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Me and the Mighty Atlantic

Today makes exactly 3 weeks that I have been in Rabat, Morocco.  I’d venture to say I have adjusted to my new home for the year, as much as possible.  For example, I have adjusted to the fact I can not effectively communicate with anyone outside of the confines of my job as the local language is French (and I, like countless other Americans, took Spanish as my foreign language all through middle school, high school and university…a lot of good it’s doing me now).  Then again, there is another lingual option – Arabic, of which I have no knowledge…so as you can see, I  haven’t been doing much talking in this new town, lol.

Ironically enough, most Moroccans are, at the minimum, bi-lingual, speaking French and Arabic.  Some, in addition to that, speak Spanish, English, and/or the indigenous language Berber which is another beast in itself.  Despite my inability to really say anything save “bonjour”, “bon soir”, “bon nuit” or anything else with “bon”, I am pretty much screwed.  Thankfully, I am starting French classes this Saturday!  Additionally, I am going to try to learn some Arabic as well.  Having watched Spike Lee’s Malcolm X countless times since adolescence, I can at least manage “assalaam alaikum” to greet someone or “wa alaikum assalaam” to return a greeting.  New to me is “shukran” which I prefer more than the French “merci” for “thank you“.

Okay, so enough about me.  Let me divulge a bit about this place called Morocco.  If you look on a map, you will find Morocco in Northwest Africa, but this is not reminiscent of the Africa that we Americans typically think.  This place puts me in the mind of the setting described in Shakespeare’s Othello, the Moor.  If you can, try to imagine what a Spanish Islamic country might look like…that is Morocco!  If you are having trouble envisioning that, simply think about the scenes in Disney’s Aladdin – visions of toweresque mosques all around; vendors selling fresh bread, fruit, vegetables and spices; rows of shimmering, lush sheets draping the walls of fabric stores in unimaginable hues; and women covered in humble, and sometimes alluring, robes that hide even their ankles but expose their henna-covered hands.  I’ll definitely say that this place picks up and surpasses where Indonesia left off for painting a picture of Islam within a culture.  I walk around most times thinking I am in some sort of dream.  Being in Morocco is like being in Europe but on the African continent.

I’d certainly like to write more, but I tend to be a bit too verbose at times.  Instead, I’ll take the opportunity to post some pictures of some of things I have seen so far.

Sitting atop the Kasbah, Salé in the background

My first Moroccan cemetary. Unlike those I saw in Indonesia, this one wasn't overrun by goats, chickens and children. The dead may truly rest here. If you notice, all graves face east.

This is the fortress right off the Atlantic Ocean. It is cheap to live here and I bet it'd truly be an experience. Unfortunately, the homes here have no rooftops...don't know how that works though. lol.

Yeah, I settled for being "at" Atlanta since I can't be "in" Atlanta. Saw this sign while headed towards the ritzy part of town and had to take a pic!

In lieu of my absent husband, these people are my "family" here in Rabat.

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