I'm really proud of my 5th grade classes. On Wednesday I asked them to prepare a blurb about their favorite animal (they're learning about animals). They were a little confused by my assigning them homework and only some of them came to class with something written down. I told them that this didn't matter because I was more interested in hearing them speak.
First I had 5A (the better behaved class). I picked a student's name from the alphabetical list and made her go first. One-by-one each student presented their "favorite" animal to the class. Some picked an animal from the chapter, while others were more inventive. Most hadn't really prepared anything and David and I questioned them about an animal. They all got up in the front of the room and said something, which was my goal of the class. They had to tell us the kind of animal and then describe it (It is big, It is brown, etc.). Even the kid who never does anything and still hasn't bought the book was able to do this. He even did a decent job.
David and I knew this wouldn't work in 5B because the kids are much more disruptive. Instead of having them present in front of the classroom, each student had to come into the hallway and talk to me one-on-one. Almost none of these students had prepared anything and most of them picked "dog" as their favorite animal. Some of them complained about not knowing how to speak English or not knowing what to say about their animal. In the end, everyone was able to tell me something about the animal. They all did a great job practicing the vocabulary and sentence structures they're learning. I'm anxious to try this again soon.
In addition to going to the 5th grade classes, I stayed with Lourdes while she watched 5A during recess (it was raining today). The kids were really wild - they were throwing themselves on the floor. Lourdes made them sit in their seats and we all played hangman in English. I got to go first and my word was "trumpet," one of their vocab words from October. They were pretty responsive to the game and played along well even though their strategy was terrible. They guessed letters in alphabetical order. I think I might have to use this in a future class....
Friday, January 23, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes (Knees and Toes)
I have sung this song 7 million times today. My first graders absolutely loved it.
I taught it to the second grade back in October, but the first grade just started learning about the body and their teacher and I thought they could handle the song. We practiced several times together, then I split the class (all 8 kids who were there today) in half and had them sing to the other half. The second group got up to the front of the classroom and showed up their friends. They were so into it. Then we all sung together again.
I'm pretty sure they understood the song and I know they really liked the activity. We repeated it a few hours later in their English class and they remembered it without me having to sing along.
I taught it to the second grade back in October, but the first grade just started learning about the body and their teacher and I thought they could handle the song. We practiced several times together, then I split the class (all 8 kids who were there today) in half and had them sing to the other half. The second group got up to the front of the classroom and showed up their friends. They were so into it. Then we all sung together again.
I'm pretty sure they understood the song and I know they really liked the activity. We repeated it a few hours later in their English class and they remembered it without me having to sing along.
Spanish Banking
When we got back to Spain I checked my bank statement and saw that a random 3 euro charge was taken out on December 31, 2008. I was in Rome then and didn't use my Spanish debit card at all. The charge was referred to as a commission.
Then I got sick and didn't have the strength to fight with the crowds of old people who gather at the bank.
Tuesday, I got the chance to go in between classes. The bank is set up like an L. When you walk in, the three tellers are straight back behind glass windows. On the left there are three counters - the first one is for opening an account and the other two are a mystery.
I went to the woman in the back who had helped me with online banking (everyone rotates around and works at all the desks). I explained that there was a mysterious three euro charge and I asked what it was. I have no idea what she said to me because most of her conversation was actually with the other teller (who opened my account). The woman then told me to go to one of the mystery middle counters and when it was my turn to ask that guy to come ask her what had to be done with my account.
I went over to the middle counters and gave the man my little account book (it's bigger than a checkbook and records all of my transactions). I asked him about the charge and told him that the woman sent me to him and told me to tell him to talk to her. Instead of doing this, he looked at the book and told me, "I'll just give you the three euros back."
So, he did. He put three euros in my account and sent me on my way. When I asked him what the charge was and what I could do to avoid it in the future, he didn't really answer my question but instead told me that this was all fixed.
I'm still not sure what the function of the middle counters is, nor do I understand where the charge came from and why it was that easy to get it back. No one seemed surprised that I was there asking about it nor were they bothered by it. All of this leads to me continue to question, how does anyone make money in this country??? (On a side note, I got more change than necessary at the post office today because the woman gave me a 5 cent piece instead of two 2-cent ones or four one-cent coins.....random).
Then I got sick and didn't have the strength to fight with the crowds of old people who gather at the bank.
Tuesday, I got the chance to go in between classes. The bank is set up like an L. When you walk in, the three tellers are straight back behind glass windows. On the left there are three counters - the first one is for opening an account and the other two are a mystery.
I went to the woman in the back who had helped me with online banking (everyone rotates around and works at all the desks). I explained that there was a mysterious three euro charge and I asked what it was. I have no idea what she said to me because most of her conversation was actually with the other teller (who opened my account). The woman then told me to go to one of the mystery middle counters and when it was my turn to ask that guy to come ask her what had to be done with my account.
I went over to the middle counters and gave the man my little account book (it's bigger than a checkbook and records all of my transactions). I asked him about the charge and told him that the woman sent me to him and told me to tell him to talk to her. Instead of doing this, he looked at the book and told me, "I'll just give you the three euros back."
So, he did. He put three euros in my account and sent me on my way. When I asked him what the charge was and what I could do to avoid it in the future, he didn't really answer my question but instead told me that this was all fixed.
I'm still not sure what the function of the middle counters is, nor do I understand where the charge came from and why it was that easy to get it back. No one seemed surprised that I was there asking about it nor were they bothered by it. All of this leads to me continue to question, how does anyone make money in this country??? (On a side note, I got more change than necessary at the post office today because the woman gave me a 5 cent piece instead of two 2-cent ones or four one-cent coins.....random).
Monday, January 12, 2009
Social Medicine at It’s Best
I’ve been sick the past few days. This weekend I thought I could beat it by spending two days inside sitting on the couch. I’ve been drinking lots of fluids and sleeping as much as I could, which hasn’t been much.
Friday I went to the pharmacy and got cough medicine. It was red and gross, but I took it anyway. I explained to the woman that my coughing was relatively dry and she recommended a standard cough medicine. It did nothing. I think my cold actually got worse over the weekend. I couldn’t sleep Saturday night, so Sunday I slept in the living room because I could be better propped up.
This morning (Monday), I decided to go to the doctor. I left the house a little before ten a.m. because I wasn’t sure if the public health center opened at nine or ten. When I got there, it became evident that it had been open for quite a while. I entered and took D00 from the red deli-counter number dispenser. They were on C72. I took a seat. There were only about 8 chairs, but most were unoccupied because the impatient Spanish insist on standing as close to the “wait behind this line” mark on the floor as possible. I must have looked like death while I was sitting there because people were giving me really strange looks. I was using a roll of toilet paper to sop up my nasal drip. I was also sitting in my Tufts sweatshirt with my scarf wrapped around the hood. These are not common sights for the little, old Spanish women shuffling around the waiting entranceway (it wasn’t a room).
After only 35 minutes of waiting my number appeared on the screen. I went up to the desk and handed the man my identity card. He typed in my information and went to go do some other paperwork. The people on either side of me (there isn’t much privacy here) were getting appointments for tomorrow morning. Here they are, standing in the medical center and they have to come back tomorrow. At this point I was resting my head on the counter while the man worked. I think he might have taken some pity on me because I got an appointment for 1:35 p.m.
So, I zipped up my coat, put my hood on my head, and put on my gloves and went back outside. It wasn’t that cold today, so I really looked like a freak. I went to the vegetable store and bought some stuff and then went to the grocery store (never taking my hood off) and bought some juice, chicken broth and chicken. Then I went home and made chicken soup with leeks, carrots, zucchini, celery, onion, celery leaves, and garlic.
At 1:20 p.m. I went back up to the health center. This time I walked straight in and went to office 15 where my appointment was. When the doctor showed up, ten minutes late, I was shown into a room where there was a hospital bed (small and against one wall) as well as a desk with a computer and two chairs. I took a chair and explained my symptoms. He looked at my ears and immediately told me I had an ear infection. Then he listened to my chest and said I had slight bronchitis. He gave me prescriptions which were on print-outs. They had a bar code on the paper and he fed it through his computer and printed it out.
I took them across the street to the pharmacy where the bar codes were scanned and my medicines given to me (in five minutes- CVS should take a lesson from this system). The best part: I got an antibiotic, cough syrup, ear drops and a thermometer for ten euros (less than $14). No insurance necessary. No doctor co-payment or money exchanged for my doctor visit.
Friday I went to the pharmacy and got cough medicine. It was red and gross, but I took it anyway. I explained to the woman that my coughing was relatively dry and she recommended a standard cough medicine. It did nothing. I think my cold actually got worse over the weekend. I couldn’t sleep Saturday night, so Sunday I slept in the living room because I could be better propped up.
This morning (Monday), I decided to go to the doctor. I left the house a little before ten a.m. because I wasn’t sure if the public health center opened at nine or ten. When I got there, it became evident that it had been open for quite a while. I entered and took D00 from the red deli-counter number dispenser. They were on C72. I took a seat. There were only about 8 chairs, but most were unoccupied because the impatient Spanish insist on standing as close to the “wait behind this line” mark on the floor as possible. I must have looked like death while I was sitting there because people were giving me really strange looks. I was using a roll of toilet paper to sop up my nasal drip. I was also sitting in my Tufts sweatshirt with my scarf wrapped around the hood. These are not common sights for the little, old Spanish women shuffling around the waiting entranceway (it wasn’t a room).
After only 35 minutes of waiting my number appeared on the screen. I went up to the desk and handed the man my identity card. He typed in my information and went to go do some other paperwork. The people on either side of me (there isn’t much privacy here) were getting appointments for tomorrow morning. Here they are, standing in the medical center and they have to come back tomorrow. At this point I was resting my head on the counter while the man worked. I think he might have taken some pity on me because I got an appointment for 1:35 p.m.
So, I zipped up my coat, put my hood on my head, and put on my gloves and went back outside. It wasn’t that cold today, so I really looked like a freak. I went to the vegetable store and bought some stuff and then went to the grocery store (never taking my hood off) and bought some juice, chicken broth and chicken. Then I went home and made chicken soup with leeks, carrots, zucchini, celery, onion, celery leaves, and garlic.
At 1:20 p.m. I went back up to the health center. This time I walked straight in and went to office 15 where my appointment was. When the doctor showed up, ten minutes late, I was shown into a room where there was a hospital bed (small and against one wall) as well as a desk with a computer and two chairs. I took a chair and explained my symptoms. He looked at my ears and immediately told me I had an ear infection. Then he listened to my chest and said I had slight bronchitis. He gave me prescriptions which were on print-outs. They had a bar code on the paper and he fed it through his computer and printed it out.
I took them across the street to the pharmacy where the bar codes were scanned and my medicines given to me (in five minutes- CVS should take a lesson from this system). The best part: I got an antibiotic, cough syrup, ear drops and a thermometer for ten euros (less than $14). No insurance necessary. No doctor co-payment or money exchanged for my doctor visit.
Our Journey Back to Spain
At two a.m. (Moroccan time, GMT) we boarded a train in Fes. It took us a while to find seats in the crowded cars, but finally some women took pity on me and let me share their bench and some other people moved over so Cecilia could sit down. We were only on this train for 90 minutes. At Sidi Kacem we changed to another train. This time, I rushed onto the train to try to get us better seats (or at least seats together). I got us a compartment where a man was laying on one of the (four person) benches. We took the other bench and were able to spread out a bit. We quickly passed out.
We arrived in Tangier at 7:30 a.m., where we took a taxi to the port. Once we arrived there, we bought tickets on the next ferry, which was going to Tarifa (we wanted to go to Algeciras). We didn’t realize the mess-up until we were boarding the boat. It didn’t much matter because on the other side of the strait we got on a free shuttle bus to Algeciras where we walked to the train station. (We knew we had more than enough time to get there.) The ferry only took half an hour, but Spain is an hour ahead of Morocco.
At 12:15 p.m. our train left Algeciras destined for Granada. We got there at five and took a city bus to the bus station, where I left Cecilia to go to the grocery store (it’s a block away) to get orange juice and cough drops. Our 6:30 p.m. bus got to Priego a little past eight, at which point we had been traveling for 17 hours.
One note on the Italy and Morocco entries: the photos which accompany them are not necessarily the best photos from my trip. Others can be found on facebook, or by visiting the following links:
Lugano (Switzerland), Como, Milan, Verona, Padua, and Venice
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2107411&l=08b62&id=1704499
Pisa, Tuscany, Florence, Sorrento, Capri, Pompeii:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2107415&l=29dbf&id=1704499
Rome
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2107440&l=a2262&id=1704499
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2107446&l=7b5b8&id=1704499
Marrakech:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2107322&l=37257&id=1704499
Marrakech and Fes:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2107508&l=8e2ea&id=1704499
We arrived in Tangier at 7:30 a.m., where we took a taxi to the port. Once we arrived there, we bought tickets on the next ferry, which was going to Tarifa (we wanted to go to Algeciras). We didn’t realize the mess-up until we were boarding the boat. It didn’t much matter because on the other side of the strait we got on a free shuttle bus to Algeciras where we walked to the train station. (We knew we had more than enough time to get there.) The ferry only took half an hour, but Spain is an hour ahead of Morocco.
At 12:15 p.m. our train left Algeciras destined for Granada. We got there at five and took a city bus to the bus station, where I left Cecilia to go to the grocery store (it’s a block away) to get orange juice and cough drops. Our 6:30 p.m. bus got to Priego a little past eight, at which point we had been traveling for 17 hours.
One note on the Italy and Morocco entries: the photos which accompany them are not necessarily the best photos from my trip. Others can be found on facebook, or by visiting the following links:
Lugano (Switzerland), Como, Milan, Verona, Padua, and Venice
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2107411&l=08b62&id=1704499
Pisa, Tuscany, Florence, Sorrento, Capri, Pompeii:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2107415&l=29dbf&id=1704499
Rome
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2107440&l=a2262&id=1704499
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2107446&l=7b5b8&id=1704499
Marrakech:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2107322&l=37257&id=1704499
Marrakech and Fes:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2107508&l=8e2ea&id=1704499
Morocco: Fes
We took the train from Marrakech to Fes, which was the most comfortable way to travel between the two cities. The French recently redid the train lines or train cars or something like that. The station in Marrakech was new with clean bathrooms that actually had toilet paper and soap! On our seven-hour train ride we passed green hills, with the Middle-Atlas Mountains in the background. Straight lines of cacti had been planted to mark property lines, forming a natural fencing system. We rode through Casablanca and Rabat, both of which appeared to be large cities. In Fes, it took us some time to find the hostel, which was on my lonely planet map. Fewer people spoke English and we had to rely on my shaky French to get us through the Ville Nouvelle. Here, the “new city” was much more rundown than its counterpart in Marrakech. Taxi drivers also hassled us trying to give us rides.
The woman at our hostel told us not to go to the medina at night because there weren’t many restaurants to get dinner and we would get hassled a lot more than if we stayed in the Ville Nouvelle. We took her advice and went out in search of dinner. We each had chicken kebabs which were served with a veggie rice (with tomato, corn, and pepper). We also split a salad. This was not just any ordinary salad. It was pretty amazing. The ingredients were arranged in little piles on a bed of lettuce. It contained: cabbage, beets, tomatoes, cucumber, carrots, tuna, hardboiled eggs, and potatoes. Some of the veggies had come out of a can and there was some mayonnaise on top of the salad, but after a day on a train eating nothing but carbs, this was delicious.
The next morning we brought our bags to the bus station (the only place in town to lock them up) and got some crepes there before heading into the medina. The medina of Fes is the largest living medieval city in the world; it’s so big that it’s divided into old old Fes and new old Fes (the Mellah, Jewish section). We had been warned to stick to the main roads and pathways.
While wandering through Fes's streets, I couldn't help but take a photograph of these mannequins, which, to me, are a testament to globalization. No one in Morocco has blond hair like this. It almost sickened me to see that they see blond hair and light eyes as "beauty" or "ideal." Unfortunately, I couldn't talk to any Moroccans on this subject.
First we set off for the Mellah, where we visited the Ibn Danan Synagogue, which is no longer in use. Inside, we were allowed to take photographs and visit the women’s gallery upstairs. It was weird to me to see a synagogue in Moroccan style, with similar carvings and tile work to the palaces we had visited in Marrakech. Probably the most striking thing was that the bema and the ark were across from each other, as they had been in the synagogues I had visited in Venice, but not at all common in synagogue architecture.
We went up to the roof of the synagogue to get a view of the neighboring Jewish cemetery, which was the next destination on our tour of Fes. Many of the graves were unmarked, but some were as recent as 2004. There was a section for Rabbis and one very ornate tomb for a 17-year-old girl, born in Tangier, who was killed because she refused to convert to Islam. Now, 150 remaining Jewish families in Fes live and pray in the Ville Nouvelle. The synagogue, which did have a torah in the ark, is only used for special occasions.
Leaving the Mellah, we walked through some souks (most of the Fes was a gigantic marketplace) to get to the Muslim part of the medina. On our way to the medrasas, we took a detour to visit the tanneries. Fes is famous for its leather industry. We went inside a store, then up to the fourth story to look down into the leather tanning and curing area where teams of men bathed the animal hides in acid washes and natural dyes before hanging them to dry. Because we were so high up, we (thankfully) could not smell the hides.
We found a medrasa we had wanted to visit, but it was closed for restoration. Instead we went in search of lunch. We found a bunch of little hole-in-the-wall places, which were literally holes-in-the-wall. Many of them were so small that they could only fit a two-person table inside. They were designed to sell quick meals to workers in the area. We finally found one that had space inside (it was much larger and even had a “bathroom”). We ordered eggplant in tomato sauce and fried fish. We were served our meals and bread, but were not given silverware. When we looked around, we noticed that people were using their hands or bread to eat. So we rolled up our sleeves (slathered on some Purel) and dug in. The fish was spicy, but well seasoned. It was a challenge to pull bones out of the fish, but it was really delicious anyway. The spicy eggplant tasted good on top of the bread and the meal was really satisfying, especially because it only cost $2 each.
After lunch we went in search of more medresas, entering two. At the Seffarine Medersa, which was built in 1270, we took a “tour.” Men in Fes work as unofficial “tour guides” offering their services outside all tourist attractions. The man at the Seffarine Medersa wouldn’t let us enter without paying him (the equivalent of $1), and then he took us around telling us about the building. The problem was that he spoke no English and Cecilia doesn’t speak French. Luckily, some French guys were on our “tour” also, because they were much better at translating than I was. We went up to the roof of the medersa and looked its minaret as well as those of neighboring mosques. As we were exiting, two boys were leaving their room (the medersa is still in use). They asked (in French) where we were from and I told them that Cecilia and I were American while the boys were French. The Moroccan boys’ eyes lit up: “Americans! Welcome to Morocco!” They completely ignored the French boys. As we were going down to exit the mosque, one of the French boys looked at me and said, “It may be a religious school, but they’re still boys.”
The other medersa we visited was the Bou Inania Medersa. Inside this medersa, we were able to see the prayer room which is still in use. This was interesting because in the other medersas we were either allowed to enter the prayer room if is no longer in use, or we could not enter the room at all. Here, we could not enter the room, but we had a clear view of it and could even take pictures of the mihrab.
This is that prayer room.
Next we climbed a hill to see Fes from above. The medina was enormous: neither of us could fit it into one photo. Afterwards, we walked around the souks shopping and taking some pictures. It was raining so I wasn’t able to take that many photos. We also stopped to have a cup of tea, one of five that day (my throat was hurting, so tea was a good thing). Finding bathrooms in Fes was challenging. Well, ok, holes in the floor were not that hard to find, western toilets were impossible. We used the bathroom at the bus station a few times. Moroccan women must have amazing thighs because they squat over those things several times a day. Toilet paper was completely m.i.a., we had to buy tissue packs from kids selling them on street corners. Forget soap; Purel saved us in this need.
In Fes we saw many more women out than we had seen in Marrakech. We even saw women at nighttime in the bus station, where we had to hang out waiting for our train to leave. (Our train left at 2 a.m., we didn’t wait at the train station because there were no shops or food stalls there and it was pretty disserted in the afternoon when we had arrived.) There were also fewer tourists in Fes. We met some at the medersas and at the synagogue, but it wasn’t like Marrakech where everyone had a digital SLR out and walked around snapping away. Fes was rougher and more of a hassle, we had to rely more on my awful French, men talked to us as we passed them on the streets, and we had to sit in the bus station for five hours because it was a safe place to wait. Even so, I’m really glad we went.
The woman at our hostel told us not to go to the medina at night because there weren’t many restaurants to get dinner and we would get hassled a lot more than if we stayed in the Ville Nouvelle. We took her advice and went out in search of dinner. We each had chicken kebabs which were served with a veggie rice (with tomato, corn, and pepper). We also split a salad. This was not just any ordinary salad. It was pretty amazing. The ingredients were arranged in little piles on a bed of lettuce. It contained: cabbage, beets, tomatoes, cucumber, carrots, tuna, hardboiled eggs, and potatoes. Some of the veggies had come out of a can and there was some mayonnaise on top of the salad, but after a day on a train eating nothing but carbs, this was delicious.
The next morning we brought our bags to the bus station (the only place in town to lock them up) and got some crepes there before heading into the medina. The medina of Fes is the largest living medieval city in the world; it’s so big that it’s divided into old old Fes and new old Fes (the Mellah, Jewish section). We had been warned to stick to the main roads and pathways.
While wandering through Fes's streets, I couldn't help but take a photograph of these mannequins, which, to me, are a testament to globalization. No one in Morocco has blond hair like this. It almost sickened me to see that they see blond hair and light eyes as "beauty" or "ideal." Unfortunately, I couldn't talk to any Moroccans on this subject.
First we set off for the Mellah, where we visited the Ibn Danan Synagogue, which is no longer in use. Inside, we were allowed to take photographs and visit the women’s gallery upstairs. It was weird to me to see a synagogue in Moroccan style, with similar carvings and tile work to the palaces we had visited in Marrakech. Probably the most striking thing was that the bema and the ark were across from each other, as they had been in the synagogues I had visited in Venice, but not at all common in synagogue architecture.
We went up to the roof of the synagogue to get a view of the neighboring Jewish cemetery, which was the next destination on our tour of Fes. Many of the graves were unmarked, but some were as recent as 2004. There was a section for Rabbis and one very ornate tomb for a 17-year-old girl, born in Tangier, who was killed because she refused to convert to Islam. Now, 150 remaining Jewish families in Fes live and pray in the Ville Nouvelle. The synagogue, which did have a torah in the ark, is only used for special occasions.
Leaving the Mellah, we walked through some souks (most of the Fes was a gigantic marketplace) to get to the Muslim part of the medina. On our way to the medrasas, we took a detour to visit the tanneries. Fes is famous for its leather industry. We went inside a store, then up to the fourth story to look down into the leather tanning and curing area where teams of men bathed the animal hides in acid washes and natural dyes before hanging them to dry. Because we were so high up, we (thankfully) could not smell the hides.
We found a medrasa we had wanted to visit, but it was closed for restoration. Instead we went in search of lunch. We found a bunch of little hole-in-the-wall places, which were literally holes-in-the-wall. Many of them were so small that they could only fit a two-person table inside. They were designed to sell quick meals to workers in the area. We finally found one that had space inside (it was much larger and even had a “bathroom”). We ordered eggplant in tomato sauce and fried fish. We were served our meals and bread, but were not given silverware. When we looked around, we noticed that people were using their hands or bread to eat. So we rolled up our sleeves (slathered on some Purel) and dug in. The fish was spicy, but well seasoned. It was a challenge to pull bones out of the fish, but it was really delicious anyway. The spicy eggplant tasted good on top of the bread and the meal was really satisfying, especially because it only cost $2 each.
After lunch we went in search of more medresas, entering two. At the Seffarine Medersa, which was built in 1270, we took a “tour.” Men in Fes work as unofficial “tour guides” offering their services outside all tourist attractions. The man at the Seffarine Medersa wouldn’t let us enter without paying him (the equivalent of $1), and then he took us around telling us about the building. The problem was that he spoke no English and Cecilia doesn’t speak French. Luckily, some French guys were on our “tour” also, because they were much better at translating than I was. We went up to the roof of the medersa and looked its minaret as well as those of neighboring mosques. As we were exiting, two boys were leaving their room (the medersa is still in use). They asked (in French) where we were from and I told them that Cecilia and I were American while the boys were French. The Moroccan boys’ eyes lit up: “Americans! Welcome to Morocco!” They completely ignored the French boys. As we were going down to exit the mosque, one of the French boys looked at me and said, “It may be a religious school, but they’re still boys.”
The other medersa we visited was the Bou Inania Medersa. Inside this medersa, we were able to see the prayer room which is still in use. This was interesting because in the other medersas we were either allowed to enter the prayer room if is no longer in use, or we could not enter the room at all. Here, we could not enter the room, but we had a clear view of it and could even take pictures of the mihrab.
This is that prayer room.
Next we climbed a hill to see Fes from above. The medina was enormous: neither of us could fit it into one photo. Afterwards, we walked around the souks shopping and taking some pictures. It was raining so I wasn’t able to take that many photos. We also stopped to have a cup of tea, one of five that day (my throat was hurting, so tea was a good thing). Finding bathrooms in Fes was challenging. Well, ok, holes in the floor were not that hard to find, western toilets were impossible. We used the bathroom at the bus station a few times. Moroccan women must have amazing thighs because they squat over those things several times a day. Toilet paper was completely m.i.a., we had to buy tissue packs from kids selling them on street corners. Forget soap; Purel saved us in this need.
In Fes we saw many more women out than we had seen in Marrakech. We even saw women at nighttime in the bus station, where we had to hang out waiting for our train to leave. (Our train left at 2 a.m., we didn’t wait at the train station because there were no shops or food stalls there and it was pretty disserted in the afternoon when we had arrived.) There were also fewer tourists in Fes. We met some at the medersas and at the synagogue, but it wasn’t like Marrakech where everyone had a digital SLR out and walked around snapping away. Fes was rougher and more of a hassle, we had to rely more on my awful French, men talked to us as we passed them on the streets, and we had to sit in the bus station for five hours because it was a safe place to wait. Even so, I’m really glad we went.
Morocco: Marrakech
Leaving my mother on a shuttle bus at the airport in Rome (she was heading for the Delta/intercontinental terminal; I was heading for European departures), I boarded a flight to Barcelona where I left the EU for the first time since September. The guy who gave me my exit stamp didn’t even look at my passport. If he has looked, it would have told him that I had overstayed a tourist visa (I have a residency permit, but he never asked to see it). In Europe, they’re a little more lax than Homeland Security.
Immigration in Morocco was also interesting. Instead of handing out forms on the plane, we were welcomed into a large room with two ledges to use as desks while we filled out the entrance cards.
Arriving in Marrakech I was amazed by the chaos of Djemma el-Fna, the main square in the Medina, medieval walled section of the city. The square was huge and did not have a curb to keep cars and motorcycles out of it. As we approached (on foot and accompanied by the hostel manager) we couldn’t really see buildings, just swells of people. We wove our way to our hostel, passing through the souks (the word for “market” in Arabic). The narrow “streets” are filled with stores, some behind counters, some large enough to enter, and others are just carts on along the sides.
We dumped our stuff and decided to go out and find food because neither Cecilia nor I had eaten much all day. We went back out to Djemma el-Fna and walked around the food stalls. There were carts selling dried fruits and nuts, other selling fresh juice (orange, grapefruit and tangerine), and other stalls serving full-out meals. We looked at some menus before deciding on a place to eat. For dinner, we split chicken tajine – a stew of chicken, vegetables and Moroccan spices which is traditionally cooked in a pan with a pyramid-shaped top. It was good, but it didn’t have as much flavor as I expected it to have. We also had really good bread (everywhere we ate in Marrakech), which was soft and we dipped it in two different sauces: one spicy and the other a tomato sauce. In addition to our tajine, we had some chicken and some veggie kebabs and a plate of sautéed eggplant (which I ate at every meal in Marrakech). The eggplant was amazing! It was exactly the kind I had eaten all over Israel: it’s oily and bad for me, but so yummy. For dessert, we had fresh-squeezed grapefruit juice.
The next morning, we woke up and went to the Djemma el-Fna in search of breakfast. We found a place to eat “crepes.” Much thicker than the French version, these were square of dough, cooked on a griddle, slathered with honey and folded in half. We ate one each morning, accompanied by a cup of Moroccan mint tea, which is made by brewing tea leaves with sugar, then adding fresh mint to the clear, handle-less glass. In Marrakech, glasses were about 6-8oz, whereas in Fes, they were larger.
We went to two palaces in the Kasbah section of the medina. Kasbah refers to a fortified section of a city or a fortress. The first palace was the Palais Bidi, it had huge walls with storks living on top of them. The palace was in ruins, but we could get a feel for the rooms and the gardens which must have been really nice in their time. I had never heard storks, but these made a lot of noise: a clicking sound, which could be heard throughout the open-air palace.
Our second palace was Palais Bahía, a more recent palace, opulently decorated with tiles, plaster and wood-carved ceilings. No two rooms were decorated in the same manner because everything was done by hand. This palace had many rooms which opened onto courtyards. Every surface was covered with some kind of decoration. We wandered around the palace looking at the designs which were intricate and colorful.
Next, we walked through the medina (called the old city) trying to get to some other palaces and tourist sites. It takes a while to get through the medina because the streets are really narrow and you have to dodge people, donkeys, horses, motorcycles and the occasional car which thinks it can make it through the streets. We also stopped to look at other souks, one of which was full of spices arranged in brightly-colored cones.
We went to the Mnebhi Palace, where the Marrakech museum is housed. This building was decorated in the same style and from the same era as the Palais Bahía. The biggest difference was that in the middle of its largest courtyard it had a huge metal light fixture dangling from the ceiling. When I say huge, the thing was probably about 20 feet in diameter. The actual museum was small, but had an interesting collection of fibula, old broaches, and pottery.
In the same section of Marrakech, we visited the Medersa Ibn Ben Youseff, a 14th century school. This was a boarding school where students were sent to learn the Qur’an. The building, while in the center of the noisy, chaotic medina, was peaceful and quiet inside. It was like a whole different world.
For lunch, we dined on more eggplant and roasted peppers. After lunch, we headed to the Ville Nouvelle, the newer part of the city. Because it was more recently planned, streets in the Ville Nouvelle were wider allowing cars and buses to pass. The buildings were red stucco and low (as not sky scrapers), we also saw McDonalds, KFC, Zara and Max Mara. Clearly, international influence had reached the new part of Marrakech.
Back in the medina, we walked around the Koutoubia mosque. Its minaret can be seen for miles because it’s the tallest in Marrakech. After that, we wandered around the souks shopping for souvenirs and gifts. Then we went to a café above the Djemma el-Fna to get a bird’s eye view. Up there, I bumped into a friend and fellow traveler whom I had met in Argentina. I was completely shocked to walk onto this balcony and here my name (especially as it was pronounced in American English). He was traveling for a week in Morocco with a friend.
That night for dinner, Cecilia and I had pepper kebabs and I had more eggplant. As a pre-dinner appetizer, I had some steamed snails which were popular and sold at the snail food stalls. I was given a small bowl with the creatures (still in their shells) and some broth. To extract the animals, I used a toothpick. They tasted pretty good, almost like mussels. I don’t know the next time I’ll eat another snail, but they weren’t as disgusting as I thought they might be.
We really liked Marrakech because we stayed inside the medina, where it was crazy/chaotic, but it had a good energy and it was fun. I also felt safe walking around with my camera out. People didn’t hassle us too much; yes, they tried to get us to buy their products or eat at their food stall, but they didn’t go above and beyond to try to talk to us. We also were able to eat really well for relatively little money. For dinner we spent about $4 each, juices were $1, my snails $0.60.
Immigration in Morocco was also interesting. Instead of handing out forms on the plane, we were welcomed into a large room with two ledges to use as desks while we filled out the entrance cards.
Arriving in Marrakech I was amazed by the chaos of Djemma el-Fna, the main square in the Medina, medieval walled section of the city. The square was huge and did not have a curb to keep cars and motorcycles out of it. As we approached (on foot and accompanied by the hostel manager) we couldn’t really see buildings, just swells of people. We wove our way to our hostel, passing through the souks (the word for “market” in Arabic). The narrow “streets” are filled with stores, some behind counters, some large enough to enter, and others are just carts on along the sides.
We dumped our stuff and decided to go out and find food because neither Cecilia nor I had eaten much all day. We went back out to Djemma el-Fna and walked around the food stalls. There were carts selling dried fruits and nuts, other selling fresh juice (orange, grapefruit and tangerine), and other stalls serving full-out meals. We looked at some menus before deciding on a place to eat. For dinner, we split chicken tajine – a stew of chicken, vegetables and Moroccan spices which is traditionally cooked in a pan with a pyramid-shaped top. It was good, but it didn’t have as much flavor as I expected it to have. We also had really good bread (everywhere we ate in Marrakech), which was soft and we dipped it in two different sauces: one spicy and the other a tomato sauce. In addition to our tajine, we had some chicken and some veggie kebabs and a plate of sautéed eggplant (which I ate at every meal in Marrakech). The eggplant was amazing! It was exactly the kind I had eaten all over Israel: it’s oily and bad for me, but so yummy. For dessert, we had fresh-squeezed grapefruit juice.
The next morning, we woke up and went to the Djemma el-Fna in search of breakfast. We found a place to eat “crepes.” Much thicker than the French version, these were square of dough, cooked on a griddle, slathered with honey and folded in half. We ate one each morning, accompanied by a cup of Moroccan mint tea, which is made by brewing tea leaves with sugar, then adding fresh mint to the clear, handle-less glass. In Marrakech, glasses were about 6-8oz, whereas in Fes, they were larger.
We went to two palaces in the Kasbah section of the medina. Kasbah refers to a fortified section of a city or a fortress. The first palace was the Palais Bidi, it had huge walls with storks living on top of them. The palace was in ruins, but we could get a feel for the rooms and the gardens which must have been really nice in their time. I had never heard storks, but these made a lot of noise: a clicking sound, which could be heard throughout the open-air palace.
Our second palace was Palais Bahía, a more recent palace, opulently decorated with tiles, plaster and wood-carved ceilings. No two rooms were decorated in the same manner because everything was done by hand. This palace had many rooms which opened onto courtyards. Every surface was covered with some kind of decoration. We wandered around the palace looking at the designs which were intricate and colorful.
Next, we walked through the medina (called the old city) trying to get to some other palaces and tourist sites. It takes a while to get through the medina because the streets are really narrow and you have to dodge people, donkeys, horses, motorcycles and the occasional car which thinks it can make it through the streets. We also stopped to look at other souks, one of which was full of spices arranged in brightly-colored cones.
We went to the Mnebhi Palace, where the Marrakech museum is housed. This building was decorated in the same style and from the same era as the Palais Bahía. The biggest difference was that in the middle of its largest courtyard it had a huge metal light fixture dangling from the ceiling. When I say huge, the thing was probably about 20 feet in diameter. The actual museum was small, but had an interesting collection of fibula, old broaches, and pottery.
In the same section of Marrakech, we visited the Medersa Ibn Ben Youseff, a 14th century school. This was a boarding school where students were sent to learn the Qur’an. The building, while in the center of the noisy, chaotic medina, was peaceful and quiet inside. It was like a whole different world.
For lunch, we dined on more eggplant and roasted peppers. After lunch, we headed to the Ville Nouvelle, the newer part of the city. Because it was more recently planned, streets in the Ville Nouvelle were wider allowing cars and buses to pass. The buildings were red stucco and low (as not sky scrapers), we also saw McDonalds, KFC, Zara and Max Mara. Clearly, international influence had reached the new part of Marrakech.
Back in the medina, we walked around the Koutoubia mosque. Its minaret can be seen for miles because it’s the tallest in Marrakech. After that, we wandered around the souks shopping for souvenirs and gifts. Then we went to a café above the Djemma el-Fna to get a bird’s eye view. Up there, I bumped into a friend and fellow traveler whom I had met in Argentina. I was completely shocked to walk onto this balcony and here my name (especially as it was pronounced in American English). He was traveling for a week in Morocco with a friend.
That night for dinner, Cecilia and I had pepper kebabs and I had more eggplant. As a pre-dinner appetizer, I had some steamed snails which were popular and sold at the snail food stalls. I was given a small bowl with the creatures (still in their shells) and some broth. To extract the animals, I used a toothpick. They tasted pretty good, almost like mussels. I don’t know the next time I’ll eat another snail, but they weren’t as disgusting as I thought they might be.
We really liked Marrakech because we stayed inside the medina, where it was crazy/chaotic, but it had a good energy and it was fun. I also felt safe walking around with my camera out. People didn’t hassle us too much; yes, they tried to get us to buy their products or eat at their food stall, but they didn’t go above and beyond to try to talk to us. We also were able to eat really well for relatively little money. For dinner we spent about $4 each, juices were $1, my snails $0.60.
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