Giving Thanks for the Little Things

Winter has come to the desert. Just four weeks ago I was sweating it out and whining about the conservative clothing that was roasting me to death as I peddled my way to the university in 90+ degree heat. I would easily drink a gallon of water over four hours just to remain standing in front of my classroom of sweaty students. This week I found myself bundling up in two down jackets, mittens, and a hat for my frigid morning bike ride. Then, once my afternoon classes rolled around, I was comfortable in my classroom until the sun started to go down. By 5:30, I was teaching in my down jacket, my hands were so cold I couldn't hold the marker to write on the board, and I could see my breath in the air. I guess I chose not to listen to my science teacher the day we talked about desert temperature swings. I ignorantly assumed that I would need no umbrella this year and that flip flops would be the footwear of choice every day. I was wrong. It's cold. And rainy.

Despite the erratic weather and temperature swings, we did manage to have some great "Morocco moments" this week. First off, I decided that struggling with Darija was not enough of a challenge, so, on Saturday,  I went to a workshop to learn about the Amazigh culture, language, and alphabet. The Amazigh are the indigenous people of North Africa, and they retain their own languages and culture. So, just for kicks, I learned the Tifinagh alphabet and tried to practice spelling words that contain sounds that don't exist in the English language. Sadly, the only benefit may have been brain activity that may eventually help ward of dementia. My Tifinagh skills are atrocious.

Sunday, I tested out the Moroccan rail system and took a train to Berrechide to visit a class of English students. The train was a relaxing and smooth-sailing adventure with a sunny window on the desert landscape for the three-hour journey. The students, enthusiastic 8th graders, got a taste of basic American culture and played a game of Jeopardy before taking their turn to interrogate me about American politics. With limited English, they still managed to come up with some zingers. "Why does Donald Trump hate Arabs?" was one of the first. "Ummm. Don't you want to know the nice story about the Statue of Liberty or something?" Ugh. Fortunately, after I bumbled my way through a few non-answers, we moved on to snacks and picture-taking and left the messy world of politics behind. After class, I got to enjoy a nice lunch in a park with one of the teachers who is also one of my graduate students. In addition to lunch, I got some deep, dark religion discussion which helped add to my education in "Islam according to women in Morocco." When the chance presents itself, and I find women who are willing and excited to talk, I have been asking the same questions of each of them just to learn more about the diverse perspectives of Muslim women here. It has been fascinating.

The view from the train

Berrechide class

When we realized that my birthday on Tuesday was going to to coincide with a nasty weather day, we decided to take advantage of a sunny Monday to celebrate. I was spoiled like a queen! Birthday week had already involved cake for breakfast every day. Then, on Monday morning, we took the classic Marrakech horse-drawn carriage ride through the Medina in the sunshine. After we dismounted, we headed over to the plant vendors in the square to buy a birthday plant for our balcony. I picked a nice, fat palm tree with an eye toward creating a habitat for the fat green chameleon I intended to buy. Andy escorted the palm back to the apartment in the back of a truck, while Brianna and I collected roses from the plant seller and headed into the Medina in search of a birthday lantern. We found a great sunshine lantern that can double as a wall decoration to complete my happy place on the balcony. The only thing left to do was to visit the spice market and free a fat chameleon from her caged existence. Katrina was the one that called to me, and she was promptly transported in a little metal spice box to her new home on our balcony. She has spent the week making the rounds of our apartment and roosting on top of whomever's warm head is willing to take her. We are trying desperately to figure out what to feed her. There seems to be a dearth of bugs in November in Marrakech. It's just too cold. She has not taken kindly to our vegetarian offerings, so we are going to have to get creative in figuring out a way to attract insects to our house. Chameleon problems.

My real birthday turned out to be as nasty as predicted. So , I ate more cake for breakfast, snuggled with Katrina, spent the day connecting with friends and family, and enjoyed a delicious home-made birthday cake for dinner. Perfect. I am one lucky girl indeed. It seemed only fitting that Thanksgiving should roll around just two days later, and I should find myself, once again, contemplating how very blessed I am.

Tangia Vendor in the Medina

Olive Souq

As the week wraps up, we have found our way to Fez. Katrina has made the trip with us, and we have smuggled her into the guest house. It was a long day in the car, but she was a star - just enjoying the sights from her perch on the back window. Andy negotiated the rainy roads like a champ. We spent a few quick minutes in Casablanca checking out the enormous mosque that sits next to the sea. Then we headed north through Rabat and east, again, to the ancient city of Fez. Rain, darkness, and cold conspired against us, but somehow we managed to locate a parking space just outside of the Medina wall and wind our way through a narrow mouse hole to what turned out to be our guest house. It is one of those hidden treasures of the Medina. Behind a metal door at the dead-end of the tiniest alley (in which I had to stoop over so as to not smack my head) we found a four-story beauty of Moroccan tile and carpets, friendly hosts with tea, and a room with not only beds, but also a heater!! Nothing could make me happier at the end of this wet, wintry week than to have control of a heater in a sweet little space like this. It's the little things.

Katrina heads to Fez

Casablanca Moment