July 12th, 2008
The past 4 days have just been a whirlwind of emotions. Since Wednesday I've been in five different airports and tomorrow I'm leaving again for Tunis. I left Louisville, crying my way through the airport and arrived in DC for the Fulbright orientation. It was reassuring to finally meet my fellow Fulbrighters; however, also simultaneously unnerving when I discovered that only two of us have never traveled to Morocco/North Africa/Middle East and everyone else spoke fusHa (Modern Standard Arabic) and at least some darija (dialect). So, after leaving Louisville (which was traumatizing), I was then inundated with feelings of being completely overwhelmed and intimidated.
Even though orientation lasted from 8 to 6 I managed to sneak in a r.d.v with an old friend from Loyola which was the perfect way to end my last night in the states. We both had a wonderful time, even though I began to hyperventilate in his car due to the realization (that hit me smack during dinner) that I was actually leaving the country for a year and a half. You know how it is- it doesn't seem like your leaving until maybe a few hours beforehand...and then POW- it's panic time!
Speaking of panic time, getting to Casablanca was nightmarish. The hour and a half layover in JFK was cut to 40 minutes, forcing me to run from terminal to terminal balancing my two 20 pound backpacks on my front and back and frantically calling everyone to say a final goodbye. I'm sure I looked idiotic to onlookers.
Arriving in Morocco was surreal. The drive from the airport offered views of men driving donkey led carts piled high with tomatoes, watermelons, onions, or cactus pears. The terra cotta landscape is littered in many area with copious amounts of trash- mainly plastic bags. After feeling overwhelmed, anxious, frightened, and apprehensive for the past week, the trip into the city helped alleviate these sentiments and turn them into exited thoughts of "YES, finally I'm here!"
My day in Casablanca went amazingly well. Everyone at this hotel is extremely kind and helpful. Once arriving at the hotel exhaustion and a bit of bewilderment set in, because now I realized that I don't have any idea where I'm going to eat, what I was going to do that day, what I should wear outside to attract the least attention, and even how to get toilet paper because the hotel's communal bathroom dosen't supply it. Thankfully, I tend to somewhat enjoy these fish out of water situations. The fun part about studying abroad is conquering this helplessness by becoming increasingly assimilated into the culture. Fun huh?
So, in order to do this, I went off to see the Hassan II mosque, which is the 3rd largest in the world (after ones in Mecca and Medina in Saudi Arabia), and allows foreigners guided tours into the interior. I met two lovely sisters from Halifax and Montreal and after the tour they invited me to eat differ with them. We spent what seemed to be a few hours at a cafe, talking about a wide variety of subjects from traveling to politics to how Canadians and Americans differ. (They got a huge laugh from my admittance target practice with guns is actually amusing, heehee). Dinner was followed by a walk through the medina, then a trip to a hamman, which is going to be my new once-a-week event that will help me become more Moroccan.
For those who don't know what a hamman is (I didn't until this afternoon), here is a great description from Lonely Planet's guide book on Morocco :
"Visiting a hammam (traditional bathhouse) is infinitely preferable to cursing under a cold shower in a cheap hotel. They're busy, social places where you'll find gallons of hot water and staff available to scrub you squeaky clean. They're good places to meet the locals,and, especially for women, somewhere to relax for as long as you like away from the street hassle"
"For affluent Western travellers the communal bathhouse is a cultural shock. Where do you look, where do you sit, are you sitting too close, what do you wear? All that naked flesh appears a minefield of social disaster and embarrassment.
For Muslims, however, there is nothing shameful or embarrassing about the body among your own gender, and attitudes to nakedness are a lot less prudish than those of their Western counterparts...On a more practical level, in houses where there is often no water the hammam is the only place to get clean."
"Once your inhibitions have been stripped away, the hammam is a thoroughly relaxing and enjoyable experience, and it's easy to see why it is so beloved. It is intimate and friendly, a place to relax and talk about your problems, and for Moroccan women especially, a welcome break from tedious chores and difficult spouses. Afterwards you feel thoroughly wrung out and totally relaxed. You'll probably never be so clean again."
Once again Lonely Planet is right on the mark! Going to the hammam with my two new Canadian friends was a wonderfully relaxing experience. We opted to go to the more traditional hammam, which divides the day into morning hours for men and evening for women only. Inside for 20 dirham we paid a nice lady to scrub us down with a glove called a "kis," but felt more like sandpaper than a bacio! The woman was extremely helpful in directing us how to clean ourselves properly, by first filling up our bucket given at the entrance with hot water, then soaking in a sauna type room for about 10 minutes to let the heat, water, steam and olive based "black soap" to sink into our skin. After that the lady returned and unceremoniously scrubbed me head to toe, sloughing off all my dead skin and turning me red all over. It sounds slightly painful, (and it was in some tender areas...) but I now feel like I just got a 100 dollar exfoliating treatment at a spa when it only cost around $4.50 to get scrubbed at the public bathhouse. And in addition to super soft skin, the hamman turned out to be a great place to talk and laugh with friends. So, B. and A., if you are reading this I want to thank you so much again for taking me in. I had an absolutely wonderful time with you and feel so fortunate to have met!
So that's about it. It's 4:30 and I'm wide awake after battling jet lag for the past 5 hours. A hot bath, hot tea, and sleeping pills haven't worked so I'm surrendering for tonight and trying to swat this lone mosquito that has been buzzing around my head for some time. So, as I now realize I've written a novel about my last 4 days, please note that it's the result of annoying insomnia and it will be rare if I can write this much normally. Oh, and the hotel desk gave me this message: "15h30 you mother called you jast want to say hello & she love you."
Love you too!!
P.S. The call to morning prayers has just begun at 4:47. :)
