What are the baggage regulations again?

So as I sit here contemplating what I can leave here and what I absolutely need to take with me, I realize that in about 4 hours I will be on my way to the airport and then beginning the journey back home.   Wow, when did this happen?  Hopefully my bags will make it past the wonders that are the airport baggage system, and get home.  See you on the flip side!

The Struggle for Contacts

I never thought it would be so difficult to contact people until I came to Morocco.  I think this is just my luck at things because many of my SIT classmates have been doing just fine contacting potential interviewees and advisers, but for some reason responses have been coming very slowly or not at all from most of the people I have attempted to contact.  However, I now have an adviser and an organization, Amal Sale, where I will be teaching English to Moroccan teenagers.  I will potentially be teaching for 4 hours each weekday in 2 hour sessions; one being a more grammar-focused and classroom session, and the other a more loose and conversational period.  Hopefully, my knowledge and memory of English grammar will be strong enough to help them through the complicated maze that is the English language with a little help from the textbook of course!  I was supposed to start yesterday as an assistant to the current teacher who is leaving after today, but, unfortunately, I became violently ill from what appears to have been food poisoning or something of that nature and could barely get out of bed.  So let's hope I can gather enough information about the class today.

In other news, there are two places in Morocco that I want to explore before I leave: Chefchaouen and Al Hoceima.  The first is a medium-sized city tucked away in the mountains, and is supposed to be a very beautiful and relaxing place with plenty of places to go hiking.  The second, Al Hoceima, is a beach town along the Mediterranean, and we all know what that means:  sun, sand, beautiful water, and tanning!  Not that I need much help tanning in the African sun, and mostly this solely means burn protection.  However, since rediscovering beaches over the past couple years, I have also discovered how incredibly relaxing a good stint in the sun can be.  So, insha'allah, I will be packing my bags this weekend, not for warmer climes (there is definitely plenty of sun in Rabat!), but shall we say, Mediterranean climes.

Moroccan Studies

Up until now, most of the school work involved with the program has been through classes and lectures, but now we're beginning to step outside the box.  As part of the SIT program, the last month is dedicated solely to research that the student conducts (ISP), which is absolutely fantastic.  The level of independence is surprising after following a rigid academic schedule and staying within a homestay family, and most certainly is welcome.  However, with all the time, there also seems to be no time to waste.  Three weeks simultaneously feels like an eternity and not nearly enough time, especially for figuring out the who, how, where, and what of a primary source research project. 

So what on earth would I want to study during my brief stay in Morocco?  Why children in urban areas, like Rabat and its sister city, Sale, stop going to school or don't finish their education.  After a week and a half of attempting to contact various people and organizations relating to my project, I finally have an adviser, and I believe I will be teaching English at an organization in Sale.  I am, hopefully, meeting with them tomorrow to actually see the center and begin my two-week volunteer position as an English teacher for high school-age students.  It will mostly be conversations with the students, so I imagine there will be plenty of time to talk to them about what concerns my research as well as the everyday things teenagers love to talk about.

Another aspect of my ISP I've mentioned is living away from my homestay family, and while that does involve a great deal of freedom, it also means I need to learn how to cook the Moroccan way very quickly.  I have definitely mastered the Moroccan mint tea (I picked that up as soon as I could), but more substantial meals are a little more of a mystery.  Tonight I attempted to decode some of that mystery by making Zalook, a tasty mushy mixture of eggplant and tomatoes.  Now I know what the non-eggplant lovers are thinking: "ewwwwww!" but I don't like eggplant either and this is spectacular!  You can find the recipe we used here, and while most Moroccans consider it a "salad", it was very good on some penne and eaten as the main course.  Along with some Moroccan tea and deviled eggs, it was an overall excellent meal!  I'll keep you posted on any other interesting/tasty recipes that I happen to come across and have success with in my little Moroccan kitchen. 

Movin' On Out!

Tonight is my last night in my homestay family.  I must admit I'm pretty happy to be leaving, but, as you come to know people over time, parting from them is always a little bittersweet.  Why would I be excited to leave a house like this, you ask?  For the same reasons I was excited to enter it:  the big family.  No matter what family you're among, there are always good times and bad times.  However, living in a house with 3 children under the age of ten has proved to be not the easiest task to undertake for someone who had never had to deal with children on a daily basis before.  I welcomed and accepted the challenge, but I will also welcome the new peacefulness that will come with my new home! Albeit, I will be living with 10 other females of my same age, but I think things will be slightly quieter, nonetheless.

So where is this new home? About 2 minutes away from my homestay family.  Of course that's a lot of houses when you consider how tightly packed houses are in the Medina, but it's just far enough away that I will be able to see them whenever I desire, instead of the other way around.  It is also just off the main produce street, so food will not be difficult to find.  I've packed my bags, and it's time to go.  So, wish me luck!

Off to the Beach

Last weekend, I needed some time away from the craziness that is my host family and the business of Rabat, and what better place to go than the beach?  However, I don't settle for any old beach, I wanted the real deal.  Therefore, going North to the Mediterranean coast was the only real option.  The voyage started with a very packed train ride to Tangier, which required that we stand in the hallway for the majority of the 6 hour ride.  On the train, my friends and I met several people who told us all about their version of Morocco.  Mostly, the conversations revolved around Moroccan food and hospitality, and Arabic.  I was actually quite proud of myself because I was able to conduct a full conversation using mostly Arabic; though I must be excused for the occasional slip into French when I didn't know a word.

The sun was beginning to set just as our train pulled into Tangier, and so we took a taxi to go find a hotel we could stay in for the night.  All was going well and we had found a very reasonably priced and decent hotel, until my one friend and I realized that we had left our passports back in Rabat.  A very stupid move, but nonetheless it happened.  There was no way we were going back to Rabat on another 6 train ride, and so there was no other option than to go the Central Police station to obtain a document stating that we were, in fact, legal immigrants/tourists and would not be asking the hotel we decided to stay in to perform any illegal activities.  So off to the Central Police Station in Tangier we went.  Normally, any police station in a developing country spells disaster in most people's minds, but each of the (non-uniformed) police officers we spoke to were very nice and somewhat helpful.  We were there to get an official document stating that we had entered into the country no more than 3 months ago and that we were, in fact, U.S. citizens.  As the officers began conversing with us in their very Moroccan way of bantering about everything and nothing at the same time, they pulled up all our information very easily.  However, somehow in the mix, they forgot to include all of this information needed by the hotel we would be staying at.  But that wasn't all.  As we were leaving, one of the police officers asked us if we wanted to be escorted back to our hotel, and how can you refuse an offer like that?  So we all piled into a police van and made our way down to our cheap but nice hotel near the beach.  We pulled up in front of a shop, and when I looked over at the shop owner, his eyes were bigger than I ever thought eyes could be.  As we stepped out of the van, I attempted to suppress the laughter that was almost consuming me, as this poor man attempted to figure out what was going on.  I thought that this would have been enough for the police officer, but then he told us that he would accompany us to the hotel to make sure that we got a good room and a good price.  Never mind the fact that we had already negotiated the price and found it to be just fine.

The next day was far less ridiculous.  We all met up for breakfast at a little cafe, purchased our tickets for the bus to Tetouan, and hopped on at 10 am for the 2 hour drive.  The ride was fairly uneventful and relaxing, but I must say the Rif Mountains are spectacular (even if the roads through them are atrocious).  And while we were making our way through a particularly bad pass, I could see electric-generating windmills on the far ridge.  It was a very heartening sight to see after being exposed to all the trash heaps that seem to be lining every street.  When we finally arrived in Tetouan at the bus station, we were all just a tad disoriented and it seemed like nothing was the way it said it was on the travel guide map.  So we picked a direction, and found a grand taxi to take us to the tiny beach town of Martil; about a 15 minute drive away.  The wait and travel time was definitely worth it.  Two months around my large family or 40 other SIT members can make you get a little crazy for some quite time.  And the beach at Martil was perfect for that.

We checked into our hotel, which was a two minute walk away from the Mediterranean beach, and took what we needed to spend the rest of the day lazing about on the wonderfully soft sand.  Perhaps I had just been deprived of anything like it, but that beach was spectacular!  For, the beach in Rabat is not that great, to put it lightly.  We all spent the proceeding 24 hours exactly like that.  I had a brief interlude of stress attempting to figure out housing at F&M, but fortunately that was brief and not as much of a headache as I thought it would be (Sorry to all of you who still have to figure things out!  I hope it all works out in the end).  The next day we tried to buy tickets for the bus heading straight from Tetouan back to Rabat, but unfortunately, it was already full, so we ended up taking a nondescript bus out of the bus station in Tetouan to Tangier, and taking the train from Tangier back to Rabat.

We got into Tangier with about 2 hours to spare, so we decided to go out and find a cafe.  The only type of food/drink establishment we could find: McDonald's!  It was actually a very nice McDonald's, and had a great view of the beach.  All in all, a fun, albeit crazy, adventure all in the attempt to find a beach.