Morocco. Better late than never, right?

So I'm not really sure how to describe my trip to Morocco. It was amazing and awesome and fantastic, but hard to describe. The culture was incredibly different from that of the US and even Spain, but there were elements that were the same. I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to organize this post, chronologically or by topic, but I'm gonna just go with it. I may post the itinerary so you have general idea, but it may be easier to flow from topic to topic. Also, here is the link to my awesome facebook album! I may add more photos to this, or add another link, because there was one day when only 2 people were allowed to take pictures, and I wasn't one of them. But you'll see them eventually.

Ok, so. Morocco.

I apologize if this is less detailed than my normal posts... it's been a while and I haven't really had much time to write about Morocco. So here it goes.

Saturday morning we woke up to the phone in our hotel room ringing for our wake up call, ate a pretty legit breakfast in the hotel, and got back on the bus to drive to Tarifa, the main port for ferries from Spain to Morocco. In Tarifa we met our guide, Jess. She's a visual artist who has been living in Morocco for several years, but has lived in tons of places and is originally from Wales. She gave us a quick orientation on the ferry, and we chose our team name: Team Guay (guay is the Spanish word for cool). Soon enough we could see Morocco, and landed at the port in Tangier

After taking a walk through the market, learning a few Arabic words (llhumdullah is thank God, and shukran [or something like that] means thank you) we visited a women's center called Darna, or 'Our House'. Darna offers French and Arabic literacy classes, and many skills classes to help the women of Tangiers get jobs to support their families. We got our first glimpse of Moroccan hospitality, and were given copious amounts of tea and pastries while talking to a few girls about our age about life as a woman in Morocco. We ate lunch there, too; it was a salad and chicken tajin, which was delicious.

Since we were spending the night in Rabat, we left and got on our mini bus with Jess and Eva, our IES staff member, and hit the road. I was dozing a bit, and when I opened my eyes for a look around, I saw camels on a beach. Well that's cool, I thought. Then the bus slowed down, and I realized this was it. We were going to ride the camels. Despite the fact that Andrea and Casey were surprised that I actually got on an animal that big, I love animals (except weird ones like the Gibraltar monkeys... or snakes), and I've ridden horses and even elephants before without being scared. And camels are sort of like horses (much smaller than elephants), just taller and with weirder joints. When you get on the camel it's sitting down on the sand. The trainer tells you to hold on tight and lean back, then the camel lifts its butt all the way, straightens out its back legs, then stands up on it's front legs too. It's a little scary, and the way down was 10 times worse, but it was worth it. I was so high up, but not afraid of falling. The ride lasted far too little time, and before I knew it we were once again on our way to Rabat, the capital city.

As soon as we arrived in Rabat we were introduced to our host families, and taken home to rest and have a snack before being led on a tour of the Medina (old city) by our host moms. We had been told that at least one person, be it a parent or teenager, would speak pretty good English. Well, let's just say it's a good thing I took 3 semesters of French, because our host mom, although super sweet and hospitable, was not an English speaker. She gave us tea, cake, and bread for a snack, and after the walk she fed us more tea and also a strange pasta dish, which consisted of cut up angel hair with cinnamon and powdered sugar. Weird but delicious, and served, of course, with more bread.

Our host mom had 2 kids. One was 7, and I don't remember his name. The other, whose name was pronounced 'said' was 2 (I think...) and was attached to his dad's iPad, and watched Tom & Jerry and Justin Bieber the entire time we were there. We didn't get to meet our host dad, because he was in America, visiting Obama with the king of Morocco, for whom he is a bodyguard. No big deal.

Before I continue, I'm going to go completely out of chronological order and talk about Moroccan drivers. With the exception of our bus driver, who did his best to be safe and normal, Moroccans drive like actual crazy people. There were multiple times when we almost got hit by cars, saw people almost get hit by cars, or actually see someone get hit. Luckily, the latter only happened once. Back on track, now.

Breakfast was tea with bread, jam and little biscotti-like cookies. After breakfast, we visited another NGO, called Hope for Saleh (no idea how to spell it, pronounced 'sahlly'), which plans events for people in the shanty-town of Saleh, and teaches boys and girls how to read, write, cook, and gives them skills to get jobs. We talked about politics with a few of the employees, and eventually digressed to religion and modesty and how women dress in Morocco, and it got a little awkward when one of the Moroccan guys started saying that  men can't even resist women's eyes because they 'look into them and it's like you're lost in an ocean', so of course they should cover the rest of their body. We also visited some Roman ruins/early Arabic ruins.

That being done, we had lunch at our homestay (by the way, the homestay 'we' was myself and 2 IES girls, Kelsey and Nora), with our hostmom's niece Sarah. We ate couscous and bread and had sour milk. Yes, sour milk. Seriously. Not like, oops guess the milk is sour, but the let's-let-this-milk-go-sour-then-drink-it. It's a thing there, apparently. Definitely a taste I have not (and hope to never) acquire. We also tried on some Moroccan wedding dresses, which can be seen in my album (link at the beginning of the post).

My favorite part of the whole trip happened that night: the Hammam. A hammam is an Arab bath; I can't remember if I've posted about them before, because I've seen about 6 for Islamic Art, but basically it's a girls- or boys-only space with hot and cold water taps, where you clean yourself. Moroccans don't really have in-house showers, so they go to the hammam about once a week. This may sound gross, but you get so clean there that it really isn't; Moroccans may have surface dirt but their skin is clean. Anyways, our hostmom's niece, Sarah, was our hammam guide, and took us (me, Nora, Kelsey, Kassie, Bethine, and Clarissa) to the one she normally goes to.

Basically you get a scrubbing mitt and soap (we also brought shampoo and whatnot), go upstairs, and strip down to just your panties (hence no boys) and scrub for an hour or two. We helped each other scrub our backs, we got massages, and we came out cleaner than ever before. I don't exaggerate; not since the day I was born have I been that clean. I wish the US had hammams (authentic, not touristy ones) so I could repeat the experience. The best part was how casual it all was. When we walked in, there were maybe 3 women there, and one was completely naked but it wasn't a big deal. We didn't sit there judging each other for our bodies, or acting weirded out at the other people, we just cleaned ourselves and got over it. Before we went I was told that Moroccans are very comfortable and intimate within their own sex, and I really understood the extent of that after I went to the hammam.

Once we had removed the top 3-10 layers of skin, we got henna done. Henna is a plant that is ground up and mixed with water, then applied to the surface of the skin with a (blunt, they're not piercing the skin) syringe, to better control the flow of the paste. You leave it on for 2 hours to overnight, and once it comes off it leaves color where the paste was. This typically lasts a week to 10 days, but I will say that the last traces just faded from my pinky, and I got it done 3 weeks ago. This supposedly means that I will have good luck, because the longer it lasts the longer you will have good luck, and I guess it's working. I have had an awesome last few weeks.

Dinner was a spicy minestrone with tea and bread, and the next morning we headed off, eventually to Chefchaouen. We stopped first at the mausoleum that holds the current king's father, uncle, and grandfather, as well as a mosque that was never completed because a)there was an earthquake, partially destroying their work, and b)the king who financed it died.

Two hours later we stopped in Ouissan to have a tea break and go to the market to buy the salad, bread, and other staples for a picnic we were having with a rural family later that day. Kokaale and I volunteered to go with Jess to help carry the produce, and it was amazing. I apologize in advance for the non-structure of the next few sentences. Everything was so colorful. The smells. Spices in piles like mountains. Live chickens, clucking happily next to their dead and plucked brethren. Halves of beef hanging from the ceiling. Fresh. Delicous. The vendors would give us samples of their food, and we eventually made it out without letting our chins totally drop to the floor.

When we got to the family's farm, the girls (the boys played with the family's 6 year old) helped prepare lunch by cutting all sorts of veggies and things: tomatoes, carrots, peppers, avocados, cucumbers, strawberries, bread, and something else whose name escapes me. The family provided couscous. We had veggie sandwiches with soft cheese. They were delicious. The carrots were the sweetest I had ever tasted, the bread was delicious. I don't even have words for how good all of this was. Sincerely. Dessert was oranges, and they  were super sweet, but less tangy than in the US or Spain. Delicious nonetheless.

After lunch we hiked up a hill nearby, to see the Rif mountains (technically we were in them but it was a good view) and the family asked us to sing. We sang a few songs, including don't stop believing and a whole new world, and they were so happy. It was amazing to see how much they took pleasure in the simple things around them.

Of the whole day, the funniest thing was the 6 year old, who was a total ham. He posed for photos, with expertise that would have gotten him the title of Morocco's next top model, which was hilariously surprising. He flirted with all of the girls, and gave us flowers. So cute.

Eventually and unwillingly we left, and headed to Chefchaouen. Once there we did a lot of shopping (the exchange rate is excellent) and had dinner at a real restaurant. I had couscous, salad, and for dessert (which we didn't get to choose) there was a type of thin yogurt, flavored with honey, almond, cinnamon and maybe some other spices. It was super super delicious.

On our last morning in Morocco, we met in the hostel lobby at 7:30 and went on a hike(ish) up a hill to see the landscape at sunrise. It was breathtaking, and a really good way to start bringing the trip to an end. We had 1st breakfast at the top, which was drinkable yogurt, dried figs (omg still have those) and almonds. The almonds in Morocco, by the way, were some of the best I've ever eaten. Super buttery and sweet. Second breakfast (so what if we act like hobbits on vacation) was in the town square, and it was orange juice, tea, and some type of bread with honey, butter, and jam.

Sadly, we had to end our journey shortly after, saying goodbye to Jess and crossing the border into Ceuta, a Spanish protectorate (?) in Morocco, then taking the Ferry to La Linea, and coming home by bus. So ended the trip. It was one of the most amazing places I've been, with some of the nicest people who tried to make me eat more than my Spanish host mom does. If anyone is thinking about travelling, I would definitely suggest a trip to Morocco.

Las niñas buenas van al cielo, las malas a los Carnavales de Cádiz

Warning: this post may be a little... crazy. And probably a tad controversial. Please bear with me.

I saw that (the title of this post) on someone's sweatshirt yesterday. It translates to "Good girls go to heaven, bad ones go the the Carnaveles of Cádiz". Why am I telling you this? Well, yesterday (Saturday) was the start of one of the 2 weekends of Carnaval (I'm told it's like Mardi Gras, though I've never been to the latter) in Cádiz, a Spanish city on the coast of the Atlantic Ocean. First, I would like to say that Cádiz is beautiful and I would love to go back during a less crazy time. 

This whole thing started a few weeks ago when a few of the girls at IES said they were going to Carnaval. Pretty soon, about half our program (myself included) had tickets for the same bus, which were actually a pretty good deal. 20 euro for a round trip. Normally, you'd have to pay 35 euro to get to Cádiz and back. Anyway, we knew we had to dress up. There was some debate over whether we should just dress crazy or have actual costumes. I went with my typical 'buy one or two things and make a costume out of it' approach. I ended up purchasing one of those skirt things that belly dancers wear (with all the jingly things) and a top as well. I knew exactly what I had in my wardrobe to go with this: leggings, a black skirt, a black tank top, and (for night time, so I didn't freeze) a stay-warm shirt, cardigan and jacket. 

My idea going into this was that it would be some sort of cultural festival, maybe with a parade or music. Well, I was half right. It was certainly a display of Spanish culture. We got to Cádiz around 6 pm, and decided to chill at the beach while it was still light outside. We played in the water and sand (legit, there are about 100 pictures of people jumping on the beach or in the water) then watched the sunset. We then heard some loud noises of the festive variety, so we walked in the direction  they were coming from. 

Was it a parade? Was it a band? No. It was a bunch of people with drums, and some guys dressed as matadors with a shopping cart bull. We followed the crowd and ended up in the plaza of the Cathedral, where we realized that, at this point, Carnaval was a giant botellon. Because of a delay in leaving Granada (there were so many people going to Cádiz that there was lots of confusion and it took twice as long to load the buses) we had missed all the parade-like festivities. 

For those of you who don't know, a botellon is sort of like a giant Spanish frat party: people get really drunk and stay out till all hours of the night, and following morning. We didn't know that it was just going to be this, but we rolled with it and decided to enjoy what we could. *disclaimer: yes, we were drinking,  but not nearly as much as the Spaniards (or many other attendees) and made sure that we were close enough to sobriety to be safe.* Pretty soon, I was bored. Yeah, it's fun to talk to your friends and other random Americans that always want to talk once they realize you're American too, but literally all most people were doing was drinking. 

You see, in the US, college parties (which is all I can really equate this too) have drinking games, and other stuff, like music/dancing to enjoy, as well as bathrooms and couches. Carnaval, on the other hand, was one giant mass of crazy, where people just stood there, talking to their friends and getting way too drunk. I can't even tell you how many ambulances I saw go by. There was no place to sit, as people throw their empties on the ground (gross) and some people would just go to a wall a pee (even grosser). Various times throughout the night, my friends and I walked back to the beach, where we (not even kidding) decided to sing some Disney songs to pass the time. Yes, it is an automatic requirement that college students regress to kindergarten levels of maturity. 

Eventually (around 5), we gave up trying to entertain ourselves, and sat on the stairs of the plaza for the buses until 6 am, when we were scheduled to be picked up. That went mostly fine, with the exception of some latecomers who had been lost. We got back to Granada by midmorning, and I was so happy to be back. Yes it was an experience, and I'm glad I went rather than asking myself what it would have been like, but I don't think I'd go back again. I value my sanity a little too much for that. 

La Vida Granadina

Although I knew that Spain worked on an entirely different schedule than the US before I got here, the reality of that fact is still sinking in. And I'm definitely still adjusting. It's not the time difference, I was over the whole jet lag thing by day 4. It would've been sooner, but I was sick. Anyways, here's a typical day in Granada:

8 am- wake up, get dressed, eat breakfast
8:40-leave for IES
9-2- class (the class part of this will change, but for the past week we've had orientation)
11-11:30- coffee break.
2:30-3:15- midday meal with my host family. more on this later
3:15-5 (or 6)- siesta: reading, facebook or tv time, blogging, sleeping.
6-7- take a walk, get ready to go out (for tapas), have a snack
8:30-9- head out to meet friends for tapas (unless you're eating dinner alone at home, which will be around 10)
10:30-11:30- get home, shower, get ready for bed (or earlier for this stuff if you don't go out)
12 (at latest)- bedtime.

see this? yeah, it looks like a nice, empty schedule, but it's not. any skyping of people in the US has to take place after 4 or 5 pm, usually after 9 for my parents. and if you can only go to the store (to get stuff for dinner, for example) after siesta, because everything will be closed from 2-5ish.

So that's how it is. I don't dislike this, and I know that I will have more time during the day once I'm in actual classes, rather than in orientation. It's a little hard to adjust to, though. The strangest part is the time at which you socialize. I've never been a night owl; ask any of my friends and they'll tell you that I'm the one who wants to go out earlier (I even have a theory that everyone should go out earlier so they can get to bed earlier and won't complain about being out so late the next day). Here, though, it's pretty normal to be out until 2 in the morning. Or 3. Some people (although this is not the majority) stay out until 7 or so, and will have breakfast with their friends before going home. What? Sorry, but if it's early enough to order breakfast, you've been out way too long.

So anyway, here's what I've been up to, rather than giving you a long, pointless post.

Monday and Wednesday we had language exams. I'm in the second highest group, which, if I'm honest, I can't say I'm super happy about. Not because I think I'm better than everyone else, but because I was heard that my orientation group was the advanced group, and there are some people on the low end of the Spanish spectrum in that group that I do not want to end up with. I need to be challenged in order to learn (as I learned with French) and I'm hoping that will be the case. I know, however, that if my professor feels I have been put into the wrong class, that I will be put into a more appropriate level.

Tuesday we had a walk through El Bosque de le Alhambra, and an area of Granada called the Realejo. It was an awesome walk, and I got some great pictures. Yesterday (thursday) we had or neighborhood orientation, with UGR students who live in our area. Carmen, a girl who I met in Malaga, is our UGR vecina (neighbor) and the group of 10 of us, all girls, had a great time. Carmen showed us various helpful things, like cafes, supermarkets, and whatnot, as well as el Parque de Federico Garcia Lorca, which had what may be the coolest seesaw ever created. After that, we all went to a cafe to warm up, where I got a milkshake, which was made with vanilla ice cream and chocolate and coconut liquors, and hence tasted like an  Almond Joy, and then we went to a bar for tapas.

Tapas, if you don't know, are plates of food brought to you when you order a drink. In Granada, they're free. Most of the time you don't get to choose, but occasionally you do. Last night was one of those occasions. Because there were so many of us, we ordered tons: popcorn chicken, sandwiches, flautas, calamari, and something else. It was spectacular.

Today was our last day of orientation, and we attended sessions on the language courses, as well as culture shock (apparently I'm in stage 3: interpretation, followed by a reception with free food and wine. I had tinto de verano, which is a mix of red wine and lemon fanta. It is delicious, and significantly lowers the amount of alcohol you're consuming. Which is good, especially when it's not even lunchtime. Tonight I'm heading out with my friend Danielle and maybe a few other girls for tapas, and possibly dancing. Un beso!

View of Granada from Realejo

statue of Isabel la Catolica and Christopher Columbus

Realejo

There's a lot of graffiti in Spain, and some of it (like this) is pretty...someone sprayed over the leaves.

part of the Alhambra

view of el Albaycin from la Alhambra