"Living In Fast Forward"

"Now I need to rewind real slow"...

     Kenny Chesney helps us kick off tonight's post.  This song references a crazy time in his life when in quick succession he had just made the short list of singers who can sell out a stadium, was married for a hot minute to a Hollywood actress and now tries to return to a life with some sense of normalcy under circumstances that simply aren't normal.  This fall I began another unscripted new scene in the wild second act of my life that began a decade ago.  What am I doing here in North Africa and not South Jersey?  It's Thanksgiving week already?  I should be planning on Thursday to drive to watch the Florence-Riverside game, not take a train to walk amongst Roman ruins.  But I am getting ahead of myself; let's look back at the week that was...

     Speaking of holidays, it's the New Year in the Muslim world.  Happy 1434!  Muharram marks the first month of the Islamic calendar, which is a lunar calendar, so annually it moves about the Gregorian calendar used in the States.  It gets a little more complicated than that, even.  You see, the holiday does not actually begin until authorities officially declare the first sighting of the new crescent moon (hilal).  Then, the word is broadcast via electronic media later that evening.  The date can differ from from the estimated date on such preplanned things such as, oh, school calendars.  Since this obviously happens at night, the timing can be tight.  I was hardly the only person unhappy at having to stay up later than usual to wait for an email to see if the scheduled day off Thursday was moved to Friday.  We had a similar situation earlier this year that wasn't as problematic; there is one more similar circumstance yet to come.  Never dull here...

     Parent/Student/Teacher conferences were Wednesday.  There is no way to get around it; sometimes you have to deliver bad news to Mom and/or Dad, often with the child sitting there.  Given the nature of my particular position, I am guessing I dole out more helpings of bad tidings than the average teacher.  If you remember, this is a trilingual school.  The students speak English, French and Arabic.  Most teachers are fluent only in English, the parents all speak French and Arabic, but English is more a hit-n-miss thing.  Local staff are there as always to help translate.

     I had next-to-no problem conversing with some parents, and the child helped fill in the gaps at other times.  See where this one is going?  (To those of you who have already figured out the ending, yes, I am that stupid).  One kid came with her mother and older sister.  Mom spoke zero English, and the older sister could only help somewhat.  The student translated what I said for her mother.  Some of the news wasn't pretty.  OK, all of it wasn't pretty.  Now, I could teach a politician a thing or two about how to spin bad news; heck, parents thank me after I tell them their child is a poor, and poorly behaved, student.  Anyway, it turned out to be a good thing a nice, and observant, native staff happened by and noticed my good comments were being delivered to Mom but not the bad ones.  I wonder what happened to that kid later...

     After conferences all day Wednesday a handful of colleagues and I got to race downtown to the police station before the office closed that is processing our applications for our residency card.  Note: they do things the French way here in Maroc.  The local motor vehicle agency in the U.S. runs rings around these people.  HR staff had me fill out or supply a staggering array of documents earlier this year asking about all sorts of things.  I should mention that at this same time HR is simultaneously moving heaven and earth to help facilitate this process.

     Recently, on short notice, I was told I had an appointment downtown, to submit the pile of papers and hope the package was accepted.  It was, and I was told to return in about a week to get my récépissé and go get it renewed monthly until I finally got my carte sejour.  Anyway, a bunch of us race downtown after conferences.  Some of us got our 'receipt' and some didn't.  Yup.  At least I got to drive back to campus.  I'm beginning to r-e-a-l-l-y enjoy city driving with no rules. Anyway, I told an HR guy how we all fared.  He said to expect to go back down a few more times to be told they don't have it before they finally decide to call me down at my inconvenience for an asinine interview.  I brought documents the first week of August.  Yet, in mid-November I'm nowhere near done...

Yeah I still got some miles to go...

"God is great, beer is good and people are crazy"

Billy Currington returns as our title track sponsor as I mark my 100th day in North Africa.

God is great

     It has been endlessly fascinating living in an Islamist state.  (No, Mom, I am not converting; I'm barely a Catholic - do you think I could be a Muslim?)  Everyday I want to learn new things; this ain't a place to be.  A colleague from Chicago who has been here a little longer married a Moroccan woman and converted to Islam.  I talk to a lot of people, but it's particularly interesting getting my knowledge on by talking to an American.  He knows what I really mean and exactly what I am trying to get at.  Tuesday was a big day here.  Google "Marche Verte" (French for "Green March").  It's a neat little story involving Morocco and King Hassan II and a famous incident involving the disputed Western Sahara territory.  This country has mountains, a desert, borders with the Atlantic and Mediterranean, and a wild history involving so many different peoples.  Lots to keep me stimulated.  Casa is also an awesome place from which to jump off to all over Europe and the Middle East.  It's 6 hours to fly across the U.S. - I can't count how many countries you could fly to in that time from here.  I chuckle every time someone talks about flying off to Barcelona or wherever for the weekend, like it's such a casual thing, then I remember that it is...

Beer is good

     I'll try about near anything once; I love sampling new foods.  The Berbers, Moors and Arabs have all had a hand in shaping Moroccan cuisine.  Beef, mutton, poultry and seafood are the main meats, and there seems to be an endless selection of fruits and vegetables used, along with a huge array of spices.  The one food that is (Berber) Moroccan that you've all eaten would be couscous.  Of course, there is the ubiquitous mint tea.  I'd like to dine on swine, but pork ain't exactly easy to get here.  Neither is alcohol.  Some things are oddly expensive/inexpensive as compared to the states.  A funny one the other day was a pint of Haagen-Dazs for almost $10.  Maybe being poor will be good for my waistline...

People are crazy

     On Tuesday I was off from work, and by chance a semifinal soccer match of an important tournament was going to be held in Casa at the 55,000 seat Mohammed V Stadium.  Soccer is the only sport in Morocco; the people are mad for it.  And the residents of Casa are particularly loony for their two pro teams, Raja and Wydad.  Care to guess who took the pitch on Tuesday at 2pm?

Now, a word from our partners at the NY Times: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/05/10/world/middleeast/morocco-struggles-to-rein-in-soccer-hooligans.html?_r=0

     The first few paragraphs tell you all you really need to know, along with the part about the man who was killed in the April riot where the stadium was literally torn apart.  So of course I went down there, by myself, to try to negotiate, in French, the purchase of a (hopefully legitimate) ticket from a scalper, not get pickpocketd, get into the venue, watch the game and (literally) get out alive.  And I did, but, boy, was it an adventure!  I did pretty well with the scalper, slipping away just before the police busted the guy.  I can't begin to tell you what the scene was in the blocks surrounding the stadium; to say there was a heavy police presence (city and state) would be an understatement.  It's difficult to describe what it took to get into the stadium; let's just say I was part of a crush of humanity that barged thru a gate into the place.  I literally was not propelling myself; instead, it was the wave of people that I rode inside, and I am not exaggerating.
     I am a veteran of many Eagles games from the 700 level at the Vet; they were church socials compared to this insanity, and that is no joke!  Thousands were there from the early a.m.  No assigned seating, the place was stuffed, with people actually sitting on every available railing, wall, you name it.  The fire marshall wouldn't have approved.  The stadium was segregated, red and green, with an actual DMZ in the middle of both ends.  It was loud!  Flares and smoke canisters are going off; the game hadn't even begun.  What an experience!  When I spoke to native staff later in the week, they were very nice, they didn't say I was an idiot, but I could see the looks of bemusement on their faces.  When I mentioned that so many looked like hoodlums, they told me of things you would read in the middle of that article.  They also told me that many don't even care about the soccer; that they get high beforehand before they come to cause mayhem at the game.  Glad I went, don't see myself returning.  Where to next?  Thanksgiving 4-day break coming soon...
 

"Comin' To Your City"

     I've been here in Casa for 3 months, and felt the need to. get. out. now.  4-day weekend?  Giddyap!  Spoke with many colleagues and got lots of excellent suggestions, actually, had a hard time narrowing them down.  Decided to take a bus trip way up north to a town called Chefchaouen, carved into mountains in the Rif range (the name refers to the mountain tops resembling a pair of goat horns).

     Chefchaouen was established in the late 1400s and is real close to Spain; European tourists flood into the area during the summertime.  People speak a lot of Spanish up there.  I loved being able to contribute to an intelligent conversation for the first time since late summer.  Chefchaouen is largely known for three products: its locally-produced goat cheese, its leather artisans, and marijuana.

     Yeah, that's right, mary jane, pot, weed, dope, reefer, ganja - it's 4:20 all the time in Chefchaouen.  While marijuana is illegal in Morocco, it's for some reason tolerated in Chefchaouen, where there are vast plantations nearby; depending on the route you take while hiking in the mountains within the national park you'll pass right by them.  I'll confess I wasn't dissuaded by the reports of armed guards; I wanted to see something I'll never have the chance to see otherwise.  Unfortunately, I didn't go the right direction behind the waterfall (not well marked) to see the fields, but I sure did get accosted constantly by pushers in town.  I was told they'd be persistent, but, wow, give me a break!  It started literally the minute I got off the bus.  The one guy was real kind - he had stuff for me to either smoke or shoot up.

     Ah, the bus.  I get motion sickness real bad on motor coaches, but I couldn't take a train there.  I figured if I took enough (legal) drugs I'd be ok.  I took double the Dramamine the pharmacist said and thought I was good to go.  Nah.  How I didn't vomit is a mystery.  I did NOT feel good for the 6-hour ride.  I had a list of inexpensive accommodations and since it wasn't the high (snicker) season wasn't worried about getting a place that evening, and fortunately I was right.  My hostel went for about $14USD per night.  Not fancy, but I didn't care.  Until I need to use a toliet.  There was a toilet bowl downstairs, but no toilet paper.  Guess I should've planned for that.  There was a hole in the floor and a spigot and pail.  Yep.

     Anyway, the next morning I hit the town.  Actually, it hit me.  It was s-t-e-e-p.  The town is famous for its whitewashed, blue-rinsed buildings.  The short version of why is it comes from former Jewish inhabitants who, per the Bible, originally used a particular shellfish to produce a blue dye for their prayer shawls, forgot how to make it eventually, and colored their houses blue to honor the biblical command.  Here are pics from the medina, the old, narrow, winding part of town:

 

 

     Given the people constantly soliciting me, I never felt particularly comfortable in this maze.  I don't spook easily, but my senses were on high alert the entire time.  There was also the kasbah, a fortress of sorts that looked interesting from the outside but inside supposedly didn't offer much.  I say supposedly because I didn't go in.  I didn't go in because as I approached, a guy said "cerrada".  It sure didn't look closed, but the look on his face and what I saw a guy doing inside told me all I needed to know.  Ok, about face...

 

Just because...

 



     I saw an area devoted to artisans and also a small waterfall.  Women use water diverted to a pair of sluices to do laundry.  I purposely didn't get too close for photos; I figured these poor women weren't there for my amusement.  Here are some photos from above the falls:

 

 

     Finally, I did some hiking.  I didn't go way, way up there, but enough to get some beautiful views of the already elevated town.  The first pic is of an abandoned chapel (in center of photo) then views of the town from said chapel (where, of course, I had to pass a group of n'er-do-wells to get to):

 

 

 

A door on the way up the trail?

 

Back to our regularly scheduled feature...

 

 

     It was a very nice night walking thru town, talking with shopkeepers.  Fortunately, the ride back the following morning wasn't too hellacious (only wanted retch the first hour), though if using so-called toliets with just a hole in the ground and a pail of water isn't bad enough, paying for the "privilege" is worse.  Listening to Arabic pop music for hours wasn't a highlight, though I got some of the country between Chaouen and Casa for the first time.

     Til later...

"Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy"

Well, that's a very nice sentiment (especially if you are the cowboy), but it doesn't do a darn thing for the sheep, does it?  Huh?  You see, today is a an extremely important day for those who practice the Islamic faith.  It is the first and foremost day of the Eid al-Adha religious holiday, which is where the sheep come into play, but we'll get back to them later...

Eid al-Adha commemorates the prophet Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his young, firstborn son Ishmael in obedience to a command from God and also marks the end of the Hajj (pilgrimage) to Mecca.  Abraham had a recurring dream, in which God was commanding him to offer his son as a sacrifice; Abraham decided to fulfill God's command and offer Ishmael for sacrifice.  Abraham could not bear to watch his son die so he covered his eyes by a blindfold. When he cut Ishmael's throat and removed the blindfold, he was astonished to see that Ishmael was unharmed and instead, he found a dead ram which was slaughtered. Abraham had passed the test by his willingness to carry out God's command.

Got that?  The good part is coming...

After the Eid prayer, Muslims sacrifice their best halal (think Kosher) domestic animals (sheep 'round these parts).  The meat from the sacrificed animal is divided into three parts. The family retains one third of the share; another third is given to relatives, friends and neighbors; and the other third is given to the poor and needy.

Wait for it...

This week in school, students and local staff educated me, and also told some interesting stories.  I should be store soon for some God-awful smells when the heads are cooked.  All of the children spoke very matter-of-factly about the throat-slitting, respectfully, not immaturely.  Speaking of which, when one of my boys told me of his helping out with the sacrifice, I asked him if he had had ever actually done the deed.  He got a very embarrassed look, then leaned in toward me, away from his classmates, to tell me quietly, in an appropriate manner, that he had to be physically mature to be allowed. You know, like having hair down there.  You can't make up these stories...

Throughout the week, students spoke of having already gotten their sheep.  I saw them in trucks when I went into the city.  Sheep everywhere.  I'm trying to hail a taxi to get home last nite, it's dark.  A van stops.  After my incident with the gypsy cab last week, you'd think I'd know better to get in.  Nah.  2 guys ask me where to, I reply to the American school  just straight down the road.  We're good.  Small commercial van.  Guy driving and passenger next to him.  I'm on bench seat behind them.  Behind me, small area size of tiny crib, where you'd put tools and such.  Or a sheep!  Not until he stirred did I notice the sheep behind the seat, 6 inches away!  Uh, let's move it, fellas!  I couldn't tell if the sheep was incapacitated in any way, but wasn't in the mood to find out.  I got out in one piece.  Better than the sheep fared this morning.

I walked down the hill to a place nearby where I thought I might to see the ritual performed, but no such luck.  Anyway, had no work today and won't on Monday, due to the interpretation of the lunar calendar per the powers-that-be.  No photos this week, thought I'd spare you the blood and gore seen throughout the city today.  Enjoy your entree at dinner tonight :)
 

"Felt Good On My Lips"

Tonight's title references Tim McGraw's recent hit.  In the song, Tim falls for a Latina babe.  For me, no such luck.  Instead, I'm talking about McDonalds and Starbucks, which I treated myself to earlier this evening.  When I came here I was bound and determined to not be one of those people who travel abroad and don't embrace the local culture, including the cuisine, especially since I am not a tourist, but actually live here.  And I have done so at every opportunity.  I love me some tajine and pastilla.  My new favorite condiment is harissa, (ha-REE-sa) a very spicy peppery paste.  However, I have needed some American comfort food, and one of the world's biggest malls is 5 km straight down the road.  Giddyap!  After my McNuggets, an iced caramel macchiato enjoyed sitting oceanside hit the spot.  I took out a school vehicle for this road trip.  No cab this time.  Last weekend I was getting impatient waiting for a gran taxi and got into what I knew was a gypsy cab.  Mistake.   Fortunately it only cost a couple of extra dirhams.  Then I took a petit taxi for the next stretch and was subjected to a lengthy stretch of Arab pop music.  Remember when it came out that the Arab terrorists at Gitmo were blasted with American pop music to break them?  I know now exactly what it must've been like...

Getting a late start on the blogging tonight as I watched our Mustangs lose a nailbiter to Casablanca American School in boy's varsity volleyball.  It was hot and sweaty in that multipurpose room.  Good thing I had me some bottled water.  Everyone knows to never drink anything else.  Here's a random pic of a bottle of Sidi Ali, the dominant brand.

That Arab writing.  Tough.  Speaking of languages, funny thing happened tonight at McDonalds.  I approached the counter knowing what I wanted and rattled off my order in flawless Spanish.  ?!  When I realized what I'd done, I then repeated my order, a little slower, in French.  I guess my brain knew I wasn't supposed to speak English, but went to default mode and used the foreign language it knew best.  You had to be there...

That supersized McNuggets value meal cost about $5USD.  Funny how the largest paper note in Morocco is only 200 dirhams (currently about $22-23USD).  Always have to carry around a big wad of dough.  Hey, how about some pics of the bills in Morocco?

Included are a (top) 10dh coin and a (bottom) 5dh coin.  There are a 2dh and 1dh coin also that resemble our quaters in size and shape...

On the subject of money, it's amusing sometimes to listen to people around here talking about flying off to this country or that.  Hey, if you got it, spend it, right?  Though, I have to remind myself that it's very cheap and easy to jet around Europe, given our location.  I got a roundtrip ticket direct to and from Milan over the Christmas holiday for $133USD.  Ka-ching!  I will be traveling about Italy (including to Rome, Venice and Florence) for a week.  On the itinerary includes The Last Supper, the Sistine Chapel, the Colosseum, and the Leaning Tower of Pisa.  Speaking of holidays, there is a huge one here next week.  Should be interesting.  Details next week...
 

"Life In A Northern Town"

Hey!  Tonight's episode of Jack is sponsored by UK one-hit wonders The Dream Factory who reached #7 in the US in 1985 with "Life In A Northern Town".  Remember that one?  Though, I'm listening to the 2008 remake by the country group Sugarland with Little Big Town and Jake Owen.  Better than the original, I say...

It's kind of remarkable what you can used to.  I don't have a television.  There is a website I learned of from a colleague that somehow allows you to stream any sporting event worth watching to your computer, just like that.  With the time difference here, that basically means watching the Sunday NFL 1 pm games, the 4 pm games if I'm really motivated.  Basically, I haven't watched any American TV for over 2 months, and don't much care.  I've done it a week at a time before while traveling, but nothing like this.  I read newspapers electronically of course.  I miss my personal free lending library (a/k/a Barnes & Noble).  The IMAX Theatre at the mall plays a movie Thursday in English, but I haven't gone yet...

I came to the realization earlier this week that I've pretty much tuned out the adhan, or, call to prayer that blares out across the city multiple times every day from the minarets of the mosques.  I can get around town with relative ease, be it by using the taxi system or driving, which is saying something because the way taxis work here is ridiculous, and the drivers are lunatics.  My New Jersey training with traffic circles is no good because there is a different way you have to navigate the roundabouts, or, rond-point, the French term you hear around here.  I say this because I've began taking private French lessons within the past month, and am loving it!  My tutor is great!  I look forward to it all week.  And I'm starting to respond somewhat instinctively to basic stuff when interacting/practicing with native staff.  I'm trying to learn Moroccan Arabic on my own by reading/listening through the computer.  Not easy...

Wild thing happened this week.  I help students in all subjects - I'm a Jack-of-all-trades, if I say so - and I do.  Anyway, a kid in one of my small-group pull-out classes had a social studies assignment which mentioned the Arab Spring.  The talk moved to the Palestinians and Israel.  When I told the kids that in my country that the PLO is considered a terrorist organization, you could have knocked them over with a feather - they were legitimately stunned.  The real fun began when I asked some question about Israel and the Palestinian quest for certain of their land.  I'll never forget how one student reacted.  This teen did not yell and scream, or use profanity.  He was never inappropriate.  But in an extremely agitated, raised voice he made a brief, very angry, yet reasoned, statement for the Palestinian cause.  Now I was the one in shock.  All depends on one's perspective, huh?  Speaking of which, roommate got off a good one this morning, when I said I had a generally cynical view of things, he replied that could walk in a room, see a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and ask who died.  Gotta admit, he got me with that one...

Finally, folks, a few random photos from home and school...

God, I hate this stuff.  It's a 1 liter carton of the UHT milk I've told you about previously.  I buy it by the six-pack off a shelf.  Actually, I've kind of gotten used to it, but I really need to head to the King's Market for the real stuff, price be damned...

This is a canister of the "propane-like" gas hooked up to your stove so you can cook your tagine (had it for lunch today), or couscous (after all, it is Friday).  Looks safe, right?  Umm...

This is a typical piece of furniture you'll see in living areas 'round these here parts.  Notice it has no back.  Does wonders for your posture, though...

This is from the multipurpose room at school.  Remember, this is an American school in Morocco, hence the flags of 2 nations and the pictures of their heads of state on either side of the stage.  Here are a couple of close-ups...

This is His Majesty King Mohamed VI...

 

and the other Muslim...

Thank you, folks!  I'll be performing again next Friday night at this time.  Bonne nuit!

"A Real Fine Place To Start"

We're going with Sara Evans for this week's post title.  I'm listening to my country playlist, it's couscous Friday and the weekend is here.  Laissez les bon temps rouler!  Well, maybe not for the students who got poor midterm reports the other day.  Thought I'd talk a bit more about George Washington Academy at the half-pole of this marking period - my kids, my colleagues and the nature of my job.
As you know, GWA is not your usual school, a K2-12 private not-for-profit entity recognized by both the USA and Morocco as an American school, with graduates receiving an American diploma.  The student body is a fascinating mix.  Close to 2/3 are Moroccan, and thus speak French and Arabic.  Most of the faculty is North American, and don't speak French or Arabic as a first language, yours truly included, though I am working on it.  The rule in school is: Speak English.  The reasons should be fairly obvious, except for maybe one - when the little lovelies are speaking Arabic, most teachers don't know what they are saying.  Curses, threats, telling their friend an answer on a test - who knows?  Thus, English only, thank you.
The students wear uniforms; the only thing really at all interesting in their appearance is that a few girls wear a hijab (he-jab).  It is a veil worn to cover the head and neck, in the interest of modesty.  My understanding is that there is no consensus among Muslims as to whether or not the Qur'an explicitly mandates that females must wear this particular garment.  The countries that comprise the Maghreb in NW Africa are considered to generally be a little more liberal than, say, Saudi Arabia or Egypt, and within Morocco, Casablanca is regarded even more as a cosmopolitan place.  You see older women dressed much more traditionally/conservatively, but not often are you looking at someone and seeing just a pair of eyes peering back at you.  And younger women dress just as, um, uh, casually as in any American big city.
My colleagues, with whom I not only work, but live, are a nice group of people.  I can tell you a little more about them by now.  Most are fairly young, a good number of them married.  No small number have taught in other countries in Africa, Asia and elsewhere.  There is a very large percentage of people who are active in their faith.  There are a couple of churches in Casa for Protestants to attend.  Jewish people are not given a hard time here.  There is one Catholic church (and so far as I know, only one other Catholic here besides myself).  Whatever the denomination, you better not proselytize - this is an Islamic state - that will get you promptly thrown out of the country.
I'm still growing into my job.  It's interesting.  It's an American high school, but special education law does not apply here.  I am a special education teacher, doing exactly the same kind of job I did at a NJ public high school, but here I am a learning specialist, I offer learning support.  I greatly enjoy the job, but it is a little bit surreal.  You see, I am not just a special education teacher; I am the special education teacher.  In the Upper School we have a counselor, a guidance counselor, a Student Services Support person and an English Language Learner teacher who's been here a couple years(don't know what I'd do without her!)  My principal and vice-principal are great to work for, but all of these people have one thing in common: special education is not their stock in trade.  People actually have looked to me for advice.  I have, like, real responsibility.  (gulp)  I'm confident in my abilities and in what my experience has done for me, but I have not yet gotten used to being the one-stop shopping center for your (real but not officially) special ed needs...
We will end this evening with a first photo from my new Nikon camera purchased last night at the Marjane at the mall.  I have to apologize that the photo simply cannot do justice to what the sunset looks like in person every night.  Baraka allahu feek.  May God bless you.