My Constantly Questioned Passport

      Two visas from Egypt, stamps from Morocco, and various exits and entrances to Spain Spain--my passport is constantly questioned.  Here are some of the most-asked-questions at passport control between Spain and The United States:

Q: Why were you in Morocco?

A: I'm was studying at a university to learn Arabic.

Q: What are you doing in Spain?

A: Visiting a friend for a few days before I go back home.

Q: Why do you have two visas from Egypt?

A: I was there for six weeks and it expired halfway through my trip.

Q: Why do you want to learn Arabic?

A: I'm studying Journalism and Arabic, and would like to be able to speak in three languages.

....and the questions continue sometimes.  At one point in Barrajas airport just visiting Spain for Spring Break in high school by myself, I was stopped in the airport twice by the same woman and given a pat-down!

     Although my passport makes going through airports a hassel, the contents of my passport are more meaningful.  Turning the pages over as a wait in a long airport line, I open up to the information page; the girl looking back at me is my 15-year-old self.  Typically, people will look at this picture right away and wonder who is that girl and what am I doing with her passport.  The next thing I notice on my cover page is that my passport expires this year in November and all these stamps and memories remain in the pages of a book with a picture of my mid-teenage self.  My fingers make their way to edges of the book, feeling the back where stickers from my trip to Egypt still live and then opening it up to a page with the historic city of Philadelphia on it.  Stamps from Spain cover Philadelphia and flipping further through the Rocky Moutains, Fields of Wheat, Shining Seas, and Rapid Rivers, my stamps and visas from Egypt remind me of my adventures.  They will help me remember the details of my trip and a sign of hope to make it back there some day.  Then my stamps in Morocco, smaller than Egypt, but just as important; Morocco was  the trip to the Middle East that I finally began to feel more comfortable speaking Arabic, the trip that I made staying in Spain for a few days, and then two planes to Fez, the trip that I travelled more on my own then ever before.  My passport has shown how much I've grown and changed, and in the next few months as the tiny navy blue book expires, I will begin anew with another book to make new memories and new changes to my life.

Language is Neccessary

      To read a newspaper, to speak with a friend, or to buy fruit at a souk [market], language is neccessary.  It has become eminent to me that--yes--learning languages can be fun, but at the sametime language is essential for everyday tasks and pursuits.  As a to be journalist, language is also a factor is interviewing and understanding other parts of the world and their stories. 
      For my first time today in Arabic class, I felt the necessity of language as our teacher handed us each a newspaper and told us to find the title of the paper, the edition, the date, and summarize an article.  Up to this point in my Arabic studies I would not have been comfortable performing this task, but as I am quickly learning, the brain works best to speak languages when under pressure.  I like to think of this as the fight or flight idea used for athletes.  With proper training and confidence one can fight or use their language knowledge quickly and efficiently; however, with improper training, nor enough confidence, or lack of study, one will simply give up and begin speaking the language they fell most comfortable in. With the training I am receiving in Arabic through this program I feel that my brain has been complying with the first idea. 
     In addition to reading the newspaper in class, I also began thinking about how an American journalist with knowledge of Arabic and English could give a non-bias and good interpretation of stories in the Middle East, unlike some of the newspapers in the Middle East that avoid controversial information.  At the Newseum in Washington, DC there is a map of the world with rankings of Freedom of Press in country.  Within the Middle East it is very hard to find a newspaper that reports things without fear of government oversight.  Having knowledge of langauge could help a journalist
understand the real stories from the Middle East.
     Another observation of the necessity of language that I observed this week was practicing Darija [Moroccan Colloquial] in the souk [outdoor farmers market]. This opportunity was definitely hands-on-learning which allowed me to  use Darija to buy fruit at the local market through conversation with the workers.  The souk is for locals who want to buy everything from farming tools to a goat; everything at the souk is low to the ground and people, cars, and animals squeaking through narrow passages between the stands.  I felt very proud of myself for being able to buy apricots, plums, figs, and popcorn--all of which became my lunch that day.  I found myself in the moment trying to use knowledge of Darija [Moroccan Colloquial] and Fosha [Modern Standard Arabic]. 
       This same in the moment feeling came this weekend in Fez as we visited my mother's friend mother.  Speaking with her on the phone a few days earlier and learning that she only spoke Arabic and French seemed like it was going to be difficult, but with some patiences and a dual effort from my friend Bokum and I, we were able to communicate naturally and with no problem.  Today in Fez they invited us to their home for lunch and then they showed us around the old Medina [city] of Fez.  They treated us like family and by the end of the day we were laughing and drinking tea and coffee at a cafe in the new Medina.  They were so hospitable and I wished we could have stayed longer, but ofcourse this being my final week in Morocco with Arabic classes, I have to concentrate and prepare a paper, a presentation, and for my final written and oral exam.  I definitely feel more confident then ever in being able to speak and read the language.  I feel the program I am in has met and passed my expectations for myself.


 

5 Cucarachas, 2 long bus trips, and 1 unforgetable night under the stars

Cucaracha infestided bathroom

 Sand dunes in the Sahara

 Sunset before the stars arrive

The Sahara this weekend came with a few obstacles before I was able to really appreciate the beauty and peacefulness of the desert.  My first obstacle is unavoidable and impossible to rid myself of; the bus ride to our destination took hairpin turns and steep hills surrounded by barren desert and mountains and valleys.  The bus seemed like with one wrong move the whole caravan would fall over the cliff into the deep valley below.  My stomach has never been able to hold up in long car rides of this capacity and so it gave out--embarrassing me on the bus.

For a our first night stayed at a lovely four star hotel in Erfoud--well almost lovely.  The first thing I see entering the room were two dead cockroaches and one alive just barely escaping my pumbling.  Then we see that the room's air conditioning blows a mild heat forcing us to open the windows only to discover a algae green pool--at a four star hotel.  That night I spent contemplating if a cockroach was going to climb into bed with me will I was sleeping.  Finally, we made it out of there the next day and on our way to the Sahara not expecting much of anything after that rotten night.

Hopping into large Land Rovers, wondering why we couldn't just take the bus, and praying this ride wouldn't give me another foul stomach.  My wish came true--the car zoomed truth the streets and then suddenly intentionally drove off the road onto the deserted sandy and rocky ground heading for a dark lump on the horizon.  As the drivers drove in donuts, over mounds of sand, and swerved on the roadless plain.  After an hour--although it only seemed like a few minutes of pure adrenaline--we arrived at Hotel Yasmina with a priceless view of the Merzdouga sand dunes.  The heat had diminished when we arrived at 4 in the afternoon.  The camels awaited as we mounted them and took off into the desert--over the mounds of sand that seemed like a mamouth sized beach without the water ofcourse.  In the Berber tradition, we bared the last few hours of sun and climbed the sandy mountain.  The difficult climb was a stretch, but the view from the top is always better than stopping midway through.  The sunset was indescribable, but magestic and awe inspiring could cover the beginning of the description. 

Later that night after dismounting from our camels, enjoying a typical Berben dinner, and taking a shower in the clean and cockroach free bathrooms at the hotel, I decide to take a cloth and instead of sleeping in my tent I sleep on the carpeted, sandy, desert floor.  The myraid stars were massive like something out of a dream and some were even shooting across the night sky. By the time I closed my eyes to sleep that night I had made countless wishes. 

So the obstacles of getting there paid off and allowed me to experience something I had never expected to see in my life.

Lessons of Qur'nic Club (Interfaith Club)

    There is no fine line between journalism and intellect; much like there is not fine line between theology and history.  When discussing these topics one cannot talk about one without mentioning the other; therefore, this has been the discussion today in Qur'nic Club.  As a Catholic it interest me to compare and contrast the beliefs and history of my religion with other monotheistic religions--Islam and Judaism.  These discussions also give me the opportunity to show knowledge of my own Catholic beliefs and reassure myself of my faith and why I devote myself to it. 
   
    One example of explaining my own faith in comparison to the Islamic religion was the question proposed today by a student in the club asking, Why do Muslisms fast during Ramadan?  The professor speaking did not have a historical context to explain it in, but he said that in the Qu'ran Allah (God) tells us to fast, pray, and give alms during Ramadan.  The student was not satisfied with the answer to her questions and believed the professor was ignoring the historical context of the matter and only focusing on the theology of the question.  I thought in order to slightly answer her question I would bring my own account of why Catholics fast during Lent:

   Lent represents the 40 days and nights Jesus was in the desert and before his death and ressurection.  During this time Jesus fasted without food or water, and was tempted several times by the devil, but never gave in and used verses that are now in the Bible. I then continued explaining to people that we fast from specific things during Lent, but mostly because God wants us to do so.  In a way it was difficult for some to understand why it is God's will.  I believe that in the Islamic and Catholic faiths when something is God's will it is really not meant to be questioned rather accpeted as a part of the faith.   

  

Finally some Visuals!

 Finally Figured out how to upload pictures to my blog here are just a few things I've already describe in my blog!

AUI Campus where I am studying arabic.

 Hostel Riad Marrakech Rouge

Hostel with bring reds, golds, oranges, and yellows.

 El souk (stores) in Marrakech

 Ivory Coast vs. Morocco

Bumpy Road to Morocco!

Weekend Backpacking to Marrakech

Quickly gathering companions for my trip to Marrakech, I was able to convince Sam and Ahmed to come with me to the Moroccan city.  With us we take our book bags with an extra shirt, money, and toothpaste--what else does a backpacker need.  Well, Sam and Ahmed both forgot towels and tooth burshes and I on the otherhand--living without make-up--cannot go without brushing my teeth.
Our train to Marrakech was from 4:50 till 12:30, zooming through the city in an expensive taxi ride, we arrived at Hostel Riad Marrakech Rouge.  One of my first experiences in a hostel, but one of the best I've ever had.  The hostel has a Moroccan atmosphere with hooka, colorful tiles, bright warm reds, orange and gold, and a beautiful sun roof with rooms under the stars.  The vibe would be perfect for vagabonds and gypsies to come and enjoy a swanky hole in the wall.  The hostel is tucked away in the alley way of a major part of the city, down a few narrow streets, shops, vegetable vendors, children running out of school, and old women receiving help crossing the street.  Our four person bed room was tiny, but very comfortable and we easily drifted off to sleep.
This morning the hostel service included breakfast and we feasted like kings--well queen for me.  In planning our day we joined other backpackers to plan our attendance at the futbol game tonight Ivory Coast verses Marrakech.  After planning our night event, we take off into the alley way and into the main part of the city to begin our day in Marrakech.  We make our way to the old mosque, thinking I would be able to see the inside, but quickly realizing that because the mosque is almost ancient it is no longer open.  After that realization, we decided to go to the souk (stores).  This being my only opportunity to buy a few things for friends and family, I begin shopping.  Bartering in Arabic definitely helps especially with a Ahmed, an Egyptian-American,  the tend to lower the prices for those people who are not from the US or Europe.  Sam, Ahmed, and I decided on our identities; Ahmed, Egyptian, Sam, Korean, and Me, Cuban--they all knew who Fidel was.  Four hours later amd feeling ten pounds heavier with all our bags, we make our way out of the souk to find an affordable place for lunch.  We find a place that has tanjiin (typical Moroccan dish with meat, vegetables, and potatoes) with a side of a3ish (bread).
Getting off of campus for the weekend is a breath of fresh air and also allows us to bond with my new friends.  I understand why people travel; to make memories that they can share with others and experience new things together.

First Day of Intensive Arabic Classes--Arabic Nerds Unite

     Included in a fabulous trip to Morocco, there is the obvious task of studying in order to advance my Arabic studies.  Our schedule feels like Arabic Language bootcamp, we beging our day at 8 am with Modern Standard Arabic from till 9:45 when we get a 20 minutes break for tea, coffee, and refreshments provided by the university.  Then another hour and a half of MSA and then the most interesting part of the day--lunch.  When everyone's stomachs are grumbling for food, their tongues must ask for it in only MSA, and as we sit down to eat everyone, no matter what level tries to  keep a consistent conversation completely in Arabic.  The dedication and the discipline this takes is tiresome, but very rewarding once lunch is finished.  Following lunch, we have an hour dedicated to learning Moroccan dialect which sounds like a lazier version of the proper MSA. 

        At 2 pm class ajourns, but the day is far from done; in addition to 4 to 6 hours of homework, on Tuesdays we watch a movie, Wednesdays we listen to a lecture, and Thursday we play futbol.  Determination and discipline come when you are supported and the faculty at the university, they want every student to succeed.  The head director of the Arabic program said that if you didn't cry and sweat a little through this program you didn't have fun and you didn't try hard enough.  I believe this is an exercise for me in having faith in myself to go the distance and learn everything possible--afterall I am an Arabic nerd now.

My First Experience of Morocco

When I was 4-years-old traveling with my parents in Spain, we took a day trip to Tangiers, Morocco.  Although I barely have any memory of the day and the craziness that my parents told me about, I do remember very clearly the highlight of that day.  We had been walking for a very long time when we came to a crowd gathered around a man with a clarinet-like instrument and a tall basket with a lid on top.  As he began to play a snake appeared from the basket slithering along to the rhythm of the music.  The crowd began slightly backing away as the man approached and selected people from the crowd to join him in the middle of the circle.  I woman was dragged in the circle with a whimpering sound, and suddenly the man approach me, took my arm, and dragged me into the circle as my parents and brother just stood there watching.  I stood there disgruntled with my arms crossed in my red and white checkered dress and hair in a high ponytail with a red bow.  The snake charmer continued to upset me as he placed the snake around my neck like a scarf as I let out a loud cry.
Now 15 years later, I come back to Morocco to study Arabic with this memory in the back of my mind.  I have yet to have a snake put around my neck but there are other adventures soon to come and I hope to visit Fez and Menkes this weekend with a friend.  

The Bumpy Road to Morocco

After a relaxing for 3 days at my friend Almudena's house in Madrid, Spain, I am on my way to Morocco--well, almost.

I woke up and took a very proud picture of my suitcase; however, little did I know that I had jinxed myself when--to my surprise--arriving at the Ryanair check-in stand at the airport.  With their strict rules and regulations I was only allowed 1 bag on board the plane when ideally I was hoping to not check any of my bags for fear of loosing my checked bags.  In the middle of the Ryanair terminal I had to unzip my large red suitcase and see what other things from my backpack that I could jam in so that I would not have to pay an extra 100 Euros.  I also discovered that Ryanair is only really for simple and cheap travel as many locals use their services for quick 1 or 2 day trips to domestic destinations, and not for students like me trying to get the quickest and easiest way to their final destination.  On the plane the cram in all the passengers as if in a cattle call, allowing you one cabin bag of 55 by 40 by 20 centimeters and a maximum of 10 kilograms.

During the flight the beverage and snack services don't come cheap either, everything from a small bottle of water to a simple sandwich costs anywhere from 3 Euros upward.  In addition to the cheap service, it also flies to the smallest and inconspicuous airports like Girona, a half hour from Barcelona, but in the middle of nowhere.  After 4 hours in the middle of nowhere, but with a jamon serrano y queso bocadillo and Coca-Cola Light, I board another Ryanair flight to Fez, Morocco.  The plane was packed again with screaming children and smelly tourists--including myself.  Flying over Morocco there was wide spacious farm land with several rows of trees spreading out for miles on end.  Touch down and the first thing I see is a tractor plowing a large field next to the airport--yes, I had arrived in Morocco. 

Passing through passport control then withdrawing Moroccan Dirhams, I began to feel unease as I wondered where these Al-Akhawayn University people were to pick me up and bring me to the school.  I step out where the arrivals are as a sees crowds of people; some staring, others asking me if I need a ride, and some speaking to me in a combination of Arabic and French that I'm definitely not up to speed on yet.  Finally Briham, my program assisstant, spots me with a confused look on my face and escorts me to the van.  In 40 minutes, after windy dirt roads, cows, more farm land, huge trucks, and bumpy highway, the mountains break through with the peaks of the log cabin like dorms of Al-Akhawayn University. 

Yes--it was a bumpy road to Morocco, but the destination was worth the trip!