It is newly October, which means it is fall, which means I am missing Seattle. While I can’t say I am entirely ungrateful for the gift of a prolonged summer, when October hit, I feel some sadness to be away from the Northwest as it enters one of its most glorious times of year. My dear ones in Seattle, say hi for me, tell the slanting light and the turning leaves I will see them next year.
I am, however, excited to see how the seasons change here, and how they feel.
October also means it has been officially over a month since I’ve been here, already one quarter done. I am starting to be in that place where I can’t tell if it feels more like I’ve been here forever or barely at all. Just last week it felt more that I had just arrived, and now it feels like that is shifting. Seattle is feeling very far away, distance and time wise, but here, I still feel like a newborn. Very much between worlds, and hovering somewhere in time, slightly ungrounded. I am missing Seattle very much. And am learning how much I appreciate it, the place and the people, and meanwhile learning to appreciate new things.
This post will be some more catching up, and some new things too.
The trip to Bouznika was already three weekends ago. It feels a bit irrelevant now because it was so long ago.
But some silly things happened that have been crucial to my Morocco experience thus far.
Bouznika was my first trip independent of the structures and schedule of my program. Quickly I learned that this, traveling with the element of uncertainty, is the best way to get acquainted with a new place. Also I learned these (or if I knew them already, I was reminded): to trust that things will work out and that I will not die in the taxi ride over and will find a place to sleep; to have patience with the slowness and the waiting; to expect uncertainty and surprise (good and bad); and to not leave my shoes unattended.
The journey began with jumping into a Grand Taxi and telling the driver to take us to BOUZNIKA. [There is an important distinction between taxis in Morocco. Petit taxis are the reliable kind; they are required to have meters, the drivers don’t (typically) try to rip you off, there are three seats they will only allow three passengers, and they are not allowed to go beyond city limits. Grand taxis on the other hand are old, beat up Mercedes that squeeze 6 people into 4 seats, drive like maniacs (for instance, straddling a double solid yellow line for an extended period of time, or driving entirely on the other side of the road), and have no boundaries as to where they can take you.]
Lucky for us, my friend’s host mom connected us with a driver she knew, so we all felt we were generally in good hands. This man was very sweet and went above and beyond his call of duty and even helped us (myself and 5 others) locate our friends who we were meeting there. Still, it was one of the most life threatening car rides of my short life.
Bouznika is a charming little beach town about half an hour south of Rabat.
We ended up renting a condo (with a kitchen, 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and a BALCONY) for the night in a resort/complex right on the beach, it came out to be about 200 American dollars, split between 6 people. We paid in cash to the security guard, no need for identification. Alright. It was around this moment when the T.I.M. feeling began to officially set in. This Is Morocco. A slightly ridiculous but also often apt way to describe how absurd and wonderful this place feels. (I say ridiculous because “TI__” is a somewhat trendy phrase used for any country westerners travel to that is outside the west and poses a challenge to the comforts of home. Still, sometimes it fits.)
Highlights of the trip: swimming (naked) in the Atlantic for the first time, soaking in the African sun, dancing, and in general letting loose in a country where that is sometimes hard to do. Hshuma Hshuma.
Fast forward a week, I am in the Sahara. A fantastic weekend – pure fun. A definite highlight of my time so far. A 10 HOUR bus ride from the north of Morocco to the south, through mountains, forests, monkey land (macaques!!!!!) and into the desert we went.
I’ve always been someone deeply drawn to mountains, water, lush old growth, places where life teems and you can feel it surrounding you, inhaling and exhaling. I wasn’t expecting to be as enamored with the desert as I was. It has its own, very distinct mystery and beauty about it. I fell in love with the vastness, the emptiness, the way you can see the wind changing the colossal yet transient dunes right before your eyes. How you know that sand could swallow you up and leave no trace. The brightest stars I have ever seen, and the biggest sky. The way the sand ripples like water when it falls. I could sink my feet in that velvet sand for days.
And of course, the camels.
This past weekend was the first I have spent in Rabat. Staying a little more still, getting to know the city better, and getting some sleep, finally.
Also, it was Rosh Hashana. Grace (roommate) and I ate like queens all weekend. We also went to services, and I experienced an orthodox synagogue for the first time. It was a strange blend of fascinating/angering/saddening. Why? All the women, myself included of course, were behind a curtain and a physical divide, in a small corridor like space in the back of the temple. This room was plain and undecorated, in contrast to the main room, the men’s room. In the main room, the reader reads and chants (facing away from the women, so it is often hard even to hear), the Torah is housed and can be interacted with/touched. These women have never had Bat Mitzvahs, meaning they can not be in contact with the Torah, cannot formally study Torah, and technically are not considered full fledged members of the religious community with all the privileges and responsibilities and status that accompany that. They seem to be so removed from their faith and relegated to be spectators rather than active participants. It was astonishing. Everything was in place to enforce women’s roles and lesser status.
The curtains were made of lace, and when you got very close, you could see into the other room, through the little holes. The result of this was being able to see what was going on in the main room, and also an unmistakable feeling that you were a child spying on grown ups. The stereotypical gossip and chatter between the women was also there, and it made total sense. Really, what else were they supposed to do?
I’ve always had major issues with Judaism and religion but this really affected me, more than I expected it would. And though I have never connected with the tenets of organized religions, going to synagogue has always been a comfortable (and comforting), positive, good experience. I’ve felt loved and embraced in the Jewish community, never marginalized or distanced or a bystander.
It was eye opening. Don’t think I ever need to do it again.
Anywho...
I have some big adventures are in store in the next several weeks!! A quick preview:
1. Tomorrow my program is taking us to a rural village in the Middle Atlas Mountains. I’ll be staying with a family, hiking, chillin’ with some more monkeys, and using a squat toilet. Pictures to come!
2. The following weekend, myself and 5 friends are embarking to climb the largest mountain in North Africa. I am PUMPED. It is called Toubkal and it is beautiful. Look it up.
3. Two weekends after that, my program is headed to the south of Spain (Granada, Cordoba). Strolling the streets and drinking sangria.
4. And after that, for fall break…..Malta and Portugal! I just booked my tickets and am totally ecstatic and overflowing with excitement about this.
In addition to all these exciting things and the anticipation of new journeys to be had, things in general have been really good this past week or so. Just in the past couple days I’ve begun to feel noticeably more grounded, happier, and more relaxed – with the city, with friends, with my homestay (I have come to feel very close to my host mom and my roommate), and with myself existing in this new place. The latter I have felt strongly in the last couple of days.
When I move to a new place, I almost always notice this phenomenon: I lose myself, partly, or lose track of myself. Subtly, so only I notice. And have to find myself again.
See, I plant parts of myself in the soil and in the trees and in faces. Bits of me are scattered in Davis, in Seattle, in these places. And leaving makes me feel, for a time, hollow, and I become temporarily a stranger, because I think that I’ve left pieces of myself behind. And then, at the whim of some unannounced moment, I remember that I haven’t left these parts behind, I have taken it all with me – all the places I’ve been and the people I meet, and the parts of my heart in all of them. It's something I always have to relearn, but with each time, I feel I know it more fully.
Something I didn't talk about was my internship. Not much to say other than it is going really well, the girls are sweethearts and eager to learn, and teaching is hard.
Also, you probably noticed no pictures this post. It is bed time and I still haven't packed for the mountains, so I will be sure to upload Sahara pictures when I get back.
love love love you all.
xoxo
sonya.
I am, however, excited to see how the seasons change here, and how they feel.
October also means it has been officially over a month since I’ve been here, already one quarter done. I am starting to be in that place where I can’t tell if it feels more like I’ve been here forever or barely at all. Just last week it felt more that I had just arrived, and now it feels like that is shifting. Seattle is feeling very far away, distance and time wise, but here, I still feel like a newborn. Very much between worlds, and hovering somewhere in time, slightly ungrounded. I am missing Seattle very much. And am learning how much I appreciate it, the place and the people, and meanwhile learning to appreciate new things.
This post will be some more catching up, and some new things too.
The trip to Bouznika was already three weekends ago. It feels a bit irrelevant now because it was so long ago.
But some silly things happened that have been crucial to my Morocco experience thus far.
Bouznika was my first trip independent of the structures and schedule of my program. Quickly I learned that this, traveling with the element of uncertainty, is the best way to get acquainted with a new place. Also I learned these (or if I knew them already, I was reminded): to trust that things will work out and that I will not die in the taxi ride over and will find a place to sleep; to have patience with the slowness and the waiting; to expect uncertainty and surprise (good and bad); and to not leave my shoes unattended.
The journey began with jumping into a Grand Taxi and telling the driver to take us to BOUZNIKA. [There is an important distinction between taxis in Morocco. Petit taxis are the reliable kind; they are required to have meters, the drivers don’t (typically) try to rip you off, there are three seats they will only allow three passengers, and they are not allowed to go beyond city limits. Grand taxis on the other hand are old, beat up Mercedes that squeeze 6 people into 4 seats, drive like maniacs (for instance, straddling a double solid yellow line for an extended period of time, or driving entirely on the other side of the road), and have no boundaries as to where they can take you.]
Lucky for us, my friend’s host mom connected us with a driver she knew, so we all felt we were generally in good hands. This man was very sweet and went above and beyond his call of duty and even helped us (myself and 5 others) locate our friends who we were meeting there. Still, it was one of the most life threatening car rides of my short life.
Bouznika is a charming little beach town about half an hour south of Rabat.
We ended up renting a condo (with a kitchen, 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and a BALCONY) for the night in a resort/complex right on the beach, it came out to be about 200 American dollars, split between 6 people. We paid in cash to the security guard, no need for identification. Alright. It was around this moment when the T.I.M. feeling began to officially set in. This Is Morocco. A slightly ridiculous but also often apt way to describe how absurd and wonderful this place feels. (I say ridiculous because “TI__” is a somewhat trendy phrase used for any country westerners travel to that is outside the west and poses a challenge to the comforts of home. Still, sometimes it fits.)
Highlights of the trip: swimming (naked) in the Atlantic for the first time, soaking in the African sun, dancing, and in general letting loose in a country where that is sometimes hard to do. Hshuma Hshuma.
Fast forward a week, I am in the Sahara. A fantastic weekend – pure fun. A definite highlight of my time so far. A 10 HOUR bus ride from the north of Morocco to the south, through mountains, forests, monkey land (macaques!!!!!) and into the desert we went.
I’ve always been someone deeply drawn to mountains, water, lush old growth, places where life teems and you can feel it surrounding you, inhaling and exhaling. I wasn’t expecting to be as enamored with the desert as I was. It has its own, very distinct mystery and beauty about it. I fell in love with the vastness, the emptiness, the way you can see the wind changing the colossal yet transient dunes right before your eyes. How you know that sand could swallow you up and leave no trace. The brightest stars I have ever seen, and the biggest sky. The way the sand ripples like water when it falls. I could sink my feet in that velvet sand for days.
And of course, the camels.
This past weekend was the first I have spent in Rabat. Staying a little more still, getting to know the city better, and getting some sleep, finally.
Also, it was Rosh Hashana. Grace (roommate) and I ate like queens all weekend. We also went to services, and I experienced an orthodox synagogue for the first time. It was a strange blend of fascinating/angering/saddening. Why? All the women, myself included of course, were behind a curtain and a physical divide, in a small corridor like space in the back of the temple. This room was plain and undecorated, in contrast to the main room, the men’s room. In the main room, the reader reads and chants (facing away from the women, so it is often hard even to hear), the Torah is housed and can be interacted with/touched. These women have never had Bat Mitzvahs, meaning they can not be in contact with the Torah, cannot formally study Torah, and technically are not considered full fledged members of the religious community with all the privileges and responsibilities and status that accompany that. They seem to be so removed from their faith and relegated to be spectators rather than active participants. It was astonishing. Everything was in place to enforce women’s roles and lesser status.
The curtains were made of lace, and when you got very close, you could see into the other room, through the little holes. The result of this was being able to see what was going on in the main room, and also an unmistakable feeling that you were a child spying on grown ups. The stereotypical gossip and chatter between the women was also there, and it made total sense. Really, what else were they supposed to do?
I’ve always had major issues with Judaism and religion but this really affected me, more than I expected it would. And though I have never connected with the tenets of organized religions, going to synagogue has always been a comfortable (and comforting), positive, good experience. I’ve felt loved and embraced in the Jewish community, never marginalized or distanced or a bystander.
It was eye opening. Don’t think I ever need to do it again.
Anywho...
I have some big adventures are in store in the next several weeks!! A quick preview:
1. Tomorrow my program is taking us to a rural village in the Middle Atlas Mountains. I’ll be staying with a family, hiking, chillin’ with some more monkeys, and using a squat toilet. Pictures to come!
2. The following weekend, myself and 5 friends are embarking to climb the largest mountain in North Africa. I am PUMPED. It is called Toubkal and it is beautiful. Look it up.
3. Two weekends after that, my program is headed to the south of Spain (Granada, Cordoba). Strolling the streets and drinking sangria.
4. And after that, for fall break…..Malta and Portugal! I just booked my tickets and am totally ecstatic and overflowing with excitement about this.
In addition to all these exciting things and the anticipation of new journeys to be had, things in general have been really good this past week or so. Just in the past couple days I’ve begun to feel noticeably more grounded, happier, and more relaxed – with the city, with friends, with my homestay (I have come to feel very close to my host mom and my roommate), and with myself existing in this new place. The latter I have felt strongly in the last couple of days.
When I move to a new place, I almost always notice this phenomenon: I lose myself, partly, or lose track of myself. Subtly, so only I notice. And have to find myself again.
See, I plant parts of myself in the soil and in the trees and in faces. Bits of me are scattered in Davis, in Seattle, in these places. And leaving makes me feel, for a time, hollow, and I become temporarily a stranger, because I think that I’ve left pieces of myself behind. And then, at the whim of some unannounced moment, I remember that I haven’t left these parts behind, I have taken it all with me – all the places I’ve been and the people I meet, and the parts of my heart in all of them. It's something I always have to relearn, but with each time, I feel I know it more fully.
Something I didn't talk about was my internship. Not much to say other than it is going really well, the girls are sweethearts and eager to learn, and teaching is hard.
Also, you probably noticed no pictures this post. It is bed time and I still haven't packed for the mountains, so I will be sure to upload Sahara pictures when I get back.
love love love you all.
xoxo
sonya.
Travel well, my dear. Your posts are so inspiring.
ReplyDeleteSonya,
ReplyDeleteIt sounds as though you are soaking it all in a very complete and full way. Traveling is such an expansive experience, isn't it? Be safe and continue to report in your beautifully descriptive ways....Love, Adam