Well, it has been a long few days. I returned from Marrakech on Monday morning and promptly got sick, leaving me pretty much stuck in bed, moaning and moping, eating exclusively applesauce and rice. My trip, however, was wonderful. I tried to burn a CD to upload some photos, but as always I'm having technical difficulties. Good news on the school front. I am not failing and things aren't so bad.

Anyway, here's an excerpt from the Arabic notebook/makeshift journal:

"It is the second day of our midprogram break. My roommate Sarah and I are in a small Berber village called Aremdt, located in the High Atlas about an hour outside of Marrakech. We took the night train from Tanger to Marrakech on Wednesday night and arrived the next morning at nine. We spent a miserably hot day traisping around in 98 degree weather but things perked up after a long siesta and a short drop in temperature. Marrakech seems a little bland until the sun sets when dozens of small stalls open up in the main plaza, frying fish and serving them on long cafeteria-style tables. Street performers and drummers join the snake charmers and orange juice vendors and the once-sparsely populate square fills with people. We slept that night on the terrace of Hotel Ali (essentially a finished roof and the only spot to find a cool breeze) from which we could see the entire plaza and the Koutoubia lit up on the skyline. from our mats.

The next day, Sarah and I left Marrakech and took a grand taxi into the mountains to visit Aremdt. Aremdt is a small village at 2000 m above sea level in the shadow of the highest peak in North Africa and is the location of Sarah's research site for her doctoral dissertation. In Imlil, we met her friend and research assistant, Hassan (who lives in Aremdt) and hiked up to the village. After eating Tagine and napping at his family's house, we were invited to a the second day of a traditional five-day Berber wedding ceremony.

Words really can't do the experience justice. Photos will help, but I'm not sure how to describe the peculiar feeling of being a redheaded American trying to blend in with half a village worth of Berber women and girls. Needless to say, I wasn't successful. My previous wedding experiences consisted mostly of fifteen minutes of ceremony, a few wedding mints, and a few stiff handshakes. This was nothing short of a Big To-Do. We were ushered into a room where the bride and groom were sitting, surrounded by what appeared to be every girl in the village under the age of fourteen dancing to a cassette of Berber pop music. Hassan, of course, was no where to be found, so I tried my best to look nonchalant which most likely just lo0ked like full blown social anxiety. Eventually the girls coaxed us into dancing with them, which couldn't have been any more awkward than my previous attempts to look like I wasn't there. As we danced, even more little girls came and peered in through the door, obviously eager to check out the two Americans crashing the Berber wedding.

After dancing, everyone was ushered outside where everyone had gathered for the presentation of the bridal gifts. Once more my hopeful invisibility was futile. If my hair didn't draw attention, my camera certainly did. If there is one thing middle school-aged girls love, its having their photos taken. Finally, after more dancing and singing by the older women, we finally returned to the git for the night. The village is idyllic, a welcome change from the intense heat of Marrakech and the dirtiness of Tanger. Of course, we've only been gone two days and I'm aching for a shower, clean bed, and a real toilet. But as much as Tanger has the luxuries that come with an american school, toilets, toilet paper, pingpong, landscaping, our work load keeps us perpetually in the bubble of the compound. During the week, Tanger isn't much more to us than sounds through an open window. Only the call to prayer and the city-wide cheering from the cafes during soccer matches reminds us that we're far away from home."

State of the Union

First and foremost, my access to certain websites and chat programs is limited thanks to Morocco's wonderful state-wide internet filtering system, but fortunately Blogger is ok.

I am two weeks into the Tanger program and have had very little time for extracurricular internet activity. My typical day starts at 8am with breakfast, then I have class from 9am until 1pm, an hour break for lunch, and then class again until 3pm. I typically have a one-on-one session with my teacher at 3pm and it lasts between half an hour to two hours. After dinner, usually around 7pm, I start my homework and work until midnight.

Unfortunately my Arabic class at Georgia State ended almost a semester behind every other program, which resulted in me needing to skip ahead six chapters to catch up with everyone else in my class. Typically we cover one chapter every day or two because technically each day is the equivalent of one week during a normal semester.

Thus is the life of an intensive Arabic student.

As a result of the grueling academic labor, I've seen surprisingly little of Tanger. We typically patronize one of three locales for dinner, Pizza Luxe, an unnamed sandwich shop, and McDonald's. Not surprisingly, McDonald's tastes exactly like it does back home, only the meat is halal and has no preservatives. Although we feel like typical Americans eating at the most typical American location, all the other diners are upper middle class Moroccan high schoolers, who dress up and flirt with each other on Friday nights. McDonald's is located on nothing short of prime real estate, with a big patio that overlooks the port. We typically justify our visit to Mickey D's by referencing the "amazing view" or a desire for "real ice cream" but really it is just nice to have a taste of home.

That's all the update I have time for right now, homework is calling and there is a big exam on Wednesday. Next time things will hopefully be less technical.