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...