The advantages of Ramadan

Having arrived in Morocco during Ramadan, I'm very curious to see what life here will be like afterward. While Ramadan is a very spiritually and culturally important time; it also seems to make a convenient backdrop for all kinds of commerce. When you know you have a rapt audience consisting of almost an entire country, who haven't had a drop of sustanence all day and are glued to the TV waiting for the prayer call so they can eat, what better time to advertise food. After 2+ weeks here I know almost every jingle for cookies, juice, yogurt, salad oil, flour and the universal Vache Qui Rit. Yesteday I rode past a billboard for Pizza Hut (yes, we actually have one here, but no one has heard of Starbucks thankfully), featuring a huge pizza and wishing everyone a happy Ramadan - when you're starving I have to say it really makes your mouth water.

I also can't tell you how many times shopkeepers and even the henna artist in the kasbah have offer me "good deals" because it's Ramadan afterall. Do all the prices go up afterward? Only 2 more weeks to go and I'll let you know.

mmm - fish!

I live 15 steps from the marketplace (actually the Medina is really just one big marketplace). People selling everything from tupperware to tomatoes - I even saw whole cows heads the other day on the way back from work.  15 steps from my front door is a guy who sits on a crate and sells sardines. We had some for dinner Sunday night - they were wonderful!

My Moroccan family

Said, Wafae and 20-month old Akram. (a better pic to come soon)

F'tour

The first meal after sunset is called F'tour. Here is what we have every day at around 6:45pm - soup (harira), hard boiled eggs, bread, dates, milk, s'fouf, and other sweets, Follewed by sweet tea. Delicous. Another dinner happens at 11pm. Bouf!!

Finally Wi-fi!

I've finally made it to the Wifi cafe, Bert's, in Agdal - about a 15 minute bus ride from the Medina. It's a very nice big modern european-style cafe where single women can sit with their laptops, have a coffee, even smoke a cigarette (unheard of during Ramadan) without any hassle. 

Sorry for the long delay without a post! I actually did post something but... ah well, those Moroccan Jhinns (genies). Here is something I wrote days ago... now finally posted...

Things I've learned so far in Morocco...

Time is relative. Not relative according to the person or the occasion or even the country, but relative to the moment, the place, and the device. Somehow I think I've acquired a time genie - a very mischievous one. The time difference between Rabat and California is 7 hours. Simple enough. I suspected something was wierd when I realized that the Royal Air Maroc plane from New York only posted the anticipated time at arrival in Casablanca - not the current local time there. We didn't actually land at that time and at no point did the crew announce the local time when we landed. We arrive in Casablanca early though no one was there to meet me as promised in spite of the fact that immigration and getting my luggage took some time. After waiting until almost everyone in the terminal had left, I changed some money, bought a phone card and called Saad who was surprised I was calling so early, even though by my watch it was at least 30 minutes past my scheduled arrival time.

When he arrived I noted that the clock in the terminal was 45 minutes earlier than my watch (why not an exact hour?), so I readjusted my watch thinking I must have miscalculated the time change. A little later on the ride to Rabat from Casablanca in discussing the early arrival, Saad asked the time I had and noted that my watch was off by 25 minutes. So I changed my watch again, and of course began to assume that my watch was not working. This morning I asked the other volunteer (Sandy) staying in the same house as me the time and indeed, my watch is 10 minutes off. So I pulled out my spare watch (always be prepared).

Now, there is a clock in the kitchen and it's confirmed with the time on Sandy's cell phone, so I am assuming that this has got to be be fairly accurate, but then why is my spare watch 6 hours and 17 minutes different? Why not just 7 hours? I've now readjusted my first watch and my spare watch and they seem to both be running fine. Though I still am really not sure what time it is - maybe I'm just supposed to get over it.

I will get fat. The traditional month of fasting began a few days ago. The traditional pattern of eating is to begin with a small meal at 4am (which I declined to join this morning in exchange for a few hours of sleep). Then nothing, not even water, until f'tour at sunset - about 7pm - at which time you break fast with dates, milk and honey, sweets, soup, hard boiled eggs and sweet mint tea. (here is a photo of my first home meal, f'tour, in Rabat.) Around 11pm another meal is is shared consisting of rice with potatos, bread, salad, spiced turkey "nuggets" and flat bread and more sweets (I was awakened out of my first 2 hours of sleep in over 30 hours, so I can't guarantee that this is exactly what we had, but it's the best recollection I can muster.)

Because I am not Muslim I get to eat during the day, so I am also being feed bread with jam, tea and another kind of sweet crumbly thing I don't yet know the name of in the morning when I get up. Then I am fed lunch (yogurt and fruit) around 2ish. It's impolite to say no and even though I told my host Said that I could skip lunch, the message didn't get to Wafae who doesn't speak english nor much french. So - I am stuffed and just short of diabetic shock.

Tomorrow I am going to ask join in the Ramadan fast, though I think I'll still have some water. And I'm still going to skip the 4am meal. And I'll buy some djellabas, not for the style, but because I am sure that in a few weeks most of my clothes will no longer fit.

Shoes, no shoes, shoes, no shoes... Said and Wafae's home, about 200 years old in the old Medina, is very traditional and very modest. There is a small door on the street that enters into a shared hall. To the right is the front door of the flat. It opens into a large open center square area 2 stories high covered with a thin fiberglass sheet with a large opening on the side - sometimes birds fly in. This interior patio, decorated in Moroccan tiles, is ringed by 7 rooms which are long and narrow. Clockwise, there is the living/dining room with long banquettes, where we watch TV and bring in a low round table to eat. Perpendicular on the next wall is another sitting room (about 9x20) ringed by a beautiful banquet. Perpendicular to that on the next wall (opposite the Living room) is a bedroom and next to that a tiny guest bedroom (mine). On the next wall are the bathrooms and a small kitchen in the middle. There is no "walkway" from room to room - you must cross the center square.

When you are in the center square, kitchen or bathrooms, you wear your shoes. When you enter a sitting room or bedroom (carpeted), you remove your shoes. What this means is that you are taking off and putting on your shoes about 100 times a day. I figure this is why the Moroccans wear baboushes (slippers) and sandals - they are considerably easier to get in and out of. So far, I am about 30/70 with getting this whole thing right, but at least no one has reprimanded me yet for wearing my shoes on the carpet or laughed a me for greeting guests (of which there are many) in my bare feet.

God and words. Allah is central to life... and language. You mention Allah when you meet someone, before you eat, after you eat, if you speak of events in the future, and I'm sure in a million other instances I'm not yet aware of.

Getting around. Said has been very very thorough in trying to orient me to the City. Just my second day here and I actually think I can make it back to the house on my own (Allah willing), though I may take me a few tries.

Hospitality. I have never been anywhere that is more hospitable and the people kinder or more generous. I am so far truly blessed.

First days

As the Shirly Bassie song goes... where do I begin to tell the story...?

In brief I arrived safely and tired and am unbelievably at home here in spite of the fact that I am living the life of a poor exchange student, not an exec on sabbatical. I have a tiny bed and 3 hangers and no place to put any of my toiletries... though I have to say that I have spent $300 a night for practically the same size accomodations in NY and the food wasnt nearly as good. The other people in my program are less than half my age and I could be the mother of my host "mom" so I feel quite young - who knew?

I have a much longer blog to share, though trapped on my laptop until I can find a wireless connection. Suffice it to say here that all is quite well - in fact could not be better (except for this azerty cyber cafe keyboard where I cannot find an apostrophe and the roman letters are rubbing off so only the arabic letters are showing)

I will start work tomorrow - for an idea of the kids I will be working with, rent the movie Ali Zaoua - our center has both boys and girls like this from the streets. And they are amazing. In the first 5 minutes at least 10 kids asked my name, told me theirs, showed me their drawings, and one sweet little girl even gave me a kiss on the cheek when I bent down to ask her name - I am in heaven.

On my way

Hard to believe that this is it - tomorrow I board a flight at 6:35 AM and 20+ hours later I land in Casablanca (with a nice stopover in New York for dinner at Balthazar with my friend Shellie).

Actually, getting on a plane to go to Morocco isn't that hard to believe. Accepting the fact that I'll be gone for 3 months is. Although my house is pristine with empty cabinets and closets ready to be filled by my renter (Leah), it still doesn't feel like I won't just be back in a couple weeks... which makes me fearful that in spite of my extremely heavy (though not bulging) suitcase, I still may have forgotten something really important. (those who know me well are laughing at that comment - but just wait until I call in a panic asking that you FedEx my eyeglasses or something absurd).

So... one last TV goggle and it's goodnight San Francisco (and what a TV night it promises to be - those wacky Republicans. Any bets on when we'll be seeing the talking Sarah Palin VP Candidate Barbie?).

Stay tuned and don't forget to write!