Angie in Morocco

The Adventure Continues...

2008-12-18T12:57:00.000-08:00

Greetings to my gentle readers!!! I am currently back in Alaska, but I have loads more fun pictures and adventures to share about Morocco.

Just let me get through the school Christmas Concert, Staff Gift Exchange, Door Decoration Contest, baking a million cookies, and my jet lag.

Then the stories and pictures will be back. I promise.

The Sheep Souq

2008-12-17T06:11:00.000-08:00

So, you've been to the Tahnaoute souq with me a few times. Now I'm about to show you a different kind of souq: the sheep shouq. Well, I can't exactly call it THE sheep souq. It's more lke A sheep souq. There are a lot of them this time of year in Marrakech in preparation for the Eid holiday.

During Eid each family sacrifices a sheep. So, the sheep souq consists of people selling sheeps as potential sacrifices.

Note to readers: I am fully aware that the word "sheeps" is a completely inappropriate pluralization. I just think it's cute. I may also use the word "sheepies" sometime during this post. Consider yourself grammatically warned.

It was kind of bizarro to see a bunch of men standing around holding sheep by the head. Potential buyers walk around, pick the sheep up, and pat them. It's kind of like 4-H. Except that the sheep are really dirty. And there's no ribbons.

I would like to take this opportunity to remind my gentle readers about my phobia of taking pictures of strangers. Also, I didn't want to have my touristness result in a skyrocketed price for Brahim while purchasing his sheep (in fact, I pretty much walked at least five meters behind him at all times). Almost all of these pictures were taken with my camera at my waist shooting randomly. Sometimes that resulted in decent pictures. More often, it resulted in pictures like the one above.

Sometimes the pictures were a cross of decent and completely useless. I never would have taken this pictures of a sheep's backside on my own, but I kind of like it. By "like it," I mean it makes me laugh in a visual slapstick sort of way. It must be the Alston in me.

Once a sheep is purchased, it has to be moved to your vehicle of choice. This is not an easy task. Somehow, I think the sheepies know that they are going to be sacrificed, and they are extremely uncooperative. The wheelbarrow method was frequently used to force sheep mobility.

I also saw a lot of sheep being passed overhead. I was very grateful not to be under any of the sheep.

We paid a guy a few dirhams to carry our sheep in a cart (the terms "we" and "our" are being used very loosely here...).

The guy really earned his dirhams when he carried our sheep to the car.

Brahim helped the guy put the sheepie in the trunk.

Note to animal rights activists: this blog does not make any official statement of approval of keeping live mammals in the trunks of cars. It is merely objectively reporting typical behavior in Morocco. Thank you.

The legs were tied together to keep the sheep from getting too crazy in the trunk. Although, we did hear a fair amount of banging going on.

Note to animal rights activists: please refer to the above caption. Thank you.

People concerned for the welfare of the sheep as we drove from Marrakech to Tahnaoute will be happy to know that Brahim stuffed cardboard in the trunk to keep it from closing all the way.

He even bought tape to keep the trunk closed enough to prevent the cardboard from falling out.

Good thing he had his pocket knife with small scissors, huh?

We put the sheep in the little open air courtyard at home.

He (and I know it's a he because only male sheep are used for the sacrifices) only stayed of a few hours before he was relocated to a neighbor's stable. But, it was long enough for Karim to look through the window and make sheepie noises.

Stay tuned for upcoming details about the sacrifice!!!

Shishmaref Scrapbook

2008-12-16T06:58:00.000-08:00

This picture looks like something boring. It is, however, something very un-boring.

Before I came to Morocco one of my coworkers brilliantly suggested that I have my kids help me make a scrapbook about life in Shishmaref.

I ordered prints of a bunch of my Flickr pictures. Then I had the kids write descriptions of what was in the pictures.

They described different types of Eskimo Food...

and Eskimo games. They're written descriptions were pretty good. They even included some Inupiaq words where appropriate. I was proud.

One of the best parts of the scrapbook was the mini-bios. Every student in the school filled out a questionnaire about their favorite foods, activities, etc., even the little kids.

My big kids did it too. Their bios were slightly less adorable (due mainly to the fact that they largely avoided the spelling errors of the elementary students), but no less enjoyable to read. (Hey Big Kids! Just because I think the little kids are adorable doesn't mean I love you less!)

It was a lot of work, but the above picture shows the reaction of the Moroccan students. They were fascinated, and they crowded around the book so they could each see every page. Worth it. Definitely worth it.

Bahia Palace

2008-12-15T08:43:00.000-08:00

One of the cool things about spending so much time in Marrakech is that there is an endless supply of fascinating and beautiful things to see. Every so often, Brahim will come up to me and say, "Do you want to go to (fill in the blank with any number of fascinating and fabulous sites in the city)?" That's how we ended up at the Bahia Palace.

My Lonely Planet Morocco book says that the Palace was originally owned by two grand viziers. To be honest, I didn't really pay much attention to any of the historical details while I was at the palace. I was too busy looking at the stunning details. Like the magnificent ceilings.

And the plaster carvings.

Everything inside was dimly lit by overhead lights. It kind of gave the whole place an intriguing ambience.

This is possibly the world's most weak sauce photo, but it illustrates that there were several courtyards in the palace. Each courtyard was surrounded by a series of rooms.

This courtyard had a fountain!!!

Brahim wanted his picture taken with the fountain. I'm not sure if this is what he was expecting...

Bahia Palace, another one of the beautiful places brought to you by Marrakech.

Fun With the Siblings

2008-12-14T07:49:00.000-08:00

Have I mentioned that I love my Moroccan siblings? They have a lot in common with my biological siblings: they're funny, they love to laugh, and they love me! :)

So, when I busted out Photo Booth on my laptop, it was an instant success.

The four of us had a great time getting into wacky poses and making ourselves look as silly as possible.

The two-headed monster was a pretty popular pose.

As was the "we're-getting-sucked-into-a-wind-tunnel."

Note to readers: I do wear makeup sometimes. I promise.

We started laughing so hard that Brahim scolded us. I guess there are neighbors or something.

Our quietness lasted about fifteen seconds because Karim convinced Zourikha to get in on the act.

And that was pretty funny all by itself.

I showed these pictures to Khadija later, and she laughed hysterically. Then she created the above gem.

I love these guys.

My Moroccan Family Eats Fajitas

2008-12-13T06:30:00.000-08:00

As a pitiful attempt to say thank you for all of the food that's been prepared for me, I made one of my favorite dishes for my Moroccan family: fajitas!!! In the great tradition of blogging cooking shows, I thought I would share the experience with you.

This culinary exercise was an adventure in substitutions. I wanted to make homemade tortillas to go along with the fajitas (Steve and I are sort of famous for our homemade tortillas), but I couldn't find shortening anywhere. Or lard. Or anybody who knew what either of those things were... So, I had to use butter.

(You will be happy to know that I even bought this butter all by myself with my mad Arabic skills. "Nuss kilo zebda." That means, "Half kilo butter.")

I mixed the butter with flour, salt, and baking powder (trying to describe baking powder in the grocery store was another adventure...).

Brahim provided this picture (and most of the other ones). This shot is to prove that I, in fact, was the one preparing the food.

Note to readers interested in making tortillas: using butter is slightly more difficult than using shortening. The shortening is softer and easier to mix with the other ingredients (I even left the butter out overnight, to no avail).

While the tortilla dough sat (they taste better if the dough is allowed to rest for a while), I chopped yellow peppers...

and red peppers...

and green ones.

I did the onions last because they make me cry.

I peeled the outer layers of the onions off with my hands. Brahim thought that was hilarious. I'm not sure why. He was really intent on taking a picture of it. (It's kind of relaxing to have somebody else take pictures of you cooking. Usually I have to stop cooking, wipe my hands, take a shot, set the camera somewhere safe, and resume cooking. I wonder if my budget would allow for a full time cooking photographer...)

Fresh garlic!!!!! Usually I have to use the stuff out of a jar. This time I got to mince it myself.

Sara helped me shape the tortillas.

That was really nice, especially since there was no tortilla press or rolling pin, and I had to press all the tortillas by hand...

We used some of the dough to make this adorable crocodile, complete with scales down his back. We're awesome.

Another picture demonstrating the difficulty of making tortillas by hand. (Hey Steve! I missed your mad skills with the tortillas press!)

We cooked the tortillas on a skillet on the gas stove. They turned out pretty well.

We covered the tortillas to keep them warm and then prepared to sautee the vegetables. The only oil we could find was olive oil, and I wasn't quite sure that was the flavor I wanted. So, we used butter.

Onions first so they get nice and tender.

Then we added the peppers and let them steam while we cooked the chicken. I was lucky enough to find a bottle of "Mexican Seasoning" at a supermarket in Marrakesh. I'm not exactly sure what was in it, but it was sufficiently fajita-ish.

We let the chicken steam to finish, and we added cilantro to the vegetables.

The final dish looked like this. The serving platter is typically used for couscous, but I took a few cultural culinary liberties...

I showed the family how to assemble the fajitas Alston style. (Steve's family spreads the sour cream on the tortilla first before adding the rest of the filling/topping.)

Note to readers: I couldn't find sour cream, so we used plain yogurt mixed with salt. I think I liked it better than sour cream.

The set up. Loubna is pretending that she doesn't notice I am taking a picture.

This is kind of a lame picture, but I wanted to show the homemade salso I made. It's in the blue tupperware tub on the left. I used canned corn, fresh tomatoes, fresh onions, cilantro, and lemon juice. Ordinarily I would have used lime juice and added black beans, but...I couldn't find them. It was still yummy.

This is Sara assembling her fajita. In addition to the "sour cream" and salsa, we also had cheese. It wasn't cheddar cheese. It was an orange hardish cheese. In fact, it was the only orange hardish cheese in the Marrakesh supermarket.

The verdict: two thumbs up from EVERY SINGLE family member, even though Brahim preferred to eat the filling with Moroccan bread instead of the tortillas. :) Wahoo!!!

Loubna in Marrakech

2008-12-12T16:11:00.000-08:00

Brahim's classes are over by 11:00am on Saturdays, and we don't teach on Sundays. So, we generally leave Tahnaoute on Saturday afternoon and spend some time in Marrakech for the weekend.

On our most recent trip, Loubna came with us! Highlights:

-Loubna helping me find and select a skirt for one of my sisters (Hey Sena! I think you're going to like it!)

-Walking down the streets of Marrakech desperately looking for a store that sells ice cream (apparently it's winter or something).

-Going to a flea market to buy shoes for Loubna. Digging through piles of random shoes in hopes of finding something suitable.

-Wandering around a gigantic grocery store looking for ingredients for me to make fajitas for the family. (How do you explain shortening to somebody who doesn't have any idea what it is?)

-Sleeping in the same room and talking as we fell asleep. Neither of us woke up until 10:00 am the next morning. Teasing Loubna because she usually wakes up much earlier, and hearing her say, "Oh no! I don't want to be a lazy girl!" (That was kind of a jab at me. I typically get up later than the rest of the family. In my defense, when I don't eat dinner until after 10:00 pm, it throws my whole biological clock off.)

-Looking for an Internet cafe so that we could check our e-mail, watch YouTube videos, etc. Every cafe we came to was either closed or full. It was devastating. We finally found one tucked away several blocks from the house.

It's nice to have sisters, even in Morocco.

Souq- Visit II

2008-12-12T07:11:00.000-08:00

I went to the souq again. This time I went with Zourikha, Brahim's wife. I was able to observe souq life from the perspective of a woman.

On my initial visit, I reported that there were more women than men at the souq. Turns out, that's only true when you go to the souq around noon. That's when the main meal of the day is served, so most of the women are at home preparing it. My second visit to the souq happened at about 4:00 pm. There were loads of women shopping then.

This is Zourikha picking out mint-like herbs for tea. They all have different nuances of flavor. I am not quite adept at picking them out. I can tell when my herbal tea tastes different, but I can't tell why.

Potatoes. They are generally used in tajines for lunch or dinner.

Carrots. Zourikha was a lot more selective than Brahim was when he did the shopping. Every woman likes carrots of a certain size and shape. Some prefer big ones. Zouriha seems to prefer skinny ones.

These are turnips. They serve the same culinary function as potatoes.

Here's another view of Zourikha choosing her produce. She was insanely embarassed that I was taking pictures of her. I think she only looked at me once the entire time.

All of the produce was weighed with this scale. Zourikha would tell the produce man how much (weight-wise) she wanted. If what she selected ended up weighing more, the produce man tossed a few out until it was the right weight.

I don't know why seeing the cauliflower in a bowl like this struck me as funny, but it did. It still does. I'm chuckling even as I type this.

These are Moroccan green peppers. They taste much like the green bell peppers I buy in America (I can even buy them in Shishmaref sometimes!!!). The only difference is that they're shaped differently. They're skinny and pointy.

Oranges. I love oranges (just ask my mom. She has to buy crates of them at Costco when I come to visit). Moroccan oranges are little and very sweet. We have them as dessert after every lunch and some dinners.

This is a truck filled with wooden crates. I was almost ran over by the men stacking the crates onto the truck. It was like they didn't even see me.

This picture is to illustrate a story. As Zourikha purchased her produce, she would hand it to Loubna and me. We would stash it in the large wheeled back brought especially for that purpose. Toward the end of our shopping trip, the large bag got kind of full. So Loubna, being the innovative girl that she is, tied the last bag onto the handle of the wheeled bag.

When we got ready to go home, Zourikha noticed the knotted bag. She was immediately embarassed and NOT going to walk home with a plastic bag hanging off of the cart/bag combination. She and Loubna "discussed" it for a while (I couldn't understand the conversation because it was in Arabic, but I imagine it went something like this:

"Mom, seriously, it's not a big deal."

"Please take it off."

"Why? Just leave it. Nobody's going to care."

"I'm not going to walk home with that bag hanging off."

"It's fine."

The conversation ended with Loubna trying to untie the bag. She was unsuccessful, so Zourikha tore the bag off the handle. The remnants of the knots are probably still there. :)

Globalization Is...

2008-12-11T17:12:00.000-08:00

An old man wearing a jellaba and Nike tennis shoes.

Sunsilk buckets at the tiny hammam in Tahanoute.

Your Moroccan little sisters owning I-pods, and your little brother loving Mario.

Watching your Fulbright partner's brother chat with people in Florida and use the abbreviations "gtg" and "cu."

Watching Grey's Anatomy, Desperate Housewives, and Rachael Ray for the first time ever...IN MOROCCO.

Watching the Late Show with David Letterman almost every night.

Watching Al Jazeera for news. In English.

A Coca-Cola Plant in the middle of Marrakech.

Sidi Kaouki

2008-12-11T10:08:00.000-08:00

Just a short drive from Essaouira is Sidi Kaouki. It is a beautiful. If you ever make it to the Atlantic Coast of Morocco, it's definitely worth a drive. One thing that contributed to its perfectness was that there were very few people there.

(Almost) just me, the waves, and the beautiful scenery. I took off my shoes, rolled up my jeans, and waded in the water for a while. It was very tranquil.

There were also a handful of surfers.

I'd never seen real life surfers before.

It was kind of fun.

I also got to see surfers wipe out.

Which was also kind of fun.

I know most of these surf pictures look the same, but I liked them all, so you, my captive audience, were subject to them. I love the waves. I love the sky. I mostly love that I wasn't the one swimming in the VERY COLD water.

This was my favorite surfing picture of the day. I don't know. Something about the color of the water and the sky and the waves. Ahhhhhh...

The Docks of Essaouira

2008-12-10T04:58:00.000-08:00

A trip to Essaouira isn't complete without a visit to the docks.

It's a fairly typical maritime setting. There were lots of boats.

Some boats were small.

Some boats were big. (Uh oh, this post is starting to sound like a poorly written children's book...)

There were TONS of seagulls. I'm serious. Think pigeons at St. Mark's in Venice.

The seagulls hang around hoping for a fishy snack.

There were piles of fishing nets.

And one gentleman stretching his net out.

See how long it is?

Some nets were being used to bring up fish. These fishermen are helping, uh, do something with the net.

Some of the fish were being sold just feet from the water.

Here are some of the eels/snakes/whatevers.

More fish sellers.

This woman was scaling fish. (I have a confession to make: I pretended to take a picture of the boats in the distance before re-aiming my camera at the last second. I feel terrible. But not terrible enough to not post the picture.)

I was a couple of seconds too late with this picture, but it was hilarious. The woman in the far left asked the man in the middle to move her sheet of fish for her. So he did. (Okay, maybe hilarious was an overstatement, but it still made me laugh. Something about this guy bending over and dragging a cloth of fish around...)

Essaouira also has a sea wall. Sea walls are of particular interest to me because one protects my home in Shishmaref. (Hey Shishmaref kids! Do you think we need a sea wall like this?)

Sea gulls like sea walls too.

Like almost everywhere else in Essaouira, the dock had awesome views.

Ahhhhhhhh...

Camel Ride on the Beach!!!

2008-12-09T08:54:00.000-08:00

I enjoyed my camel ride in the Sahara so much that I wanted to do it again...on the beach!

The Atlantic Ocean and the beaches of Essaouira were the perfect backdrop. (Shout out to Brahim for being the photographer!)

The guide even made the camel run for part of my trip. I'm sure we weren't going very fast, but I bounced up and down and shrieked quite a bit.

This is me giving my camel some love after the ride. The man who took my money said the camel's name was Cappuccino.

All of my attention wasn't enough to keep Cappuccino from yawning.

So, we had a contest to see who could open their mouth the widest. I'm not sure who won...

More camel love.

Camel close up.

Camel profile. (I hope this was his good side.)

Camel postcard shot.

Lazy camel. I'm glad this one wasn't mine...

The Fish Market

2008-12-08T09:01:00.000-08:00

One of the best things about Essaouria is its proximity to the ocean. Close to the ocean = lots of FRESH fish.

We went to the fish market both days we were in Essaouria.

The fish goes directly from the ocean to the tables of the fish market.

And, it's all just laying out on the counters. (In case you're noticing a drastic difference in the lighting of the fishy pictures, one visit happened at night, and one visit happened during the day.)

These are kind of like eels. Ahmed and Brahim weren't sure of the English name. They might gross and slimy, but Khadija made a tajine from this kind of creature once, and it was really yummy!

More of the eel/snakes/slimy fish.

Shrimps!!!!

I had to take a picture of this fish. Look at his (?) mouth!!! Hahahahaha!

These fish are naked. Their scales have been removed. I tried some of these in Marrakesh once. They were breaded and deep-fried. They were also very yummy.

Essaouira is famous for sardines.

There were lots of them.

We also saw rays. I've never eaten rays, but they must be good to eat because they were selling them.

This is a crummy picture. It's the result of my phobia of annoying people with my camera. I was too embarrassed to do more than take one quick shot. In case you can't tell, it's sharks.

Here's the best part of the fish market. We bought those whitish fish near the edge of the table.

Then this nice gentleman cleaned them for us. (We tipped him.)

We took our cleaned fish to a place where they could be cooked. While we waited, we ate bread...

and Moroccan salad...

and olives.

But, the crowning point of the meal was definitely the fish.

Sprinkled with a little fresh lemon juice. Mmmmmmm. It was to die for.

Essaouira

2008-12-07T06:52:00.000-08:00

Brahim, Ahmed, and I took advantage of a weekend to travel to Essaouira.

We arrived just as the sun was setting. This was the first time I've ever seen the sun set over the Atlantic. It was kind of weird.

This is what Essouira looks like while the sun sets. Not a great picture, but you get the idea.

Brahim and Ahmed were savvy enough to score us a very nice place to stay. We stopped outside the bus station, and Ahmed spoke to a woman sitting on the sidewalk. She led us to an apartment for rent.

The apartment had a large sitting room with couches and tiled walls...

A bedroom with a double bed.

another sitting room...

and a kitchen. Quite the deal for 150 dirham (about twenty bucks). Much nicer than $20 hotel rooms in the U.S. (Actually, I don't really know that for a fact. I've never been brave enough to stay anywhere that cheap.)

Essaouira is a beautiful coastal city.

The daylight provided for many beautiful views.

I loved it.

How to Be a Good Student in Morocco

2008-12-06T10:17:00.000-08:00

Always bring a notebook to class. Your teacher will refer to this as your copy book. Your copy book can be of whatever design you want it to be. Bonus points if it has princesses on the cover.

Take copious notes in your copy book.

(These are some of the notes taken from my lesson on American Weddings.)

(I thought it was funny to notice what the students had written down.)

Use different colored pens.

Colorful pen are not girly in Morocco. Even the toughest young men have multi-colored writing utensils.

The atmosphere is far different from American teachers mandating that assignments be completed in blue and black ink.

In fact, teachers often encourage you to use different colored inks when writing in order to differentiate between parts of speech, definitions, etc.

Especially gifted students will master the art of holding two pens at a time, in order to better facilitate switching colors.

Additionally, students should write in their textbooks. It is especially advisable that students write the Arabic equivalents to English words.

Following these simple tips should ensure a successful experience in the Morocco Education System. Or, at least, at the Lycee in Tahnaoute.

I Hate Chalkboards, But I Used One To Do Something Cool.

2008-12-06T05:12:00.000-08:00

The classrooms in Tahnaoute all have chalkboards. In fact, all of my fellow Fulbrighters have reported that they also have chalkboards in their classrooms. This could be a Morocco-wide phenomenon.

I hate chalkboards. They always look dirty. The chalk dust gets all over my hands and dries them out. At the end of class I will inevitably have chalk all over my hips, thighs, knees, backside, or all of the above.

But, I was able to do something cool with a chalkboard last week. I wrote in Arabic.

The students didn't understand the English word "perseverance" in their textbooks, so I wrote the Arabic equivalent on the board.

I wish I could say that I figured out the Arabic equivalent all by myself. Then I would be a linguistic rock star. However, the truth is that Brahim wrote it down for me, and I simply copied it on the board.

For the record, I want to state that I recognized all of the letters, and was able to write them correctly on the first try. The students applauded. I beamed.

I feel quite proud of myself. :)

Public Bath Experience III

2008-12-05T15:19:00.000-08:00

I'm starting to feel like a professional hammamer now. I know where to go, I know what to do, and I have my own supplies. I've thought about going alone a few times, but I pretty much like going with Khadija.

It had only been six days since my last exfoliation, and I thought for sure that I had reached the "spaghetti-free zone" (referring to the appearance of the skin tendrils after having my body scraped down by one of the hammam employees). Unfortunately, an abundance of excess skin was still produced. I snuck a glance at Khadija as she was being exfoliated, and she had skin tendrils too. I decided it must be normal.

Observations from an (almost) hammam pro:

-the whole experience is significantly more relaxing when I know what is happening and what will happen next.
-the skin scraping process is still just as painful, but less shocking.

On our way out of the hot rooms and into the dressing area, we saw a white lady standing just outside the entrance. She was already undressed and was clutching her fists just underneath her chin with a scared look on her face. Khadija, being the insanely gracious woman that she is, asked, "Can I help you?"

The girl whimpered (in English), "I don't know what to do..." Khadija hooked her up with one of the hammam ladies, and we went on our way chuckling. In the changing area we found two French women who were also completely clueless. They had no idea what the hammam procedure was and hadn't even brought their own towels. Khadija came to the rescue again (she is fluent in French) and explained things to the women.

Can I just say, I was SO GLAD not to be them? My initial experience was shocking enough without having NO IDEA WHAT WAS GOING ON.

If any of my gentle readers ever find themselves confronted with a hammam experience, allow me to offer the following advice:

-bring your own towel (you DO NOT want to have to use one that the hammam has on hand. Enough said).

-bring all of the things you normally bathe with. Shampoo, soap, shower gel, razor, etc.

-there will be a bunch of buckets near the entry to the hammam. Grab a few of them. You will fill them up with the hammam faucets and use them to bathe

-just walk in, sit down, and do what everyone else is doing. Everyone seems to have their own method of doing things, so you really can't be wrong.

-it will be extremely obvious that you are a foreigner, so the hammam ladies will surely come help you or at least keep you from doing something wrong.

Classroom Charades

2008-12-05T07:17:00.000-08:00

It's really interesting teaching English as a Third Language when I don't know the first or second languages of my students.

Their level of English is quite good, but every once in a while they have a question about a word. Since my Arabic is extremely limited and my French is even more limited, I have to resort to charades.

"Cry" was easy. I just put my fists up to my cheeks and made a really sad face.

"Extinguish" was a bit more challenging. Finally I came up with using my fingers as a flame. I blew on them, and they receded.

But how do you act out "polite" or "visit?" Yeah, those stumped me too. I tired offering English synonyms, but they were met with quizzical looks. I whipped out my Lonely Planet Moroccan Arabic-English index, but it didn't have the word polite (although the equivalent for visit was easily understood)...

Turns out, in situation like that you simply wait for your Fulbright partner to come back. Then he can explain what the word means in Arabic.

Maybe someday I'll be able to do that too...

Family Trip to Oukaimeden

2008-12-04T08:17:00.000-08:00

Last weekend the whole family took a day trip to Oukaimden.

The car ride took about an hour. It was relatively uneventful except for watching Karim rock out to Sara's I-pod.

This was Karim's face when he realized I was taking pictures of his car dancing.

But, he didn't let it faze him, and he went back to enjoying the music.

At one point during the ride, Loubna, Sara, and I were all listening to our I-pods. We switched earphones so that I was listening to one of mine and one of Loubna's. Loubna was listening to one of hers and one of Sara's. Sara was listening to one of hers and one of mine. It is kind of trippy to listen to different songs at the same time. We thought it was pretty funny and laughed a lot. Pretty much your basic family road trip (minus the fighting and frequent threats to "turn this car around and go back home").

According to my Lonely Planet book, Oukaimden is home to Africa's highest ski lift. That's right, you can ski in Morocco. Due to an extremely unfortunate incident trying to ski in Girdwood a couple of years ago, I didn't really feel like trying my hand (feet?) at African downhill skiing, but Loubna and I rode up the ski lift anyway.

This is Brahim watching us go up. He was hollering at Loubna to put her hat on (dads are the same the world over).

This is Loubna not wearing her hat (daughters are also the same the world over).

This is me. I didn't have a hat, but I wore my hood most of the way up. I just took it off for the picture. (Hey Loubna! Thanks for taking the picture!)

The Oukaimden ski lift is substantially less scary than many other ski lifts because it has a bar that can be pulled down in front of you. Nice to have because Brahim made me promise not to let his daughter fall out of the lift chair. It also let us relax and enjoy the scenery.

This is what greeted us when we got to the top. It was gorgeous. Incidentally, it may have produced the most stunning picture I have ever taken.

I took a picture of Loubna in front of the gorgeousness, even though she didn't want me to.

Then she took a picture of me...

and another one....

and another one...

I used this opportunity to act like my usual dramatic self and pose in front of the camera.

In order to establish a history of myself as the ultimate cheeseball and poser, I dug this old picture out. This picture was taken when I was about ten years old. It is a picture of my Grandma Slaughter with many (but not all) of her grandchildren. Our family had just experienced a baby burst (thanks in large part to my twin brothers). I am the oldest child in the picture.

Several interesting things are happening in this picture. Mandy is wearing tie-dyed stretch pants (Hey Mandy! Was it the nineties or something?). The baby on my lap is screaming. The next baby is throwing up. Joe (the baby in the middle) is about to fall off of Grandma's lap and is probably beginning to cry or at least grunt loudly. Baby Tom loooks like he either died or fell asleep.

As you can tell from the photo, I am oblivious to ALL OF THIS. I am posing and smiling for the camera despite the screaming, vomit, and babies in potentially dangerous situations. It's a talent I've had all my life. So, when you think about mocking me for my fake smiles and poses, consider that there is a lot of history to this behavior, and it's not something I'm going to be able to kick overnight. Thank you.

The ride down offered similarly stunning views.

It was about at this point in the ride that Loubna said, "Pleeeeeaaaaaaase stop taking pictures." So I did. For a few minutes.

We returned safely to the ground to find Brahim and Karim enjoying a donkey ride.

We also got to walk past these cute little mud houses by a creek on a hill!

I convinced the family to stand together for a picture. Unfortunately, The snow in the back got totally overexposed. Oops. I would have taken another shot, but Brahim decided he had enough of picture taking. ~~Shrug~~

We stopped at a little outdoor restaurant and shared a tajine.

And headed home into a beautiful sunset..

that just kept getting better. (Hey Loubna and Sara! Thanks for letting me lay across you in the car to take this picture out of the car window!)

It was a perfect family trip.

The Badia Palace

2008-12-03T07:19:00.000-08:00

This is the Badia Palace. Well, part of it. I don't have a lens wide enough to show you the whole thing at once, so you'll have to be satisfied with pieces.

The palace was built under the direction of Ahmed Al Mansour Ad-dahbi of the Saadien dynasty during the sixteenth century.

Apparently, it used to be pretty spectacular. The walls were covered in marble, and the courtyard was full of pools. Moulay Ismail had the marble removed to decorate his palace in Meknes during the seventeenth century. The pools are now filled with orange trees. (Brahim dared me to crawl down and get one of the oranges. I declined for the following reasons: I wasn't sure it was legal, and I wasn't sure I could climb back out of the pool/orange orchard.)

The palace had a prison, and part of it was open to visitors like us! (Again, I have no idea what the green spots are. I tried to remove them using Photoshop, but it was too tedious, so I gave up caring. It happens.)

The creepiest part of the prison is that it was underground. The only light (before they installed the tourist-friendly light bulbs) came in from grated holes in the ceiling. Definitely not a place I would want to spend any significant time.

The palace is currently home to storks. Lots of them.

I'm slightly ashamed to admit that I spent most of my time looking for opportunities to take pictures of these birds.

Carrie and I also tried to explain the legend of storks delivering babies. Turns out, it sounds pretty stupid when you try to explain it to grown men who have never before heard it...

I was dying for this bird to turn around and face me! I even switched lenses for her (him?). I stood underneath the nest for an embarrassingly long time before deciding that the stork hated me.

I like this stork picture because the stork is roosting on top of a minaret. A minaret is a mosque tower. The speaker you see near the bottom of the picture is used to call Muslims to prayer five times a day.

There! This may not have been exactly the shot I was waiting for, but it's one that made my time at the Badia Palace worthwhile.

Jardin Majorelle

2008-12-01T13:17:00.000-08:00

Jardin Majorelle is in Marrakech. It's a beautiful garden. It's very quiet and serene. It was fun to wander around with my camera taking lame pictures.

Most of the plants in the garden were cacti.

Since I spent some of my formative years living in Las Vegas, I was prepared not to be impressed. Until I saw these babies. Can you tell that they look fuzzy? Has anybody ever seen fluffy cacti before? I hadn't. I was duly impressed. Two thumbs up.

Jardin Majorelle was also home to significant quantities of aloe plants. I thought about breaking a leaf (is that what they're called?) open, but I wasn't sure what the Moroccan legal policy was on aloe breakage. I'd hate to go to an African prison for the sake of satisfying a curious whim.

The garden also had colorful flowers.

Good thing I spent $900 on a macro lens so that I could get shots like this, huh Steve?

This was my favorite flower shot. I'm kind of a sucker for purple.

This, however, was my favorite shot of the day. Turtles! I heart turtles! They were so outrageously cute stretching their tiny necks that I couldn't resist taking a pictures. Despite my 105mm lens, this was as close as I could get (they were kind of far away).

Fun fact: people in Morocco (probably tourists) carve their names into stalks of bamboo. It never would have occurred to me to carve my initials (or Steve's) into a stalk of bamboo. I guess my love doesn't run as deep as Ronald's (or did Ronald just exhibit a healthy sense of self worth by carving his full name? I really can't tell).

As a bonus, I got this great shot of Brahim's brother Ahmed. This the person with whom I have spent hours walking through the streets of Marrakesh. Two thumbs up.

I Don't Like Dates

2008-12-01T07:37:00.000-08:00

It's really too bad that I don't like dates.

Dates grow on palm trees. There are a lot of palm trees in Morocco.

Fresh dates are supposed to be the very best kind of dates.

There they are in gigantic clumps, and I can't care because I don't like them. Every once in a while I'll try another one just to be sure.

It's especially too bad that I don't like dates because Brahim loves them.

He loves them so much that he's willing to stop the car during road trips and climb trees to get them.

He passes the dates to his brother Ahmed. And the only enjoyment I get from the whole process is taking pictures.

I don't feel ripped off...

Public Bath Experience II

2008-11-30T14:18:00.000-08:00

I shared my second hammam experience with Carrie and Khadija. This was the ideal combination of ladies to accompany to the hammam. Carrie had never been before, so I got to feel all experienced, wise, and "with it" as I explained to her what to do. But, Khadija was there to fall back on when I forgot the order of the steps or where exactly I was supposed to hang my towel.

The steps progressed pretty much like my first experience. I was kind of hoping that slightly less skin and dirt would peel off of my body the second time. It didn't happen. I guess it HAD been ten days since my last scrape down. That must have been enough time for the dead skin cells and dirt to accumulate.

Despite it being her initial hammam experience, Carrie noticed something that had previously escaped my attention: the walls of the hammam are heated. Hammams are powered by large fires. The fires heat large quantities of water, and the water runs through the walls, making them warm to the touch. Hmmmmmppphhhh.

Weak Sauce Attempts at Sunset Pictures

2008-11-30T08:52:00.000-08:00

It would be cool if the title of this post could be something romantic like "Sunset Over the Sahara" or "Desert Nights." Unfortunately, despite having the arguably BEST view in all of Southern Morocco, I was unable to produce any photos worthy of those titles. I blame it on not owning a tripod and overwhelming incompetence (please do not judge the quality of my beautiful Nikon camera based on these shots). Anyway, here are a few of my attempts...

Here it is. Gorgeous sunset, picturesque traditionalesque mud building, and only a mediocre combination of the two. Oh well...

This one is not so bad. I especially liked the rays coming from the sun. I also like the fact that I'm not blind, despite pointing my lens directly at the sun.

What's so incredibly painful about this particular picture (and yes, I know this is technically not a "sunset picture" being as it is a picture of the moon, so spare me the smarmy comments) is remembering the intense gorgeousness of the original scene. I'd never dreamt of the moon rising over sand dunes, but now that I've seen it, I will permeate my dreams forever.

It is obvious by the oblong shape of the moon that I was not using a tripod. I did attempt to prop my camera up on a table on the patio. But, that wasn't tall enough. I stacked a stool on top of the table, and that was better, but I couldn't see the viewfinder. Also, the stool drooped in the middle, causing crookedness. So, I was forced to do a handheld shot at a slow shutter speed. :(

It was captivating. Seriously. You probably don't believe me because of the poor quality of the above picture, but you're just going to have to take my word for it...

Camel Riding in the Sahara!!!

2008-11-29T06:02:00.000-08:00

Because I am extraordinarily lame, I was insanely excited about riding a camel in the Sahara desert. Youssef, the owner of our kasbah, arranged the whole experience.

We started by having our heads wrapped in a traditional turban. The turban offered protection from the sand and upped the cool factor by at least one hundred.

This is Carrie. She is a Fulbright teacher from Heber, Utah. Carrie rocks. Carrie also "agreed" to be my model for a photo series on how to wrap a turban (by agreed I mean that she didn't run away while I was taking the photos. Also, she knows that I am a blogger, implying implicit consent).

The turban wrapping was provided by Youssef.

Youssef wrapped the turban around Carrie's head, and, um, then he twisted it...

Then he, uh, wrapped the twisted part behind her head...

And, um, tucked it in, or something...

Then kept twisting and wrapping in a very turban-like fashion...

Before, uh, tucking the end of the turban underneath, the, um, twisted part...

Okay, so that didn't quite end up being the informative how-to piece I had envisioned (even Carrie looks annoyed in this picture- and she's an incredibly positive person). Maybe you can figure out how to tie a turban by looking at the pictures or something (is tie even the right verb to use? I really have no idea...).

The end result left us looking authentically touristic and ready to ride our camels!!!

This is our guide leading the camels to us. We considered ourselves very fortunate to have a private guide (as opposed to traipsing around with forty fanny-pack-wearing tourists).

This is Carrie and me greeting our camels. I knew the dark one was meant for me because he (or she?) was loud as soon as they arrived.

Getting on the camel while it was on the ground was pretty easy, and I was pretty much feeling like a pro-spectacular-fessional...

then the camel started to stand up, and I had to hold on to the little tourist bar pretty tightly. (You will notice that I managed to continue looking at and posing for the camera, despite almost falling off my camel. I am amazing. Also, I am pretty sure that I was smiling underneath my turban, even though my mouth was covered.)

Carrie and I both made it safely through the standing up process, and I was able to continue my blatant posing. (Hey Brahim!!! Thanks for taking the pictures of my camel mounting!)

If I looked down, this was my view. You may not be able to tell, but our guide was BAREFOOT! He started out wearing Tevas (hahaha), but took them off a few minutes into the journey. (Fun fact: he just left the sandals in the sand. He picked them up on our way back to the kasbah).

If you think that I got tired of looking at the sand dunes, you would be WRONG! I can't really describe why the view of the dunes was so mesmerizing, but it was. The coolest part was that we didn't see anyone else. It was almost like we had the desert to ourselves.

We stopped halfway through journey to eat lunch at this oasis.

In order for us to dismount, the camels sat down for us. This prompted Carrie and I both to again use the little tourist bar. (See that white bag. We're pretty sure our lunch was in there.)

Dismount was 100% successful.

The camels took a well-deserved rest.

And I was able to get this close up of Carrie's camel.

I took the opportunity to pose, yet again, with my camel (notice the ring in his nose? I tried not to look at it).

This was our lunch. The bread was yummy and soft. The cheese was French. The salad was full of sardines and eggs. Turns out, I like fresh sardines. Is that weird?

After lunch we climbed a humongous sand dune. Our guide climbed up like it was nothing. I almost died. I'm serious. My thoughts about climbing the dune can be summed up in two sentences:

1. I am ridiculously out of shape.
2. Maybe I should work out or something.

Embarrassingly, I had to crawl in order to make it up to the top. But, I did it.

And I was rewarded with this view. Nice, eh?

I also got to take a picture of my feet in the sands of a Saharan dune!

Here's a view of the oasis. The tents are for people who go on overnight camel rides. Those people are very cool. (Hey Steve! Wanna go camping in the Sahara with me?)

Here are the triumphant dune climbers (although, Carrie was significantly more triumphant than me because she wasn't heaving like an asthmatic bovine).

Carrie at the top of the dune.

Me at the top of the dune. (Gee whiz, what would it be like if my camera weren't full of cheese-a-riffic photographs?)

We walked along the crest of the dune, causing little sand avalanches like this.

Then we were introduced to Berber skiing. Our guide grabbed my left ankle and Carrie's right ankle. Then he dragged us down the dune. (Is it just me, or do both of our feet look strikingly white?) It was fun. I shrieked the whole time (shocker).

This was our guide's face during the Berber skiing. I wonder if he likes this part of his job...

We ended our Berber skiing experience halfway down the dune. Then we ran the rest of the way down. It was fun. My body was kind of stretched between the force pulling down the dune and my weight causing me to sink into the sand. I also managed to get sand in just about every crevice of my jeans and into the chapstick that was in my pocket. The above picture shows the footprints I made in the dune.

We saw more fantastic views on the way back. (If you look closely you can see four-wheeler tracks.)

We arrived back at our kasbah a little bit tired, a lot sandy, and very happy.

Our Kasbah

2008-11-28T06:39:00.000-08:00

Kasbah means castle. Sort of. A kasbah is kind of like a largish old style building with lots of rooms. These days, kasbahs are used as charming hotels or inns.

We stayed at the Kasbah Panorama just outside of Merzouga, Morocco. For the full effect of this picture, click on it to view full size.

There were several cool features that persuaded us to choose the Kasbah Panorama as our desert abode. One was the fact that it was made out of mud and straw. Seriously. Do you remember your world history classes where you learned that ancient civilizations used to mix mud and straw to form bricks. They still do that in Morocco. It's amazing. As you can tell from the above picture, the Kasbah Panorama owners even sculpted a balcony from the mud-straw mixture.

Our bathroom was separated from the rest of the room by a mud-straw wall.

Another cool feature was the groovy ceiling. I have no idea if this is authentically Desert Moroccan, but it felt authentic.

The kasbah was graced by wicker lamps, a nice touch that added to the rustic desert ambience.

This picture is kind of poorly composed (okay, EXTREMELY poorly composed), but it will kind of give you an idea of what the place looked like inside. The rooms without bathrooms use the one at the end of the hallway.

One of the most exciting- at least for me- features of our kasbah was the camels in the backyard!!!! Given my newfound affection for dromedaries, I was quite satisfied by their proximity.

However, the best part of Kasbah Panorama was, hands down, the view. Panoramic indeed.

The Sahara!!!

2008-11-27T10:36:00.000-08:00

I don't think I ever imagined that I would travel to the Sahara Desert, but I did!!!!!

This was our first glimpse at the desert. It doesn't look like the traditional image of sand dunes, but hold on, that's coming...

The desert is home to nomad tents. This one is set up just for tourists, but it will help you get the idea of what the real ones are like. (Say hi to Danielle, a Fulbright teacher from Portland who stars in the above picture. Hi Danielle!)

The dessert was also home to some fascinating dry ground...

and even more fascinatingly, camels!!!! It has recently come to my attention that I heart camels. I was very excited to see some randomly wandering around the dessert. (Note to readers: In order to experience the true glory that is this picture, you should click on it to see the full-sized version. It was almost sunset, so the lighting was awesome! Due to my technical incompetence, I can't make a bigger version appear without cutting off some of the photo. My sincerest apologies.)

The Drive to the Desert

2008-11-26T08:54:00.000-08:00

We had a few days off from school for Moroccan Independence Day. Brahim, Ahmed, and I met up with a couple of other Fulbright teachers to travel to Southern Morocco.

The drive was stunning. It took us through the High Atlas Mountains, canyons, and eventually the desert. There were lots of little villages tucked on the side of the mountains.

We saw a lot of this striking red color.

I took a lot of pictures through the window of our moving car, resulting in many shots like this. Stupid truck. Get out of the way.

Eventually Brahim started pulling over so that I could take pictures while standing still. (Thanks Brahim!!!) I love this shot of the mud houses with the terraces in the background.

Another Moroccan village.

Fall in Morocco. It makes me laugh that I had to go all the way to Africa to see leaves change color. Shishmaref is completely treeless.

Close up of the terraces because I think they deserve one.

There were occasionally little stores on the side of the room. We stopped at this one to get a drink and take a little walk.

I got to see a donkey!!!

There were also random restaurants along the route. We stopped at this one for breakfast...

and enjoyed this view.

This is the Dades Gorge.

This is my Fulbright partner Brahim and me in the Dades Gorge. One of these days I will post a normalish picture of Brahim. You know, one where he isn't making any silly faces or acting like a goofball.

This is my favorite picture from the drive. The reddish color makes me feel warm inside. Also, notice that the moon is in the sky.

It was a gorgeous drive. Unfortunately, it was also the first drive of my life during which I got carsick. The windy roads were simply too much for me to handle. Thankfully, a combination of dramamine, sitting in the front, and a few well-timed stops prevented any major spewage.

Wildlife Watch on the Way to School

2008-11-25T09:05:00.000-08:00

I do not want to see animals on my way to school in Shishmaref. During the winter, they would probably be the carnivorous kind, and I'd run away screaming.

In Tahnaoute, the animals I see on the way to school are cute and cuddly looking.

Well, sort of. At least I'm not afraid that any of these animals are going to eat me.

They didn't even pay any attention to me. They just kept eating.

I really wanted to get a picture of the front of this little lamb.

Don't run away little lamb! Let me photograph you! He didn't cooperate...

Luckily I didn't have to be disappointed for long because I was able to get this shot of the shepherd with some of the sheep. (The shepherd is kind of hiding behind the tree, but I promise he's there.)

We also saw goats!!!

These little goats were seriously mowing down.

I thought their little horns were insanely adorable, but not adorable enough to touch.

Some of the goats were so anxious to eat that they were standing on two legs to eat from the trees. I'd never seen goats do that before...

Picture Trouble

2008-11-25T05:39:00.000-08:00

It has recently come to my attention that some of my faithful readers have been unable to see all of my pictures.

I asked Steve (AIM's official Tech Support) to check it out. He reported that he has no trouble seeing the photos. The best guess we could come up with is that the pictures may not display if your browser has not been recently updated. So, if you're having trouble, try upgrading to the latest version of Firefox, Internet Explorer, Safari, etc.

AIM will continue further research on this problem. Thank you for your patience.

Experiences Everyone Should Have-6

2008-11-24T15:34:00.000-08:00

Teasing and laughing with your Moroccan family after dinner.

Watching as the teasing develops into a battle between boys and girls.

Attacking your little brother with your little sisters.

Laughing hysterically as he squirms, helplessly outnumbered.

Watch as his dad tries to rescue him.

Be amazed as his mom sails out of the kitchen with a broom in her hands.

Laugh even harder as Mom starts hitting Dad with the broom.

Moroccan women rock.

Shopping for Hammam Supplies

2008-11-24T06:55:00.000-08:00

I went shopping with Khadija for my own hammam supplies. This is what we came home with...

Shampoo. Khadija picked it out for me.

The red bowl is for scooping water out of my bucket. The green container is for my soap. The blue bag is to hold all of my things in the hammam.

This is an exfoliation glove. You wear it over your hand and use it to remove the skin from your body.

My bags were stuffed when I came to Morocco, so I left my towel in Shishmaref. That turned out to be a mistake. Buying a new one cost me 70 dirhams.

Note to readers: 70 dirhams = about $8.14

$8.14 does not seem like an outrageous price for a bath towel. But, if you felt how thick it was, you would understand why I was appalled. Grrr...

This is a pathetic picture, but it's of my bath mat. It's for laying down on the floor of the hammam before you sit down.

All together, I spent about 200 dirhams. (Not pictures are some beautiful gold and red plastic sandals I bough to wear in the hammam.)

Note to readers: 200 dirhams = $23.20

Jardin Menara

2008-11-23T04:03:00.000-08:00

Ahmed took me to Jardin Menara. Jardin means garden.

It was built in the 12th century by the Alhomad Dynasty. (Hey Lonely Planet! Thanks for publishing your "Morocco" book to remind me of the date and name of the dynasty!)

It was very tranquil. There were only a few tourists there. Ahmed said it is more popular at night.

The very nice pool is home to a bunch of fish. You know the ones. They make the sound, "Thlllllggghhhhh, thllllggghhhhh, thlllggghhhhh" while sucking up anything thrown in their general direction. These fish were devouring bread. The bread was sold by Moroccan men who are masters at preying on tourists who enjoying seeing African fish do exotic things like slurp bread.

After we walked around the pool, we stopped at a little cafe nearby where I participated in the age-old tourist tradition of paying 15 dirhams for a can of Fanta.

Note to readers: 15 dirhams equals about two dollars.

Experiences Everyone Should Have-5

2008-11-22T15:34:00.000-08:00

Eating dinner while making fun of TV commercials with your Moroccan family.

Hearing your little Moroccan brother ask his dad if "Sunsilk" means "son of silk."

Listening to your Fulbright partner explain the difference between "son" and "sun."

Hearing your little brother ask if the feminine of son is "santa."

Laughing out loud with everybody as Karim learns the word "daughter."

Moroccan Crepes

2008-11-22T03:45:00.000-08:00

A very typical breakfast food in Morocco is crepes. Khadija made some for me.

She flattened the dough with her fingers.

Then she put it on a hot pan and sprinkled oil over it.

It cooked on one side.

Then she flipped it and cooked it on the other. These can be eaten with honey, jam, or a host of other toppings. Yummy!!!

Laundry- Moroccan Style

2008-11-21T08:56:00.000-08:00

The time arrived that I needed to wash some clothes. Thanks to Loubna, I did it Moroccan style.

We filled a plastic tub with my socks.

This is Omo. It is a brand of laundry detergent. Other available brands are Ariel and Tide. The detergent is sold in single use bags.

We sprinkled the sock soup with the Omo.

Then we swirled the socks around, simulating a washing machine. Loubna and I even provided washing machine sound effects. (Loubna is my Moroccan soul mate. It was quite natural for her to join in the sound effects.)

We grabbed each sock individually and scrubbed it.

Then we wrung the socks out...

and rinsed them...

and placed them in a drying rack.

We did the washing in a little courtyard off of the living room. It opened to the sky.

For my jeans we moved to a smaller bucket, filled it with water, and added the Omo.

It turns out that jeans are really hard to wash.

Especially when the legs cuffs are muddy from walking around Marrakech.

I was taking so long that Loubna took over.

She scrubbed them and wrung them out. Thanks Loubna!

We hung the clothes to dry on the pavilion on the roof.

And secured them with clothespins. And then left to let the Moroccan sun do the rest.

As you can see, we weren't the only family in the neighborhood taking advantage of a nice day to do laundry.

Moroccan Lunch

2008-11-20T10:51:00.000-08:00

Lunch is the main culinary event in a Moroccan household. It is served sometime between noon and 3:00-ish. The lunch featured in this post was prepared by my Moroccan sister Khadija.

This is the table. The conical dish in the center is a tajine. It is used for cooking traditional dishes.

This is a pasta salad. There is usually some type of salad to start with at lunch. Sometimes it's a beet salad. Sometimes it's a tomato and cucumber salad. Sometimes it's some other assortment of vegetables (I've noticed a lot of onions).

Today we had two salads. Yes!! My Moroccan family has been eating the salads with forks. That may be for my benefit. I think many Moroccans eat salads with their fingers.

Sardines make pretty regular appearances at lunch time. These sardines have been fried and are coated in some kind of breading. They are actually fairly mild in flavor.

This is the main dish. It is a tajine. It was prepared in that conical dish from the picture at the beginning of the post. Tajines are a combination of vegetables, broth, meat, and possibly some other things. They can be made with beef, fish, chicken, or anything. My favorite tajines are the ones made with fish. I also love the ones made with preserved lemons. Mmmmmmmm...

Dessert is generally a plate of fruit. I mostly eat oranges because I heart oranges.

I also eat a lot of pomegranate. They seem to be in plentiful supply around Marrakech.

Experiences Everyone Should Have-4

2008-11-19T15:34:00.000-08:00

Watching a Moroccan Pop Music Show (kind of a modern Moroccan version of Lawrence Welk) with your new Moroccan family while eating dinner at 10:30pm.

Listening to a band with one of the worst singers ever to walk the face of the earth.

Watching the drum player in the band play so enthusiastically that his entire body gyrates spasmadically as if jolts of electricity are pulsing through his body.

Laughing with your little Moroccan sister so hard that you can't breathe, your stomach hurts, and you almost start to cry.

Watching your Fulbright partner grab a drum and imitate the spastic drummer with amazing accuracy.

Beginning the laughing process all over again

Moroccan Breakfast

2008-11-19T09:45:00.000-08:00

It's better for the entire world if I eat breakfast. Life is not good for anybody if I'm hungry. Unfortunately, in Shishmaref I usually don't get up early enough to eat breakfast. Hey First Hour! So sorry!

Lucky for me, in Morocco somebody always makes breakfast for me. And, it is a lot more elaborate than the half baguette I usually grab on my way to school.

Moroccan breakfasts consist of several dishes. This is siffa. It is a mixture of rice, couscous, butter, sugar, and raisins sprinkled with nutmeg (at least I think it is nutmeg. Khadija and Ahmed were unsure of the English translation, so I had to smell the jar). This is my favorite breakfast dish.

This is Moroccan French Toast. Pieces of baguette are dipped in eggs and milk with sugar. The drenched pieces are fried in oil. This is dipped in jam. Yummy!

Various cookies and treats. Yes!

Mint tea. Most Moroccans drink green tea steeped with mint leaves. Since I don't drink green tea, Khadija makes me a purely herbal version with fresh mint leaves steeped in hot water and mixed with LOTS of sugar.

This is herida (note to readers: that is a purely phonetic spelling). Khadija and Loubna both call it soup. It's kind of a very thin cream of wheat. Sometimes it's seasoned with spices.

So many choices!!! Breakfast never consists of just one thing. A buffet every day... Life is good...

My Moroccan Siblings

2008-11-18T07:53:00.000-08:00

I am lucky enough to be in a host family with children. I wouldn't have it any other way.

This is Loubna. She is the oldest at 17. She is my Moroccan BFF. We share a similar quality: will will laugh at anything. Anything. ANYTHING. One of our favorite games is mocking television commercials. Since the same ones come on time after time, we have a lot of time to perfect our routines. Our favorite commercials are for Pepsi and Sunsilk because they're so easy to make fun of.

Loubna loves the Internet. She likes to watch music videos on YouTube and chat with her friends on MSN Messenger. Loubna and I go to Internet cafes together a lot. Loubna speaks excellent English.

Here are a few other faces of Loubna:

This is Sara. She is 13. She is quieter than Loubna, but she still likes to laugh. Sara is just learning English. The first thing she said to me when I met her was, "Nice to meet you. Welcome to Morocco." I was impressed. Sara likes to make pictures. She draws very well.

Here are a few more faces of Sara:

This is Karim. I wanted to take a picture to show all of my readers how absolutely incredibly adorable he his. He melts my heart. Unfortunately, he wasn't cooperating...

He did manage to pose like a murderous psychopath, which was fun.

He also makes really good crazy faces. He doesn't speak any English, so I spend a lot of time analyzing his facial expressions.

As you can tell, Karim is a riot. I crack up every time I look at him.

I finally got a good shot of him while he was laughing at Tom and Jerry. This is the face that I love.

Experiences Everyone Should Have-3

2008-11-17T15:34:00.000-08:00

Sitting in a Moroccan living room with your Moroccan sister.

Listening to her read the phonetic versions of Arabic phrases in your Lonely Planet Book.

Watching her crack up over all of the inaccurate pronunciations.

Turns out, if you pronounce "sugar" the way Lonely Planet suggests, you are actually asking for a spare tire...

Moroccan Eating Schedule

2008-11-17T08:15:00.000-08:00

Breakfast- 8:00-9:00ish, depending on when people have to go to work and school.

Lunch- 12:00ish, main meal of the day.

Tea- 5:00ish, tea, coffee, bread, pastries.

Dinner- 9:00-10:00ish, a smaller version of lunch.

Raise your hand if you're an American teacher who is so tired that you have trouble staying up late enough to eat dinner. Oooh, oooh, ooooh, me!

I've tried to go to bed before dinner a few times, but the women of the house refuse to allow it.

(Hey Steve! My host family was absolutely flabbergasted when I told them that we eat dinner at 5:00 or 6:00!)

Experiences Everyone Should Have 2

2008-11-16T17:05:00.000-08:00

Sitting on a couch in a Moroccan Living Room while listening to Arabic TV.

Having your new Moroccan sister fix your hair because she says you always do it the same way and you need a change.

Hearing your Moroccan sister say, "Change, change, change, Obama!" and then erupt into a fit of laughter with your hair still in her hands.

:)

Learning to Write in Arabic- Part 2

2008-11-16T12:03:00.000-08:00

On November 6th we went to this bookstore. It's a small shop with a window. You tell the man what you want, and he gives it to you through the window. Kind of like a walk up bookstore.

The bookstore sells the textbooks used in the Moroccan school system (they are standardized throughout the country). There are probably other books in the bookstore, I just didn't recognize them (because 1. the titles were written in Arabic and 2. I didn't have my contacts in).

I bought some things to help me learn to write in Arabic.

This is a basic Arabic alphabet book. It takes each Arabic character and shows pictures of words that begin with that character. There are dotted examples of the character to trace.

Written Arabic is kind of like cursive English: there are different ways to write each letter depending on what it connects to. For each character I have to learn the beginning, middle, and end character, in addition to the character as it looks when it stands alone. Yikes!

This is the second book I bought.

It is similar to the first one without all of the pictures. Brahim calls it my Grade B book (the first book he calls my Kindergarten book).

I'm hoping to be able to learn the letters well enough that I can start sounding out words by myself. Right now written Arabic only looks like swirls and curlies to me. That can be problematic in a number of situations, trying to decide which bathroom to use among them.

Wish me luck as I try to eradicate my Arabic illiteracy! :)

Experiences Everyone Should Have- 1

2008-11-15T17:15:00.000-08:00

Riding in the back of a grand taxi sandwiched between two Moroccan men while passing your I-pod ear buds back and forth.

Teaching one of the Moroccan men how to operate the I-pod and then listening through one ear bud as he navigates through songs and figures out the volume.

Suppressing laughter as the music he settles on is the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.

Life is good...

Moroccan Shivery

2008-11-15T08:15:00.000-08:00

During our discussion on American Marriages, I told one of Brahim's classes about one of Shishmaref's wedding traditions: the shivery. I had never witnessed a shivery before coming to Shishmaref, so here's a rundown.

At about midnight people from the village crowd around the house of the bride and groom (or the house of their parents if that's where they are staying).

A group of men run into the house and grab the groom. They carry him above their heads and run around the house. The crowd cheers like crazy.

The groom is carried back inside the house.

The bride and groom come out and throw candy, money, cigarettes, etc. to the crowd. Everybody screams, cheers, and scrambles for the goodies.

The students were very excited when I explained the shivery because it turns out, they do the SAME THING IN BERBER VILLAGES! Too funny...small villages in Alaska have the same traditions as small villages in Morocco...

Angie Teaches Her First Lesson!

2008-11-14T13:09:00.000-08:00

On November 5th I taught my first lessons to the Moroccan students. I taught three different classes.

They were learning about marriage in other cultures. They read a passage about marriage in Japan. Then I taught them about marriage in America. I used my projector and laptop to show them pictures of typical American wedding festivities and activities.

I thought I would share the pictures with the blog world, along with the explanations I gave the students. (Hey all of my friends who are in the pictures! Thanks for sending me pictures of your engagements, weddings, etc. so that I could store them on my laptop and then use them to teach in Morocco!)

The first step is the PROPOSAL (vocabulary words I defined are in bold). The man asks the woman, "Will you marry me?" The woman can say yes or no. (Shout out to Katie and Mitch for an awesome picture of Mitch's proposal!)

If she accepts, then they are ENGAGED. The man gives the woman an ENGAGEMENT ring. In America, it is usually a diamond ring (Hey Steve! Thanks for giving me a diamond ring! I like it!) Note to readers: the above ring is not mine. It is Katie's.

Once they are engaged, the couple takes an engagement PORTRAIT to give to their family and friends. (Shout out to Jennifer and Donovan's engagement portrait.)

This is my sister and BROTHER-IN-LAW in their engagement portrait. (Hey Mandy, when I showed this picture the boys in the second picture shouted, "She's very beautiful!")

Before the wedding there are often parties. One is called the bridal SHOWER.

There is lots of food.

And gifts. It is called a shower because the GUESTS shower the bride with gifts.

On the day of the wedding, it's important for the woman to feel beautiful.

Many American brides get manicures... (The students were all over what a manicure is.)

and pedicures...

so they can feel beautiful. (Shout out to Lisa for looking so cute in this pre-wedding picture! Thanks for not getting mad that I shared pictures of your hands and feet with students across the world.)

During the CEREMONY the bride wears a white dress. The man and woman promise to love each other for ever. They promise to be true to each other forever. The students told me that Moroccan men and women promise the same thing. Ahhhhhhhh.... (Many of you have seen this picture before. I'm sorry. I just heart heart heart it.) (Hey Jason! I think you might be taller than Lisa!)

During the ceremony American grooms wear TUXEDOES. Some are black, some are white, and some are black and white (I failed to detail the travesty that was powder blue, brown, etc. tuxedoes in past decades. I didn't want the students to have a negative idea of America). (Shout out to Tom for looking so dashing in his tuxedo and Janelle for most likely selecting the tuxedo.)

The bride selects her very best friends to be BRIDESMAIDS. The bridesmaids stay with the bride during her wedding and help her. They often wear the same dress. One of the students raised his hand and commented that the bridesmaids all wore uniform dresses. I was impressed. (Shout out to Mandy for having such adorable bridesmaid dresses and stunning bridesmaids!)

Weddings are very happy... (I took this awesome picture of Jen and Donovan right after they got married. Thank you for appreciating that it rocks.)

and fun. The students all laughed when they saw this picture. (Hey Lisa and Jason! It was a good kind of laugh, don't worry!)

People travel from far away to attend weddings. I traveled from Alaska to attend the wedding of one of my friends. Our other friend Christy traveled from Hawaii. We were all roommates in college and traveled far to be with Janelle on her wedding day. (Shout out to the ladies of Heritage Manor #109!)

This is my whole family when my sister got married. Parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, everybody! Whole families get together to attend weddings.

This is the RECEPTION. The reception is a party after the wedding. They parents of the bride and groom and the bride and groom usually stand in a line so people can say congratulations and hug and kiss them.

This is a wedding cake. It usually has lots of TIERS.

On top of the cake is usually a small bride and groom.

I had a lot of fun sharing the pictures with the classes. They asked questions and told me about Moroccan weddings. They laughed and talked and smiled.

I hope for many more successful teaching experiences.

Learning to Write in Arabic

2008-11-13T11:16:00.000-08:00

This is my name in Arabic. I wrote it myself.

Note to readers: Arabic is read from right to left!

This is Steve's name in Arabic. There is no 'v' sound in Arabic, so I had to settle for an 'f' sound. Steef...Steef...Steef. I like it.

As you can see, It took a lot of practice before I was able to write Steve's name. Even after all my practice, my Arabic penmanship is not very good. Although, Brahim tells me it's better than my English penmanship. :)

This is my first name written in calligraphy. It was done by Brahim's brother Achmed.

These are some of Achmed's sketches of my name in different versions of Arabic calligraphy. Quick sketches. Wow.

First Day of School!!!!

2008-11-12T08:12:00.000-08:00

My first day of school in Morocco! Wahoo!!!

The classrooms are pretty basic. Rows of desks with chairs attached and a blackboard at the front of the room. The class room was relatively cold. Brahim wore a coat during the classes, as did most of the students.

The classrooms are lit by hanging lamps, but the bulbs are very dim. (Note to readers: I have no clue what the neon green circle is. It was not visible in real life. The school was not being invaded by alien life forms. Thank you.)

Brahim did all of the teaching this first day (he looks very teacher-ish here, don't you think?). As soon as I was introduced the students started hollering out English phrases that they know: how are you, nice to meet you, etc. It was funny. After briefly speaking to the students I spent the rest of the day observing.

The students in all three classes seemed very excited to learn English. They were extremely attentive during the lesson.

Brahim had them read portions of the textbook to each other. They read stayed very focused during the exercise. They followed with their pens and pencils and didn’t fool around. I was impressed. (The name of the girl on the left means "happy" in Arabic. I told her we are name twins because my Eskimo name means happy in Inupiaq.)

Sometimes students came to the board to write. This girl is named Fatima. She is wearing the white tunic that is the uniform for girls in the school. Some girls wear the tunic buttoned, some wear it open, some wear it underneath jackets and sweaters. Fatima is also wearing a scarf to cover her hair. Most of the girls at the school do the same thing. Only a handful of girls wear their hair uncovered.

Some students used Arabic-English dictionaries during class.

Most were extremely diligent about taking notes and writing down new vocabulary words. This adorable guy had printed pages of information about Alaska. Brahim had asked the students to do some research before I came. He had all sorts of information.

The most amusing part of the classes was when Brahim asked questions. The students would shoot their hands in the air and shout, "Sir, sir, sir, sir, sir," begging to be called on. This pictures doesn't quite capture the urgency with which most students raise their hands. I will try later to take a picture of a student desperately pleading to be called on.

The students' English was quite good. I could understand everything they said. Brahim conducted the class completely in English. He only used Arabic when defining a word the students didn't understand.

Fun Facts:

-Brahim wrote some example sentences on the board. One of them said something to the effect of, "She had not learned any Arabic before she had arrived," referring, of course, to me. After the students read the sentence they shouted, "No problem!" :)

-The students sat mostly divided between girls and boys (Hey Shishmaref kids! You do the same thing as Moroccan kids!).

-The first class was primarily girls. The second class was primarily boys. That may explain why the second class quickly asked if I was a Miss or a Mrs. :)

The Souq

2008-11-11T08:54:00.000-08:00

In Tahnaoute Tuesday is souq day. A souq (soook) is like market. Brahim took me to the souq after our classes on Tuesday.

The souq is located in Old Tahnaoute. This is a view from a distance.

One of the very coolest features of the souq is the donkey parking lot. Los of people come from Tahnaoute and the surrounding villages to buy and sell things at the souq. They carry their things on donkeys. This is where the donkeys wait while the buying and selling happens.

Barbers at the souq.

The friendly barbers will call you over to look at a human tooth in yankers (apparently barbers double as dentists). Then the friendly barbers will ask you for money.

Your neighborhood souq butcher. Brahim said that many people will buy a week's worth of food and take it back to their village.

Dates.

Oranges.

Bananas (duh).

Eggplants, carrots, and something else (Achmed told me the name of it, but I forgot. I know, I know, I'm the least informative blogger ever...)

I was amazed by how unadulterated all of the produce was. It literally looks like it was just plucked from the ground/tree/etc.

This is the souq in all its craziness.

In addition to food, you can also buy lots of stuff at the souq. I asked Brahim's daughter before I left what they sell at the souq. She said, "Everything." She was right. Glasses, teapots, cell phone chargers, batteries, buckets, shoes, clothes, everything.

The everything is just spread out all hodge podge. You have to go from stall to stall looking for what you need.

Each stall is manned by Moroccan men.

Most of the people at the souq were men, but there were a couple of women.

This is Brahim on the way home after the souq. He was hauling a bunch of produce in his bag.

It turns out that I like donkeys...

I took lots of pictures of them on the way from the souq. Brahim's children thought this was hysterical.

Public Safety Announcement

2008-11-10T14:54:00.000-08:00

Just because you see millions of electrical cords plugged into a single outlet in the Marrakech medina does not mean that it is safe to try at home.

The outlets may be able to support an entire Marrakech neighborhood, but they will not be able to support typical American appliances. Thank you.

P.S. If you try to plug in your American power cord- even with a converter- you will blow a fuse in your Moroccan house, causing your Fulbright partner's wife to be unable to cook lunch. It will be very embarrassing.

Random Post: Kitty on my Bag

2008-11-10T12:58:00.000-08:00

During our Rabat orientation, this little kitty fell asleep on my bag. I had to borrow Susan’s camera to take a picture because my camera was in the bag. One time during a lecture on Islam in Morocco, the kitten stretched and fell off of the bag. Then he (I can’t verify for a fact that it was a male kitty, but for some reason I thought of him as a boy kitten) crawled back up on the bag.

Here's the kitty after he woke up from his nap.

Here's the kitty realizing that a crazy American lady is sticking a camera in his face.

Public Bath Adventure

2008-11-09T11:54:00.000-08:00

November 2, 2008

Today I visited a hammam. A hammam is a public bathhouse. Traditional houses in Morocco are not well-equipped for modern plumbing, and many do not have hot water. So, people bathe at public bathhouses.

Khadija escorted me to my introductory hammam session. This was at times interesting because neither of us is fluent in the same language, but she was perfectly gracious. She told me, "Do what I do." So I did.

I am providing this step-by-step guide for any readers that may find themselves at a Hammam in the near future:

Step 1: undress. It may seem weird to be undressed with a million people around you, but it's perfectly normal.

Step 2: carry your bucket of bathing supplies into the steaming rooms. There are three rooms. They each get progressively hotter. Choose the room that suits your comfort level. We chose the hottest room.

Step 3: Spread your bath mat on the floor.

Step 4: Fill your bucket(s) with warm water from the communal faucets.

Step 5: Bring your bucket to your bath mat and sit down. The floors of the steaming rooms are slightly sloped. It's a good idea not to sit directly downstream from someone.

Fun Fact: It is perfectly acceptable to clean the hair out of your hairbrush and send it downstream, even if it heads directly toward an unsuspecting person.

Step 5: Use a bowl to scoop water from your bucket onto your body. The water will be warm. You will like it.

Step 6: Use a dark soap made from olive resin and scrub it all over your body. Use the bowl to rinse it off.

Step 7: Call over one of the ladies who works in the hammam. Give her your exfoliating glove.

Step 8: The woman will tell you (or gesture to you) to lay on the marble floor on your back. Then she will use the exfoliating glove to remove the skin from your body everywhere. Everywhere. EVERYWHERE.

Fun fact: If you’ve never been to a Hammam, your skin will peel off in strings resembling spaghetti. It is not as disturbing to see your skin come off in tendrils as it is to notice the grayish hue of the tendrils that is due to all of the dirt on your body.

Step 9: Flip over onto your tummy for the rest of the skin to be removed. At times you may think you are bleeding from all parts of your body. You aren't. Even if you were, there is no way you would be able to know because you are covered in water, steam, and tendrils of skin, so don't worry about it.

Step 10: Sit up. The woman will remove the skin on your face. See Step 9 in reference to bleeding.

Step 11: The woman will shampoo your hair and use a brush to comb through your hair with a ferocity normally reserve for amputation. Your hair will undoubtedly be clean and about an inch longer.

Step 12: Lay down on the marble floor again. The woman will massage your back and legs. You will no longer have a desire to move.

Step 13: After the lady leaves, use the water in your bucket to rinse yourself off and wash your hair again. If you're smart, you will use the razor you brought to shave your legs.

Step 14: Use a bucket of sudsy water to rinse yourself off in the hot room.

Step 15: Move to the middle room. Use another bucket of sudsy water to rinse yourself.

Fun Fact: Little children are put in buckets of water while their mothers bathe. This isn’t because the little kids look so cute all sudsed up in little buckets, it’s to keep the children from running/walking around and slipping. It was outrageously adorable.

Step 16: Move to the least warm room (it will feel especially un-warm at this point). Use a bucket of clean water to do a final rinse.

Step 17: Move to a cold room. Apply lotion, brush your hair, etc. Oh yeah, put your clothes back on.

Step 18: Go home. Feel like going to sleep.

I wish you many successful Hammam adventures.

Moroccan Arabic- Lesson 1

2008-11-09T02:54:00.000-08:00

Brahim tells me that I must learn Moroccan Arabic from scratch. I only have six weeks, but I'm going to try to learn as much as possible (hopefully I won't forget all of the Inupiaq I've learned).

Here's a start:

no = la (short a, like in laugh)

yes = eeyah (long e, uh)

thank you = shukran (shook-ran)

Khadija was delighted when I thanked her for dinner using shukran. That was nice encouragement. ")

Marvelous Marrakech

2008-11-08T10:53:00.000-08:00

After I woke from my ages long nap the night of October 30th, Achmed took me walking around the medina of Marrakech. The medina is the old center of the city, often considered the heart of the city.

I was definitely dealing with major sensory overload. There were so many things to see, hear, smell, and admire. I could never capture them in one post. However, there should be many more visits to Marrakech's medina that will allow me capture more details and information.

Right now I will provide only one...

This is Koutoubia (koo-too-bye). It is the minaret (tower) of a mosque in the center of Marrakesh. It was built by the Sultan Yakoub el Mansour. Koutoubia's twin minaret is in Seville, Spain.

It was beautiful all lit up at night.

The Lazy Gregarious American...

2008-11-07T06:54:00.000-08:00

Brahim and I We rode the train from Rabat to Marrakech the evening of October 30th. The train left Rabat at about 6:00pm, and the ride took about five hours. The train was divided into compartments. Eight people were in each compartment, and we sat on benches facing each other. I don't remember much about the ride because I kept falling asleep.

We arrived in Marrakech, and a taxi driver managed to fit all my luggage in his car! :) The cab driver took us to Brahim’s parents’ house near the old medina in Marrakech. His brother and sister were up to welcome us. Brahim's sister Khadija greeted me with a kiss on both cheeks. She speaks French, Spanish, and Moroccan Arabic but very little English. It's a good thing that smiles and laughter are a universal language. :)

Brahim's brother Achmed works in the tourism industry, and speaks excellent English, in addition to French, Italian, German, Romanian, and Moroccan Arabic.

Khadija served us pasta, fruit, and tea. They were all surprised that I don’t take tea, but the sister brewed me some herbal tea with fresh mint leaves and sugar. IT WAS SO GOOD! Much better than any mint tea I’ve ever had in the United States.

Khadija called me gregarious. She also told Brahim that when I am in the classroom the students won’t want to pay attention to the lessons, they will only want to watch me. What do you think Shishmaref kids? Is that a problem in our classroom?

By the time we were done eating and visiting, it was after 1:00am. I slept in a room off the main room of the house. The walls were covered in tiled mosaics. Beautiful! Check out some of my surroundings:

I was very comfortable...maybe too comfortable because I slept until 2:00 the next afternoon!!!!! Yes, that's right, thirteen hours of sleep. Khadija and Achmed both came in to check on me. I assured them I was fine, just tired. Yowza.

When I finally pried myself out of bed, Khadija told me I was too lazy to be a teacher! Apparently, teachers are not supposed to sleep the day away...

More Moroccan Food

2008-11-06T02:53:00.003-08:00

I promise that some day I will learn about the food I photograph. Until then, you will have to deal with seeing pictures of exotic Moroccan with only the barest details I can surmise or overhear other people talking about.

The little fishie things are sardines. I thought for a minute that I would be brave enough to try one. Then I wussed out.

This is kai (at least it is pronounced like kai, it could possibly be spelled kye, cai, cye, ciye, kiye, or xcjhadjlkjdflh). It is a smallish bird, apparently similar to a pigeon. It tasted like chicken. Note to readers: the apricot sauced served with the kai was amazing.

Assortment of vegetables and meats, similar to my first Moroccan lunch. The lamb was my favorite.

Your guess is as good as mine... I recognize corn and...and...and...that's about it.

Fish and shrimp. Yum!

(All of these pictures were taken at a luncheon provided by the Moroccan American Center for Education and Cultural Exchange.)

Update: Connectability.....

2008-11-05T11:40:00.000-08:00

Greetings from Tahanoute!!!! Everything is wonderful. I love the town. I love my host family. I love the students. I love my life....

I have been tqking wonderful pictures and writing marvelous blog posts on my laptop. Unfortunately, there does not appear to be a way to connect my laptop to the Internet in Tahanoute. So my gentle readers will have to wait until I go back to Marrakech in a few days, upon which I will begin a posting frenzy. AIM....a subsidiary of VFN, Inc., thanks you for your patience.

Why? Why, why, why, why?

2008-11-04T13:07:00.000-08:00

I’m the only American Fulbright teacher in the Moroccan program that doesn’t speak French. The Moroccan teachers speak at least three languages. Raise your hand if you think that occasionally Angie feels a little bit foolish. (Insert me raising my hand here.)

I need to learn another language! Every time I travel I think that. One of the biggest regrets of my life so far is that I only speak English. I took two years of Spanish in high school. . I was really successful at first, but then I didn’t understand. I stopped. I only wanted the credits so I could get into college. What a lame reason! Getting into college was important, but what about the greater reason? What about being a citizen of the world? What about being able to communicate with people across the world?

What was I thinking? Sheesh.

I’ve done a little better this year as I’ve been working to learn Inupiaq. I need to do even more.

Hey all you kids out there! Don’t be like me! Learn another language!

Philosophies of Education in Morocco and America

2008-11-02T10:11:00.000-08:00

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING POST WILL BE MOST INTERESTING TO THOSE IN THE EDUCATION FIELD.

Mohamed Melouk, a professor at University Mohamed V in Rabat spoke to our group about the ideal of education in Morocco. He outlined the following objectives for Moroccan Education:

• provide and knowledge and skills so Moroccans can access science and technology
• instill values: tolerance, human rights, democracy, and the culture of dialogue
• equip future generations with competencies and skills for job market- actively participate in development of country
• focus on the intellectual, moral, and developmental needs of the students

After looking at these standards, I was embarrassed that I didn’t even know the formal objectives of the U.S Department of education. So, I headed over to their website to check them out…

Equal access to equal education for all students
Support state and local school systems
Encourage public and parental involvement in education
Improve the usefulness of American education

I think these list of objectives effective illustrate the main difference between the American and Moroccan education systems: Morocco has a centrally controlled system of education; the U.S. has a federalist education system (Hey Shismaref students! Do you know what federalist means? If not, you must have a bad social studies teacher. :) Or, you haven’t finished Level 7 US yet…). Main control of education in America rests with the states.

Just for fun, I looked up the mission of Shishmaref School: to involve parents, teachers, the community, and students in helping students become responsible citizens.

That sounds more like the Moroccan Department of Education’s mission. Again, I think it’s because Shishmaref School controls the every day process for educating students, just like the Moroccan Department of Ecucation. The U.S. Department of Education does not control daily activities (at least, not directly), they support states and schools in their individual missions.

Meeting Our Partner Teachers

2008-10-31T18:37:00.000-07:00

This is Brahim. He is my partner teacher. I will be teaching with him in Tanahoute, and then he will come and teach with me in Shishmaref. I recognize Brahim instantly from pictures he had sent. He also recognized me as soon as I walked into the room. It was like meeting an old friend.

Brahim amazingly remembered every detail I'd ever shared with them. He inquired about Steve (Hey Steve! He predicts that you are a very sad man right now. Are you?). He asked about Lisa, my sister who just got married. He asked after my brother-in-law Bryce and Caleb. He wanted to know how my parents Sam and Asenath were doing. I was amazed.

Brahim is very outgoing, smart, and willing to share. I think we are a good professional match, and I can already tell that he will teach me many things.

Polly and Fatima.

Trisha and Mustapha. They will be teaching relatively close to us, so we may get to visit each other's schools!

Susan and Abdenbe.

Malika and Danielle.

Leslie and Amina.

Carrie and Ouafa.

I was extraordinarily impressed with the Moroccan teachers. They were a very lively and welcoming group. We talked all through dinner. Their English is amazing, and their knowledge of English literature was astounding (especially considering that English is their third language!). I look forward to working with all of them and learning a lot.

We feasted with our new partners. We started with this tray of Moroccan food. I was too tired to learn what all of the different dishes were, but Brahim said there will be plenty of time for me to learn. The orange things on the bottom left are carrots, and I think the meat on the right was lamb. It was all wonderfully seasoned and delicious!

The next course was (I think) cornish game hens stuffed with couscous. The birds were topped with a sweet spicy sauce and toasted almonds.

Then followed beef. Perfectly tender and seasoned to perfection. I ate and ate and ate and ate, but I still left mounds of food on my plate. :)

This is how I looked when I attended the dinner. Shishmaref kids, do you recognize me without my hair in a ponytail? (Steve, do you recognize the mess on the table?) :)

We're Not In Alaska Anymore...

2008-10-30T23:22:00.000-07:00

This was my first view of Africa from the airplane. At first it was hard to believe that we were actually there, but when I stepped off the plane it became very obvious I was far from home. Here's how I could tell...

Arabic signs in the airport.

Palm trees outside. (It felt like summer!)

The view from my hotel room.

The sconce in my hotel room. (If you don't know what a sconce is, you better look it up...)

The teapot in the hotel lobby.

It was very exciting to see new and different things, but I was very grateful to see this. I think I'll enjoy western toilets and toilet paper for a while longer...

Arrival in Washington, D.C.

2008-10-30T00:28:00.000-07:00

I left Shishmaref on Monday night at 6:00pm to head to Washington, D.C. for the first phase of my Fulbright experience.

This is a little picture I took in Kotzebue to illustrate the conditions I left behind. Nice, huh?

I barely made my connection in Anchorage to Salt Lake City. Then I flew to the Washington Reagan Airport, putting me in Washington, D.C. and about 4:00pm on Tuesday. Needless to say, it was a long trip.

I was pleasantly surprised by the accommodations. My suite sported stylish decor...

a king size bed...

a television in the living area... (Note to readers: The pictures are blurry. I have self-identified that problem. I was tired. I'm sorry.)

and a television in the bedroom (Hey Steve! Are you jealous yet?).

Quintuple bonus was the Bliss products in the bathroom. Ahhhhhh... (Bliss is one of my favorite brands of bath and body products.)

This is how I felt about the whole thing. Life as a Fulbrighter is good so far...

What I Will Miss About Shishmaref

2008-10-27T10:20:00.000-07:00

Being kugluqed (startled) every day during first hour
Looking for my magnet men every day because somebody hid them
Hiding my munchies so students don't find them
Playing Jenga
Steve
My students...all of them