a couple of journal entries

due to a slow internet connection i have been slow in posting these...

Day 1

Today I made my first Moroccan friend. We were walking in the medina on the way to the Center for Cross Cultural Learning in the middle of a rare Moroccan rain storm. Without the rain boots and raincoat I had packed away so carefully in my luggage I was a stranded soldier in the line of precipitous fire. I began to run convinced it was the only way to save my already sweaty body from a second drenching. Before I got far however the bullets stopped, and I looked up to find that I was covered. A black umbrella held at the very bottom tip by a man shorter than me barely reached over the top of my head. But, it kept me dry. I turned and smiled at him…c’est d’accord, je suis avec une grande group, c’est d’accord. Il a dit, non, je vous garde, je vous garde. Merci a mon premier ami en Maroc.

Day 3

Leave it to me to find the only Colorado reference in all of Rabat. The owner of the Café Glacier Colorado is perhaps one of the sweetest men I have met here. Apparently, the joint is named after said owner’s distant relatives with whom I share a beautiful state. And despite the fact that I was drinking from a Coke bottle labeled in Arabic, I did feel a little bit at home. :)

This morning we had our first true solo wandering of Rabat. As part of an exercise (“Encounters of a First Kind”) my fellow students and I were dropped in various parts of the city with the goal of safely making it back to the medina and the CCCL. From my understanding, Rabat is basically broken down into two parts: the medina and la ville nouvelle. The first is known as “the old city,” a collection of narrow winding streets where every step brings with it a new smell, a new color. La ville nouvelle, or “the French quarters,” is styled after European cities with broader made for car streets and beautiful hotels/apartments/houses. My drop off was right outside the city limits at the gate leading into Rabat. As I navigated through la ville nouvelle trying to find the medina, I was nearly hit by a car, catcalled at by thirteen year old boys, and assisted by a very kind military officer. No worries, friends, I did make it back and not once did I pull out the map I had secretly hidden in my purse. I feel a little more confident and secure knowing I was able to make my way through this new hometown.