Maybe the cold has finally come.

I woke up this morning, comfortably snuggled under all my blankets, and felt a bit chilled as I began to move around the house.  Outside my window, fog is peaking out from the low spots between the mountains and the sky is white and expressionless.  It looks like fall.  I even had hot chocolate and hot cereal for breakfast this morning.

The (late) arrival of fall, if this is the arrival of fall, reminds me of what is next to come: Winter.  And with winter, comes Christmas.  I have two weeks off at the end of December.  Since I didn’t expect to have a break at all, I came to Morocco with no plan for the holidays and was actually steeling myself for having to work through right through it.  So now what?  The idea stresses me out.  I would love to go home and see my family, but I definitely can’t afford that.  I could travel to Spain, which would be cheaper, but lonelier.  I am hoping I can get together with a few friends who are living abroad as well.  At the very least it would be nice to see a familiar face.

I don’t know what I am going to do, and not knowing stresses me out.  So, I set myself a deadline:  I need to decide by the end of October.  In the meantime, please feel free to send suggestions!!!

I mentioned before that I wrote a poem about the first time I went to Ceuta and the terrible fiasco that that trip turned out to be.  To give a little background, Ceuta is a city about an hour from where I live.  It is geographically located on the continent of Africa, but politically it belongs to Spain.  Because it technically belongs to Europe, you must go through all normal border-crossing procedures in order to enter.  It also uses the euro, not the Moroccan dirham.  To further complicate the situation, it is technically illegal to take any amount of Moroccan currency out of the country, so Spanish banks won't (or can't) exchange money for you.

With that in mind, here goes:

The words don't seem to come tonight,
But I want so very much to write.

To record this day to remember hence,
how I came and went across the fence.

I was all ready, or so I thought.
But after the border, I saw I was not.

Not a whole lot of the other side's bills.
And my credit card in the other side's hills.

The plazas and parks where I should be at play,
turned up their noses and said, "Go away!"

So I turned on my heels and I went on my way.
One long hour home brings an end to this day.

And maybe tomorrow I will want to go back.
But I'll make sure my credit card's packed in my sack!

Today is my first day off since I started teaching.  It's a nice quiet Sunday afternoon, and I am sitting at my computer trying to balance my desire to relax with this desire to do, do, do.  A nice, warm breeze is blowing across the mountains and into my living living room, causing the paper lamp hanging from the ceiling to swing and spin around like crazy.  I sympathize with that lamp right now.  I think I know how it feels.  Some kind of energy is pushing me too, urging me to move, but I feel something else is keeping me stuck, attached and unable to let the wind carry me.  So here we are this Sunday afternoon, my paper lamp and I, spinning nervous circles around the living room.

I got up early this morning, did most of my shopping (I will have to go back out for the soy milk after the siesta, which unlike in Spain, could last 4 hours or more).  I bought some office supplies to organize my teaching materials, a half kilo of  mixed nuts, and then made myself a nice lunch at home.  Like most days, I watched the Simpsons while I ate.   That's another strange connection between my time in Morocco and my time in Spain: lunch and the Simpsons.    After lunch I got online to find some information about Tetouan.  I need some hobbies.  I would be perfectly happy with just learning Arabic as my hobby, but I want to do more.  I want an art class and some form of exercise.  I want to go see movies at the Cervantes Institute and volunteer with an educational organization for women.  I want multiple language partners.   But it's never easy starting out.  It's always more comfortable to stay at home with a good book and to not venture out of the safe zone you create.  Last night I went for a walk with my roommate, Mary.  We started down a street and, after walking in one direction for some time, I instinctively turned and headed down another street.  Later on, Mary and I found ourselves back at the point where we had started.  "What's in that direction?"  Mary said, pointing further down the road where I had instinctively decided to turn.  "I don't know," I replied.  "I've never gone that way.  I always turn before I go too far."
It was then I realized what I was doing.  I was staying in my comfort zone, turning my back on the unknown, refusing to take a few steps more and maybe, possibly discover something I liked.    So instead, I walked in circles.  I retraced my steps and always returned to the point where I had started.  But what's the point in that?  What's the point in doing something if it's not going to change anything, if your not going to learn or grow from it?  If that's the case then you're better off staying at home, in bed, where the only thing that will change are the sheets!  

Mary and I took off into the direction of the unknown, and didn't come home until out feet hurt.  

 Another first day of class under my belt, and yet my students never cease to surprise - and entertain me!

Just like I did in Japan, I asked my students to brainstorm some questions to ask me- any questions at all.  The questions they come up with are always entertaining, like when a Japanese student asked me if I was Anne Hathaway (which Anne Hathaway he meant I still don't know).  Well, today my Moroccan students were no exception.  Here are the highlights:  "How tall are you?" (5 feet 3 inches.  Can I give the answer in meters?  Nope.) "Are you married?" (No.  Next question.)  "Do you have a boyfriend?" (That's private. Next question.)  "How old are you?" (89. <sigh>  Next question.)  "What's your shoe size?" (7 in the US.  38 here.)  "Have you got lost in Tetouan?" (Not really.  I just walked until I saw something I recognized.) 

My students are really cute.  They are younger than I am used to, mostly high school aged, although I have one class with a 10 year old and 30 year old.  The 10 year old is sweet.  While marking her down for attendance, she looks up at me, gives me a big grin and says, "We are going to be a good class!"  "Yes," I said to her, "I think you will be a great class."  And you know what?  They were.  This class was beginner 4, but I also taught an intermediate 2 of 15 and 16 year olds, including one who was celebrating her sweet 16 by coming to my class.  I had them do partner interviews to get to know their classmates, and so when her partner asked her old she was, she got very serious and called out to me, "Teacher!  Today is my birthday.  Today I am 15 or 16?" 


This week has been pretty crazy.  Me roommate Mary arrived on Saturday, and we have been busy nesting and getting lots accomplished.  We have food, internet, a fixed toilet, an unclogged (kind of) shower drain, some extracurricular activities, a few kind Moroccan friends and a laundry lady.  Not bad for a first week!  Mary has a blog of her own, so feel free to check it out:  maryofarabia.blogspot.com 

I want to write more but need to do my Arabic homework for tomorrow and it's already midnight! Stay tuned: more pictures and anecdotes to come!  And keep the comments coming! Bslama!

Great news!  I now have internet at home!  This is good news for everyone, because now I can write more blogs, e-mails and even skype with some regularity!  It feels good to be connected.

More good news: my roommate Mary arrived this weekend.  Before even meeting Mary I knew we would get along fine.  She shares a name with one of my favoritest people in the world, and before coming to Morocco she was living in Ecuador, where another one of my favoritest friends  is from.  These good omens seem to be right.  We are settling in nicely to our little home in what we both agree is one of the best locations one could ask for.

In about half an hour, we are heading to El Reducto, a nice Riad in Tetouan. A riad is a traditional Moroccan house, most of which nowadays have been converted into hotels and restaurants.  I have been to one, El Dahlia, a few times already, but this is my first time to go to El Reducto.  I've been running around all day, so I can't wait to sit down and have a nice big dinner of warm, fluffy couscous with onions and dates or vegetables.  Mmmhhh!  As they say in Morocco before a meal, "B sSaha!"  To your health!

It's been "that time of year again" for a month or two for those living in the States, but for those of us across the Atlantic, school is just getting started.  I am in my first week of Arabic classes, and start teaching next Wednesday.  It will be so nice to have a schedule instead of endless hours of "so what should I do next?"  I enjoy the freedom, but am really looking forward to getting into a routine and having regular things to do.  I really haven't had that since mid July. 

Since starting my Arabic classes, things have really changed though.  I have met a lot of people, especially Spaniards, who also study at the school.  I mostly speak Spanish here, not just with my classmates, but with shop keepers and cab drivers and waiters because in the North most people speak some Spanish.  Sometimes people try to speak to me in French, and then I have to explain: espanol,  English, Arabia shwiya (a little).  It can be confusing. But I of course love it.  My Arabic class is also a new experience for me.  First of all, I have decided not to take any Standard Arabic classes, and so I am only studying the Moroccan dialect (derija) right now.  The last time I learned a dialect (Jordanian), I was a complete beginner, learning the standard language at the same time.  It feels totally different now.  I have a base in the standard language, and I speak Spanish, a language which has influenced the dialect here, so learning Moroccan derija has been like connecting the dots between Standard and Spanish.  The word for "snack time" is "merienda", Spanish.  The possessive (genetive) structure is a combination of Standard Arabic iDafa and the French/Spanish "du/de".  When I don't know how to say a word in derija, I go to Standard and then, if that fails, Spanish.  It's fun.  It's kind of like a linguistic remix.   

Another thing that is new about the class is that I am all by myself.  It is an intensive course, 2 hours a day, just me and the teacher.  I like my teacher so far.  He is a good combination of serious and funny, and he reminds me a lot of a certain Moroccan friend I had in Pittsburgh.  I think it's his sly sense of humor, and the way he looks at me from over his glasses.  I had orginally wanted to to have regular group classes, but there was no one else at the school with a background in Standard that wanted to learn derija.  Most of the other students are there just to learn Standard, and the ones that are leanring derija don't have a background in Standard. So that leaves me to fend for myself in a land of sukuns.  Yes, because of Amazigh (Berber) influence, Moroccan Arabic doesn't find any problem with long strings of consonants without a vowel in sight.  Take for example the word for the phrase  "nice to meet you": "mtshrfin".  Count 'em...one vowel.  Whopee!  And there's lots more like that.  "msmmi" and "kntklma" and "maknkhdmash"  and the list goes on!  Tongue twisted, I'm finding it hard to kick the vowel habit.