Random photos

I have managed to put my pictures on my computer, but I can't actually see what each picture is very easily.  Soooooooo, I'm going to put in random pictures and then tell you about them.  Ok? Ok.

Gena made me promise to take a picture of my feet when I got to Morocco, so I did.  Aren't I the best sister?  I know, I know.  There's another picture somewhere of my bare feet in the only mosque I was allowed to go into (you have to take off your shoes before entering.)

This is my friend Susanna in the fancy salon (Moroccan living room) in our hotel in Casablanca.  In general, all Moroccan salons are this plush and fancy.  I just went to a house today that had 5 different rooms set up like this.

This is me feeding pigeons (AKA flying rats according to everyone else on the trip.  I thought they were cute.)  

This is the inside of a public bakery in Marrakesh.  It's a pretty bad picture, but I did promise random.  I'm not exactly a great photographer.   

Moroccans are really, really, really into topiary.  Also, they line their streets with orange trees.  Sometimes there is orange tree topiary.

This is a picture of a pond at the Jardin Marjorelle, which was one of the most beautiful places I've ever been in my life.  I'll have to post more of the pictures from here another time.  

BEAUTIFUL MOROCCAN LAKE

A poor quality picture of Hadija (our cook) sleeping on my roommate Shavon in one of the three living rooms in our house. 

I'm not entirely sure what this is.... Hmmmmmm......

The inside of the tomb of Moulay Ismail (King of Morocco back in the day.  17th century I think...) in Meknes.  

And, for your viewing pleasure, two lovely pictures of some of my friends and I riding in a carriage around Meknes.  We were hungry at the time and the horse was crazy.  Christine, Susanna, and I all got the grumpy-face message, but Cathleen missed it. 

Goodnight y'all.

Walk to school

Hello all! It's been a while, hasn't it?  Oops... I've been busy adjusting to my new city and my classes.  Everything is great here, and I honestly have WAAAAAAYYY too much to talk about and not enough time/motivation.  So, instead of recounting everything I've experienced, I'll tell you about what I see on my walk to school.

Moulay Ismail University Faculte des Lettres (arts and humanities campus) is located approximately 2.5 miles from my house and, due to the way classes are set up, I generally have to make 4 trips in between the two places a day.  It should be noted that I don't always walk, I sometimes take a taxi (I have yet to work up the courage to ride the bus... I'm not really sure where it stops.)  However, when I do walk, here are some of the things I see:

No traffic lights, designated pedestrian crossings, or apparent traffic laws.  Crossing the street involves either waiting for a break in traffic or simply stepping out into the road and having the cars swerve around you.  There is no penalty for cutting someone off, making U-turns, driving like a crazy person... If I survive this (inshallah) I will never be afraid of cars again.

I also pass some interestingly named businesses.

1. Coq Magic
     (It's a restaurant that specializes in chicken. Obviously)
2. Al Manbat
    (It's the residence of the Moroccan Batman. Obviously)

Along with these stores, Meknes is home to the most terrifying mannequins on the face of the earth.  Think Chucky but with less blood and worse hair.  And they aren't like American mannequins that stare tastefully into the distance or don't actually have features.  No, they stare RIGHT INTO YOUR SOUL.  It makes me a little afraid of retail here.  Alternately, there's the medina, but that's a completely different kind of shopping experience.

I also pass a field that contains a variety of adorable animals such as cows, donkeys, and sheep depending on the day.  The graze right up to the sidewalk.  Yesterday there were 3 lambs!  They were so cute and then I realized that they were also very delicious and then I got a little sad/hungry (oh by the way, I'm not really vegetarian anymore. Shwoops!)

Unfortunately, I also pass a lot of dead animals.  For some reason they are not on the road, but basically on the sidewalk.  I'm not sure how they die there, since the traffic is crazy and the pedestrians don't go around killing dogs (from what I've seen so far.)  Anyway, it's very sad... and gross...

Then I get to school! The university is built inside the walls of an old castle and it's pretty amazing to walk through these huge gates every day.  It's also filled with palm trees, which make it seem extra exotic.  Beyond that, it's like a normal school, except that they give you coffee in glass cups at the cafe, which is much classier than normal.

OK.  Now I'm just rambling. I'll fill you in on my classes/family/amusing pick-up lines I've heard ("Nice ass. Barack Obama" for example) soon.  Hopefully :)

I'm sorry I haven't been writing...

I've been very busy for the past few days.  I had my first day of class yesterday and my first 8 am class this morning... So far I like my teachers and the city.  I've been lost a couple of times, but I think that that is normal for me.  Right now I should be working on my first homework assignment (for my arabic class... We'll see how that goes...)  

I know that I haven't posted any pictures yet. I haven't figured out how to put them on my computer (and by that I mean that I haven't tried very hard yet.)  I'll try and do that this weekend when I should have some more time and be a bit more caught up on sleep.  

So, to recap: I'm safe, busy, and not purposefully ignoring all of you!

I made it to Casablanca (and promptly got lost)

The trip here was blissfully uneventful.  I always had a widow seat and an empty seat next to me (which sounds a bit like a modern airplane blessing.  "May you always have the window seat and may there always be an empty seat next to you for your stuff." )  I accidentally sat first class on the train with a second class ticket, but apparently I look pathetic/white/obviously new to this/cute that the conductor didn't say anything.  I also didn't drop my bags on anyone's head trying to get it out of the overhead compartment (that was a close one though...)

Once you leave the train station you immediately get ATTACKED by taxi drivers.  In fact, you keep getting attacked the entire way to your cab.  I imagine that the feeling is similar to being in a school of piranhas.  Except without teeth.  Thankfully there were no teeth.  My taxi driver was this tiny man who spent most of his time yelling at people in Arabic (despite the fact that he was clearly moving against traffic as we were trying to get out of the parking lot.)  Taxi drivers don't wear seat belts because that would prevent them from leaning out the window or leaping out of their cars (in the middle of the street) to yell at someone.  He was very pleasant to me and to his friend (another taxi driver who also got in the cab) and both of them kept trying to get me to book a tour with them the next day.  Very persistent those two.  This was happening while ALL THE PEDESTRIANS IN CASABLANCA kept stepping out in front of everything.  I was convinced that there are no traffic laws in Casablanca, but then I saw a lone street light.  The rule of law is rather thin here, at least in the traffic department.  

Once I got to my room in the hotel, my roommate (Shavon from Chicago) immediately rushed me out into the streets of Casablanca (well, not immediately - I demanded a shower first) and we preceded to get lost.  We assumed we'd be able to get back to the hotel because we knew some of the tall building landmarks around it.  Unfortunately, Casablanca is not at a loss for tall buildings.  It is also not set out in a grid-like street plan.  It's more like a bunch of starfish all vaguely connected.  Also, Casa after dark is approximately 90% male, so Shavon and I decided the best plan was to walk like we knew where we're going.  This sort of sped up the getting lost process (although, if you ask Shavon, she was NEVER lost.)  We kept walking taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the city (cats, car-horns, and the sewers :P )  and trying to find the BCMI bank or the MarocTelecom buildings so that we could get home.  It was a nice night and we weren't being stared at too much, so we decided to keep searching.

We did try and ask for directions, but either our French is REALLY bad, or the directions were wrong, because all we got was a group of guys following us and asking for our numbers. Very persistently.  The one guy kept shoving his (very fancy) phone in my face.  Unfortunately, I'm terrible at getting Moroccan guys to leave me alone, so I was too soft spoken as I told him NO repeatedly and put up my hands (it didn't help that he WAS quite attractive despite the creepy follow-you-around-and-hit-you-with-my-phone thing).  Shavon didn't have the same problem.  She just yelled at him like a crazy person, which is apparently the best way to deal with situations like these.  I'm pretty sure the initial conversation was my fault because I said "hi" back to one of the guys when he talked to me.  I really have to break my nice-small-town-girl habits because they're just going to get me in trouble here.

Then it started to softly rain.  We immediately found a cab (what can I say? We aren't THAT adventurous.)  It turns out that we were on the opposite side of the city.  Oops. The cab driver "ripped us off" by asking for the equivalent of 4 dollars for the trip.  I really have to start seeing DH as real money and not (as Shavon says) "monopoly money"...

That's all the adventure for now.  I'm just sitting in my room listening to all the perfectly functioning car horns of Casablanca.  So melodious!

America has done it again!

Ah, America.  Bravely protecting it's travelers from themselves.  Today, I was saved by my night in shining armor (a very grumpy TSA agent).  I could have easily caused harm to myself or others through the inappropriate use of my un-ziplocked travel sized bottle of hand sanitizer that I forgot was in my backpack.  In fact, I could have gotten it in my eye.  Or the pilots eye.  And taken the whole plane down.  Or something like that.  I'm not really sure why there's so much concern.  If it was a rare, explosive hand sanitizer, I'm not sure that putting it in a plastic bag will really help.  I think the TSA just likes seeing how many silly things it can get people to do.  For example, I had the opportunity to get scanned by one of the lovely vertical-MRI-type-machines that probably asses my body fat content and take note of the fact that my underwear don't match.  I'm sure the TSA judges all of us harshly. 

At least I'd remembered to empty my water bottle this time... 

LAST NIGHT STATE-SIDE

The title kind of says it all.  I think I'm all packed.  I'm sure I'll realize what I'm missing half way over the Atlantic.

I'm going on an adventure! Time to get pumped up!

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.......

I think I should write now while I still have the urge (or "la table francaise")

But, just as a warning, this might not be very interesting.  I'm just new to the whole blog thing, and I was very surprised and excited to see how many people had visited yesterday.  Blogger lets you see the number of page views you have and I had 44! I'm going to think of this as 44 separate people, and not just my dear mother checking the blog every 15 minutes.  (I love you Mama!)

Right now I'm in the midst of packing.  By that I mean that I have spread all of my things out on the floor even more than normal.  I can it "organization."  Perhaps you've heard of it?  It's also convenient because when I start feeling overwhelmed I can just throw things around or pull all my belongings over my head and make a nest.  Nesting tends to make the panic pass.

Speaking of making the panic pass, I had a lovely dinner at Kendal last night (for those of you who aren't Obies or Obie-associates, it's a fairly swanky old folks home) as a guest at their french table.  It was nice to be able to stumble along through a conversation, and especially comforting that no one really knew what they were doing.  I may have gotten a false sense of hope about my french abilities, but I'm going to hang onto it as hard as I can.  At any rate, I should still be able to say, "Do you speak English? Please, please speak English" once I get there and start stumbling around the Casablanca airport in a jet-lagged daze.  Hopefully someone will feel sorry for me and realize that I will be willing to pay them a lot of money to get me to my hotel in one piece.

I'm sure the real story will be even more bizarre.  I'll fill you in as soon as I live it.