New City. New Family. New Language.

I hope these following words will be as inspiring to you as they have been to me...
"We travel to open our hearts and eyes to learn more about the world than our newspapers will accommodate. We travel to bring what little we can, in our ignorance and knowledge, to those parts of the globe whose riches are differently dispersed. And we travel, in essence, to become young fools again -- to slow time down and get more taken in, and fall in love once more."
-Pico Iyer, "Why We Travel"

As I'm sitting in my white-walled 15' x 10' room, I notice that it lacks any sort of colorful decoration, except for the framed Arabic calligraphy of a verse in the Qur'an (I assume). It's a large room for just myself, but not a place where I'd like to spend lots of time. Unable to read the Qur'anic excerpt on the wall, I'm stuck with myself, a few cockroaches here and there, and the fair amount of academic reading that I brought with me. If I'm in my room, chances are I'm either one: exhausted and wanting to rest, or two: I need a break from the crazy teething two-year-old who is more than a handful. I'm not the greatest with kids, so these next six weeks will definitely be a trying time for my patience and attitude toward the little ones. :)

Thursday morning, I left Tangier and caught the direct train to Fes- about 5 and 1/2 hours. Without thinking ahead, I took the mid-day train, which means sun... and lots of it. It was close to 100 degrees outside, and the little 6 inch openings at the top of the windows didn't do much to cool down the inside for the 5 hour ride. Let's just say that for the whole ride, I was dripping sweat, and I'm pretty sure I haven't even stopped yet (2 days later). I'm trying to decide if I have a fever, or I'm just not used to the heat yet. Not only is Fes hot, but there is no wind in Fes. The air is still and the sun is strong. It makes for much needed rest and water.

Fes, like most cities in Morocco, is separated into two major areas. The older, more historical, and medieval Arabic part of the city is called the Medina. Each Medina in Morocco is a unique labyrinth of streets and alleyways, sometimes only suitable for donkeys or scooters. The Medina here in Fes dates back to the early 800s (yes, almost 1,000 years older than the United States!!!) is Morocco's first World Heritage sight. Also, it is both the largest living Islamic Medieval city and the biggest car-free urban environment in the world (according to Lonely Planet). As you can imagine, I'm dying to get to the Medina... and probably get lost in the giant maze. Unlike the Medina, the Ville Nouvelle (New City) is the modern, administrative part of the city that was constructed by the French within the last century. Although I was a bit disappointed when I found out I wasn't going to be staying in Fes' Medina, I know that the Ville Nouvelle is just as much as the "real Morocco" as the crammed donkey lanes in the Medina, only a bit less picturesque. In fact, it is the Ville Nouvelle, not the Medina, that is seeing tremendous growth due to the widespread residential and commercial building projects. Living in the Ville Nouvelle isn't as ideal or aesthetic as in the Medina, but it sure is a more accurate portrayal of the everyday life of the working class Moroccan.

When I arrived at my language school (ALIF), I met with the housing director who coordinated a homestay for me on the spot. Mounia, a middle-aged woman, met me a few minutes later at ALIf to escort me back to her residence in the Ville Nouvelle. Most students studying Arabic at ALIF tend to stay in the Institute's residence. However, I came to Morocco not to stay with 20+ other Americans and Europeans in a dorm-like facility, but instead to live with a family. Staying with local families whenever I travel is always an amazing experience. It also opens the door to learning about family dynamics, traditions, and customs across culture. My professor (Slimbach) says, "living with a local family not only provides a fascinating 'window' into the dynamics of the larger national culture; it can also be a profound personal experience". And so far, it has done exactly that!

Mounia is a single Muslim lady, who comes from a large family of 8-10 brothers and sisters, and she lives with her mother. Every day, several sisters drop by for meals, and her nieces and nephews are always around. I am beyond blessed to be staying in her home and with her family. Mounia and her older sister are the only ones who speak a little English. Although I can't communicate to the rest of the family, except by piecing together some broken French words that sometimes make a sentence (only when I'm lucky) or managing to remember the few words in Darija (Moroccan Arabic) that I've picked up, the universals of laughing, pointing, smiling, and other means of sign language have been warmly welcomed and practiced (though not perfected) these past few days. When I first arrived, her grandmother said, "Texas?" and pointed to me. I answered "California". She repeated in a loud voice, "CALIFORNIA!!!" and gave me a high five! I wish you could have seen this old grandma--head covered, with long sleeves and an apron down to her feet, about 5 feet tall, always stern but smiling--give me a high five! Priceless!

Meal time is always a highlight of the day. I am still full from the Couscous that I ate yesterday. Every Friday is a day of corporate worship--similar to Sunday for Christians--and in Morocco, everyone eats Couscous after the Friday afternoon prayer. The couscous is served on this huge deep-dish plate and placed in the middle of the table. The plate barely hits the table before everyone digs in, after saying "besmillah", or "in the name of God". The mountain of couscous, topped with meat and vegetables, is gone within minutes. All the women ( Mounia, several of her sisters and grandma) are laughing, shouting, and I even saw them feed one another! It is definitely a "cultural experience" for me and just another Friday afternoon for them. I'm sure it would make a great snapshot to see 5 women around the table, covered in their hijabs, while the young American guy is also at the table, eating and watching with amusement. The huge meal is followed by a nap and then a stroll along the promenade from 8-10pm, when families are out walking with their kids and trendy teenagers are making the rounds. It's definitely a great time and place to people watch!

My language school starts on Monday. My classes in Classical Arabic will be from 8-10am, and then 2-4pm. This is a common schedule for school and work, having a large break in the middle of the day, similar to the Spanish "siesta" time. My school is about a 2.5mi walk, so I'm not sure if I'll be walking or taking the local bus every day. It comes down to 4 trips to and from school, so to say the least, I will be walking a lot these next few weeks. Spending 20 hours per week in the classroom will be rewarding and challenging. I am anxious and excited, as I have been waiting to learn Arabic for a long time now. I am privileged to have the opportunity to apply what I learn in the house. Staying with Mounia and her family will be a perfect compliment to the formal instruction. Language is not learned in a classroom, but in real life. Therefore, I dedicate these next six weeks to intensive language study and practice. In times of frustration, I will try to keep in mind the humbling words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, "No man should travel until he has learned the language of the country he visits. Otherwise he voluntarily makes himself a great baby -- so helpless and so ridiculous."