On Thursday, my Arabic teacher fell asleep during my lesson.  I am the only student in the class.

Also on Thursday, I left home early to get a quick coffee before heading to mosaics.  As I reached the corner at the end of my street, I realized it was spring.  This morning, on my way to class, I saw blossoms on the tree in front of the school.

This afternoon was the first day of my first ever film series.  We showed Forrest Gump, because it was a previous Oscar winner, and we will show some other previous winners up until the date of this year's Oscars on March 7.  Eleven students showed up.  We are a small center, so I am happy with that.

Today I met the US Ambassador to Morocco.  He came to the ALC (my school) to shake hands.  He is a business man who deals in banking and retirement homes, and he donated a lot of money to the Democratic party.  He speaks neither Arabic nor French nor Spanish nor Tamazight. 

Happy Birthday, Koichi!

February marks the one year anniversary of this blog.  To celebrate, I have decided to post photos capturing the happiest moments of this eventful year. 

I finally figured out what that guy said to me three weeks ago.

I was paying for my meal at bus stop on the way to Rabat.  The waiters were very nice and chatty, and I was flattered when they asked if I was Syrian (we were speaking Arabic.)  As I said good-bye, one of the waiters said what I thought was "Welcome to Islam".  Not sure what to do or say, I just smiled piously and hurried onto the waiting bus.  I immediately told my roommate and travel buddy Mary that I think I had been extended a welcome to Islam.  As the bus continued, I become more puzzled by the man's comment, and wished I had asked him to repeat what he had said or clarified somehow.  By the time we arrived in Rabat, I was pretty convinced I had misunderstood the man, but still had no idea what he actually meant.

This afternoon I went out to do a little shopping.  As usual, I greeted the store keepers with a friendly "Assalamu 3laykum", to which they invariably reply, "wa 3lykum assalam."  On the way home, I repeated this call and answer to myself, practicing the sounds and enjoying the difficulty of pronouncing them.  I began thinking of other phrases that contained the word "salam" (peace).  There are many, but one in particular popped into my head.  "Tariq Assalam".  Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle fit together.  Then man hadn't welcomed me to Islam.  He had said, "Tariq Assalam.  Marhababik", which means (drum roll please!) "Bon Voyage. Welcome (to Morocco)." 

I saw the King yesterday.  I was trying to get home from my Arabic lesson, only to find a police barricade preventing me from crossing the street.  I milled around for a few minutes, trying to figure out how to get home in time for work, when a shout in the crown signaled the King was coming.  He drove by in one of the many ridiculously nice sports cars, waving to the crowd.  I just saw his hand, his neck and his hairline, but I recognized him.   The woman next to me shook her toddler and coaxed him to look at the waving hand.  A few people clapped.  The car disappeared and people pushed through the barricade and practically trampled each other crossing street.