moroccan truths: time flies

“Time flies” is a grave understatement. Orientation in Fes has come and gone right in front of me. I have enjoyed my homestay so much that I asked to switch into a homestay in Rabat, but unfortunately, making the switch is too expensive. By good fortune, there was a scheduling error and I am not living with an American, rather, a Moroccan girl. It is difficult to absorb all of these experiences because the days are long and so unfamiliar. I am trying to remember all that has happened this week but I am coming up short. I wrote down a few things throughout the week that stood out to me…

            Boys will be boys will be boys. No matter where in the world, no matter what language they speak, no matter what religion they practice. Boys are boys. Tayeb, my 13-year-old host brother, showed me this. It’s funny how simply being a boy transcends all barriers.

            In Morocco, catcalls on the street aren’t considered harassment. This has taken some getting used to but after time, it is easy to ignore, unless it is a really funny one. Sometimes the direct translations are not as the catcaller intended. Some of the most common that we hear are: sexy Spice Girls, lovely eyes, want nice massage?, beautiful flower. An older man once offered 15,000 camels to marry me, which was flattering, but my favorite has to be, “you have a funny size”. I’ll take it.

            Morocco experiences cold winters. None of us were aware of this before coming. There is no central heating, as a matter of fact, no heating at all. I have a scarf wrapped around my head right now. Oh, and my hair dryer broke this morning.

            We took a day trip to Volubulis, an ancient Roman city, near Meknes. It was incredible. It was set on a mountainside, perfect for defending. There were remains of an acropolis, an alter for sacrifice, and the foundations of large homes of the aristocrats. We then went to Moulay Idriss, a small town set in the mountains. We hiked A TON of stairs to an overlook of the entire town. We then ate a traditional Moroccan lunch of tajine at a restaurant (which is untraditional) in Meknes and saw the old palace of King Moulay Ismael. He came into power when the country was weak but left it strong. In his 30 years as ruler, he murdered 30,000 and imprisoned countless people. He was known for being cruel and, specifically, for lining the city gates with more than 10,000 heads of enemy soldiers. I can’t imagine the stink.

            Back in Fes, we went to dinner at Hamed’s nephew’s apartment, in the Ville Nouvelle, for the prophet Mohammed’s birthday. A huge family is fun. There were more than 20 people there. Moroccan custom, contrary to American, is to remain with family forever. Each meal is eaten together and it is unusual to move out on your own. On a side note, saying that I am full means nothing here. We’ll say, “saafi shbet, hamdullilah”, which is “I am full, thanks be to God”. But…the women will say, “ehh shiwa shbet, (a little full)” and flop more meat or bread in our hands. It is a battle we can’t win.

            To be an animal in the United States is to live a life of luxury. I won’t say much more than that. It’s sad but donkeys are surprisingly cute.

            This weekend, we were so thankful to have respite from darija. Friday, we went to the only hotel bar in Fes and drank wine. For a country who’s exchange rate is 1 USD = 8.6 MDH, the wine was priced incredibly high. But, that is to be expected in Fes. Fes, one of the most conservative cities in Morocco, has tried to outlaw alcohol; they have succeeded in making shisha illegal, because everyone would just smoke hash all day, in lieu of shisha. So I can see why that happened. Saturday, I went with a group of students to a traditional Moroccan hot sulfur spring called Moulay Yakoub. There were two separate pools for men and women. Women relaxed and bathed in the hot water and we tried our best to be comfortable. It was an experience. It was uncomfortable. But it was worth it. We stayed in the water for about 15 minutes in just our underwear. We happened to meet two girls in the pool about our age. They were so nice and the first Moroccan girls who approached us. I think it was because of how incredibly vulnerable we were in our nakedness. Later on in the day, a friend invited us to his friend’s traditional Moroccan villa. His mother is a veterinarian. There were animals everywhere! It looked like a cool life to live. With a few students today, I visited one of the King’s palaces in Fes and a synagogue in “la quartier des Juifs”. After that, I met up with the girls from Moulay Yakoub and went to the Ville Nouvelle for hookah (I guess it’s not that illegal).

            Tomorrow we have our last full day of Darijia. I have to say that I am not excited, but what can I do! We have our final on Tuesday, inch allah (God willing), I will pass.