and that I have since put roots down in Morocco. The time that I have spent here is a major part of my life—Morocco is no longer just another country that I’ve read about or seen in the movies.

Ever since my freshmen year at Dickinson I was certain I would go abroad to have some adventures and maybe learn a thing or two. I got that and more; I experienced my highest highs and lowest lows of my life over here and have learned an enormous amount about myself, Moroccans, the MENA region, people Americans, travel and life in general.

The changes manifesting in the Arab world invariably made this spring a very exciting time to study in the region. When I enrolled in my political science course that examines openings for democracy in Morocco, I did not realize that the course content would be the same stuff I’d be watching on Al Jazeera or Al Arabiya with my host family each night.

Even though Morocco is purportedly going through “quiet reform” and we’re not witnessing full-blown revolution, watching the protests from day to day has been interesting as well as watching the King, his government and the people themselves respond.

Dickinson is all about engaging the world, taking the knowledge learned in the classroom to the next level and then another step further. My year in Rabat was my first real chance to get out of the States and engage the world, but further, have another part of the world touch my life.

I saw though that this experience was more take than give, but I realized that’s okay. One of my classes recently had a discussion on the Greg Mortenson scandal, the story that the renowned “Three Cups of Tea” author had sensationalized his experiences in his book and that he was actually pretty selfish and a difficult character to work with. The scandal itself isn’t important but the discussion that it sparked in my class is.

All in all, we concluded that when studying and working abroad, you cannot necessarily set out to revolutionize or even change a place for the better. Sometimes the best thing you can do is observe, learn, participate and then exchange ideas from one culture to another. Things to the American eye may look inefficient, pointless, or crazy, but if you take a moment to get a closer look, everything’s as it should be and there is reason behind the madness.

In no way did I revolutionize Moroccan society, and maybe I didn’t even majorly alter someone’s life in the dramatic sense, but I lived in Morocco as much as a Westerner with limited language skills could, I made connections with my host family and some Moroccan friends and I learned so much, and occasionally shared some American cultural insights. That was enough.

The big question that remains unanswered is what will happen when I return to the States next month and when I return to Dickinson for my senior year. Will everything be completely different and is reverse culture shock real? Or will things have stayed the same like I was never even here? I’ve heard from a number of friends who have studied abroad that going home is just like waking up from a dream. It won’t be too long before I find out, but I figure I’ll find one way or another to put all my lessons learned to use when I get back and keep my two worlds connected.

And I will certainly be seeking out all the Moroccans in town when I get back so I can practice my Moroccan Arabic, eat some good meals and, in some way hold on to the country and experience as much as I can.

Bombing and Protest Stalking

Last Thursday I was stunned to get a text message from a friend saying there was a terrorist attack in Marrakech. I immediately jumped out of bed from the nap I was taking to grab my laptop and search Google News. At first I couldn’t find anything but then I searched Twitter for tweets on Morocco. That’s when the links started appearing. The word used to describe the event was “blast”. I found that 10 had died and even more were injured in a blast caused by a gas explosion and that the Moroccan Minister of Interior labeled this as a criminal act. In the next few hours, the story developed and I learned from one of my Moroccan professors who lives in Marrakech that the blast was from a suicide bomber. No one has come forward yet to claim responsibility but the North Africa wing of Al Qaeda is the top suspect. (See Reuters for good up-to-date coverage on the situation)

***CORRECTION: the bomb was remotely detonated and was not a suicide bombing

This news was extremely disturbing to me and it gave me one of those, fleeting anxiety waves. I’m not nervous to leave the house by any means, but this has given me an increased awareness of my setting/surroundings. I wouldn’t say that I’m never going to Marrakech again but I am wary of where I take my coffee and where I got out. Some Moroccan friends said to avoid a specific cafe that I myself and a lot of people love going to because it’s so touristy, serves alcohol, and is downtown–not that anything is going to happen in Rabat, but just in case.

King Mohammed VI visited Cafe Argana in Jamaa el-Fnaa square this weekend and I can tell that he is as mad as ever that this has happened during his reign. Justice and Charity, the banned Islamist party has condemned the act as well and says that we should not let the bombing kill the perpetual protests.

Well, about the protests: May 1 is the Moroccan version of Labor Day and one of the bigger protests was scheduled that day. Apparently the protest got pretty big in Rabat, but unfortunately I was traveling on Sunday and didn’t get to check it out.

However, this brings me to my latest column in The Dickinsonian, on recent protests in Rabat. Coincidentally, in my anecdote I was also waking up from a nap. Studying abroad can be very tiring:

In my last column, I hit upon Moroccan sports culture, concluding that football is the center of the universe here and we are more likely in Morocco to see riots erupt from the FC Barcelona-Real Madrid rivalry than from revolutionary forces. Last week was a case in point. After a game between the two football giants the victorious Madrid fans took to the streets, swarming, yelling and arguing with their Barca counterparts. There was even a fight in my street that involved knives and rocks, but fortunately it was broken up before anything too serious could happen. Needless to say, my host family made sure the door was bolted.

The other day, after recovering from the football excitement, I woke up from a nap to screaming, yelling, whistling and chanting. Racing out the door with only a camera and my keys in hand I found my street filled with approximately 400 protestors making their way towards Parliament. Though my Arabic has certainly gotten better since August when I was at ground zero with the language, I had a hard time understanding what the march was about. Thinking I could just take pictures of their signs and translate them later, I followed the protestors snapping photos, only to be asked by one of the marchers if I was a journalist (I set him straight, identifying myself as a student).

From this I was able to break into discussion, firing away all sorts of questions I had at him and a few other marchers. Immediately I knew I was seeing something different than the status quo in these other “Arab revolutions,” because the man identified the protestors as members of a state organization. The organization was not even a new one, instead he told me that it is approximately two-decades-old. The organization works with many social, political and economic issues ranging from unemployment, particularly among higher education degree-holders, prices, subsidies and transparency. Corruption was the main issue of the march.

Going out on a limb, I asked the man if the organization had a position on the monarchy and whether it was pushing for any “political” change (meaning leadership change). It was at this point that I sensed unease as he dodged my question, almost acting as if he did not understand. When I tried to bring it up again with another marcher essentially the same thing happened. So I backed off with that question. However, there was no real hesitation for the marchers to tell me the failings of Prime Minister Abbas El Fassi: how he just stole and lied to the Moroccan people and how it is a good thing that the reforms of King Mohammed VI include making prime minister an elected position, rather than a political appointee.

When the march arrived downtown to the Parliament building, there were already a few other protest groups set up. They were smaller than the march I had been following, but they were protesting similar issues. Protests are no novelty in Morocco, especially in Rabat. Lately, I feel weird if I go through a day without seeing one. It is really the scale and non-violence of them that make Moroccan protests a different animal from their Syrian and other Arab nation neighbors. There had been hype about a larger protest scheduled for Sunday, April 24. Thinking that something could come of this my friends and I went downtown to check out the scene. We arrived at the train station around 1 p.m. to find no more than a couple hundred gathering and chanting. Disappointed, we left the scene, like probably most of the protestors had, to go eat lunch.

Though protests have kept up here in Rabat, they are nothing like the ones televised in Syria. The intensity of the crisis in Syria has had many of us worried over here, but to some degree, the nonstop, 24/7 Al Jazeera coverage has desensitized us to the gruesomeness and reality of it all. Unlike CNN and Fox in the States, Al Jazeera does not hold back on its footage. When protestors get hit with fire, you actually see the cameraman struggling to capture it all on film with survival also on his mind. Bloody corpses and wounded protestors are all over the news cycle.

While this is so informative and I think it is important to see what is happening on the ground in Syria, such intense coverage is almost trivializing it for the Arab audience because they see so much of it. These reports are played in homes all over, at least in Morocco—meaning people of all ages, including children are watching the revolutions in the region. I see this as a gift and a curse.

Yellah FC Barca!

For last week’s issue of the school paper I decided to tackle (ha) sports culture in Morocco. My conclusion: football is at the center of the universe here. The other night, in a heated match against FC Barcelona and Real Madrid I can proudly say that I stand by my writings. The game started at 8:30 Moroccan time–well before 7:30 all the cafes in my hood were filled with men, and I mean stock-full! It took 20-30 minutes of walking for me and my friends to find a seat in a cafe with a good TV. By the time the game started, the amount of people had more than doubled. Last night’s game happened to be super suspenseful and I sure can stand by the idea that we’re more likely to see a riot erupt from football than politics and civil unrest in Morocco. Every time something happened men were yelling violently, and sometimes this happened when nothing major was going on in the game…

Unfortunately Barca was defeated (don’t worry, two more games against Madrid in the next two weeks!) and the Real fan base made this clear! After the game ended the street was full of male Moroccan youth just swarming the street, yelling, and arguing… There was a fight in my street that involved knives and rocks, but thankfully it got broken up before anything too serious could happen!

So here’s the column:

Protests in Morocco have continued to remain peaceful and reports have said that the country is going through a “quiet reform.” In response to the February 20 Movement for Change, King Mohammed VI has created a panel to propose adjustments to the Moroccan constitution. In addition, the King has announced in a televised speech that he is willing to surrender some of his powers, such as the ability to appoint the prime minister and dissolve the parliament.

While politics and reform are something that Moroccans have demonstrated a peaceful and tranquil approach to, football (aka soccer) is something that really gets everybody’s blood pumping and boiling here. Not necessarily to the point of violence, but as a friend rather aptly joked, we’re more likely to see a riot erupt in Morocco resulting from football than from politics. The big question here is not “Where were you during the February 20 Movement for Change?” or “Where were you when the news of Egypt’s revolution broke out?” as one might expect, but rather “Where were you watching the final match of the World Cup last summer?”

Football overwhelmingly dominates the sports culture in Morocco. Moroccans are especially serious about the Spanish league. Every Moroccan friend I have has declared allegiance to either FC Barcelona or Real Madrid. Additionally, all my Moroccan friends play football and have been playing from a young age. While they may not play professionally, they sure do enjoy the recreation. Don’t you dare come between them and play time.

I cannot even begin to count the number of Messi or Ronaldo jerseys I’ve seen for sale in medinas across the country, and especially on the backs of young Moroccan boys.

The window of my apartment overlooks several cafés, one of them called L’Équipe (the team). On football game nights, whether Champion’s League, Spanish League or Moroccan League, you can depend on a full house, with all the men sitting on the patio, tightly packed around the TV, coffee and other refreshments in hand. Football is such a social experience here. Whether uniting or dividing friends with loyalties to Madrid or Barca, it brings everyone together to see who will conquer and who will admit defeat. While it is not so different from Americans huddling together to watch the Super Bowl, March Madness or the World Series, the two biggest cultural differences that I’ve observed is that practically all sports fans are football fans and that secondly, these sports fans are predominately male (way more so than in the States).

In the States, our sports interests are divided. Not EVERY American will choose between the Yankees and the Red Sox, the Colts and the Patriots, the Lakers and the Celtics, etc. In the States we’ve got a venn diagram of sports in our landscape, overlapping football (American), baseball, basketball and hockey—sports pluralism. Most people cannot agree on one dominant or favorite sport in the States, but it seems pretty clear-cut that football rules the sports scene here in an authoritarian manner. While there are other popular sports such as basketball and tennis, no other sport really has the same pulling power that football has. This football frenzy is not unique to Morocco; from my travels across Europe this past year I’ve seen that most countries outside of the States sure do love their football.

Football is chiefly a man’s world here. I’ll occasionally be able to find other females watching the matches at cafés, but they are usually fellow foreigners such as myself or girlfriends trying to spend time with their boyfriends who seemed to have dragged them there—reminding me of how I saw American women dragging their boyfriends with them to the premiere of “Sex and the City 2.”

Why is there such a big gender divide when it comes to football in Morocco? I’m not totally sure, but I can say that it is something that is not a recent practice. From a young age Moroccan boys play on a team and take an interest in sports news, but I cannot say that I’ve observed the same thing in girls. Even though my tomboy host sister has not expressed a great interest in football she’s a huge sports fan: her preferred sports are kayaking and kung fu.

Whatever the reasons for this cultural phenomenon, it is fair to say that football has the ability to bring all sorts of men together here and it is a beautiful thing to see so many Moroccans so passionate about something on game nights. As a foreign girl living over here in football-land I have been able to somewhat infiltrate this guy’s club and have taken a great liking to watching the Spanish league (hail to the Messi! Go Barcelona!), but I have also gotten used to often being the only girl at the café. This is no big deal because everyone is too absorbed in the game to pay me any attention or bother me.

Representin–Notes from the Morocco Protest

Feb 20 Movement for Change, Ave Mohammed V, Rabat, Morocco

Better late than never: here’s what I have to say on the February 20 Movement for Change, Morocco’s first big organized demonstration in light of current events. I wrote my Rockin’ Morocco column in the Dickinsonian and it got cut down due to space and stuff like that (also wrote it last week, sorry for the late posting time) but lucky for you I’ve got a vast amount of space so I get to include plenty of pictures and my writing.

When rumors hit the net a couple of weeks ago that there was going to be a big political protest in Morocco, I was hit with a rush of nervousness and excitement, especially since these rumors came after awhile with no visibly large reaction among Moroccans to current events in neighboring countries such as Egypt and Libya.

As I have previously mentioned, most Moroccans who I have talked to have been quick to tell me that the political situation in Morocco is fundamentally different from those in other countries in the Arab world and the chances of any revolution manifesting in Morocco are minimal. With this in mind, and having heard that the protest would be in front of Parliament, directed at the government and not at the King, it was immediately noted that this protest was not going to be the revolutionary type with the aims of overthrowing the leadership.

But for a moment my friends and I waited in the center of Rabat with a mix of anxiousness and curiosity to see if anything would come to fruition after the first big organized response in Morocco to regional unrest and the Egyptian and Tunisian revolutions.

To my relief but not to my surprise the protest in the capital was peaceful with no major repercussions. It was a sunny and beautiful Sunday when I met my friends that morning to get coffee and watch the protest from a hotel across from the Parliament, a safe distance away. But when we saw that all that really was happening was a little bit of marching, some chanting, and even some people taking naps in the sun we decided to take a closer look with cameras in hand.

One of my Moroccan friends walked in to the crowd with me so we could get a photo shoot in and translated the different Arabic protest signs for me. Some signs explicitly said the protest was in no way directed at the King and he is viewed as the legitimate ruler, one sign said “Democracy Now” in English, and others demanded for a parliamentary system more akin to the United Kingdom’s.

When I asked my friend about his feelings on the protest, he said that he thought it was a good thing and that we should hold “the government” accountable for social problems and that there should be a new Parliament elected. When asked why he was not personally taking part in the protest, he responded that he thought the protestors had enough people, that they did not need him. Another one of my Moroccan friends looked upon the protest without much interest saying it looked small and that the turnout was significantly stronger for demonstrations against the wars in Iraq in Afghanistan awhile back (which might I add were not even protests against the Moroccan government). Other Moroccan friends of mine did not even go and expressed that they hoped nothing big would happen.

While the protest was calm in Rabat, an aftershock was witnessed in other cities around the country. Five people died who were trapped in a burning bank in the northern city of Al Hociema, McDonald’s was looted in Marrakech (as I’ve written on before, McDonald’s is contrarily a sign of the upper class in Morocco), a gas station was set aflame in Larache, cars were burned in Tangier, among other similar events. This aftershock, however, was not a part of the larger protest and seemed pretty minor in comparison to the rubber bullets shot at protestors in Cairo and open fire on opposition in Libya.

The protest, referred to as the Febrary 20 Movement for Change, was advertised on social networking sites like Facebook and there was a video circulating on YouTube with individuals explaining why they wanted to protest the corruption of the government and socioeconomic issues in Morocco such as lower food prices and the high unemployment rate.

The size of the protest both in Rabat and nationwide is unclear to me. Depending on where you get your news on the protest, there could have been a turnout in Rabat of about 3,000 to 5,000 according to reports from the New York Times, or over 2,000 as estimated by the Wall Street Journal. Time Magazine put the national turnout at about 37,000, the same number cited by the Wall Street Journal, while the New York Times kept it vague, reporting more than 10,000.

I am increasingly critical of the credibility of these reports when I see things like the mistranslation in an article featured on Time Magazine’s website calling Bab El Had, the massive entrance to the Rabat medina “Rabat’s el Had gate,” when it is actually a door/large opening, not a gate. Though I cannot completely discount this article because it aptly explains the general misnomer in its headline: “Protests in Morocco: Just Don’t Call it a Revolution,” and moreover cites my political science professor, Stuart Schaar in his explanation of why most Moroccans do not want to rock the political boat: “Why should they? [Current King Mohammed VI] seems so benevolent in comparison.”

This is in comparison to other regimes in the region but also too Mohammed VI’s predecessor and father, Hassan II whose reign is known as the “Years of Lead” for his harsh oppression and crackdown on political enemies.

A closer look at Mohammed VI’s reign is needed to understand why Morocco is not a place of uprising as The San Francisco Bay Guardian fallaciously characterized it as, where Morocco was listed as a place of uprising alongside Libya, Bahrain and Yemen. Mohammed VI took the throne in 1999 and since then has pushed forward some pretty liberal reforms for the country like improving women’s rights in the new family code, allowing some liberalization of the media and political protest and appointing a commission to look into the State’s indiscretions during the Years of Lead.

Protests in Morocco are not a rarity. I have seen a number in Rabat ranging from the young unemployed and university educated marching near Parliament to the older unemployed just down the street near some major areas of commerce. It still goes to say though that the monarch has the ultimate say in Morocco, appoints the prime minister and other ministers, though the Parliament is elected.

Only time will tell if ensuing protests in Morocco will be similar to the Movement for Change or if new things will develop. But for the meantime, even inside Morocco, the gaze is towards the rest of the region and Libya especially, a separate world with much unrest and craziness unfolding that Moroccans and myself say alhumdullah (Praise God), is not here.

A Moroccan Ski Season

Last weekend I skied in Africa. Never thought I would be able to say that. I guess they can take the girl out of Colorado but can’t take the skiing addiction/mountain out of the girl.

Getting charged on the side of the mountain by 50 or more Moroccan schoolchildren in a snowball fight

View from the top of the mountain

I talked about my crazing skiing experience which included riding a horse to the top of the mountain, among other things, in my Dickinsonian column this week:

For the last few weeks, Moroccans have been glued to current events in Egypt. Everywhere I go there is a television turned to Al Jazeera or another Arab station with up to date coverage on Egypt and the status of the State.

From what I heard things were pretty calm in Rabat last weekend when Hosni Mubarak finally stepped down in Egypt. There were demonstrators in the street showing their support for the Egyptian people and all they have been through, but nothing too outrageous or out of the ordinary transpired in Rabat.

So why did I travel last weekend and not camp out near the Parliament building at the center of the city when all this was happening? While Morocco is considered a neighboring country to Egypt and there were Moroccans advocating for the removal of Mubarak, the political situation in Egypt is widely perceived here as distinctly separate from Morocco.

People, Western media especially, have been offhandedly wondering whether political events from Tunisia and Egypt will incite a reaction in Morocco. But if you walk around the streets of Rabat, watch the news here and talk to locals, you will probably find that while there is a fascination with current events in Egypt, Moroccans will be the first to tell you how different their situation is from that of the Egyptians. They will tell you that for starters Morocco does not have a president who has dominated elected office for around thirty years and blocked out all opposition. Furthermore, the religious features of the Moroccan monarchy demand an extremely different approach for examining the Moroccan state.

Consequently, I skipped town last weekend to travel to the Switzerland of Morocco on a Warren Miller-esque ski adventure. Mischliffen, a ski resort bordering the Middle Atlas town of Ifrane, has been boasted (both in my guide book and by Moroccan friends) as the second best ski spot in the country after Oukeimden near Marrakesh. I had been told that the town of Ifrane itself was worth visiting because of its fresh mountain air and scenic views. In addition, I am from Colorado and have been having major ski season withdrawl. With all this in mind, I decided that I had to take a ski trip up north when I heard about this small ski resort in the Middle Atlas Mountains of Morocco.

Well, when I got to the famed “second biggest ski mountain in the country” it turned out that there were only three runs, two ski lifts of which neither were operating, and I had to summit the mountain via hiking and horseback riding on horses dressed up in regal Moroccan outfits. Not to mention there were Barbary apes on the mountain, and the only ski gear that I could rent was circa 1986. The snow was awful. There were rocks and branches everywhere and at one point I think I was just skiing on rocks with frost. Additionally, turning was impossible and every time I tried I would either jam into a rock or get stuck and fall.

However, as disastrous and dangerous as this little ski weekend was, I enjoyed every moment of it. I was reminded that I will put myself through crazy ridiculous situations if it means I get to go skiing. Morocco is not really known for skiing, and now I can attest to the reason for that. Yet many people have been surprised or even shocked that there is skiing in Morocco, including even current study abroad classmates of mine. In fact, especially for its size, Morocco has some of the most dynamic types of terrain in a single country that I have come across. Any chance I get, I will tell people how this country has every setting you could need: gorgeous beaches (Atlantic and Mediterranean coasts), desert, rolling hills in the countryside filled with olive trees and vineyards, gorges, lagoons, fresh water and mountains!

When people first hear Morocco, they often automatically envision camels, desert, sun and turbans. While there are parts of Morocco where all these things are present and maybe I was guilty of seeing this picture too, I cannot emphasize enough now that I am here how different places can look when they are close up—something worth keeping in mind when it comes to both terrain and landscapes and, of course, the politics in a place.

Click here to read the column on the Dickinsonian website

What’s all this talk of revolution?

For my column this week I decided to hit on some current events. Here’s the full length:

A month in to my second semester in Rabat, Morocco and I am already trying to figure out spring break destinations. I can tell you where I won’t be traveling for obvious reasons: Tunisia and Egypt.

Before returning to Rabat for the spring, I had been talking with one of my friends about regional places we need to visit while living in North Africa. For fall break we trekked into the Sahara desert, camped under the stars and rode camels, so we wanted to make sure our spring break would outdo or at least equal the previous one. Somehow the idea of venturing to Tunisia came up.

Spring break in Tunisia sounded intriguing because we have been studying Tunisia in our political science and history courses as it accompanies Morocco in the Arab North African world. Tunisia is a fascinating place. It has been characterized as one of the most progressive and forward-looking countries in the region, yet paradoxically has had an intensely authoritarian regime that has imposed such modernism. My friend and I were curious to see this in real life in a country that was, at the time, a relatively safe place for foreigners to visit. Also, Tunisia has a similar dialect of Arabic to Morocco, and French is prevalent so we would be able to get around using our developing language skills.

Tunisia just got a whole lot more intriguing since the former President Ben Ali has fled the country. I had not even been in Rabat for a week when my political science professor pulled me aside during the Amideast “Welcome new students” dinner and asked me, “Hey did you hear what just happened in Tunisia?” Looks like we’ll have a lot to discuss in my political systems of the Maghreb course.

Spring break Plan B: Cairo to see the pyramids and the Nile. That trip got cancelled too, and we are moving on to Plan C. I’m glad I waited to buy plane tickets.

But enough about spring break. The real question which I’ve been asked a lot lately has more to do with how these revolutions in Tunisia and Egypt have or will affect Morocco.

My parents and some friends have sent a few panicked emails asking if Morocco is safe, inquiring about Morocco’s status in the midst of regional revolution. At first when I got these messages I almost laughed because at times Morocco feels so removed from these movements and I feel completely safe here.

If it were not for broadcast news feeds showing footage of demonstrations in the streets of Cairo, protestors taking the streets, Baradei’s return to Egypt and foreigners flying out of Cairo on the Arabic and Moroccan news stations, I would not even know that I am living in the same general region as Egypt and Tunisia. The streets of Rabat are calm, the Parliament is carrying on with its business, students are going to school and employees are going to work.

Things in Rabat are distinctly different from Tunis and Cairo. In fact, nine students who were evacuated from Amideast in Cairo will be joining me in Rabat next week, one of the most clear-cut ways of saying that Morocco is considered as a stable place for American students to come study.

Though there are certainly some shared characteristics among countries in the Arab world and the Moroccan political system is an interesting one to watch, the Arab world is so large and dynamic that it is not fair to just group all the Arab countries together in talk of revolution. I understand where concerned people are coming from, especially when the media in America is most likely depicting scene after scene of riots with headlines talking about Arab revolutions and uprising in the Middle East moving like wildfire, but please take these with a grain of salt.

The question of whether anything will spread to Morocco and take hold has been tossed around in day to day conversations amongst my friends and my host family, and it has been brought up in the local media—do not get me wrong, it is worth asking. Just realize that the scale of how things are portrayed is different and the Middle East North Africa region is not homogenous, especially when it comes to politics.

I knew my second semester in Rabat would inevitably be different than my first one because of the very nature of study abroad, but I can now say that confidently. Oh, and I’m glad I decided to wait until second semester to take the course on political systems of the Maghreb since the students from last semester have to scrap a lot of what they covered on Tunisian politics.

Link to article on Dickinsonian website

Farewell to semester 1

I had the realization that I forgot to link to my final Rockin’ Morocco column for fall semester’s last issue of The Dickinsonian. A real tragedy, I know. So, here it is!

Teaser:

Everything’s wrapping up here, and my first semester in Rabat is about to come to a close. I’m in the throes of “finals” writing my “research papers,” and am prepping for “presentations,” (in quotes because these words don’t quite have the same meaning here) but for some reason, finals week just does not have the same level of stress as it always does at Dickinson. I’ve heard that from a number of friends abroad—I guess this must be something inherent to studying abroad. This week I have not found myself staying in the library until closing time, then heading over to Althouse to work until the sun comes up. Maybe it’s because my grades this semester don’t factor into my GPA, maybe it’s because the academics aren’t nearly as rigorous as say Professor Fratantuono’s Global Economy class or maybe it’s just the more laid-back day-to-day Moroccan attitude.

In seek of inspiration for my last column for the semester I just reread my very first Rockin’ Morocco column to try and remember what I was thinking and feeling at the beginning of my time here. The ant invasion of my room feels like such a long time ago. The weather was so hot then that I needed to sleep in my underwear, now it’s so cold that I have a heater in my room. Needless to say, the ants are long gone.

Ok so it's not that cold... Sunshine and 70 degrees during DECEMBER! It has gotten colder since this picture was taken but nowhere near a Carlisle or Denver winter.

What have I learned since arriving in Rabat last August? I have learned my most valuable lessons outside of the classroom. I had heard this before, but this idea has been reinforced over the last few months. Here are some of my precious pearls of wisdom, some expected, and others not as much:

Read the rest of my column in The Dickinsonian.

All roads lead back to Rabat

I feel like I’ve been MIA for a quite awhile, but for good reason: I’ve been on a nearly month long vacation, living it up as a jet setter. My parents came out to visit me in Morocco after my fall semester in Rabat with Amideast and from there I felt like I was moving constantly.

Here’s a little rundown of the places we made it to on the Greco family vacation 2010-2011:

–Rabat (showed  my parents around my city, introduced them to my host family and some Moroccan friends)

-met up with my good friend Westrey (who I’ve known since middle school) in Fes (did all the major Fes things and had a hamuk (crazy) guide named Aziz who I’ll have to post a pic of)

-made it over to Meknes, Volubilis, then Moulay Idriss (some of the most stunning landscapes in Morocco. Think vineyards and olive groves, Roman ruins, and old Moroccan town built in to the side of a valley)

–Marrakech (did the touristy stuff, had monkeys thrown on us, explored and shopped, Westrey separated from the Greco’s on our last day in Mrrksh to go back to Vienna)

–Casablanca (we made it to Rick’s Cafe, inspired by the classic Casablanca, visited the splendid mosque Hassan II, one of the largest in the world after Mecca)

-Tangier (met up with a friend, walked the city with our suitcases, ate some seafood)

-Ferry over to Spain (it only takes 35 minutes!)

–Sevilla (spent Christmas here!)

–Barcelona (toured city, art & architecture, Picasso musuem and a lot of eating)

–Istanbul (spent New Year’s here, visited major sites like the Blue Mosque, Turkish Bath, Whirling Dervishes show, Bosphorus cruise, and so much more!)

–Paris (met up with my Dickinson College roommate Kim and wondered about the city for a few days and stayed with some of her family friends!)

And finally, back in town. All of my travels were fantastic and certainly expanded my travel experience. Being in Turkey was like nothing like I’d ever done before and it was quite enthralling to see a city literally straddling two continents with such a rich and fascinating history that I had only read about and discussed in class). Oh, and everyone thought my dad was Turkish? How funny is that? To me he looked like an American tourist (love you Dad) but when he was around the Turkish, they would just flock to him and start speaking to him in Turkish! Rich!

Though these travels were incredible, I found myself missing Morocco, my host family, my friends in Morocco, and the city of Rabat itself. Being away really enforced how at home here I’m starting to feel. Though I will jamais (NEVER) fit in and pass for a Moroccan, no matter what I wear or how I comport, or how well I speak Arabic and French, I really have started to put roots down here. Even though I continue to turn heads in the street and I always get a susprised look from taxi drivers and waiters when I start addressing them in the Moroccan dialect, I have noticed that everything is going much more smoothly and there’s just so much less friction during my interactions with Moroccans. I am beginning to learn things like the streets of the city better, where to get the best sandwiches, nuts, and chicken, the best cafe to spend an afternoon sipping a cafe creme and reading, and which hamam I should frequent. However, a trend that I noticed since I got back that tells me that my roads lead to Rabat for at least the time being (meaning I’m here, where I genuinely believe I am meant to be for now, loving it, and fitting in), is that I started running in to people! In the last week and a half since I’ve been back I’ve ran in to a number of people when I was just walking around the city, something that didn’t really happen to me last semester. Now I leave my house and I see friends, host family members and extended family, acquaintances, etc. Rabat is starting to transform from a new mysterious and intriguing place to my city, home, a place filled with wonders and many things I have yet to understand, but still a place that is deeply a part of my life.

I’m looking forward to the rest of this semester to see what’s in store for me, if I will continue to feel such a bond with Rabat, and if I will continue to consider it as ‘home’ as I have been lately. And thus, I have made a New Year’s resolution (which I must keep!) to write more prolifically while I’m out here. Yay!

Keep in touch!

Fashion will never die

As per usual, I am ages behind on keeping you updated on my life… and my Dickinsonian columns. My most recent (other than the column that’s coming out this week) was published way back in the first week of November. In the posts to come, inshallah, I shall work to bring you all up to speed.

Subject matter of the November column: fashion and the confusing trends of Morocco.

Teaser:

I can only laugh now when I look back to the night before I left for Morocco when I was packing my suitcase. Both the guidebooks that I skimmed before taking off and my abroad program’s orientation information had hinted that I should dress more conservatively in terms of wearing looser fitted clothing and less revealing items. In addition, I had seen on a number of movies set in the Middle East that featured women wearing the hijab or niqab (headscarf that completely covers the face except for the eyes). Let’s be completely honest: most Westerners probably think of the burqa or headscarf-wearing women when they envision dress in the region. Though I knew coming in that Morocco is much more progressive than its regional Middle Eastern neighbors, I still prepared my suitcase with the aim to fit in as much as possible: packing baggier cargo pants, Bermuda shorts, and loose t-shirts.

Read the whole article here.

Me going with the cargo/relaxed/adventure look. While perfect for traveling, when I'm in the city wearing this sort of thing I often feel underdressed or behind on the trends.

 

Sporting the maxi dress, this is as dressed up as it gets for me (pre Pimkie shopping spree of course!). Alhumdulillah for something nice to wear!

***Fashion will never die comes from a gem-stone studded black shirt I just saw in my new favorite store in Morocco, Pimkie. So appropriate, maybe I should think about buying it.

Holiday Time: from 3id to Thanksgiving

Last week I celebrated 3id Al Kabir with my host family, one of the biggest holidays in the Islamic world. In Morocco, each Muslim family (with exceptions for poorer families) is required to slaughter a sheep bismillah (in the name of God) to commemorate the miracle of 3id.  And when I say I celebrated with them, I mean I hung out with them all day in our courtyard watching step by step as our family’s sheep went from the pen to the dinner table. There were quite a few steps in between, from me trying to play with the sheep (it wouldn’t play back) and me eating sheep heart and liver kebab, but I will refrain from the bloody (ha!) details because I know some of my readers are a little too weak-stomached to handle it all. Needless to say, by the end of the day I was a bit repulsed by the meat, but I had a lot of fun spending quality time with the members of my host family and my roommate Besan. My experience felt very authentically Moroccan (as much as it could at least) and it truly was a special time where everyone took a break from school and work and people were just happy to praise God, see friends, family, and eat a lot. Almost sounds like Christmas time.

Mubarak 3id sayid! Picture with the sheep preslaughter time.

Speaking of Christmas… London is already in the throes of pre-Christmas time stuff. As one of my friends explained it, it’s got to be since they have no Thanksgiving, they just go from Halloween to Christmas mode. I took a brief little voyage out to London last weekend to see some of my Dickinson girlfriends, see the city, oh and of course the new Harry Potter film! Going the the U.K. I don’t think I was too shocked to find that Brits are pretty similar to how most of the movies portray them, and they do have funny expressions like calling the elevator the lift and you have always have to “mind the gap” (the distance between the the door and platform) when getting on and off the Tube. Overall, London’s a pretty charming place and I wouldn’t mind returning. I still have some fifty pounds left that would be nice to spend–though this one weekend probably out cost a month in Morocco for me. Also, too bad I got a virus and had some of the worst stomach issues of my life on my last day there. Anyone see the irony that this had to happen in London and not during my stay in Morocco, in say AFRICA?!

But nevertheless, though I’ve been under the weather all week, I was able to make it out to a Thanksgiving dinner at the American Club of the US Embassy. Alhumdullah (praise the Lord!) there was turkey, stuffing, cranberry, green beens, mashed potatoes, salad, and pumpkin pie–though none of these items could even quasi compare to those made by my family back in the States! or to those made by the Caf when we have Dickinson gourmet Thanksgiving (I’m being completely serious, I missed that this year).

I would just like to add that this Thanksgiving time made me step back a little and reflect on what I am grateful for. Lately, I’ve been feeling a little…homesick or at least missing family, friends, and Colorado. I’ve had the time of my life in Morocco so far, but more recently I’ve found myself a little bummed I won’t be home for the holiday season and winter break. However, I have to say that I don’t regret anything and I am so grateful for all the opportunities that my parents have made possible for me and that I have worked so hard for. Studying in Rabat has totally been worth it. Fortunately I get to see my parents in less than a month now, have a friend coming in to Rabat next weekend while another will be in Casablanca, and I will be going to Vienna to visit one of my dearest friends!  Also just came back from London to see 3 of my girls and the week before saw a friend in Madrid! What’s better, I have whole semester ahead of me in Rabat to learn more and get more experience in–which I am truly thankful for because while I do miss home sometimes, I love it here and can feel that I have yet to learn close to everything that I have set out to.