Hello all. As I am writing this in the midst of my midterm break, I can’t really complain about life at the moment. After last week’s exams and papers, this week seems almost arduously tranquil. Unlike the rest of my group, I decided to stay here in Rabat for the duration of the break. To be completely honest, my decision was, for the most part, fueled by the fact that I don’t think my bank account could weather a week under the grip of the Euro. In Rabat, food (more than enough) and board is provided and even the things I do sometimes covet are priced well within my range. And well, money aside, I’m exhausted and could use a week wandering around Rabat and lazily pretending to get ahead on readings and upcoming papers. In reality, I have attached myself to students in another program that is based at the centre. I have been attending their lectures and picking up even more insight from experts on different aspects of Moroccan culture and Islam. Yes, I know-not the ideal holiday, but when in Rome...take advantage of free seminars and the like!
Rather than boring you with a report of my week though, I shall tell you about last weekend. In a word: EPIC. A few of my friends and I decided to cast ourselves as young, thrill seeking American/English tourists for a day and a night. Equipped with a guidebook and infinite curiosity, we visited the old citadel of Chellah, ate delicious street food, and wandered along as if we had arrived in Rabat just yesterday! Once the sun had set on the day, we donned the ritziest outfits we had and headed out for a glorious Italian dinner in one of the nicer neighborhoods of Rabat. For a surprisingly low price, I had a glorious plate of spaghetti bolognaise. I had been craving a bit of a break from tagines and couscous, so I think that’s why I found a simple pasta entrée to be quite the treat. Apparently everyone else in our group shared my cravings because we all ate enough pasta and pizza to satisfy a small army. I’m sure the waiter was a little taken aback when he discovered that our table had recently been inducted into the Clean Plate Club-his eyes grew quite wide! Full and looking for some fun, the five of us hopped in a taxi and ended up at a pretty seedy bar in downtown Rabat. Called the “Café de Paix”, this restaurant offers up drinks at ridiculously low prices. While we did have to put up with the stares of leering men and the like, we had a good time laughing and sharing stories from Saturday nights back home. After about half an hour, a gentleman came up to the table and informed us that as he was friends with the owner of the bar, he would like to buy us a round of drinks. Suspicious of such offers, we initially refused. He insisted and after a while we figured, there are five of us and one of our fellow male students is on the way…let’s just accept. After the first round of first drinks we received another and before long, the same gentleman decided that he wanted to pay for everything we had consumed. We adamantly refused and as the stares were getting worse and the hour grew later, we explained we were on our way out. He refused our money and so we ended up leaving without spending a dime. Unfortunately, the waiter had not been let in on the gentleman’s scheme and when we had put about 5 meters between us and the café, he came running after us demanding in French that we pay up! Willing to settle the confusion, a few of us went back into the café only to witness a fist fight between the gentleman, the waiter, and a few others and finally, someone thrown down the stairs. I think it’s fair to say we were slightly terrified and as soon as the bigger men in the conflict gave us the directive to get out of the café as quickly as possible, we sprinted back to the hotel room we had booked for the night. After all that, our money was still refused! Utter craziness I tell you!
As it was around 11:30 p.m. when we got back to the room, we decided we were still up for some more fun. We had promised ourselves that we would live the night on college time…which meant we had a lot more carousing to do! Amnesia, one of Rabat’s few night clubs, was our next port of call. Unfortunately, the 300 dirham cover charge was out of the question, and for a moment, our night took a big hit. Cue the random Moroccan who lives in Boulder, Colorado and is visiting his family in Rabat. Yes, I kid you not-this quasi Moroccan with perfect English suggested that we join his group of friends and head to a nightclub located about 30 minutes outside of Rabat. He assured us this club offered free entry to ladies. We gravitated toward one of the women in his group and demanded whether or not this was a legitimate offer and if we would be in safe hands. Down to Earth and unsurprised by our concern, she assured us there was nothing to worry about and that they just wanted more people in the group. So, we hopped in their cars and headed to “Platinum”-a crazy techno night club with music so loud I had to step outside multiple times to relieve my poor ears. Once again, drinks generously provided at no cost. Apparently, according to our American/Moroccan friend, you can’t be an upstanding Moroccan young man and still allow a woman to pay for her own drink. I should tell you, however, that I’m quite sure the majority of the people in the club were very wealthy and most if not all, embodied European culture in Morocco. Anyway, feeling that I had had my full at the Café de Paix, I kindly refused and gravitated towards the dance floor for a much-needed dance session. Well, we danced and danced and danced some more. It was a relief to us all that we only had to fend off a few suitors eager for a dance! Finally, slightly exhausted yet gleeful at what we saw as a highly successful night, we were kindly escorted back to our hotel. I was so pleased to fall into bed that night. All in all, I think the night was both very much enjoyed and wholly needed. The next day, albeit a little weakly, we were all ready to jump back into the conservatism and family-oriented life of the medina. What can I say except that everyone needs a break now and then and well, we sure did have quite the break! Enjoy the rest of your week!

Where is the time going? I just glanced at the date of this entry and it’s hard to believe we’ve already made our way through much of October! I can just hear my grandmother’s voice exclaiming, as she always does, that these days, the time goes so quickly. In terms of my stay in Morocco, Grandma Watford couldn’t be more right; I’ve already been here for just over a month and a half! I do hope time slows a bit, for I am truly enjoying my days here.
Since I last wrote, I have come to discover that, although it may look quite diminutive on a map, Morocco is home to a remarkable variety of landscapes. I spent the first week or so of this month travelling around the country with fellow students and our wonderful program director. Despite only having a week, we managed to visit the bustling Marrakesh, spend a night with nomads in the Sahara, explore the mysterious medina of Fes, and immerse ourselves in the northern paradise that is the town of Chefchaouen. Exhilarating, calming, stunning, humbling, unforgettable-just looking back on the journey wills my feet to take me back, back to those places and those people. Alas, while my feet might fail me, my memories grant me the power to return.
As our first stop was Marrakesh, it was not long before the trip had taken on a note of utter craziness. With its famed Djemaa el Fna square and its enormous souks, Marrakesh is an energetic city eager to immerse you in marvels that will leave you out of breath and a bit poorer. Snake charmers, henna artists, street performers, fresh orange juice stands, and colossal dried fruit stalls bring the massive square to life in the late afternoon and even more so at night. Encircling much of the square, the colours and sounds of the souks draw you in and convince you that you need to purchase one of everything! My friends and I have found that living and studying in Rabat has made us stingier that the average tourist-we bought very little from the storekeepers who had clearly pinned us as just another bunch of wealthy Americans. Oh, their faces when we explained in Arabic that we are from Rabat! Marrakesh is usually the premier destination for tourists from the states and Europe (particularly those who hail from the land of pork pies (that’s for you Tom), chocolate buttons, and Big Ben). My mum would be proud-I heard accents from all over the motherland…and I think I may have placed them all correctly. Anyway, rather than allowing ourselves to spend the afternoon navigating our way through the maddening market, we took taxis to the Majorelle Gardens, a beautiful botanical garden owned by the late Yves Saint Laurent. With exotic plants, serene ponds, and beautiful shades of blue and yellow throughout, the garden offered us relaxation and showed us another side of Marrakesh that we all very much appreciated. Don’t worry though my dear academic friends-of course, we also visited the Marrakesh museum and got our fill of history, culture, and Arabic placards! Not surprisingly, after a long day of travelling and exploring this vibrant staple of any Moroccan excursion, a few of us wound up sharing a glorious bottle of chilled white wine from a atop a terrace with a perfect view of the city.
Moving on…the next day saw our little group move further south towards the town of Zagora, one of the gateways to the Sahara. Clearly a town catering to those eager to venture into the dunes of the desert, Zagora gave us the opportunity to purchase those famous blue turbans of the nomads and prepare for our night in the desert. I could hardly sleep that night as I thought about the following day-there is something so mysterious and alluring about the desert. Endlessness, beauty, heat, solitude, meditation, uncertainty-I associate all this and more with the miles and miles of sand and sun.
With the arrival of dawn, we packed some necessities, picked up our guide, and moved closer to the desert. Along the way, we visited an old pottery village, a deserted village that had succumbed to the encroaching sand, and stopped for an ice cold coca cola-one last moment of refreshment before the onslaught of unrelenting heat. As the sand would’ve wreaked havoc on our trusty little van, we exchanged it for two safari jeeps equipped with two hilarious drivers. I have to be honest, felt pretty cool to be traversing the desert in such a fashion-reminiscent of those seemingly adventurous explorers I’ve only seen at the cinema! Our last stop before truly losing sight of civilization was for lunch at the house of a nomad. A man whose family has been caravanning across the Sahara for the past 400 years, this older nomad gave us a delicious meal and answered our many questions about making a life out of journeying through the sand year after year. His family provides an example of a common dynamic for many tribal groups who live in Morocco today. While some family members continue to caravan with their camels, others have gone to the bigger cities to study at university. There seems to be an impressive blending of modernity and tradition within many of these nomadic households-a freedom to take part in whichever lifestyle suits the individual. Of course, as in any Moroccan household, family responsibilities are paramount-but I found it comforting that the nomad was equally proud of his caravanning son and his son studying law in Marrakesh. The older nomad was so generous with both his traditional mint tea and the information he gave us concerning relations between tribes and the government, and what it’s like to spend week after week in the harsh conditions of the desert. I can only marvel at the endurance and ingenuity of such a man and his fellow nomads.
Bellies full and racked with anticipation, we finally drove into the dunes of the desert! Driving over sand is really entertaining-it’s like a mini rollercoaster ride! (I’m quite sure the driver was intent on making sure that this was the case) As we came over a particularly steep dune, we caught sight of our camp and quite simply, glee overtook us all. I can’t articulate the feeling of setting my bag down on my bed, sitting beneath the sun surrounded by sand and thanking the nomad with a giant smile for the tea and almonds. Overwhelmed by questions of how my life could possibly have led me to such an instance, I could only comprehend the impressive weight of the decisions we make in treading one path over another. I chose to come to Morocco and study at the CCCL and it is this one decision that had situated me across the table from a beautiful, inspiring, and innovative human who I otherwise would not even know existed. I listened to this man who has unlocked so many of the desert’s secrets and I could only think, how many of us there are in this enormous world! Oh, it’s almost too much to try and conceive!
Alright, so as I’m sure you have surmised by now…we did indeed have the opportunity to enjoy a ride on a camel…to a dune from which we watched the sunset. Again, my apologies, for my words will surely fail me here. I can tell you that my camel was a tall, proud, beautiful (in the only way that camels can somehow appear beautiful) creature that seemed rather content to plod through the desert with me constantly exclaiming about how surreal everything felt. I dread to think what she thought about my squeals as she stood up and sat down. It’s a bit terrifying when such a gangly, tall beast decides to sit down…front legs first then back legs…and you’re holding on for dear life! We had to run to the top of the dune to catch the sun before it set on that epic day. Picture-taking and sliding down the sand, we made merry as our nomadic guides looked on, laughing at how easily we were thrown into fits of glee! Back at the camp, a musical performance by a group of Amazigh men and women. Such fun! As I was recovering from a bit of stomach trouble, I wasn’t planning on gallivanting around the fire, but our nomadic host wasn’t having any of that! Before I knew what was happening, I was dancing around and clapping, following the beat of the drums and the voices of the performers. As a perfect end to the day, we followed the nomads to the top of a dune and spent a couple of hours watching the stars and chatting. Our host showed me how to bury my feet in the sand to keep them warm-an incredible sensation-it actually felt like my feet were wrapped up in an electric blanket. Of course, he also enjoyed teasing me about my inability to find any shooting stars and generally poked fun at me for most of the time. I think my favorite part of the desert was the silence. Once everyone turned in for the night and I was awake in my bed, I was struck by the lack of even the smallest sound. It’s a silence that comforts, that wraps you up and places you deep within the folds of an undisturbed slumber. Completely refreshing and something I could use a lot more of in my life at home.
The following morning brought a rejuvenating breakfast of eggs, bread, honey, tea, and orange juice. Of course, we also had to say goodbye to the desert and move on to our next stop. I was sad to say goodbye to the nomads and our home in the sand. Although short, I feel my stay in the desert will linger in my mind for years. I have found that the best experiences of the semester thus far have been fleeting in reality, yet remarkably permanent in this mind of mine. We turned away from the desert and moved in the direction of Fes. The drive between Zagora and Fes saw us go from the dry, desert landscape to the awe-inspiring peaks of the middle and High Atlas. How strange it is to go through such a variety of surroundings in a single day! As if the Atlas range wasn’t impressive enough, the intellectual center of Morocco that we discovered on the other side of the mountains was even more extraordinary. Fes is a city that, without a guide, is extremely difficult to navigate. I should say that about the medina in particular. Much larger than the Rabat medina, the old city of Fes is home to tiny alleys that wind around each other and make it impossible to identify from whence you have come or in what direction you should go. Thankfully, we followed a man who knows the ins and outs of this ancient city like the back of his hand. He showed us the famous tanneries and the fabric shops, took us to the oldest Quaranic school in the country, and gave us the opportunity to observe daily life in the medina. I found the tanneries and their unbelievably hard workers to be most impressive. All day, leather is produced through a process that sees the male workers spending hour after hour in vats of dye under the unrelenting sun. As the smell emitted by the whole process can be a bit difficult to handle, I was glad to have a sprig of mint to sniff! If you have the chance, I think you’d find researching the tanneries of Fes to be quite an enlightening and fascinating read.
After a tour of the medina, our group was lucky enough to visit a women’s association in the city. Working with women who have been the victims of gender specific violence, this organization houses battered women and their children, and works to help them become self-sufficient. Through classes in baking, jewelry-making, and other activities, the center gives these eager women the chance to work and earn money for themselves and their children. While they have done so much, the association struggles as a result of a lack of funding. As it was quite clear that the volunteers are frustrated by how difficult operating on less than a sufficient budget has become, I came away racking my brain for ways in which such an association could raise funds. As with most initiatives relating to women and gender issues here, there is so much work to be done.
Gosh, this is getting a bit long. Hopefully, you are still there my friends! Right, so our next overnight stop was in a northern town called Chefchaouen. Located in the Spanish region of northern Morocco, the feel is unlike most of the other places I have been. Couched in the Rif Mountains and known for its blue and white-washed walls, the medina of Chefchaouen is perfect for a beautiful and relaxing stroll for weary travelers. We spent our time there visiting the Kasbah museum, eating a lot of couscous, and doing a fair amount of shopping. Our hotel was hilarious as the rooms had been decorated in the style of a room belonging to an 8 year old princess-they were PINK and had beds with canopies and elegant lace curtains. The boys in the group really enjoyed that night.
The final day of our trip saw us wind our way back from the mountains and towards our coastal home in Rabat. We spent the last ride in the van enjoying each other’s company and talking about how on earth facebook would handle the massive amount of pictures we wanted to upload. I have yet to attempt this task.
I don’t know if I have done the trip justice with my descriptions, but hopefully you feel like you came along for a bit of the journey. If you ever have the chance, do embark on a trip across Morocco-I promise you will discover the places and people I have mentioned. You will have your own unique encounter with this wonderful, generous, and incredibly diversified country. I wish I could’ve brought you all along with me, for it truly was a week of sights, sounds, and emotions I am eternally grateful for having experienced! Have a wonderful week and if you get the chance, give my fellow students and I a bit of thought…we have midterms! An Arabic midterm is a truly foreign concept to me…I had better go and bond with my books and flashcards! Love to all!

Hello again! It has been too long since we last met my dears! So much has unfolded since the stories of henna and that unforgettable trip to the hamman-the least of which is a complete transformation of life in Morocco! Whereas the days here once meant hunger, bad-tempered drivers, and quieter streets, daylight is now synonymous with the buzz of people shopping, going to work and school, and finally savoring all that yummy street food. The welcome return to normalcy arrived with the celebration of Eid Al-Fitr, the holiday that marks the end of Ramadan. My Eid Al-Fitr was a day characterized by a large midday meal, delicious sweets, and endless visits by family and friends. For the first time since my arrival in the home stay, I was able to see my family enjoy breakfast, lunch, and a slew of snacking in between. I particularly enjoyed watching my little sister reintroduce herself to the joys of an ice cream beneath the rays of the afternoon sun.
I should mention that when I say family, I mean the thirty or so mothers, husbands, fathers, brothers, toddlers, etc. that are somehow related to Mama Hafida. The house was packed with happy Moroccans encouraging me to eat and eat and eat. I jokingly reminded them in broken French that during Ramadan, I had eaten enough to make up for all of their fasting-all this to no avail-Mama Hafida insisted I have yet another cookie…and more of that incredibly sweet mint tea. At first my western mind-set attempted to calculate the caloric intake-but I soon gave up as I heard echoes of the advice of my wise big brother back home-“enjoy the food while your there Katherine!” I know he loves Moroccan cookies…so I symbolically ate a few in honor of him…and then a few more. Oh well, when in Rome!
As a result of the holiday, I got Monday through Wednesday off. Monday was Eid, so I spent the whole day at home with family. On Tuesday and Wednesday, I explored a bit of Rabat with friends-we spent some time at the beach, drank coffee (and of course, reviewed Arabic vocab), and relaxed in the park. I managed to get a run in along the shoreline-its beauty is a hazard-I’m prone to tripping while distracted by the sparkle of the ocean. Oh, and I have to tell you, when I run in my basketball shorts here, I usually receive a couple marriage proposals per mile. They usually come from the window of a car of from men by the side of the road. I’m touched really because Lord knows I am not a pretty sight when fighting the heat and pain to get up a hill! Oh the silliness of those men! On both days, lunch was a bit of a guilty pleasure. We felt a bit sheepish about this in light of the generosity of our families, but as we were a bit overwhelmed by the Moroccan cuisine, we sought out pizza, Chinese, and anything that reminded our little tummies of home! Although a bit pricey, the westernized food was worth every bite and every exclamation about our favorite dishes back home. All in all, it was a glorious holiday spent lazing in the sun and basking in the relief that the strenuous schedule of Ramadan was a thing of the past!
On that Friday, the BU group hopped on an afternoon train and headed to Casablanca. The train we took was surprisingly modern and actually made the Boston Commuter Rail look a bit shabby! An hour long journey that exposed us to a bit more of Morocco, the trip to Casa was spent reviewing Arabic flashcards while surrounded by Moroccans eager to help with translation and pronunciation. In exchange for help with our words, we offered them English equivalents and A LOT of laughter. Good times. I always seem to end up talking to people here, even though I don’t know much of the Moroccan dialect-funny how the importance of words fades into oblivion when you consider the power of your eyes and smile.
So, to put it plainly, Casa was crazy-an expensive type of crazy. Referred to as the NYC of Morocco, it is a bustling metropolis seemingly intent on mimicking the culture and pace of a western city. Relieved to have a bit of freedom, the group checked in at the hotel and set about trying to find a fun place to get some dinner and unwind. We found just what we were looking for in a Spanish restaurant/club called Bodega. Delicious chicken quesadilla, sangria, and a hefty bill-Casa caters to wealthy Moroccans and westerners…not really to students. I do have to tell you that the Moroccan businessmen sitting next to our group of girls in the restaurant wasted no time in buying us a round of drinks and some pretty exotic shots (they were on fire when the waiter brought them to us…total craziness) …we were students on a budget-of course we accepted. A bit pleased with ourselves, we headed to the club downstairs and danced till the wee hours-refreshing after the past few weeks of a lot of family and taxing Arabic lessons. When we eventually woke up on Saturday, we headed to the gigantic Hassan II mosque. It is the third largest in the world…incredible and unfortunately, deemed by yours truly as beyond description. Hopefully the picture will it sum it up! My favorite part of the trip came later in the day-a visit to an old cathedral famous for the view offered by a trip to the top. Not only did we climb the tower, but we walked on the roof and saw the sun set over the gigantic city below. A freeing feeling to say the least. That night, we hit the swanky beach clubs and did out best to find the cheapest seaside bar willing to serve up some cold beers and perhaps a decent G&T for one of us…hehe. Other than acquiring flea bites on my legs that I am just now getting rid of and being accosted by annoying Moroccan males, the night was good. I will say, however, that by the end, I was ready to head home to Rabat for a free bed and meal. Thank God for Mama Hafida, her wonderful home, and her delicious cooking!
The past week has been spent learning A LOT of Arabic, further exploring women’s rights in Morocco, and analyzing Moroccan poetry. Although Arabic lessons dominate my schedule, there is much to compliment my slow progress with the tricky language. Quite simply, I am falling in love with the work I am doing here; reading about Moroccan history and the unique forms in which it is expressed. Poetry, prose and song reveal the struggles of the nation’s people across the pre- and post-colonial history. Abstract writings by remarkable Moroccan women perfectly communicate their feelings of hopelessness, frustration, and in occasional cases, their triumph. Late into the night, despite knowing I must wake up at seven to take breakfast with my family, I can’t resist turning the next page, drinking in the words, becoming enthused by a single nation’s narrative and realizing that I am here, now, living the present chapter alongside the very people I continue to marvel over.
I must leave you now-tomorrow I embark on an excursion across Morocco with my fellow students. I am most excited as I am told the trip includes a camel ride in the desert and a night at the million-star hotel! I can’t wait to tell you all about it. For now, there is shopping and packing to do, more of Mama Hafida’s food to consume, and a skype date with my dear family! If you see my mum, give her a hug for me…miss that lovely lady. Biselama!