Hijab + haircolor = ?

I'm terrible at remembering to write real things. I keep meaning to... and then I don't. I even will sometimes start to write by hand away from my computer. And then lose it or forget or get wrapped up in something else. So here is something I just saw instead, for a little bite of flavor.

Setting: Mostly-empty grocery store (2ish on a Friday afternoon - people are almost all eating couscous with their families and/or praying.)

I am standing at the one open cash register, waiting to buy my stuff, and a girl comes and stands behind me. She is wearing a store vest and a hijab (headscarf). Her one item that she's purchasing is hair dye.

It made me wonder - is she going to dye her hair? No reason that she couldn't, but why since she covers it? Maybe it's like the people who get hidden tattoos. Or maybe it's for someone else? Who knows...

.... In less than 80 days!

If you were planning a trip around the world in an air balloon I hope you started a day or two ago. That way you could get to Austin the same day as me!

The first six weeks here I was focusing on my original study plan: high school seniors. I tried different ways to find them and kept coming up short. So now I've switched to just young people. There are lots around. University students or working or unemployed. Luckily I already know some of those! And then they know others. So that is a start. I'm going to record two later this week, and then the hope is that they will tell their friends and some of them will agree to do it. You see, I only have 78 (or is it 77??) days left, and my original goal was to get AT LEAST 20 pairs of people recorded with a hope of 40 pairs. My current tally of zero is woefully short of that.

Funnily enough I have done better on the younger front so far as well, haha. Finally figured out how to get into the high schools. I have always heard that going out and doing original research is slower than you expect, but it's been SOOO much slower that I couldn't believe it.

So, I shall count down the days as motivation to do as much as possible, work my butt off and count down the pairs left that I need. And that way  when I make it back home I can celebrate the new year as well as having all of my dissertation data! Now, I think I shall make another attempt at cake baking on the stove top...

Photo Fail!

We went on a lovely day hike to Azrou. It could have been longer, but it was still fun. David took lots of pictures. Or thought he did. At our last stop I realized I hadn't taken a picture of him and asked for the camera. After taking one picture I noticed a message flashing on the screen - "No Memory Card."

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

Fish. AND chips. Because morocco. [Guest post!]

From my house guest, with a few minor additions from me. Should have posted it 6 days ago when he wrote it!

And so, the second chapter of my visit to morocco begins with a long, slow train ride from rabat, location of chapter 1, to assilah, coastal town just south of tangier. there Beki and I strolled the streets of the medina, this one distinctive for both the white and blue painted walls of their Spanish heritage, as well as the annual ritual of inviting artists to paint murals on the blank facades, resulting in an outdoor gallery that lasts four seasons. Of course beki chose a lovely town to initiate me to morocco with, and the breeze is cool and intermittent from the ocean only feet away. We wander the alleys and discover sites seen for hundreds of years. the guys in the stores aren't pushy at all, so we can actually look at stuff without feeling like we're being interrogated, which is a plus.

Our second night in town, we find casa garcia, a Spanish seafood joint that wouldn't have looked out of place in Galveston, and had some Spanish omelette and filet of sole. Beki taught me how to properly debone a little fish, as it was served whole, and so now I know! she herself had learned in France or Tunisia, and so life's journey of learning continues. The appetizer for the meal was a version of fish and chips that would cause most pause, we think. It was chips, as in thinly sliced potato, with some kind of long sliced smelt or sardine draped over the top. Rather than the English fried cod and French fries of the same name, this one is literally - fish. And chips.

Second day we took a grand taxi ('grand' meaning in morocco - recycled mercedes Benz from the 70s) down the road to a beach south of town, including a kilometer of dirt 4x4 trail in said taxi. Well it was either that or the "four heel drive" donkey cart, which is a little slower and unupholstered. As well as not having doors, floor, or a roof. They are hard on their cars here, but do get their value out!. We travel via a street market. Imagine a one lane country road with shade trees along one side. Add people strolling thick among impromptu shops of goods strewn on blankets and sold from the backs of vans, including full furniture sets, hardware, and clothing - groups huddled around particularly interesting deals, mothers with children in tow. Bicycles and wheelbarrows crisscrossing. This went on for a kilometer, at least. Cafes with grilled fish, open air meat, turkey, I think, dangling from a wire, flies abuzz. now Add two way thru traffic, like us, in the grand taxi, and the donkey carts, and motorcycles, mostly at a crawl. THAT was the Thursday street market in the country on the way to the beach.

The beach is lovely, straight, clean and empty on the Atlantic coast. It sits wedged into the feet of a hilly outcrop that is serenely free of any development not shaped like a grass hutch, though the sandy rutted road down the way could use some grading or drainage work to cut back on the washout sections. I'd not want to drive there in a rain for fear of accidentally parking upside down a hundred feet below. A half dozen little tent bodegas built out of, it looks like, whatever floated up on the beach today are set up for the post peak season straggling tourist crowd. And all silently fight for the thirty total gringos now wandering the surf. Paleys in sagging faded bathing suits who surely must go from one beach to another in their futile and yet seemingly ubiquitous attempt to become tan while also smoking cigarettes by scorning shade. Now plus two, minus the bit about cigarettes, shade, and tans. We picked a forward set of deck chairs situated under a canopy of rebar and hay for some serious relaxing closest to the water, but first need to be properly softened/beaten up by the brisk early fall surf. Heavy crashing Waves about chest and stomach high buffet us about after wading in to the knee deep chilly. Is there such a thing as a light wave when you are trying to stand in it?  Some waves catch us off guard (sneak up on us?) and we happily get knocked on our butts. One older gringo busies himself with pulling up a crab fishing line the locals have set, and gets in to an ongoing discussion, very animated, but sounding to us only like more waves crashing in the crisp September sun and surf.

We laze about and talk, and listen, and are busy doing not much at all. But we are happy and it is calm, but for the noisy earthmoving water. We Walk a bit and see the surf from a different angle then return to our gear, which has been helpfully moved out of reach from the slowly rising tide by our cabana man. A trio of camels employed as tourist photo backdrop can no longer nap head down in the sand, but must stand improbably in the surf runoff and also wait patiently for their blue turbaned minder to come lead them to higher land, lest they get wet. And who has ever heard of a wet camel? They might melt. The sun starts to move a little faster than us, finally, and it's time to eat a little tagine, the cumin heavy chicken stew, with dipping bread and a side of sliced vegetables before leaving. We take turns paying a dollar to hose off (beki suspects the guy who unlocked hers then proceeded to peep at her from the cubicle next door, but what do you do with no proof?) before getting back in the taxi for the climb out to town and the train station, our ride to meknes and chapter three.

Pictures!

You can thank T and V for these.

First, let's start with leaving Rabat. I don't know if the main AC at the airport had broken or what, but there were crews installing these standing units here and there. And I'm assuming they were temporary due to the way they were dealing with the excess water - see the bottle? A lady came around to change it about every ten minutes, when it would be half full and starting to get close to spilling out. She had several empties in her hand, so I think she probably just kept walking around, switching out the bottles and emptying them.

Brussels! On the Grande Place (Big Square) that it is known for. Pretty, no?

This is looking at the main belfry from a couple of streets away. I like all of the shops down below, with the buildings above, with the belfry still towering above them all. Apparently that's the typical Flemish style. It's not part of a cathedral or church, they usually aren't, but a kind of watch tower.

The obligatory peeing boy. Can you see him up there?

Belgium is proud of their comics. I'm not quite sure what this one is, but Brussels has painted walls of different ones around the city and they are pretty neat. I like how it keeps the style of the actual face of the building next to it and the windows and all.

Art near outside a design studio right near my hostel.

Cool/creepy statues in a very pretty, calm square with a very big pool. The decoration kind, not the swimming kind.

And the belfry all lit up at night. Super impressive.

Pictures like this remind me that I have actually learned something about how to get a decent shot over my 10 years of traveling. It's not terrible, but what would I want over half of the picture to be the cobblestone square itself instead of the amazing things around it? No wonder some of the random people who have asked me to take their pictures have seemed genuinely happy when they saw the way I took it for them.

Hall of the hostel, where you can see it's an old converted factory. I think the hall is as wide as my room was long. There were 4 beds in the room, 2 regular and one bunk.

I am not sure what this is about, but it looked cool. It is in the arts and museum area.

Look, the waffle has stuff in it! Filled waffles are typical of one city (Liege?? I forget) while other cities have stuff on top. The traditional is just powdered sugar on top, but of course now you can get fruit and chocolate and icecream and even nuts, I think.

Antwerp's Grande Place

Castle near the river in Antwerp, with more modern architecture right across the street.

I thought this statue/fountain was cool. Still Antwerp.

Fries! This accidentally ended up being my dinner that night. I think the guy switched my size up because it cost more than I thought it should, but I couldn't figure out exactly what happened until I saw it. I was too hungry to be thinking straight and catch the jerk in his overcharge, I guess. At least he gave me the big one since I paid for it (even if I couldn't eat it all.)

Super awesome coffee shop! I like how they have the little filter holders ready for up to five cups. It's apparently kind of 'their thing' which made me laugh since that's the way I make it for myself at home. I haven't seen the filter holders in Europe much, though, so I guess it's unique there.

One of two instances of cappuccino art I saw in Belgium. Most of the time the milk was just poured in however.

Bruges! Or Brugge, if you want to go with the Flemish/Dutch name.

I liked these guys holding up the benches. Maybe they are water dragons? Not sure.

A square I found by accident at 5AM on my way home. Turned out it was 2 blocks from my hostel, ha.

And the same square a couple of days later! This was on Saturday, after I wandered through the market and bought myself breakfast, then found a covered terrace from which to sip a coffee and read. It was raining. And wonderful.

Bike path along a canal between Brugge and Damme, a small city nearby. I did a bike tour and it was really fun, despite the rain.

If you enlarge the picture, you can see it says "here is my bank" across the top. And then clearly it really is MINE, since it says bpost.

More Bruges.

Ghent! I stayed in a hotel along the left, and you can see the castle over to the right. Yep, a castle-y castle. Right in the city.

Here is a better view of the castle for you. It looks so American-fairy-tale to me. Square tall part in the middle, round turret-y things around the outside, castle pointy parts and everything. Get an architect if you want the right words.

I have no idea, but found it awesome. And disturbing. Made me think of Le.

I read that you haven't seen Ghent if you haven't seen it at night. They are apparently very proud of their lighting. I thought it was pretty cool myself.

Europe and Africa, trying to touch. They're actually only 14 km (8.7 miles) apart and crazy people swim it for fun.

So there you go, you can't say I never gave you anything.

Vay Cay Shun

So.... what was I doing that made it so I had the opportunity to come back?

I ran away. It was hot, and sticky, and my Arabic classes ended and everyone I knew was going away for two weeks, so I saw my chance, grabbed it with both hands, and ran to a cooler climate. One with chocolate (which they don't do well here) and people who don't stare so much and pork products. Because not having access to things just makes me what them more. I am only human. Like that weekend I went to Malta and had pork with every other meal. I think 7 times in 4 days. But that was after 7.5 months in Tunisia, with just a 2 week jaunt to France to lift my spirits, so I didn't need to go quite so overboard this time.

There are cheap flights from here to many countries in Europe now, so I chose Belgium based on the accessibility as well as the other virtues extolled above. I stayed in two nice hotels (first and last nights) and two pretty nice hostels (but, still, hostels) and enjoyed myself. I got to eat food I chose and walk in the park and read wherever I wanted and dance in the rain and all in whatever clothes I felt like because nobody there cared. And why should they? That's right, they shouldn't.

I started out in Brussels because I could. It was very nice and very international. I should have eaten more Asian food there, and I kept saying that I was going to, but then... I forget. I did meet up with some couch surfers, though. Oh, and one of the European guys in my hostel room stole my electric toothbrush. I have many bad names for them. Or one of the housekeepers. I mean, who steals a toothbrush?? Even an electric one? I had even left the charger in Morocco.... I was so sad to go buy a normal one. Only more annoyed when it cost me over $3.

I also made a day trip to Antwerp (Antwerpen) from there. I had some awesome coffee, and bought a book and a purse and a really cute dress. I really went there to see the old stuff, not to shop, but there was suddenly something so comforting and home-like. And they were unique purchases, so I'm cool with it.

After that, I went to Brugge. Spelled the Flemish way because it's in Flanders and that's the way they prefer. It was very cute, but had a bit of a feel like I imagine you'd find in Colonial Williamsburg or something - real city but very kept to look like it was before, and lots more tourists than actual residents wandering the streets.

Finally, I spent a day in Ghent because I had heard you should really do that. I am glad I got that advice because it was a great city. It had plenty of old stuff, but managed to feel more alive.

By that time I was kind of done with hopping around, but not really looking forward to coming back. Not that it's bad here, but I AM here to work on that big stupid research project that has already been eating my life for years. And I still don't know how to get the participants I need. It's so scary! But, I've got a helper, I'm knocking out the bits that need to be translated, and it should all turn out. Should. I mean, once I put an ad on Facebook saying that I'm PAYING people to just let me record them it should go quickly, right? Right? Please, someone, agree with the woman here.

As I have time (i.e. get bored of my work and want to do something else) I will come and fill you in more on the different cities. Maybe even with pictures if you're extra nice.

Back in Morocco

Someone asked how my trip back was. So I told him. And now he says it needs to be here. But, really? Does it? I mean, if I post that, what about my 9 days spent AWAY?? Do those count for nothing? They certainly count to me! It was great with the cool weather and rain and skirts and parks and relaxing and softer beds. And ham.

But, it's already written, so here you go:

Travel here often has the potential to be crazy, but it's not always. And the worst part was in Belgium before I left. Which sucked because I had made sure to buy my ticket the day before in order to not risk long lines. Like I mentioned, I screwed up the time of the train, and that got me worried, but as soon as I realized it I also reminded myself that I couldn't do shit about it other than get there as quickly as possible. So, I looked on the boards for the train I thought I wanted, and I thought I saw it, but it didn't say it went all the way to the city of the airport. I then got worried over again and went back to the ticket desks, found the one with the shortest line (just a couple people) and asked the girl. They almost all speak English, it's crazy. And super helpful. So she told me to go to Brussels and change there. Awesome. 

Found next train to Brussels, was in 20 minutes, so I went to the platform and started reading. It came, I got on, and then I realized there are THREE stops in Brussels. And I THOUGHT I knew the one I needed. But I just kept reading til we got to Brussels and when I got off I asked the train lady (who was speaking in French when I walked up, but had been in Dutch before that, but spoke to me in great English) and she told me the platform number of what she thought was the next train to the other city and its time - in just over half an hour. I went to look at the boards myself, as she wasn't 100% sure and realized there was another - in two minutes! So I dashed down the stairs to the "find your platform" area, headed one way, realized it was wrong, turned around, and ran for the other platform, hopped on, and got a seat as it was making the "doors closing" noise. Very lucky. 

Then I just had to wait to get to the city of the airport, but I thought I'd made up enough time. The bus from the city to the airport doesn't run constantly, just every half hour (luckily I didn't realize that til I got there) but... who got extra lucky? Yep, there was one leaving just 5 minutes later and people were just starting to board. I grabbed food at the airport, which ended up being lame, but possibly not as lame as the Ryanair food. 

The flight itself was ok. I was sleepy but had the whole row to myself, so I could spread out a bit. And I put on harry potter to relax me. I do that fairly often now. So I dozed and nodded for three hours and got off in Rabat. I saw the sign for the shuttle and a bus out front with the same lame symbol on it, so I asked the information desk and they said, yeah it's 20 dirham (when my dumb ass grand taxi TO the airport had been 150!) and I happily went to pay my fare. It only stopped twice, once in the other big city near Rabat, and once next to the train station. Perfect. 

Went in, got a first class ticket (people talk more, but in a good way maybe because they usually have compartments or maybe because chatty people like it better? or have more money?) and went to the platform indicated on the sign. Noticed the train number was different, but if this one was headed the same place, why not? Well, because it had had a one hour delay before, that's why not! As in, there was probably something wrong with the stupid thing. We got a couple of stops away and stopped. For too long. And sat there. At one point another train was a couple of tracks away and we started to notice people running by outside. And we're like, "ummm, what?" so someone went to go check and came back and said the other train was headed the same place and leaving sooner, and he was going. 

I grabbed my stuff and cautiously headed toward a door. I wanted to talk to a train person first. Indeed, another benefit of first class is that you're likely to find a train person nearby. And the guy said, yes, that one's leaving first, go for it if you want, and come back here if you miss it! Sounded like a good plan, so I went with several others. Even was faster than them and found a seat, lol. After that, it was just a matter of waiting like on a normal train. 

Oh, but I was a little concerned that my host fam may not have known. See, I realized in Rabat that my phone wanted a pin code that I had left in Meknes. I asked some people probably younger than me in the station restaurant (where I got juice and a snack) if there was a public phone and the girl said probably somewhere outside. But she couldn't remember the word for outside in French and asked the guy in Arabic. When I told her I understood she was stunned and they were both amused, and I used the guy's phone to send a text to my host mom and just hoped it would work. Plus then I ended up being an hour or so late. But, extra luck, and they had been at my new place, then went over to the park in front of their place, which is also in front of the train station, and noticed there were lots of people coming out and then saw me! yay!! so they came over, she called my name, I was thrilled, and we went home, they fed me, and I slept on the horribly hard bed again and remembered what it's like to be back. But at least I wasn't traveling anymore.