Terrorist attack in Morocco

How crazy is it that there was a suicide bombing yesterday in the exact same spot I was standing on Sunday? Yesterday an explosion in a cafe in Jamaa el Efnaa square killed at least 14 people, including many foreigners as it's a huge tourist attraction. Reports confirmed that it was an act of terrorism although it's not yet known who was behind the attack. Suicide bombings aren't common in Morocco; the last one was was in Casablanca in 2003, so yesterday's event is a major deal. You can read The New York Times article here.

Being a Gilman scholar, yesterday I got contacted by the Department of State to make sure I was safe for the second time this year, the first being when the protests in Egypt peaked in January. After evacuating to Morocco from Cairo, I've been getting security alerts every week about protests, riots, uprisings in Morocco and the Middle Eastern/North African region. Walking down the street and passing mass crowds outside government buildings has become a norm. Stories of clashes between the police and protesters a few blocks away are so frequent that we ignore them now. Even hearing that a man tried to set himself in front of the Parliament isn't surprising.

How a simple decision to study abroad in college turned into such a surreal life experience is hard to process. Not only am I experiencing all the culture differences of this region, but I'm also actually living inside the world I used to read about on the news. As my friend Jason nicely put it, "What, revolutions, sexual harassment, rock throwing, overbearing host fathers and terror attacks too eventful for you? Where's your sense of adventure?"

An adventure indeed. I can't believe this is my life.

Marrakech - the NYC of Morocco

This weekend we visited one of the most popular destinations in Morocco, the city of Marrakech. It was a 5-hour bus ride to get there but the city city was probably one of the prettiest in Morocco, with clean streets and colorful flowers everywhere. What we noticed immediately is that it was tourist central, like the New York City of Morocco.

We stayed at Hotel Andalous, which was very impressive at first sight, with a huge lobby and a gorgeous pool. However, when Lauren and I were given our room, we walked in and to our disgust, it hadn't been cleaned, the toilet was foul and there were drops of blood on the floor. The hotel was delayed in cleaning the rooms, yet another example of Moroccan unprofessionalism. I immediately demanded a room change.

Later that day we visited Jamal el-Efnaa, a popular square which is an entertainer's dream. There were snake charmers and monkeys and singers and performers everywhere. Men with water snakes draped over their necks approached us from all sides and treid to put the snakes around us without even asking. The monkeys jumped around and there were crowds of tourists everywhere.

The medina behind the square was one of the largest I've seen so far, with numerous souks leading through the maze. In one particular souk, I was looking at a pair of pants but after bargaining with the shopowner, I decided not to buy them. The shop guy got so mad he said, "You know what- f*** you!" Just another example of how uncivilized people here can be.

The next day we visited the Saadian tombs, which were tombs of royals from the Saadi dynasty in the late 1500s which had been discovered in the early 19th century. They were very anti-climatic after a long wait in line. Afterwards, on Sunday we visited the Majorelle Garden which is owned by designer Yves Saint Laurent. It was more of a bamboo forest than a garden, with tons of crazy looking cactuses and beautiful flowers.

Overall Marrakech is more of a site-based tourist area, with many specific places to visit unlike other Moroccan cities where you just take in the scenery of the city. Be prepared to get hassled by men trying to sell souvenirs on every street and overcharged by cab drivers. It was entirely too touristy to really enjoy and I wouldn't choose to stay there for more than a weekend. This trip was the last of my travels in Morocco and now I am simply awaiting the final countdown before I can head home.

Raphael the turtle

He lives on our balcony. We thought he was a ninja but apparently his only superpower is eating impressive amounts of food

The Sahara Desert

“Knowing is going,” our tour guide Abi said as we headed into the vast Sahara desert from the small town of Merzouga. The 7 of us lined up on our camels as he led us deep inside the magical landscape of perfect sand, sweeping dunes, and endless blue sky.

As we delved further, the town of Merzouga eventually faded from sight and all we could see were endless miles of sand and hear nothing but the trembling stillness of the world’s largest, hottest desert. It was like trekking inside a psychedelia and setting up camp. We stopped at an oasis where we were served Berber tea before we gave our camels a break and headed up the dunes on foot to catch the sunset.

With the cool, smooth sand beneath our feet, we hiked higher and higher and I felt sure that I would slip downhill. Catherine and I lagged behind the rest of the group and I wondered what would happen if we got separated. “We could yell,” Catherine suggested, “but sand drowns out sound.” How comforting.

The sun began to set, shooting parting rays of light and casting shadows throughout the landscape as the dark sky came over us. We reached our tent area and set a blanket on the ground to marvel at the breathtaking sight that had just revealed itself above us- an incredible array of twinkling stars, sparkling so brightly they could have been planets. As we lay down, I told the girls the story of “The Magician’s Nephew,” the first of C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia.

Soon the cold fell over us and we went inside the tent for dinner. The Berbers played us music and sang and danced before they brought out chicken tagines, which we scarfed down.

After dinner, I found the most challenging part of the trip – using the bathroom, or rather, finding a secluded space in the now dark and open desert. Having never gone camping before, it was not a fun experience. By then, we were all exhausted from a long, hot day of trekking and our bodies were aching all over from the bumpy camel ride.

We woke up early to catch the sunrise, and watched as the morning sun bathed the entire desert in a golden hue. After a calm breakfast out on the sand, we headed out again. This time the camel trek was miserably painful since we were already sore from the first day. After reaching a small Berber village where we had lunch, we headed back to the hotel in Merzouga.

What I learned this weekend is that camping is absolutely not for me- I can't handle the bugs and the outdoor bathrooms. However doing it in the Sahara desert was a pretty surreal first time experience. The sights itself left a lasting impression in my mind and I hope these pictures can convey some of that. Enjoy.

How about a nice cup of STFU?

This morning I almost flipped out on my Moroccan family's host father. Normally I can put up with his pompous manner, but today I just didn't have the patience. Let me explain.

I've had a pretty bad flu for the past week and a hacking cough that has kept me (and my roommate) up pretty much every night. After 6 days of my throat feeling like it's been rubbed down with cement and 3 days of skipping class, I went to the doctor and found out I have bronchitis. However, all week the host father, Amir, has kept telling me that being sick is a mentality and I need to stop acting sick. Imagine being miserably sick and basically being told to stop and get over it.

This morning I got up to go to school to take an exam, but still feeling like crap. During breakfast, Amir and Meriam started exclaiming and laughing that I finally decided to go to school again. Amir began yapping about how I'm too sensitive and had the nerve to tell me I'm acting "like Miss America." I snapped back at him and told him that bronchitis is a medical condition and a legit reason for skipping class. He then asked me if I've ever left my parents home before and I said yes, I lived and worked in D.C. He scoffed and said it's still in America and that's not a difference. Then he continued on about how I'm the youngest in my family so "that explains everything."

How unbelievably obnoxious. He knows nothing about my life but has the nerve to say I'm spoiled and pampered. I've worked harder in my life than most 22-year olds I know and if there's one thing I despise, it's someone treating me like I've had it all handed to me. Might I add that both his daughters are the most spoiled children I have ever encountered and that for him to tell me I'm the pampered one is incredibly ironic. Can't even get sick around here without being bothered. I wouldn't have been so bugged if his comments weren't an everyday thing. It's like his thoughts are the only one that matters. I have enough frustrations with Morocco to deal with so one more comment out of him and I'll tell him exactly where he can stick his obnoxious opinions.

The taxi ripoff

Taxis are the most common form of transportation in Rabat since the city doesn't have a metro or a rail, and the buses are so slow. They're pretty cheap in USD- my 15 ride to school costs about $1.50. Unlike in the U.S., the taxis will continue stopping and picking up other people as long as they're going in the same direction as the passenger who is already in the car.

The drivers almost always try to rip us off. My blonde roommate has it pretty bad - she clearly isn't Moroccan so they usually try to charge her more. I can pass for Moroccan by looks, but as soon as they can tell we're foreigners, they try to take us around and around so the meter keeps going up. Taxis do this in a lot of cities but the annoying thing is that Moroccan taxis also pick up other passengers who are going in other directions and go out of the way to drop them off and we end up having to pay more.

The driver today picked up 2 passengers, went all the way around and then tried to charge me 20 dirhams when usually it only costs 13. I HATE when they do that. I've flipped out on so many taxi drivers since I've been here. As soon as I can tell they're trying to overcharge us, I start yelling, and they start yelling back and poor Lauren just sits there awkwardly wishing I'd just hand over the extra money. Sure it's only a dollar, but it's the principle of the thing! I refuse to be ripped off. I just tossed 13 dirhams at him and told him he's crazy if he thought I'd pay that much and when he started arguing I jumped out of the cab and walked away. Asshole.

Harry Potter in Arabic!

After searching for so long, I finally found it! :D