The Luck of the Irish

DISCLAIMER: Ok, I really do not want this to be "I spent my spring break in a beautiful country and life was SOOO hard, woe is me". I don't like to complain about travel, partly because I love and partly because no one wants to hear someone whine about their fabulous experiences.

However.... Let is be noted that Ireland is a country with a tragic history: famine, oppression, civil war, economic depression, an entire county that thinks they're better off with Great Britain. Irish news, music, even the people themselves have this sort of cynical: "yes, that WOULD happen to us" type attitude. "Luck of the Irish" is said there with great sarcasm. This was my luck of the Irish.

-We had to stand in the immigration line for two hours in London, making us miss our hostel booking (the place had closed for the night- Who does that!). Since our next flight wasn't until the next afternoon, we got another, much more expensive place. Unbeknownst to me, I was still charged for the first booking. Opps.

-We were supposed to meet up with friends for St. Patricks Day so they could stay with us. We never found them, and they ended up taking a four hour bus ride to Cork to find a place to stay. I hope they are still our friends.

-I got a little water on my computer, and it wasn't working. So I took it to the apple store to see what the problem was. Turns out the water ruined my computer, which isn't covered by my warranty. I had to buy a new computer, which blew my budget for the rest of the semester.

-I had my wallet stolen while in a pub. I only lost ten euros, but my drivers license and debit cards need to be replaced, which will take an indefinite amount of time to get them shipped here.

-I missed my flight at 6:30am this morning. Apparently daylight savings time is on the 25th of March in Ireland. I go to check into my flight at 5:22, and was informed that it was actually 6:25, and my plane had just left. I had to borrow money I don't have to rebook the flight. Bugger.

On the PLUS side.. I spent Saint Patricks Day in Dublin. I got to eat Irish Breakfast, with extra bacon. I saw the coast, which is beautiful and rugged and wild-feeling. People were so polite and and friendly. The beer was tasty, the music fun and the pubs exciting. I felt at home in the countryside with the farm-smells and green, open countryside. And now I have great stories of being lost, broke, and I'll admit, occasionally a little bit dumb. Live and learn. It's the luck of the Irish!

Photos coming soon!

Slaama-Alaykum (Hello)

I feel in the course of my blogging I’ve left out a few essential elements of this experience, or only mentioned them briefly when they really deserve a full entry. Therefore, I’m going to make the effort today to talk about the Arabic Language and why I choose to study it. Here are a few fun facts about the Arabic Language:

- There are several “types” of Arabic: Classical Arabic, the language of the Q’ran (the holy book of Islam), Modern Standard Arabic, which is the official language of 22 counties- This is what I am learning, and what most Arabic newspapers and books are written in. Additionally, there are Arabic dialects that differ vastly from region to region. Moroccan Arabic is nearly incomprehensible to someone who speaks Iraqi Arabic. In Morocco, classical Arabic is known as “Fus-ha” and everyday Arabic is known as “Da-ree-ja”

- There are 28 letters and various symbols in the Arabic alphabet, some of which have no English equivalent. A chart of the alphabet is below. As you can see, one single dot can make a big difference! 

-Arabic is written right to left, and the letters connect to one another depending on the letter that precedes them. There is no “cursive” or “print” script, since letters are connected basically the same way weather they are typed or handwritten.

-Arabic calligraphy is some of the most beautiful writing in the world. Since most Muslims believe that icons (images of animals or people) should not be in places of worship, holy sites are decorated with passages from the Q’ran written in beautiful script. 

-When Arabic words are pronounced, they include short vowel sounds such as “a, e and o”. These vowels care called the “fat-ha” “Damma” and “Kasra”. When words are written, these vowels are usually left out. To use an English example that is like printing the word “cat” without the “a”- it could be pronounced cat, cut, or cet. Part of learning Arabic is learning to read the words in the context to understand the meaning.

As this is now my third semester of language class, I’ve started to grasp most basic words and grammatical structures. I can communicate simple concepts and talk about myself and my family. Studying the language is both fun and frustrating, and an accomplishment that I am quite proud of. My time here has encouraged me to continue studying this beautiful language.  

My Homework

Some Photos

Thought I'd post a few photos from my adventure in Marrakesh a couple weeks ago. The city never ceases to amaze me. Several of us went to the Art Festival that was going on- it was fun to look at art in different mediums and from different countries.

Rokko the Turtle- my new pet!

Best Blanket Fort Ever? I think so. 

Thought the lights were cool

Mountains of Marrakech

Things I Learned About Americans...

 By moving away from America.

-We are loud. Not just me, although I am admittedly an exceptionally loud person. But when you hear a group of Americans talking, the overall volume of their voices is decidedly louder than voices of the Europeans or Moroccans in this school.

-We are different. Our country is large and widely diverse. Even in this group of exchange students we have hippies from Washington, southern boys, girls from New York City. There are Muslims, Christians, Agnostics, Mormons and Catholics. America is a country with people who grew up in large cities, or tiny towns, people who are from all ranges of ethic groups. There is no typical American look. We are all shades and from all different groups.

-We have lots of choices. Even going to the smaller supermarkets, such as the one in Big Timber, population several thousand, I could walk down an entire aisle containing only cereals. Here the store in a town of twenty thousand may only stock two types of cereal. It seems so much simpler, and choices are so much easier.

-We artificially sweeten everything. This is something I’ve noticed since leaving, and have confirmed with other expats I met travelling in Europe. So often I heard “The food in America is sweeter”. Also, with the exception of the few processed foods you can buy here, I pretty much know where my food comes from. The chicken I eat in the Marche has brothers and sisters live and clucking two stalls down. Large, whole goats, heads still on, hang form the butchers shop. And I’m pretty certain they don’t contain corn syrup.

-We love our guns. Last semester, a facebook friend from back home commented on a photo my German friend had posted of me. At lunch the next day, my German friend said in a shocked tone “Who is that guy with a GUN in his profile picture?!” I then sat and thought about all my facebook friends who would have guns in their profile pictures. Off the top of my head, I could list about ten. My roommate was shocked to learn that my family owns multiple guns. I’m not going to sit and defend the morality of such a thing, especially in light of the shootings in Ohio. But we, as Americans, take our right to bear arms very, very seriously.

-Our public transportation system sucks. Why is it possible in a place like Morocco to take a train across the country, when we cannot do that in America. I could further rant about the lack of sustainability in our transportation system, while fitting it into my distaste of the American suburb. But that would take an entire blog post, possibly an entire blog.

-We do breakfast best. Ok, there are a few Englishmen that would disagree. But they eat beans with breakfast. Which is weird. Nothing beats bacon, eggs, hash browns, toast, pancakes, and good ‘ole drip coffee. I just may eat breakfast for every meal when I return.

That’s all I have on America, perhaps I’ll think of some more later.

In other news…. Spent last weekend in Fes. Bargained in Arabic. Met a crazy old guy, who became our friend. Bought a guitar, which I WILL learn to play. Sat at a café where I was the only woman present. Ate a camel burger.

These things that were so exciting a new last semester have become more routine, but no less wondrous. I’m headed to Marrakesh (8 hours by train) for the arts festival this weekend. Am preparing for midterms and looking forward to spring break. Am truly, deeply, completely in love with life, flaws and all. Am thankful for my wonderful and supportive family and the people who made this adventure possible. Also, I’m thankful for those of you still keeping up with this blog. 

Life As A Basketball Player... A Study of Fleeting Glory

Last night I played an intense, hard won game of basketball. The AUI "Snowqueens" played a home game against the nearby town of Meknes. The score was 14-10.

Now, for those of you who suffered thorough watching me play two and a half seasons of High School Basketball (Roger and Glen: thanks for being my biggest fans), may find it hard to believe that I would ever place a sneaker on a college basketball court. Let alone be on a College Basketball team. Let alone get to play in an actual college game. But let me list some of the fundamental differences between AUI Basketball and Basketball as we know it in America.

Practice is twice a week. Attendance is not exactly mandatory.

I have never spoken directly to my coach. He only speaks French.

At the game last night, there was no clock. A score keeper kept the time, and the score was displayed on paper.

Members of the opposing team wore hijabs. As do some of our team members.

We didn't need to tuck in our jerseys.. because the jerseys didn't come with shorts.

The Boys team is the AUI Wolves. The girls team is the Snowqueens. The school mascot is the Lions. I think.

Fouls were not reported, and rarely called. I discovered the effectiveness of a well-placed elbow.

AND.. wait for it.. THE BEST PART:

At the boys game, which was after ours, they needed a ref. Out of the crowd, they picked my good friend to referee. He has never reefed a game, or even played the sport. He also may have consumed a substantial amount of alcohol beforehand.

Ah.. Good old B-Ball. Even if things are "different" here, I still enjoy myself in the sport. I would also like to thank Coach Vic for patiently teaching me to dribble, shoot, and play defense. I never thought it would come in handy here!

AUI... In Reality

In the past six months, I have encountered almost every stereotype about Morocco there is. I have also recently been amused by the Facebook craze of "in reality" posts that are popping up. So, for your pleasure and to minimize your reading time, I present to you my life at Al Akhawayn University.. In Reality. 

STUDYING IN MOROCCO

Where Tourists Think I live

Where Ignorant People Think I Live

Where Children Think I live

Where The Food Network Thinks I Live

Where I Actually Live

Photos From Agadir

The 6th of this month was a holiday, the Eid Al-Mawlid or the Prophet Mohammed's Birthday. We spent it in Agadir, a beach town in the south of Morocco. Here are some photos (only a few of which I took).