As Oprah says ....

Ever since I lost my Internet connection in May (a brief but painful time for me), I've been learning to enjoy my satellite dish.

During her visit, Kirstin was fond of flipping through the hundreds of channels available in the chambre d'amis -- her favorites were a show with Arab gentlemen hunting with falcons (to a soundtrack of harmonica music) and a cooking show featuring fully veiled women who would flip up their scarves to taste sauces they were making.

It turns out, I have about seven French television stations, and have been enjoying watching the news in the evening, as well as talk shows at night. Last night, fashion icon Karl Langerfield was on On n'est pas couché, which was enjoyable background noise as I worked at the computer.

It's hard not to notice the satellite dishes everywhere in this country. They really are especially prominent on the roofs of the shanty-towns (called "bibonvilles" in French for the fact that the dwellings are made of old oil bins). Everyone watches TV (not just my neighbors, as shown in this photo from my kitchen), and not just the national station M2. Actually, I just noticed that Jodie Foster thriller about an airplane is on M2 tonight.... hmmm.

In any event, it didn't surprise me when Fatima came for a visit recently and starting quoting Dr. Phil to me. Then Oprah. She watches the show in English and reads the Arab-language subtitles. Mr. Obama may be doing all he can to promote peace and understanding between Americans and Muslims, but it turns out that it's the wisdom of Oprah that's really making an impression.

Have I caved and subscribed to her twitter feed yet? No. Will I? Probably.

Elections in Morocco

This past Friday, local elections were held throughout Morocco. There was a significant amount of hoopla leading up to the elections, with gatherings in the sports hall across the way from my apartment, and indeed, all over town.

Each of the political parties (and there are a LOT) has its own symbol, and the symbols actually seem to have meaning. Of the parties with exceptionally good symbols, I like to consider the disembodied eye, the rearing horse, and the smattering that appear in the photo I've included.

Parties explain in their lit how to vote for their candidates: "put an X over the ____ " with the symbol for the party. Many of the tracts have, what looks to me like "NO" signs over the symbol for the party, but it's just the X that explains how it's done.

Shipping and handling

Just mailed my first package from the post office to the States -- a small box of books weighing in at 7.5 kilos. In theory, I've got several more to go.

::: Poste Maroc :::

I sent today's box "economy" and paid 554.50 MAD for it, which seemed quite expensive. I've just done the conversion and now know why that seemed so pricey: $75!!

So, if that's roughly a 15 lb. box, at $75 for shipping, that's $5 per lb. I guess it could be worse (like the two-page letter that DHL wanted $125 to send, or the three cards I mailed yesterday that cost $10 in shipping!), but it's still giving me pause to think about unloading anything that's not books or electronics or a gift before I leave, to save myself the money in shipping/transport.

Royal Air Maroc has an interesting baggage policy where "sending" 23 kilos with them in the form of an extra bag is 1500 MAD or $200. In hindsight, I should have held back on the post office shipment, and stuck everything I've got to get back in an additional bag in the hold of the plane.

Next Fulbright .... I'll know.

Checking things off the list

I've had a mental list of things to do while in Morocco. Some have been work-related, many have been relative to living in a place so very different from other places I've called home.

Getting on a bus was the last thing I *really* wanted to do. Abdelaziz came and met me in Rabat and we took a bus to his new apartment yesterday evening, on the spur of the moment. To my surprise, there were two employees on the bus: the driver and the ticket lady. The ticket lady took our money, the driver drove the bus. It was very efficient, actually. I'm not sure what happens, though, when the busses get so crowded that it's standing room only.

Abdelaziz and his wife greeted me like royalty. They opened their home to me, offering me first a round of sweet Moroccan mint tea, then coffee and goodies. I also got to look at their photo album from their recent wedding -- the photos look like other Moroccan wedding album photos I've seen: very solemn and formal. They remind me of the photos of my grandparents' marriage in 1941. The "serious" wedding photos is a tradition that's all but lost in the New World, I think.

Finally, I was invited into the home of a friend (perhaps the last thing on my list). The new apartment is their pride and joy. Abdelaziz and Mounia only moved in last week, and they've already made a lot of progress toward turning the place in Salé into a home, and I wish them lots of luck with it.

Moroccan music festivals

Morocco's THE place for music these days... during the last part of May, the Mawazine festival took place in Rabat. For roughly 10 days, stages all over town featured performances by local and internationally known groups: programme. For example, the Morrocan female rap group that one of the Fulbrighters is studying played on May 19th. The concerts were free, although it was also possible to purchase tickets if one wanted to be really close to the stage.

Stevie Wonder performed at the closing Mawazine event on May 23, and my free spot on the lawn was better than some $50 tickets that can be had in American stadiums for similar events. The lights, stage, musicians, and sound were all excellent -- and I enjoyed watching the monitors to get a good view of Stevie and his daughter singing together. Unfortunately, at another concert that night, 11 concert-goers were killed in a stampede.

Fès is currently sponsoring its annual 10-day Sacred Music Festival. The concerts aren't free, but are a huge draw for the city. I know at least two Americans up there as I write this.

I had the good fortune to hear about Stevie Wonder from Fulbrighter Jaci and to hear about the festival in Fès from Fulbrighter Kate. It's nice to be part of a network that's so well-connected and cultured. I should also mention that both Abdelaziz and Jallal knew all about the Rabat festival and graciously shared information about it over coffee.

Tolerance, tradition, and going incognito

On a given day, I don't tend to draw too much attention in the streets of Rabat. I dress more or less like the Moroccan women my age (long sleeves and sometimes tunics, pants, etc.). There are a lot of Europeans who live in the capital, and they, like me, don't care to be treated like tourists. There's plenty of room for everyone, and in general, everyone's very tolerant of differences.

On the street, folks will automatically speak to me in French. Men greet me with "bonsoir" at just about any hour of the day, and I also often hear "salut" or even "pardon". There's just a lot of French here, even if Morocco isn't fully a Francophone country. And White people are assumed to be French.

Nadia, Eric and I went to the local popular market last weekend to get veggies for Sunday's feast. Nadia did the buying, I watched, and Eric took photos from afar.

Not one person spoke to me in French when I was in my jellabah and headscarf. A few spoke to me in Arabic. And more importantly, no one bat an eye. Of course, I never would have gotten the scarf on properly without Nadia's help. It was her idea that I go incognito in the first place.

It's interesting the reactions that folks have based on preconceived notions about appearance. A woman in a headscarf is modest and laudable in Morocco, whether she has pale skin or dark skin. Frankly, I don't really want to imagine the reaction that I would have received in a mall in the United States in the same attire, as I fear many of my countrymen are a lot less tolerant than the average Moroccan.

Moroccan noise levels and the Mediterranean way

Yesterday at the ESI faculty meeting, I finally was able to identify what's different about these Moroccan faculty meetings: it's not that professors disagree vehemently with each other or that attendees arrive late (that happens in the US too); it's not that part of the meeting is in Arabic or that sweet mint tea and almond cookies are served (these elements are less likely to be found in the US, I admit).

It's the volume. Morocco may be an Arabophone country, but its geographical location makes it a Mediterranean one, above all else. Reminded me of the converstaions that one can overhear in Italian where it sounds like all of the parties truly hate each other and are screaming, but in fact they're just "shooting the breeze."

The librarian at the Embassy had me over for dinner earlier this week. Her husband made a point of explaining that the Arabic spoken in Morocco sounds "harsh" to other speakers of Arabic, and that speakers from Egypt, for example, might think that Moroccans are angry. I'll confirm right now that they can sound angry to non-Arabic speakers, too, even when they aren't. The volume though, is what really seals the deal for me.

The cab driver this morning had the radio on so loud that I could hardly think. And two days ago, when a young man unceremoniously made a grab for my bottom in the street, the absolutely blood-curdling scream I let out (followed by me yelling louder than I ever would have thought possible) didn't seem to get anyone's attention.

Perhaps all the folks on the street were all busy talking animatedly to each other or listening to music, or otherwise being Mediterranean. I wonder what would have come of the same scene in Italy, or in Missouri or New Jersey.

The fluid concept of time

Dave Barry is married to a Spanish-speaking woman -- if I remember correctly, she's Cuban-American. She has a concept of time that differs from his according to a very funny and memorable book of his I read years ago. I wish I could remember the title of it.

Although I first learned in France that time moves differently for different peoples (and for different cultures), I'm discovering that Moroccan time can also move at its own pace.

American colleague Ray Schwartz spoke to ESI students last Monday about his ongoing project of library evaluation through data mining. Class was designated to start at 4:00, and we wanted to set up beforehand. The technican couldn't understand why we'd do such a thing since the students wouldn't be there at 4:00 anyway.

And they weren't.

Nadia arrives at 9:45 on Sunday morning instead of 9:00 (but this is her *day off* so I understand completely!) The symposium dinner started last night at 8:45 pm but was listed as beginning at 8:00 in the invitation. And, well, the panels and speakers at the three-day long symposium mostly started a half hour to an hour later than scheduled.

None of this is to suggest that things run on schedule in the United States or that France and Morocco are the ONLY places in the world where time is more fluid than rigid. However, it's something to keep in mind when scheduling Web talks for class with folks in the United States. Not only do I have to calculate the time difference for next week's talks (by Larry Olszewski of OCLC's Library and Caroline Szylowicz of UIUC's Proust Archive), but I have to figure in the Moroccoan time as well. Let's hope I've calculated correctly.

My ICT addiction

Last night was perhaps the first night I've spent without a cell phone in the past 8 years. I certainly wasn't an early adopter of the things, and I don't use mine regularly at all.

But, when I absolutely couldn't get it to charge yesterday, something had to be done. I took it to my regular guy at the Meditel store (that would be Rachid) and he offered to look into it overnight. In all honesty, I'd been planning to buy a new one. I'm issue of a throw-away society, after all; why repair when you can replace? But Rachid though it could be fixed with minimal effort, so I left it in his capable hands for the night.

I don't think I had any actual physical signs of withdrawl -- no shaking or cold sweats or anything. But without the phone, I did feel somewhat vulnerable, like something big was missing. Information and Communication Technologies (ICTs) are such a huge part of life in the developing world that I really felt lost without it. Besides, I went to quite a deal of trouble to get that formerly T-mobile Motorola phone unlocked when I'd arrived -- I'd had it in mind to use it the whole year or until it was stolen, which ever came first. It was a trusty solider in the fight for finding things to do and staying in touch with folks here in Morocco.

The phone was returned safe and sound (and charged) this morning; I picked it up after Cataloging and promptly started calling and texting, blissful at the reunion with my old friend. Rachid didn't charge me at all for his services -- but I've over-paid several times in the past, so I think it all evens out. After yesterday's episode, I have to admit, though, that I can't imagine what life would be like for me without the Internet.

In short, banish the thought of going Internet-less for a day! The very idea sends shivers down my spine.

Le coq d'Agdal

For most of the winter months, I could hear a rooster in one of the courtyards behind the apartments. He was a very devoted singer as well as a bit of an insomniac. Quite literally, he sang night and day. It always made me think of this precious song by Claude Nougaro about a rooster that's in love with a grandfather clock.

Claude Nougaro - Le Coq et la Pendule
envoyé par Quarouble

Time was probably also against the modern day Moroccan lover (see lyrics), and I can only imagine that the Agdal rooster was likely made into a meal of some kind (see recipe). The Moroccan bird's fate likely involved less wine, though.

I realized that I missed the late-night Don Juan's song only when I started hearing his replacement recently. Fortunately, the new rooster has better sleeping patterns, or is less love-struck.

All about the numbers

Within the short space of one week, we've been hit with not one but TWO changes to numbering systems in Morocco.

The post office has decided to create and distribute zip codes (postal codes) to everyone here in Rabat. I first noticed billboards along the roads, requesting folks indicate their post codes for quicker mail service. I didn't know mine (every piece of mail I get is addressed to a different post code, and some pieces don't have a postal code listed at all), and was amused at the idea.

Then, on about Wednesday, a sticker appeared near the mailboxes in my apartment, telling me my postal code. I'm 10090 -- a number no one had used before to send me mail, I'm quite sure.

While the United States were gearing up to change to summer time this weekend, we in Morocco were gearing up to add an additional digit to our phone numbers. I've been used to "phasing in" new things (the Y2K bug fears and changes to years, etc.), but overnight between Friday and Saturday, the phone systems all switched at once. It's now imposible to make calls without adding the new digit. To be honest, on Saturday when my calls didn't go through, I assumed my phone was just broken again.

These changes are no doubt positive ones, and I'm glad to see Morocco moving ahead in this way. I'm also glad that the Fulbright office shared news about the phone number changes, and that the post office was kind enough to advertise the postal codes. I still may not know if I have class tomorrow (I'll assume I do until I hear otherwise, I guess), but at least I know my new phone number.

Through the grapevine

ESI students are great. On Tuesday, several indicated in their FaceBook status that they were pleased with the choice of new director for the school.

It's official: Mr Lemallem will be the new director. The announcement came the day of the week when I'm not on campus, so I'm pleased that the students were so actively mentioning it in the social sphere. It's still difficult for me to understand when news breaks at the school -- my Derija isn't exactly improving and folks here are so bi- and tri-lingual that they forget that not all can understand.

Unlike American university searches for Presidents and Heads, nothing about this process was transparent for me, as a teacher from the outside. Suffice it to say, I'm very much hoping to meet the new director at some point before the end of the year. I tend not to be notified about faculty meetings, so this might be more difficult than it would seem.

On a related front, we'll be receiving two days of vacation for the Prophet's birthday next week. Other Muslim countries will celebrate on Monday and Tuesday, but Morocco started the month a day later, and will have the holiday on Tuesday (with our second day off on Wednesday). Students want to make a long weekend of it and not come in on Monday, and no one can really blame them. Instructors are in a very undesirable position, though, of trying to guess whether it's worth having class, or better to reschedule ahead of time. In one of my Monday classes, my students and I opted to reschedule. In the other class, it's still unclear whether we'll have class on Monday, five days from now.

I must say that one of the draws of coming to Morocco was the knowledge that I would be forced to (re-)learn to "go with the flow". It's just not worth developing high blood pressure over what are, to me, last-minute changes, and ones that are not communicated to the instrutors. Returning to the North American way of things, in a few months, is going to require a good deal of reverse culture-shock training, I think. As of right now, though, I'm trying desperately to hang in there and take Moroccan life as it comes. New director, unplanned days off, and all.

Obama's inaugration

For the historic inaugration earlier this week, I went with a friend to a Spanish club (looked like a country club) and convinced them to change the channel from the soccer game to the news channel in the bar.

Folks who came in after us were respectful of us and went into the adajcent room to socialize. One man sat down at the neighboring table and watched along with us.

No one asked to change the channel even though we were there for quite a few hours. This was especially nice, because, these were some of the proudest hours I've had in a long, long time and I was glad to celebrate them in public.

Nadia's cooking

This is the meal that Nadia made during Eric's visit. There was a salad in each of the round salad dishes. She also prepared a chicken for him and French (Moroccan?) fries for both of us. What a feast! It took her all day to make it, and the flavors were outstanding.

Yes, BTW, that is my living room. It's a very typical (and well-executed) "salon marocain" if I must say so myself.

Blogué avec le Navigateur Flock

Indoor temperature and ESI

The weather has been consistently cold and rainy since the beginning of the new year. Normally to avoid cold temperatures at home, I'd be tempted to go somewhere: my place of work, office at school, shopping, the car, the gym, a coffee shop, etc.

Here in Morocco, though, none of these are warming options, and folks just keep their coats on indoors and buck up. However, it's been recognized by a few of the ESI instructors that it's simply too cold to work in our offices; my neighbor professor brought a heater from home and blew a fuse last week. I, like the other profs, was without a computer or printer for quite a few days. Now the computer works, but my small wall space-heater is on the blink. At least now I, unlike the students in the lab where I took this photo, can "chatter" online if I want.

The temperature problems are a shame, because I would like to work at school. It would be nice to talk to M. Alli about our Cataloging classes next semester, for example.

In the mean time, at home, I use the two space heaters that I have and I wear gloves that Kirstin brought (I cut off the fingers so that I can type). My favorite way to combat the cold is by taking a bath in my jumbo bathtub. The hot water heater turns off about three times per bath, and the water in the tub is usually cold by the time it warms the porcelain. However, it's by far the warmest things get in my house, and I love it.

In fact, of the things/people I'd like to bring back to the States with me, the bathtub ranks way up there. Maybe Nadia and the pharmacist can carry it onto the plane... and perhaps they can fill it with the delicious Moroccan yogurt that I just love!

Midyear updates

As I think about the upcoming end-of-semester rituals ("mid-year" collaborative pathfinder wikis for third years, final exam for the Masters students, etc.), it only seems right to fill in a few blanks in terms of this blog.

Most of December I was either sick, travelling, or entertaining visitors. Here's Eric pictured with my students after his stellar presentation on OCLC.

Also:

Jallal kindly explained to me that, for the question of how best to care for one's baguette overnight, the answer is simple. Either go to the boulangerie in the morning or freeze the bread overnight. I've tried the bread-freezing trick, and I must say, it works like a charm.

Although there is plenty of concern over the situation in the Middle East, classes have not been interrupted at ESI.

The 2 kilo ball of Edam cheese that I bought when visiting Tangers is almost finished. I gave some to Nadia about a month ago, but ended up eating most of it myself. I really don't care to look at Edam again for a very long time.

Although the subtile spices in Moroccan cooking are good, they're aren't hot (not so much cayenne). I like spicy foods, and finally discovered harissa. Here's a stand selling some in the market at Fès. There's a jarred version at the supermarkets made with cayenne and lemon. It's heavenly.

December was much less cold and rainy than November, but now the cold and rain are back. At least I now have a second space heater.

Visa Electron and Moroccan Banking

Yesterday I went to the Air France agency in Rabat to buy plane tickets. I handed over my Société Générale Visa card (a debit card), and was very politely refused by the tri-lingual sales agent. Despite the fact that the bill was in dirhams and my Visa card works at the local grocery store chain, apparently big purchases (?) with companies headquartered outside of Morocco don't work with this system. Alas, it is a Visa Electron card, and we don't have these in the United States.

As I was walking to the local Société Générale, Morocco bank machine, I had plenty of time to reflect on the problem of hard currencies and purchases. Libraries, not unlike their patrons, apparently have a difficult time of making purchases through companies outside of Morocco. My debit card clearly states that it is not for use outside of Morocco, but not even for use inside Morocco?

Already to pay for my Skype line using PayPal, I have to ask folks in the States to log on to my account and to pay for me. PayPal won't allow transactions from computers in this IP range in payment for Skype.

Booking hotel rooms in France for my upcoming spring break trip is going to involve a trip to a travel agent. Remember those? I haven't been to a travel agent since 2000 when I wanted to price shop for good student-rate travel deals. They had nothing of interest, and I've been my own travel agent ever since.

All of this leads me to wonder how Moroccans leave the country at all. They can only buy tickets on the "expensive" airlines since those are the only ones the travel agents contract with. Ditto for the hotels accessible via travel agencies. Moroccans pay the travel agent in dirhams, and pay an additional conversion fee. Once they get to the destination, I have no idea how they go about paying for meals, taxis, etc. Makes me admire all the more Moroccan colleagues at ESI who are involved in international librarianship, IFLA, and international travel. What a burden!

Moroccan demonstrations

I left the house today briefly to get a baguette from the neighborhood bakery for lunch and dinner. That will be the only time I leave my apartment until tomorrow. Moroccans were scheduled to demonstrate in downtown Rabat today against the violence in Palestine, and Fulbrighters were encouraged to stay away from the area if possible. Two days ago, before the land raids began, officials were expecting 30,000 demonstrators; I haven't heard if more turned out with the new developments.

Several friends have reiterated that I stay in, and a few more folks have made sure I feel safe. I do feel safe, and really have no reason to stay in other than the million or so papers I have to read for my upcoming quals. Moroccans are very tolerant, and I've never felt endangered or even unwelcome for the color of my skin or my presumed religion or nationality. Different, here, is not bad. How wonderful is that!

And organized and peaceful demonstrations are most certainly the right of any people. I'm not clear, however, whether protests today have the potential to disrupt classes tomorrow (such things can happen in France, for example). I've seen on Facebook that several of my students are very engaged in aid efforts. Stay tuned to find out if classes actually meet tomorrow after all of this.

The gazelle

Since I've been in Morocco, I keep running into references to gazelles. There are insurance agencies with the word in the name, women have the term as part of their user names online, and there's even gazelle-logo'd brand of chocolate -- a gift I received from Hanan when I went to Casablanca last month.

My neighbor who is a rare books cataloger explained that not only is the gazelle a sacred animal in Islam, but it also is the preferred hide used in Muslim medieval book-making. There are some Korans where each page is gazelle skin from the chest of a different animal -- indeed, these are the most expensive and the most precious of these rare and special books.

Moroccans are very generous, and since I've been here, I've received a lot of gifts besides the chocolate. I've received a beautiful two-volume commented Koran translated into French from a student, I've received trinkets and even socks from Fatima, and Hanan bought me these little tagines where I put spices along with a a main de Fatma from the medina.

I'm very lucky to be surrounded by such generous and warm people, and I'm also glad to have finally found the explanation to the question of the Moroccan gazelle. I'll be visiting the BNRM with my students at the end of next week, and am really looking forward to seeing some of these rare books in the national library\s collection for myself.

Tidying up for the holidays

It's Sunday, and I continue to be in awe of Nadia. My friend's friend's cousin is back, and has succeeded in cleaning all of the blankets (in the tub, stomping on them as necessary), the rugs (in the kitchen using a big tub), and the floors all without telling me that the butagaz was out and that she didn't have access to warm water.

Getting the house cleaned up before the holidays (and holiday visitors) seems like a great idea. The high Muslim holiday is upon us in two days, and I can hear the various sheep of my neighbors in the courtyard behind my apartment. After Tuesday, there will be no more baaa's.

I've managed to put a strand of lights around a fir tree-shaped clock and have put presents around it for now. It's getting festive, indeed.

Nadia won't be back next week, but will come the following Sunday to help clean and to cook a little. I hope my concierge and his wife are a little nicer to her next time -- they really gave her the run-around this morning.