Getting Screwed over in Morocco

This weekend I went to Casablanca and learned some important lessons:
1) Always have the meter running in a cab; they will always overcharge you otherwise... we had to pay 100 dinars to leave a club at night while our friends paid 50... we thought that that was the night price. On the same note... the taxis waiting at a tourist spot is much more likely to try to screw you over... we learned that sometimes you just have to get out of the taxi.
2) NEVER get round trip tickets for the train; they only work on the day of your ticket and the conductor AND supervisor will not care. It seems that in Morocco, the customer is always wrong. We even had a nice Moroccan try to help us but it did not work. Me and my friend had to pay an extra 37 dinars (only 4.50 in dollars, but still)
3) Don't go with people who take you to a place they know... they're always going to take you to the most expensive place and where they have friends. People in Morocco are nice, but if they see you as a tourist, they're going to try to make you spend money.
All in all, even getting screwed over for the taxi and train (of course they both happened to me...) I probably spent 65 dollars for a night at a hotel, a fancy dinner, train to and from Casablanca, a club and a few drinks, breakfast, and ice cream. That at least makes me feel a little better.

Thoughts about the hijab

It's interesting, when I walk in the street with a scarf on my head, even though it doesn't cover my ears and is therefore obviously not a hijab, I don't get hardly any harassment from guys, but when I wear a hat I get quite a few more.
I asked my mom why she didn't wear hijab and she said because she wasn't courageous enough--she could lose her job at the Spanish embassy if she wore one. She said very strongly that in Islam, the hijab is obligatory.
The fun thing is seeing all the different styles. I saw a woman who wore her scarf like I did, showing her ears. I see other ones that have bangs in front. All of this is really weird since the common perception is that the hijab is supposed to hide women's beauty and thus their ears and hair.
It's kind of interesting how obsessed the West is with the hijab. Why don't we get as obsessed about Jews wearing yamacas? If I were Muslim, I would probably wear a hijab simply because its simpler. Not having to deal with hair, having an extra accessory to match with clothes, getting less harrassment, being able to hold hands with your boyfriend in public without being looked down on... there doesn't really seem to be a reason not to wear the hijab.

Studying in Morocco vs. in the US

It's interesting learning about the same stuff from a Moroccan professor than from an American professor. First of all, they are much more interested in the theories of discourse, even in an intro class. They are very aware of the effect that different interests, be they colonial, national, or otherwise have on the view of the Arab World. I realized one of the major weapons that the West has had over so much of the rest of the world: the ability to shape discourse. Even when the rest of the world tried to retake the discourse, they did it in such a way as to go against the Western discourse directly, which still meant that it was shaped by how the West saw the East. Now things are changing, but the west has already created the definitions that the rest of the world has to work with. What is a tribe? What is a nation state? What defines feminism? Why has the veil become central to discourse on Arab feminism? It is amazing that the assumptions that I, as a westerner, have taken for granted have been adopted by non-western academics as well...

Thoughts about living in a host family

Its strange finding out about people's host families and how they're different from mine. Some clicked immediately, but that was usually because there was a person their age for them to hang out with. I don't quite know my place. Today my mom's uncle was sick and my dad, mom, and brother went to go visit him. I feel like, as part of the family I should go to, but then I've never met this person, so I didn't. What is my relationship. They keep telling me I don't have to do things around the house, but I'm part of the family, so I should. Today I did the dishes. It made me feel less of a guest. I feel like part of the problem is culture, I just don't know what's important to them, the other problem is language. I'm silent most of the time because its so hard to talk. And when they talk to each other i don't understand. Moreover, I'm twenty one years old. I feel slightly awkward living in my own parents home and figuring out how much I'm supposed to hang out with them... here its even harder. Should I go in my room and read a book, or should I try to watch a movie in Arabic that I don't understand just to be sociable. I suppose I should start trying to initiate conversations more, the only problem is it takes so long to express even simple ideas that its hard. I feel like I am picking up more of the language though, so I'm hoping for a moment where everything clicks. Maybe it won't, but I know it will get better.

Political discussions

I've been asking my family what they think of Obama and it's been interesting to hear their reply. They seem to believe very strongly that the president of the US is indirectly the president of the world, which I can understand, the funny thing is that they believe that any president of the US will work only for the US interests--and politics is politics. I suppose they are right, but they don't seem to believe that US interests can be pursued in multiple ways. And that Obama might change that way. Maybe its me being the idealist--but it would be a depressing thought if Obama conducted himself in world politics the same way that Bush did.
It's also interesting about Gaza. Everyone I've talked to here, be it the cofounder of the program, my history teacher, or my host parents, they seem to think (at least emotionally) that all of the West is supporting Israel in a sort of our tribe against your tribe sort of way. I understand the feeling, and yes some of the governments are really pro-Israel, but it's really much more complicated than that. In fact, I feel like there are quite a few European countries that are pro-Israel, and that the western media reaction has not been that pro-Israel either, yet the Moroccans still seem to feel that it's another clash of West against East, not simply a clash of Israel vs. Palestine.
On that note, though, it's interesting to see how Moroccans view Jews. There seemed to have been a very big population of Jews in Morocco, that left not because they were kicked out, but because Israel offered incentives for them to come to Israel. Moroccan Jews even have a relatively good relationship to the Moroccan government, because when the vichy government controlled it and the Germans wanted the Vichy government to send the Jews of Morocco, the King of Morocco said "We have no Jews, only Moroccans." There was even a Jew at a pro-Gaza demonstration that said he didn't like Israel because it had stolen away his family. Because of this large Jewish population, it seems that Moroccans have a slightly better ability to separate Jews from Israel, compared to the rest of the Arab world.

Dareeja

I came to Morocco expecting to be slightly confused by the Moroccan dialect, but it's entirely different. The vocab is different, the conjugation is different--it's like I learned Latin and am expected to understand French. That's what amazes me about the Moroccans. Not only do the speak Dareeja, their mother tongue, but they learn to read Fusha (Modern Standard Arabic--what I'm learning) and listen to it on TV. Then they know French (if they're educated) and usually one other language. And that's relatively normal, especially if you're less than 35 years old.

Cleanliness

Moroccans have a very different sense of clean than we do. They think we are dirty because we don't get ourselves scrubbed at the Hamam. On the otherhand, they only change their clothes once or twice a week unless they're going out and they sometimes only wash when they go to the Hamam. My little brother didn't have his clothes changed until 4 days after I met him...

Eating, Moroccan Style

In Morocco, you eat with your hands. Not really just with your hands but with bread. It's actually not that hard, it's just that you end up eating a lot of bread because every time you eat something you take a small piece of bread to eat it with. It is actually kind of fun, but you get really messy fingers and it's really frustrating when you've ran out of bread and there's still more food. It's also interesting because we'll have meat at meals, but only a very small portion and lots more vegetables. I also can't tell if it's healthy or not, since we're eating so much bread and lots of things with oil but I eat a lot of vegetables. We'll see if I gain or lose weight.

Mahmoud

Mahmoud (my host brother) and I didn't get off to the best start. Nezha had to go to the souk (market) and Mahmoud was sleeping, so he stayed in with me. Of course, right after she left, he woke up, and found himself alone with a stranger. At first he just sat there looking at me. I realized that I really hadn't been around 18 month year olds much. I knew that for babies you held them and sang to them and they were happy, and for older kids, talk to them, play with them, etc. So I tried holding him, that made him cry, so I set him down and tried playing with toys. For a while he would be happy, and then he'd get uncomfortable again and start crying.
For all that bad introduction, he is so cute. He can run around and say about 4 words, mama, baba, mimi, and nini. The first and second are mama and papa, the third is his word for food and the fourth is his word for sleep. He runs around and plays with his toys which are mostly small plastic ones. I was very confused by this until I realized that his dad works at McDonald's and most of the toys are from there. Interestingly absent are baby books and kid plates and silverware. When he eats food, he just uses a normal teaspoon and drinks out of a normal cup (although he has a bottle for milk). One of the only toys that is not from McDonald's is a toy violin which he loves, and I'm sure he's going to be a musician like his father. It's strange watching how Nezha interacts with him, since it's quite different than how my siblings interact with their kids. For instance, when he does something bad, she usually softly slaps him. She also doesn't seem to keep quite as vigilant a watch on him as I'm used to, and isn't quite as wary of small objects. I hope that soon he considers me part of the family... even now he smiles at me and my heart melts.

Moroccan TV

When we were given a seminar about living about our host family, they called the TV another member of the family. it really is. They have it on ALL THE TIME. What amazes me is how many channels they have. They have channels with American movies, they have music channels, they have religious channels. In one night, I saw a religious musical performance, music videos, and three different American movies. Although they're not really paid attention to. It's more like it just has to be on. Today as soon as Nezha entered the building, she put the TV on. The strangest thing to me are the music videos. They have credits at the end (which I don't think that I've ever seen at the end of American ones, they have a bar at the bottom that you can text to, but the most interesting thing is what they wear. The women are just as half naked as in American music videos which is especially strange because no one wears those kinds of things in real life.
American movies are also strange to see here. I was watching Beauty Shop and it was just strange to think that this is how the rest of the world sees America, through the movies. I don't feel like they do a very good job at all of showing how life actually is. Also interesting is that they have the cuss words in English, but don't translate them into cuss words in the subtitles. If there's a sex scene, they'll show it if it's not graphic, but if it is, they let you listen to it, but not see it. It seems like a silly thing, since they let you hear it but that's how it is.
I'll probably keep writing on this because it seems very strange to me.

First Impression

Yesterday, I met my host mother and father. The mother (Nezha) came to the center and picked me up. I tried to talk to her but it was hard going and I managed to learn the Darija (or Moroccan Arabic) word for rain, but didn't get much farther. She couldn't speak English, but she could speak Spanish. However, I wanted to practice my Arabic. We got to the house and her husband (Abdelatif) introduced himself. He works at McDonalds (which I think is a much better job than it is in the US because Moroccans actually take people out on dates there because it's relatively expensive compared to Moroccan standards). His wife works at the Spanish embassy, but I could not understand what she did. He could speak pretty good English and kept speaking it even though I tried to answer him back in Arabic. I didn't get to meet their little boy, though, since he was at his grandmother's.
The house is two stories, with one room and a terrace upstairs and then a living room, a bedroom for my host parents, and a big room with a curtain that I can use half of and close the curtain when I'm changing and sleeping. There is a rather small kitchen, with a stove and a small oven, and then a refrigerator out in the hall. The bathroom is pretty small, but has a movable shower head. However, I don't see where the drain is, so I have no idea how to take a shower yet. I guess I'll ask them today.
Nezha made sure that I understood that they had a one and a half year old, and that I should make sure to put away all fragile things and close my suitcases, and if someone went through my stuff it was not her but her son who thinks anything is a toy. After Abdelatif had made sure in English that I understood, he went to his music lesson and I was left with Nezha. We sat on the couch for a while and then she took out her camera and showed me pictures, and I showed her pictures of my family. It was very good, she mostly used Arabic and I practiced a lot. However, she never seemed to think I understood it and would keep explaining way after I understood what she was talking about, even changing into Spanish. It's funny, I have taken just as much Arabic as Spanish, but I understand the Spanish way better, maybe because I learned it when I was younger, but probably because of the cognates (oh how I miss cognates). It's so funny to listen to her because I learned the Spanish of the Americas, and she speaks Spanish Spanish, so she has a lisp that I knew about, but had never really heard before.
It was sad, she was showing pictures of one of the most important Muslim holidays when they sacrifice a ram, and she said, "I am a Muslim, but I'm not a terrorist." It's sad that it's gotten to the point where Muslims believe that Americans equate Muslims with terrorists. It was fun going through her pictures, but she had almost 200 of them and trying to keep up with the Arabic was rather exhausting. I learned that she was only 28, quite young to be my "mother," I don't mind though, because I'll get to play with a toddler the whole time.
She went then to go cook, and Abdelatif came back soon after. He was talking in English, and I did not have the energy to tell him to do otherwise (it was already 9pm by that time and orientation week was very long...) He told me about how he played Andalusian music, and played the Violin, Viola, a traditional Moroccan string instrument that only has two strings, and even the tamborine. He showed me a video of him playing in his music group (honestly I don't like Andalusian music that much), and then played some music on his viola, that he actually plays while sitting on his knee (so it sort of looks like he's playing a mini-bass). He talked about how in Andalusian music they have 11 scales, with 24 variations which is quite a lot, considering that Western classical music has only 2 scales, with 4 variations. He played me a bit of this and that, and I liked the Berber the most. I'm pretty sure that we were put together because of our shared love of music and the fact that Nezha can speak Spanish.
This is Abdelatif's 7th time hosting a student, and Nezha's 4th, and I can tell the little ways that they understand what I might expect. They didn't have toilet paper yesterday (Moroccans use water instead), but this morning there was some. They had a spoon to eat with, and bread to eat the Moroccan way, and I couldn't tell whether they normally ate this way or if it was for me.
I feel like I'm getting a very different experience than some of my fellow classmates because I'm in such a small, young family. They have a washing machine, shower, and western toilet. There are only three of us who eat. Nezha has taught Abdelatif, she cooks, so he clears the table. I was wondering if that meant that he also did the dishes, but he doesn't. However, the fact that he enters the kitchen makes him (from what I heard) different than many Moroccan men. Nezha doesn't wear the hijab, and from the pictures of her family, it seems like none of them do, which is interesting, since quite a few families have a few women who wear the hijab. The house, though, is the one that Abdelatif was born in, so it obviously has been renovated throughout his life. Nezha is from Sale though, and that's where her mother still remains.
It was awkward at first, but I like them both, and although I am disappointed that I won't be able to experience the way a more traditional Moroccan home works, I will get to experience a modern one and see what the younger generation is retaining and what they no longer have. It is obvious that one of the biggest changes is the number of children. Both Nezha and Abdelatif have at least 4 siblings, yet only have one son. Although they may still have more children, I very much doubt it will be as many.
Overall, I am happy to be here, although I hope I can manage to make them use Arabic rather than English/Spanish with me. I wonder if the son will be a help, although all the words he knows right now are mom, dad, sleep and eat. We'll see...

Haggling

In Morocco, I live in this area with a huge Souk, or market, and you can get every thing, saffron, artichokes, meat, clothes, toys, you name it. So yesterday we had this haggling exercise where we got 10 dirham (~$1.20) to buy something with. I was so proud of myself, I bought a yoyo that was originally 20 dirham for 10. Today, on the other hand, I found this beautiful scarf that was originally 60 dirham and I immediately said 55 dirham, which I got. I feel silly because he accepted so fast that I should have haggled some more. It's funny, I feel like I lost some sort of game and he made me buy something for more than it's worth. Oh well, I suppose I'm still a tourist and it was a learning experience. My friend had an even more interesting experience when she tried to haggle something down from 15 dirhams to 10 dirhams and instead of saying "10" in Arabic, or "ashra" she said "ashrine" which means 20, which led to quite an interesting interaction. Luckly she only had to pay 15 dirhams for it anyway. I hope to be able to haggle like a Moroccan by the time I leave and live up to my Middle Eastern roots.

Coincidences

Random coincidences: There are two people who have studied abroad in Turkey and thus speak Turkish. There's another Sephardic Jew (I haven't met one in ages). The BU director went to study and Sweden and thus speaks Swedish, as does another girl who also speaks Swedish. Thus, although we can't necessarily speak to each other in Arabic, people in the group could have a conversation in Turkish or Swedish or French or Spanish. Small world, isn't it.

Ode to Morocco Food

We have been provided with four meals (other than the croissant at breakfast) and the food is amazing. I was expecting amazing clementines since I knew the ones we got in America were from Morocco, but I wasn't expecting the delicious oranges and fresh orange juice. i don't know if I'll ever be happy with American oranges/clementines again.
The center provides us with a buffet for every meal. Surprisingly, we only had couscous at one of them. The vegetarian selection is huge,during four meals, we have had pumpkin, green beans, white beans, turnips, beets, and all cooked in ways I'd never had them before. I am surprised that they don't use pita here, but the white bread they cook is perfect and always in large supply. The food is actually very different than the usual middle eastern food, although the predominance of beans and lamb is similar to the Egyptian and Lebanese food I've had. Not only is the food delicious, it's really healthy, we don't eat hardly any boring carbs other than a little bread, rice, or couscous and so many vegetables. For dessert there is always fresh fruit, I don't know that I've had hardly any sweets since I was here. I have yet to see how my host mother will cook, but I am very, very excited. I only wish that BU food were half as good...

Arrival

So after thinking I couldn't get to Morocco because I didn't have a visa I didn't need (and the Delta lady being stupid) I made it to Boston and met the others on my group flight and got through Air France no problem. The plane was old, so we didn't get any TV or anything, and I of course got the middle seat. We had a 6 hour lay over in Paris and got to Morocco yesterday.
After unpacking in our temporary hotel a brief orientation and a wonderful dinner I crashed and slept for 10 hours--the night was really cold.
Today was fun, after some boring orientation stuff and lunch we went on a bus tour of Rabat. It's amazing how much is being developed. Some of the buildings were only months old and there is building everywhere. Although the outskirts near the airport was pretty rural, this is a energetic modern city. In the medina, though, there is a huge marketplace that sells everything, from pirated DVDs to snails to TVs to clothes.
The center where we're having classes is beautiful in the Moorish style. The people seem really on top of things even though we're the pilot program.
Last thing today we got dropped off somewhere in Rabat and had to make it back to the center by ourselves... I actually was the first one back and managed to get help from a nice lady who gave me her phone number and said I could come over sometime... It was so much fun.