Arabic Anime (Alternately: Je Déteste Vous, Gérard Depardieu)

For those of you who know anything about Japanese cartoons, commonly referred to as anime, you know that they enjoy a large popularity in the US under their dubbed versions and that the artistic style incorporates generalized mouth movements so you don't get lip reader's syndrome (did I just make that up? yes I believe I did), which I define as the disconnect between seeing words form on someone's lips but hearing different sounds and different word lengths.

Though I experience this daily with Noor (which as I recently found out is not only dubbed in Syrian Arabic but the character's names have been changed as well -- ex. Noor is actually Gümüş. In Arabic her name means light but in Turkish it means silver...) nothing is as terrible as the French movies. Any and all new releases here are dubbed in French, which means you get terrible lip reader's syndrome AND really awful voice actors. Why do Orlando Bloom and Val Kilmer sound the same??? Probably because they were both dubbed by Gérard Depardieu... The Great French Schnoz.

Seriously, he is the undisputed god of french cinema and I would be hard pressed to name more than ten french movies I have seen without him ("Amélie," "Indochine," "And Now... Ladies and Gentlemen" [which was filmed in Fes and Essaouira!], "Les Choristes", "La Belle et la Bête", "Tout va Bien," "La Cage aux Folles," and "Monsieur Ibrahim et les fleurs du Coran") AND he has also been in quite a few English movies that I've seen (Hamlet, Les Misérables, The Man in the Iron Mask, 102 Dalmatians...) Also, "Manon des Sources" doesn't count as a French movie without Sir Schnoz because he was Jean de Florette in "Jean de Florette", the movie directly preceding "Manon" as Manon's father... plus his wife was in both of them anyway.

That was a pretty lengthy digression. Anyway, what I thought was interesting about cartoons here was that Looney Tunes are played as-is (yay for childhood memories) but anime is dubbed in Arabic. No, I don't get lip reader's syndrome but it does blow my mind that anime can be so popular and, on a slightly more contrite note, it probably sound weird for the Japanese when they hear the English dubs that I am so used to.

I might be just a little more French than I let on....

P.S. - as I was typing this entry, the anime episode ended and now MBC3 is playing Batman... dubbed in Arabic. And the lip movements work suprisingly well. No not that Batman, the cartoon one... Though that is on my top ten list of things to do once I hit American Soil. The other in no particular order are:

• use my own bathroom, including a decadent long, hot shower
• buy & eat a king size hershey's bar and a bag of m&m's
• get a haircut
• hug Matt until it hurts
• catch up with dad about Thailand
• visit Mom & Katie
• eat: homemade spaghetti, a big breakfast, & a steak
• buy a new pair of headphones to replace the ones I blew out in Fes
• drive my car, Vesper, for the first time in 7 weeks
• See: The Dark Knight, The Incredible Hulk, Hancock, Hellboy II, Wanted, Wall-E, Get Smart, Kung Fu Panda, Narnia: Prince Caspian ... hopefully some of those are already at the dollar cinema!
  

Ok, so that may seem like more than ten things but it's my list so... deal with it... or help me do all those things as soon as possible!

Next guy who calls me "gazelle" is getting punched in the face

I know I promised this post awhile ago, but what I was going to write has morphed in to my term paper for the end of the study abroad which is most likely going to be entitled "Sunglasses are my Hijab" so instead enjoy an explanation of what I meant by the title I gave.

Julia Prior wrote
at 3:26pm
can i call you gazelle?

Mely Rabalais wrote
at 4:25pm
do and I'll punch you in the face... oh and it's pronounce "Rha-zelle"

Julia Prior wrote
at 4:26pm
okie rha-zelle.
and i dare you. :-p

Mely Rabalais wrote
at 4:34pm
I'll get right on that... in like a week when I'm back. Watch out or POW right the kisser!

Julia Prior wrote
at 4:37pm
oh i look forward to it. i think i found a new pet name for you. why do they call you gazelle? cause you're so unnaturally tiny? just tell them you're not small, your travel size! which is convinent considering how much traveling you do.

Mely Rabalais wrote
at 4:55pm
gazelle is actually a generic catcall, because in the streets, the men believe that they are lions in the Serengeti and since women don't belong there, they need to be intimidated to stay at home, so we are the prey -- the gazelles -- since we apparently frighten easily but are extremely graceful... and they'd all like to "catch" one of us (read: get our number) since they live in a sexually repressed society and since women are kind of hard to meet due to the rather rigid segregation of the sexes

Oh, and that's the opening line of my term paper for the study abroad *wink*

Julia Prior wrote
at 5:11pm
hahaha im totally going to still call you gazelle. only when i say it, im refering to your tiny-ness... and frighten easily? obviously they don't know you. just take away your midol and theyll be the ones that frighten easily

Mely Rabalais wrote
at 6:50pm
Surprisingly, my best way to counteract the negative rha-zelle vibes is to walk around with my sunglasses on and my headphones in and ignore them while listening to something empowering. When you walk down the street like you own the place and stare down anyone who looks your way, they tend to leave you alone. The one or two times I actually called a guy out who said something to me (like: "ello boo-tiful" because they can't pronounce for shit) they almost immediately say "I'm sorry, please forgive me" or something like that and run away.

Julia Prior wrote
at 6:52pm
theyre not used to women standing up to them. or talking in public.

Mely Rabalais wrote
at 6:54pm
Well, that's true. Ok, seriously how bored are you at work that you have time to respond to each of my posts within five minutes? are you facebook stalking me?

Waste Management In Rabat

Currently in class. My stomach isn't feeling well, so even though Casey's host mom is throwing a wedding party for her former host daughter and we're all invited, I'm not so sure I want to go. Not really interested in the lecture... But Steph seems to be enthralled so someone is getting something out of it.

Tomorrow we have oral presentations in Arabic... I will be talking about the Hassan Tower gardens, my favorite place in Rabat.

So, I updated my iTouch software and got new programs, including this lifecast thing so we'll see how this works. ttfn!

Posted with LifeCast

In Class Essay

التعبير:

أنا أدرس في جامعة «سبت إدوردز.» الجامعة الصغيرة في مدينة «إوستن،» حيث العاصمة ولاية «تكساس.» أنا أسكن في بناية شقّة ١٢، رقم ١٦. أنا أعمل قي خامعتي. أنا معيدة بصف السياسية الدولية. مدينة «إوستن» صغيرة و جميلة. جامعة «تكساس» قي المدينة كذلك، و الجامعة كبيرة جداً. أنا لا أحب ذلك. هي فيها ١٣ كليات و ٥٥٫٠٠٠ طلاب. أنا أحب جامعتي الصغيرة، و أنا أشتاق إليها جداً.

Essay:
I study at St. Edward’s University. The small university is in the city of Austin, where the capital of the state of Texas is. I live in apartment building 12, number 16. I work at my university. I am a teaching assistant in an international relations class. The city of Austin is small and beautiful. The University of Texas is in the same city, and the university is very large. I don’t like it. It has 13 colleges and 55,000 students. I love my small university, and I miss it a lot.

Atai

So, I'm sitting here at the CCCL on a breezy but overly-sunny afternoon (are there ever clouds here? no.) studying for my midterm tomorrow and considering reading the assignment for our afternoon session, and Brahim makes some tea. I lean over into his line of sight and say "Ya Brahim! B-shael atai?" and he responds "For you? Free! I invite you all to tea!" He's so awesome, even if there are two lumps in my little glass. That's right, there's no such thing as splenda here. My dentist is going to have a cow when I get back...

Anyway, things are going well. Still don't know what I'm doing this weekend. It seems like a sizable group is headed to Tangier, but I still want to explore Salé and find a beach or two around here that's not overcrowded and, well... basically I want to work on my tan a bit more. I'd also like to check out Chellah and maybe just relax. I'll need to read my rough guide to determine if it's worth it to go to Tangier; it might not be...

Still have those three posts and other ones coming at ya. I have them written in my head, it's just hard to find time to get them out on my computer what with all the homework and other stuff I am doing. Sadly, sleep doesn't factor much in to that "other stuff" Which reminds me, my host cousin made cornbread yesterday and I had a piece for breakfast. Wonderful, if a bit too margarine-y.

Got to go, need to study more. Bye!

This is not an Update...

But it is an opportunity to tell you about my friend Brad's blog. He updates a LOT more than I do, with a lot more depth, but I must stress that he and I don't do everything together... Take it in stride and enjoy. I have added a static link at the top of my "Interesting Links" sidebar. If you haven't taken notice of them yet, do so. Some are interesting, others are informative, and others (like the Noor summaries) are just flat out silly.

Ta!
Mely

Saana Helwa ya Jamill....

سنة حلوة يا جميل
سنة حلوة يا جميل
سنة حلوة يا ملّي
سنة حلوة يا جميل!!!

Yeah, I just sung happy birthday to myself. I don't officially turn 20 for another 10 hours (I was born at 6:45 am and I'm taking in to account the fact that there's a 6 hour time change) but yeah, it's my birthday! In Morocco, that is. Got to wait another 4 hours and 15 minutes for Texas to catch on.

By the way: Sorry mom. 6:45 isn't a pretty time of the morning, and it was a Tuesday. Here I am, two decades later sitting in the lobby of a riad-esque hotel in Essaouira, Morocco listening to Jazz and Gnaoua fusion.... you couldn't have ever even imagined.

I love Morocco. I know I bitch about the gazelle thing and the "spaghetti" (don't worry, you didn't miss it. Those rants are still coming up...) but it's nice here. Today I had a guy who I was bargaining with tell me that I wasn't American. I live in Rabat, I'm a nice Moroccan girl now. And, I did almost the entire part of bargaining in Arabic, mostly excluding drawing numbers in the air because I'm not so good with numbers to begin with and having them in Darija makes it worse (fifteen is supposed to be Ham-set-asher, but it becomes hm-starsh, for example). Another shopkeeper tried to convince me that Essaouira is the most wonderful place in the world and that all the American, Austrailian, British, and New Zelander..ish? ian? women that he knew of had moved there, bought a house for 3 mil dirham (something like $430k with a decent exchange rate) and married nice Moroccan man. I said, thanks no thanks... I already have someone special.

to quote the timeless Richard Blaine: "Here's looking at you, kid."

So, I change my profile picture to be one that I snapped at the Musée Marrakech. Well, technically my friend Steph snapped it for me. She's my cousin (we've taken to referring to everyone by host family ties, including the four students who all live with different branches of the same family, so they're the "four cousins") and lives in the house below mine. My roof looks down into her family room, as does my bathroom window. We've had cute moments of "Romeo oh Romeo" and "Rapunzel, Rapunzel..." Anyway, we've taken to shopping together and today we bought quasi matching scarves, though I got a better deal by 20 dhs. We got seperated as we shopped, and I ran into her two hours later, cornered in the back of an old antiques shop by a guy who was fascinated that she was from America. I swooped in, said some stuff in Arabic (yes, we're students studying in Rabat from America. No, Texas does not have cowboys and a "sahara" (if you say the sahara desert, you're being redundant, fyi) and oh! look at the time, wasn't dinner at 5:30? Let's be going now. Ma'slama, we will return tomorrow inshallah for tea!)

The we wandered away from the hotel because dinner wasn't actually until 7pm. She wanted to find a pair of linen pants so she could dance at the festival (interestingly enough, she eschews all technology except her iMac and digital camera, and will only on occasion watch TV, and has a polaroid camera that she uses for special shots; not even a cell phone!) where we snagged some free mint tea because I'm addicted to the stuff and it's been bothering me that I haven't had any good stuff to drink since I left Rabat. This shop is where I was pressured into finding a nice Maroccan man to settle down with... uh, no thanks. I did get tea (I can't even describe to you how much it thrills me when I get tea on the cheap or for free).

So, tonight is first night of the festival and tomorrow is the last. Everyone in the group went out to explore the musical options, but I had it on good authority (Fadoua) that one of the best bands was going to be a Jazz ensemble at then end of the square where the hotel is located. With that in mind, I walked up the additional flight of stairs from where my hotel room is on the third floor (actually the 4th; they number Euro-style here) to the terrace café where I bought a pot of Mint tea for 10 dhs. Not a bad price, but it wasn't terribly good tea either. One should never have to add their own sugar, and I did. But it did buy me a comfortable chair in the light under a pavilion tent on the terrace (which was otherwise deserted except for the hotel staff) and a good view of the crowd at the stage. I could hear the music, layered with a hour of Will Smith's songs and Stayin' Alive from the terrace two houses over; I'm pretty sure it's a club of some sort, nifty. So I read my Star Wars book (now on sacrifice) and listened to the music. I can still hear some band, even though I'm in the Hotel Lobby on the first (not ground) floor.

I'd really like to come back to Essaouira when the festival isn't going on. I'm sure it's the idyll seaside village I detect beneath this massive press of people who have decended for these two days of crazy rasta-ness. That's right, I said rasta. This place is dreaded hippie heaven, and by that I mean dreadlocks and lots of them. Weed is probably present around here in droves, but I'm staying away from the press of the crowds. Not only do I hate pot, but it just so happens to be very, very illegal here. Also, speaking of terrible things, one of the girls had her backpack stolen off the beach today. She didn't leave it alone, but the two people who were watching everything while the others wandered around fell asleep and someone picked up her bag and walked off with her passport, camera, and massive stash of gum. She's most upset about the camera since it was a digital that held ALL of her photos for Morocco. It's sad; I can't imagine how awful that must be and I know that I've been doubly careful with my stuff since I left Houston (that's right, even in Atlanta and Madrid and on the plane, if I lose my laptop or camera or iTouch, someone's getting hurt).

Ok, this post is really long and Matt just got on Skype, so I'm staying up late to hear him tell me happy birthday. Haven't figured out how I'll talk to dad yet, especially since his birthday is in two days.

so, oooone more time! Saana Helwa ya Jamill, Saana Helwa YA Jamill, Saana HELWA ya Mely, Saaaaaaaaaana Helwa YA Jamill!

Thank you and good night!

P.S. - Ok, so here's a little something I just received from a friend of mine:

Hot Damn! You're Old
June 27 at 9:11pm

Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Mely-Queen-of-the-Moroccan-Land-Rabalais... Happy Birthday to you!
Love,
Your Lover,
The Lovely Bethany

Upcoming Posts

• Next guy who calls me "gazelle" is getting punched in the face
• "Spaghetti"
• Everybody goes to Rick's
• The Desert and the Seashore

Sorry I don't have time for more, I want to catch some of the last rays on the beach at Essaouira before dinner. Just uploaded a lot more pictures though, so enjoy those for now.

Also, for those of you leaving comments: Thank you! But if you post, please make sure you leave your name so I can respond!

Ma'slama!

No, not that Africa... the OTHER Africa!

Hey everyone. It's been awhile since a legitimate post so I figured I will just throw one up.

Um, no, I didn't mean throw up, I meant... oh whatever.

The good news is that I'm not sick. I can drink the local tap, eat the fruit (so long as it's washed, obviously) and eat things like a normal person. First person to get sick on the trip was Matt S (not my Matt; there's another one on the trip). But it was kind of light, which is good. Dooler, however, left class in the middle of the day because she didn't feel well. I hope she gets better. We had a betting pool going on who was the first to get sick... I had pretty long odds, which is good. Didn't place any money though so, meh.

Class is going well. I'm practicing my Arabic each night with my host sister and in the street. It's a bit disconcerting because when I try to buy things the shopkeeper will talk to me in French (it's standard due to all the tourists) and I kind of have to push to get them to speak to me in Darija, which isn't exactly what we're learning in school but it's what's spoken in the home and we've had plenty of exposure to it.

As for the food, it's mostly good. I think I eat like five plate-sized pieces of bread a day. Those things are more numerous than pidgeons in central park. They are everywhere, everyone sells them, and it's always fun to see kids running home with one or two after being sent out by their mom with a few dirhams.

Now there are people practicing Darija around me and it's hard to write in English! Also, I've gotten in the bad habit of saying "You know what is..?" before saying a word in English to my host sister and cousin because that's what they say all the time. If I come back speaking a broken English/French/Dari-Fusha, I apologize. I really am trying to learn Fusha but all the other five languages keep getting in the way (there's also Tamazight (), Spanish, and I've even gotten people speaking to me in Italian. Weird.)

Back to the food. Like I said, lots of bread. Haven't had much couscous at home, and when we do have it I don't really like it because it's rather bland with just some sugar and cinnamon and raisins, which I don't consider to be a meal. Lots of stews though, which is cool. Chicken is a big mover here since they're small and inexpensive and don't have to be halal. The pressure cooker is my mama's best friend. She also likes to make us "sandwiches" which are pretty much the bread I mentioned earlier with either some egg and leftovers inside, or yesterday it was chicken and fries. Oh yeah, homemade fries are huge here.

What's best, though, is the fruit. We've got everything (even one weird thing that I tried but didn't really like; I'll see if I can get a picture of it so someone might be able to identify just what it is). Baby plums, cherries, apples, pears, bananas, LOTS of oranges, grapes, and the most delicious peaches I have ever had. Whew, I love fruit.


I also have to admit that I'm addicted to Moroccan Mint Tea. Seriously, I'll drink it like four or five times a day. I personally think my mama's is best (of course) but it's all really good. Also, they do have coffee here and you can get european style expresso drinks in the cafes, but insofar as in the home, I avoid it like the plague. Pretty much just boiled water with a few scoops of "taster's choice" dumped in and boiled to a sludge. The coffee at school, however, is a bit better and I'll buy one for like three dirhams when I need a mid-Arabic lesson pick-me-up at 10 in the morning.

My typical day starts at 7:40am when my alarm clock goes off. I hear my host mama shuffle downstairs to make me breakfast while I get dressed for school. I pack up my backpack and my purse and go down to the kitchen for some bread-butter-and-jelly and my morning tea. I chat a little with my mama in broken Dari-Fusha and English and let her know if I'll be home for lunch or will eat it at the CCCL, and also establish when I'll be home for dinner. I inevitably forget something upstairs, so I have to run back to my room, grab what i'm missing, and then walk along Ave Laalou to the Bab Laalou, cross the street to the Mobil (and not get hit) and then walk down the street about a block and a half, make a quick right-left and I'm at the Annex. Class starts at 8:30, with a break from 10-10:30 and wraps up at 11:45.

My arabic teacher is Omama Mansour, who is getting married to her husband (weddings happen in three parts: engagement, then official signing, then the actual ceremony; Omama has done the first two but her big party is at the end of July, right before we leave) and has invited Kristen and myself to join her as part of her official entourage (they don't really do bridesmaids, but we've been told that we will "help her get ready" for the wedding).

The only other student in my class is Kristen, which means the three of us know each other very well and we get a lot accomplished each day and have a good time doing so. After class, I walk back to Ave Laalou and either go home for lunch or head to the CCCL for lunch there (like I did today) and afterwards we have class. If I go home, it's either because I have class later, at like 4:30 (SIESTA TIME! WHOOO!) or we have the afternoon off, like I did yesterday. Sam and I walked around the Souk and the Kasbah, so I've added a few more pictures. Check them out on the righthand side of the page. If you click the slideshow, it will take you to my web album where you can read my captions and leave comments.

Ok, they're about to shut down the center, so I need to go. Maa Salaama!

Important Morocco Info - UPDATED!

Schedule:
June 8 - Depart Houston (12:50pm), Layover in Atlanta

June 9 - Layover in Madrid, Arrive in Casablanca (1:30pm Local, 8:30am CST), Train to Rabat

June 9-12 - Program orientation

June 11 - Intensive Arabic Language Training begins in Rabat

June 26-29 - Southern excursion to Marrakech and Essaouira (for the Jazz Festival!)

June 28 - My 20th Birthday!

July 12-16 - Northern excursion to Fes, Meknes, Ouazzane and Brikcha

July 28 - Train from Rabat, Depart Casablanca (11:45am Local, 5:45am CST) Layover in New York, Arrive in Houston (10:55pm)

My Postal Address:
Mely RABALAIS
Center for Cross-Cultural Learning
PO Box 6291, Rabat Instituts
Rabat 10101
Morocco

*Note: capitalize my last name please; it will make receiving mail much simpler*

In-Country Cell #: +212 15 82 61 19

e-mail I will be checking: i.heart.jp2@gmail.com

Post Dump. More recent stuff later.

11 June 2008 12:53pm GMT+1 Rooftop of the Marquez, Rabat
So, we woke up at 7am for breakfast at the 4 saisons, again. The orange juice (( is super fresh, if a bit sugared, and the pain au chocolat isn’t bad, but the coffee taste like a steamed doubleshot (the starbucks drink from a can that you drink cold). Hey, at least it’s caffeine. I burned my tongue last night on a café au lait at the singular café we’ve found with free wireless (imagine 9 of us crammed into a small room on the second floor using the internet and praying that our batteries don’t run out b/c the room lacked plugs).


12 June 2008 10:45pm GMT+1 في بيتي (at my house)
So, I kind of got called away when I was writing that last entry. Now I’m sitting in my host family’s house, watching TV. Satellite is huge here; everyone has one. So far I’ve watched episodes of Charmed and Friends subtitled in Arabic (which scrolls too fast but I can understand certain words here and there) and a Turkish soap opera dubbed in Arabic. Whoa; want to talk about confusing?

Anyway, I’m staying about midway between the Annex and the Marquez. So you know, the Annex is where I have Arabic classes in the morning and the Marquez (the CCCL) is where our Culture & Society Seminar and all extracurricular activities take place. I have free wireless there, but it’s been off/on in the past few days, and I can only access it until 6:30.

I got my language placement. Apparently no one was placed into intermediate. There’s beginner low (aka newbies), beginner mid (myself and Kristen), and beginner high (4 students). I’m learning a lot that was neglected when I took Arabic at St. Ed’s. Colors, Time, counting past twenty, and adjectives (I am… hungry / happy / tired / strong / pretty / exhausted / short, etc.) Tomorrow is day 3; after that we don’t get to speak English in class except when we say a word after “Kaif Na-Kool…?” to know how to spell it. Though today I had to play pictionary since Omama (our professor; she’s getting married at the end of July and Kristen & I are invited!) didn’t understand “truck.”


13 June 2008 9:08pm GMT+1 في بيتي (at my house)
Apparently I just can’t get an entire entry done in one sitting. Something is always coming up. For those of you who expect me to have sent you an email/ postcard/ letter by now, I’m sorry. I’ve barely had time to sleep, and I only have internet when I’m at the Marquez, which closes at 6:30 on weekdays and is closed all weekend. I’ll see what I can do.

During our orientation, we were told that the Television (tel-e-fiz-ee-oon) is a part of the family. There’s a formal living room, but the majority of the action in the house is in the family room. Really. It’s the nexus of the house, where we eat lunch & dinner (breakfast is a quick affair in the Cosina (kitchen, in Darija) and sit at all other times. You do your homework there, hold conversations, and the TV is never, ever turned off except when everyone leaves and Mama goes to sleep on the couch. In Morocco, it is normal for girls to sleep on the couches in one room and boys to sleep on the couches in another, even to the point that after a certain time the parents will sleep separately. It’s just the way it’s done.

The house I’m in though has all teenagers and 20-year olds. Abdelatif (29; haven’t met him yet) and Zacharia (23; perfect French, good English, no Fusha) sleep in one room, and Maryem and I sleep in the same room next door. Maryem is awesome. She picked me up at the center (her mom, Fatima, who I call Mama, is housebound… she can’t walk very well, so she sleeps in the third floor family room. On the second floor is the kitchen and the bathroom and the first level of the roof where the clotheslines are. She sends out Zacharia or Maryem for whatever she needs and her family (two sisters and a brother) live in the house below us on the first floor… It’s kind of funny because when I’m on our roof, we can look down into their atrium. And I just realized I’m in parentheses still. Sorry!) and Maryem and I get along great.

She’s 17 and speaks excellent English, perfect French, and has studied Fusha so she’s helping me with my homework and pronunciation. My first night here she took me to the Kasbah, the fort overlooking where the river that runs between Rabat and Salé goes in to the Atlantic Ocean, and we talked about a lot of different things. I asked her about the cat-calling guys do on the street and when she started wearing the Hijab, and she asked me what religion I was. When I said Catholic, I had to explain that it was Christian, and then the difference between Protestants and Catholics. That was interesting. I still haven’t found where Mass is being said, but I’m going to try to do that after class tomorrow (we have 2 Saturday classes the first week, then from there on we’re on regular Mon-Fri, 8:30-11:45am class).

Ok, it’s late (11pm) so I think I’m going to wash up and go to bed. Don’t know when I’ll post this. There might even be more entries before I put this up. Maa Salaama!

The story thus far...

I flew by plane from Houston to Casablanca, via Atlanta and Madrid. In total, with the few delays, it took about 19 hours. This was made more confusing by the fact that for the first time in 40-odd years Morocco is observing Daylight Savings Time, and it only started at the beginning of June.

Along the way, I met a nice man from Madrid who had been in Austin for a short study abroad with the McCombs School of Business as part of his MBA. He had previously traveled to Beijing and around China with his program and told me all about it. He was also Basque, so I asked him about the situation with ETA (thanks to Thomas Agee for this; he did a briefing in our Global Issues class freshman year) which was enlightening. Afterwards, he gave me instructions on navigating the Madrid airport so I could make my connecting flight from Delta (Terminal 1) with Iberia (Terminal 4). As it turns out, I had to go through passport control, so I have 2 stamps from Madrid for the grand total of 3 hours I was there. Then came the fun part.

I knew I was switching airlines, and had been told by Delta that they would check my bags through to Casablanca, but Iberia said that they would not check my bags from Casablanca unless I physically picked them up and rechecked them myself when I received my boarding pass. Then, in the Madrid airport both Delta and Iberia said that my bags were automatically sent to my next plane, so I wasted about 20 minutes standing at the carousel stressing about lost luggage until I asked for help.

Luckily, I met an American businessman who was trying to make an Iberia connection as well and was in the same situation as myself. We both realized we didn’t have to worry about our baggage at the same time, and he escorted me to terminal 4 (a satellite terminal only reachable by bus) and after we received our boarding passes and went through security, he let me use his company blackberry to e-mail dad and Matt that I was safe in Madrid and headed to the group flight. I thanked him profusely; I didn’t want to pay the 14€ for an hour of internet, having already burned $3.51 in Atlanta for ten minutes to let my family know I was okay and pay for some apartment damages at St. Edwards on my EdWeb account (bleh).

My gate was in the secondary terminal of terminal 4 (which itself is a satellite terminal), so I had to take a train and then an elevator to finally reach the secondary terminal. At last, I found my gate. The closest thing I could see to what might be my fellow students was a group of six American girls sitting together. As it turns out they were high school students headed to spend the summer in Rabat as a graduation fling. I hung out with them, anxiously waiting for the group to arrive. The plan was for the assistant academic director, Fadoua, to meet them outside customs in Casablanca; if I was with the group, I wouldn’t have to worry about arranging my own travel to Rabat.

The group flight from JFK to Madrid was delayed, (I had opted to meet the group flight in Madrid) so I boarded the scheduled flight at the same time the group flight was landing. They did not arrive in Morocco for another nine and a half hours. As for customs, I always went through the “nothing to declare” line. Seeing as how they didn’t list what exactly you had to declare in both Madrid and Casablanca, I’m not too terribly concerned with it.

I met with Fadoua and two other students who had arrived in Casablanca earlier that day. I changed some money at the airport for the not-so-terrific rate of 7 diraham (pronounced drhm singular, Drahm plural) to the dollar, and (in reference to my previous entry) was rather mildly flirted with by the Changer. I, the Changee, stated that I wasn’t interested in “making new friends in Casablanca” because I would be staying in Rabat with a large group of people. Very large. Thanks, no thanks.

That said, I headed back to where Kasey, from Hong Kong, and Brad, from UT-Dallas, were camped out next to Fadoua. When we learned how serious the group’s delay would be, we headed to Rabat via chartered bus and checked in at the Hotel Berlin on Ave Mohammed V in Rabat Ville, mere meters away from the Medina. I met my roommate Rachel, who goes to UT and is a junior as well and we’ve gotten along famously. Fadoua led us through the medina to the Center for Cross Cultural Learning (مركز تواسل التقافات) where we met Farah, our academic director, and received a tour of the house-turned-school and a dinner of seven vegetable couscous with beef. Dessert was the most delicious grapes and peaches I have ever had. I also learned a very important lesson: do not eat until you feel full when eating couscous. Inevitably, the semolina expands in your stomach and you feel like you will burst by the time to walk to the nearest toilet. Thought I’d pass along that advice.

From there, the four of us who had arrived early went back to the Hotel while Fadoua took the bus to collect the rest of the group. We found an internet café, which was slow going because the keyboard was a European layout and included Arabic letters and way too many shift/alt/great alt options. At least an hour was only 7 dirhams ($1). A café au lait, on the other hand, is 9 dir.

The next morning, we met the rest of the group in the Café 4 Saisons next to the hotel for a quick breakfast, and then on to the CCCL for orientation. First order of business was covering the schedule and academic expectations, then a meet-and-greet. Two students hadn’t yet arrived (one was coming from Paris, the other had missed the initial group flight from JFK because he was delayed getting out of Chicago and had to be rerouted to Pittsburgh) but I got a great vibe from the group on whole.

Then we split up in to two groups – those who had experience in Arabic (6 of us, including myself) and everyone else in the beginner room. Our language instructors gave us a crash course in Darija, the local dialect. My head was spinning, but I learned a lot. I also realized I forgot a lot in the year that I haven’t taken Arabic. Then the slightly experienced took a Fusha, Standard Arabic, placement test after lunch to determine what level we were at. All six of us stated we wanted to cry afterwards. I think we’ll all test in to varying degrees of intermediacy, which is nice because I like our little subgroup. I find out tomorrow how I did. All of the beginning students are literally starting from scratch; they can’t even read the alphabet! Ok, I’ve been there before. Life is much easier in Arabic once you can at least take a stab at sounding words out.

After the placement test, we took a bus tour around Rabat with Farah’s husband, who is the Academic Director for SIT during the academic year. It was really interesting, and it helped us get oriented in a completely different city. Rumor has it we will have a “drop off” some time soon – basically they abandon you somewhere in walking distance to the center and you have to find your way back. I think I’ll be alright. My biggest challenge right now is to find someone to go to mass with downtown at the cathedral (or find somewhere else, closer to the medina) but I haven’t had any luck. I still have a few days before Sunday. Luckily, Morocco observes standard Saturday/Sunday weekends. On a side note, Bryce Bencivengo from St. Edward’s has notified me he will be in Morocco this weekend (why? I don’t know) so I’ll see if I can meet up with him if he’s in Rabat/Salé. I don’t want to go much further since we have a 3 hour Arabic class on Saturday and I will have only been with my host family for a day or two at that time.

Rock the Casbah

Typing on a regional keyboard so apologies for bad spelling. The group's flight was delayed on arrival to Madrid; but my flight plans proceeded without a hitch. Imagine our Assistant Director's surprise when only one person from a flight (supposedly) carrying 13 group members arrives. More later.

In Transit/Playing for Keeps

hi all!

At present I am sitting in the houston airport waiting for my flight. We should be boarding "momentarily."

Still excited, still scared/freaked out. Saying bye to dad and Matt was really hard; had to hold back tears. Seven weeks... I don't even think I spent 7 straight weeks in Seattle when my mom lived there. Effectively, I've only lived in Spring (might I add in the same house) since I was born until I started attending St. Edward's. Wow. Oh gosh, I just got a look at the plane. It's tiny! They just called my boarding zone.

Time to go!

Words of Encouragement from my Memere & Predeparture notes

I received this from my maternal grandmother via email earlier today:

Dearest Mely, WOW! am I envious? you bet!! how things have changed in just 2 generations.

If I had attempted this at your age the fallout from my family would have been, well just let me say when I announced to my parents during senior year of high school that I wanted to go on the stage the silence was deafening! Then your great-grandfather Tate remarked that only whores went on stage and the subject was closed. And what a lovely soprano voice I had...

Then I said "what about law school?" and that was shot down, as was nursing, horrors!!! I would have to view men's privates, no way! So Virgie says what? and HE replies, will only pay your tuition to college if you major in education or business, (these are ladylike occupations) so it was business, which did come in handy when your grandfather Henry decided he didn't want to be married anymore after 21 yrs. & 5 children (shall I write a book?)

But oh, my darling, go out into the world and do what your heart tells you, and be assured that while I can't support you monetarily my heart and soul are with you... If only I had had your opportunities, who knows? Will follow you on your great adventure! All my love, MeMere...

It is interesting to note that the women in my family have always rather progressive... I'm the first (that I know of) to journey to the Arab World. I realize that there are challenges to be faced by the fact that I'm American (not to mention female) but I'm prepared. It's a whole new world.

In other news, I finally got my Rough Guide (so much fun) and a few other books listed to the right of this column. I'll be updating what I am reading/skimming/using as a pillow as I go. The Berbers book was a total yawn, but Mernissi has a great writing style. Very hit-or-miss on finding stuff for Morocco. I really wanted to get ahold of some Ben Jelloun but he's not exactly the easiest guy to find published (which is slightly maddening since he's hailed as "the most internationally recognized Moroccan French-language intellectual" and his stuff has been translated into English; maybe I'll have better luck at the American bookstore in Rabat?). I suppose the thing I'm tickled pink about is having 8 books in a row of the Legacy of the Force series (Star Wars). I've read the first one already and had to resist the urge to pick up the next because I still have books checked out from the library that I need to get through. Bah, humbug. I'll bring as many as I can stuff in my bags, and keep the next one (or two) in my carry on for the flights & layovers.

Quick Note: the time stamp on here is local Rabat time. If you live in the Central time zone, subtract 5 hours for your local time, or learn to use a world clock like me *wink*

So, I've made my packing list and, by extension, my shopping list. Yay. Now to actually do the work. Other stuff I have going on before departure:

• Girls Night Out - Dinner and a Movie (Sex and the City) with my friends from high school - the "Bosom Buddies" later today
• Visit with Lisa?
• Spending time with Matt from Thursday night til Sunday morning
• Matt's brother Phillip's HS graduation Saturday (assuming I'm all packed up and ready to go)
• Writing a letter to appeal the charge of replacing carpet ($375!) in my apartment for the past semester
  
• Receiving delivery of a new loveseat on Friday (the Sofa is back-ordered)
• Donating our old sectional, clothes, and other miscellaneous furniture/stuff by pickup to Salvation Army on Friday

And that's it. This time next week I will be waking up at the Hotel Berlin in Rabat.

/freaks out