Thursday, January 18, 2007
Linge
My sweet landlord just came over to remind me to take my laundry off of the line on the roof (he can see it from the street).
I asked him: Is it raining?
He said: No, but it's been 2 days!
And I said: Ah, yes. But its not dry.
And he said: But its been 2 days!
And I said: I knowww but its not dry!
And he said: Go try, it's been 2 days.
And I said: I was just up there 10 minutes ago, its not dry.
And he said: Really? Its been 2 days
And I said: Yes, i know. But its no problem. It will dry soon
And he said: Yes, after all, it's been 2 days.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Lion CITY!
Ah, Morocco. How fab'.
I went to go pick up my business cards today, about a week after putting the order in. No hurry, though I suppose -- it's not like I've met anyone to give one to yet. The papercopycard shop got a new printer! Hurrah! But my cards won't be done until tomorrow morning, whadda draaaggg.
To make myself feel better I wandered about the medina with the intention of buying a pretty mirror. No luck, though I did meet one man who was willing to sell me a mirror *from his home* and another man who had somehow managed to sever his big toe (quite badly I think, but he looked bandaged and clean, I think he will be alright) and had decided to take up smoking 'garros' in order to dull the pain.
I've also just bought a dress, or maybe it's a smock? It is yellow and turquoise and a little bit hideous and has pictures of lions all over it, with the caption: Lion City. I have no idea what this means. I think I've heard Singapore referred to as The Lion City? This could be entirely false. Nevertheless, this is a wonderful dress and I managed to acquire it for about 8 U.S. dollars and I plan on wearing it far too often.
Other updates: I may have found a gym (no treadmills, but there are aerobics classes -- my new fav); there are a TON of random Asian tourists in the Oudayas today (I love tourists, I always want to ask them how the hell they decided to come here); and there is a very very obviously intoxicated man swaggering around the neighborhood, screaming, and trying to sell off two very large swinging-chandalier-type lamps.
It's a good day.
I went to go pick up my business cards today, about a week after putting the order in. No hurry, though I suppose -- it's not like I've met anyone to give one to yet. The papercopycard shop got a new printer! Hurrah! But my cards won't be done until tomorrow morning, whadda draaaggg.
To make myself feel better I wandered about the medina with the intention of buying a pretty mirror. No luck, though I did meet one man who was willing to sell me a mirror *from his home* and another man who had somehow managed to sever his big toe (quite badly I think, but he looked bandaged and clean, I think he will be alright) and had decided to take up smoking 'garros' in order to dull the pain.
I've also just bought a dress, or maybe it's a smock? It is yellow and turquoise and a little bit hideous and has pictures of lions all over it, with the caption: Lion City. I have no idea what this means. I think I've heard Singapore referred to as The Lion City? This could be entirely false. Nevertheless, this is a wonderful dress and I managed to acquire it for about 8 U.S. dollars and I plan on wearing it far too often.
Other updates: I may have found a gym (no treadmills, but there are aerobics classes -- my new fav); there are a TON of random Asian tourists in the Oudayas today (I love tourists, I always want to ask them how the hell they decided to come here); and there is a very very obviously intoxicated man swaggering around the neighborhood, screaming, and trying to sell off two very large swinging-chandalier-type lamps.
It's a good day.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Seriously?
So, I tried very hard (perhaps in vain) to get out and take some pictures of Rabat, because I have no pictures of Rabat yet. I was ready and armed: camera, very large jacket, scarf and hat! And off I went, through the blue streets of the Oudayas and towards the ocean. There is a very good view of the sea just minutes from where I live, so I stopped to reflect and to watch the crazy man who was surfing in January.
Now, I have gotten quite used to the cat-calls and the pick-up lines and the pester-y men who somehow feel as though it is alright to bother every woman they see (regardless of nationality) on the street. So when Mr. CreepFace first approached me, I thought nothing of it and acted as though I couldn't hear him, I pretended to be lost in the beauty and the magic of the crashing waves, I imagined him falling helplessly into the ocean, yaddayaddayadda. CreepFace (let's take off the polite salutation, as you will soon learn that he does not deserve such recognition) like some men in this country, was relentless. (By the way, my absolute favorite relentless-tactic that these men use is the no-fail "Say the Word 'Beautiful' or the Words: 'How are You?' In Every Language You Know, Until Her Face Glimmers Some Sort of Recognition" routine. 'A' for Effort? They wish...) CreepFace was basically impossible to ignore. I gave him a curt and emotionless: "Ca va" lacking in intonation, hoping that this would give him no reason to respond. Of course he responded (of course!) and started in on the questions.
"Whoareyouwhereareyoufromwhatdoyouspeakwhyareyouhere?" I answered his questions politely, figuring that:
1. He didn't look like a total whackjob;
2. He may be entirely harmless and just looking for a conversation and;
3. I could beat him up if I needed to.
So, this "harmless" gentleman and I engaged in basic no-frills conversation in a melange of french and arabic and I scolded myself for being so cynical. And at that moment, CreepFace felt it "necessary" to "inform me" that quite often Moroccan women engage in sexual relations with several men during the same period of time (4 or 5!), and that no one takes any of this "sex-stuff" really seriously, and that even I could pursue the same sorts of relationships in MY life! Quelle idee! What an enlightening man, except for the obvious facts that 1. THIS IS NOT TRUE, and; 2. even if it were true, I AM NOT NOT NOT INTERESTED! I told him such and he told me "Not To Worry" and that I could of course have loads and loads of sex in Morocco and he wouldn't think of me as a "prostitute" at all! "Seriously?" I sarcastically asked, right before telling him: "I am almost certain you are lying." And I made it very clear that I really really was not interested and that I was engaged to an American man (sometimes, one must lie). This seemed to shut him up, and we stood there awkwardly while I thought about escape scenarios.
And then, ever the relentless bastard, he asked me if I wanted to go dancing with him sometime (I said 'no') and then he apologized for being so forward. I half-smiled and rolled my eyes and he started blabbing away in quick arabic. I couldn't understand what he was saying exactly, but I picked up on: Casablanca, the verb for "to go" in the second person feminine, and the words: 'with', 'me', 'train' and 'now'. Schnou??? I asked him what in the world he was talking about and he explained in french that I should really go with him to Casa on the train, that afternoon. He said he would go get some coffee, come back and pick me up and off we would run... I said "No, thank you, that's impossible" and he leaned in and told me (in as far as I can translate): "But you must." That was the moment that I finally cracked and explained to him that he would be best off leaving me alone and going away. I even used some very nice english terminology, the kind of words that I was lucky enough to pick up from my lovely tutees in inner-city Baltimore (ahh, Home Sweet Home) and CreepFace sulked away looking shocked. I win! Sort of.
Anyway. Another day in Morocco, featuring one more awkward experience resulting in me being disgusted and angered. Some days are perfectly lovely, and then days like today happen, but I take comfort in knowing that I can handle them.
I do wish I could have taken more photos to share than the measly three below, but at least they come with a story.
Some houses in the neigborhood
The view of the beach!
The lone January surfer, crushed under the waves. I feel ya, buddy.
Now, I have gotten quite used to the cat-calls and the pick-up lines and the pester-y men who somehow feel as though it is alright to bother every woman they see (regardless of nationality) on the street. So when Mr. CreepFace first approached me, I thought nothing of it and acted as though I couldn't hear him, I pretended to be lost in the beauty and the magic of the crashing waves, I imagined him falling helplessly into the ocean, yaddayaddayadda. CreepFace (let's take off the polite salutation, as you will soon learn that he does not deserve such recognition) like some men in this country, was relentless. (By the way, my absolute favorite relentless-tactic that these men use is the no-fail "Say the Word 'Beautiful' or the Words: 'How are You?' In Every Language You Know, Until Her Face Glimmers Some Sort of Recognition" routine. 'A' for Effort? They wish...) CreepFace was basically impossible to ignore. I gave him a curt and emotionless: "Ca va" lacking in intonation, hoping that this would give him no reason to respond. Of course he responded (of course!) and started in on the questions.
"Whoareyouwhereareyoufromwhatdoyouspeakwhyareyouhere?" I answered his questions politely, figuring that:
1. He didn't look like a total whackjob;
2. He may be entirely harmless and just looking for a conversation and;
3. I could beat him up if I needed to.
So, this "harmless" gentleman and I engaged in basic no-frills conversation in a melange of french and arabic and I scolded myself for being so cynical. And at that moment, CreepFace felt it "necessary" to "inform me" that quite often Moroccan women engage in sexual relations with several men during the same period of time (4 or 5!), and that no one takes any of this "sex-stuff" really seriously, and that even I could pursue the same sorts of relationships in MY life! Quelle idee! What an enlightening man, except for the obvious facts that 1. THIS IS NOT TRUE, and; 2. even if it were true, I AM NOT NOT NOT INTERESTED! I told him such and he told me "Not To Worry" and that I could of course have loads and loads of sex in Morocco and he wouldn't think of me as a "prostitute" at all! "Seriously?" I sarcastically asked, right before telling him: "I am almost certain you are lying." And I made it very clear that I really really was not interested and that I was engaged to an American man (sometimes, one must lie). This seemed to shut him up, and we stood there awkwardly while I thought about escape scenarios.
And then, ever the relentless bastard, he asked me if I wanted to go dancing with him sometime (I said 'no') and then he apologized for being so forward. I half-smiled and rolled my eyes and he started blabbing away in quick arabic. I couldn't understand what he was saying exactly, but I picked up on: Casablanca, the verb for "to go" in the second person feminine, and the words: 'with', 'me', 'train' and 'now'. Schnou??? I asked him what in the world he was talking about and he explained in french that I should really go with him to Casa on the train, that afternoon. He said he would go get some coffee, come back and pick me up and off we would run... I said "No, thank you, that's impossible" and he leaned in and told me (in as far as I can translate): "But you must." That was the moment that I finally cracked and explained to him that he would be best off leaving me alone and going away. I even used some very nice english terminology, the kind of words that I was lucky enough to pick up from my lovely tutees in inner-city Baltimore (ahh, Home Sweet Home) and CreepFace sulked away looking shocked. I win! Sort of.
Anyway. Another day in Morocco, featuring one more awkward experience resulting in me being disgusted and angered. Some days are perfectly lovely, and then days like today happen, but I take comfort in knowing that I can handle them.
I do wish I could have taken more photos to share than the measly three below, but at least they come with a story.
Some houses in the neigborhood
The view of the beach!
The lone January surfer, crushed under the waves. I feel ya, buddy.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
"What does it mean abroad: the sea, the land, the sky, the moon, or Mercury?"
(-- Naima El Ouassouli, on the disappearance of her brother by Moroccan authorities)
And here I am. The past week has been near impossible and I'm glad to have gotten through it. I've got a (basic) research design, some (preliminary) contacts, and an abundance of resources. Half of my challenge is going to be translating documents from French, and translating a survey into French and Arabic -- insha allah, I'll find help.
Despite living alone, I've managed to keep myself fed, clean, and exercised -- quite the feat! Surprising to hear, I'm not the most socially apt individual (I might border on awkward, and I'm pretty sure this translates into every language) but I persevere! I've realized that I need to commit my whole heart to this project for the next few months, and a part of me is even looking forward to it.
Also. Perks of living in the Oudaya:
1. There is a man around the corner who sells fresh, hot (skooooohn!) bread, right off the fire-y rocks, for just one dirham. I don't see reason to eat anything else.
2. The beach, of course.
3. American/Fulbright neighbors! Hooray!
And here I am. The past week has been near impossible and I'm glad to have gotten through it. I've got a (basic) research design, some (preliminary) contacts, and an abundance of resources. Half of my challenge is going to be translating documents from French, and translating a survey into French and Arabic -- insha allah, I'll find help.
Despite living alone, I've managed to keep myself fed, clean, and exercised -- quite the feat! Surprising to hear, I'm not the most socially apt individual (I might border on awkward, and I'm pretty sure this translates into every language) but I persevere! I've realized that I need to commit my whole heart to this project for the next few months, and a part of me is even looking forward to it.
Also. Perks of living in the Oudaya:
1. There is a man around the corner who sells fresh, hot (skooooohn!) bread, right off the fire-y rocks, for just one dirham. I don't see reason to eat anything else.
2. The beach, of course.
3. American/Fulbright neighbors! Hooray!
Sunday, January 07, 2007
A fresh start
First of all, my apologies for having taken so long to update. The past month has been wonderful, I had a chance to visit home and those who I love so much. Like anything, it's had it's ups and downs, but from here on out I am going on faith alone to ensure that the following five months will be productive ones from both a personal and an academic standpoint.
I've just moved into a new apartment in Rabat which I will be sharing with another wonderful and charming Fulbrighter once she returns from her travels. The apartment is in an area of Rabat called the Oudaya (here is the first link that came up when I Googled my new 'hood, the text is in French, but if you can't understand it you can at least get a gist from the photos, etc: http://www.rabat-maroc.net/oudaias/les%20oudaias.htm ) It's a gorgeous place to live, really and truly. I am about a 2 minute walk from the beach, and the neighborhood is busy and bustling. Friends and family: VISIT!
In my new room...
The nutty spiral staircase
Another view from the staircase to the balcony
My room again, with the door and shutters opened
My 'closet' (it's a bar above my bed, haha)
My desk!
View looking into the salon
View from the balcony
Another view from the balcony... beautiful
I've just moved into a new apartment in Rabat which I will be sharing with another wonderful and charming Fulbrighter once she returns from her travels. The apartment is in an area of Rabat called the Oudaya (here is the first link that came up when I Googled my new 'hood, the text is in French, but if you can't understand it you can at least get a gist from the photos, etc: http://www.rabat-maroc.net/oudaias/les%20oudaias.htm ) It's a gorgeous place to live, really and truly. I am about a 2 minute walk from the beach, and the neighborhood is busy and bustling. Friends and family: VISIT!
In my new room...
The nutty spiral staircase
Another view from the staircase to the balcony
My room again, with the door and shutters opened
My 'closet' (it's a bar above my bed, haha)
My desk!
View looking into the salon
View from the balcony
Another view from the balcony... beautiful
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
