Category: Leza

What Surprised Me Abroad

Posted on by sleza
Although it’s only March, I have been outside of the United States for the entirety of 2019. I have doubled the number of countries I’ve been to, and tripled the number of continents. It will be interesting to be back in the United States once again, especially in a region where English is often viewed as the most common language, because it’s been a long while since billboards and menus and public transportation announcements and websites have been in my natural language.
Before arriving in Morocco, I was in Paris; after leaving, I am in Spain. It surprised me that I was more nervous for my belongings in Paris more than in Morocco. In Morocco, it was interesting that the cemeteries seemed so picturesque and photo-worthy even if they weren’t so different from those I’ve seen before, and that the knotted trees somehow were often the strongest reminders that I was in Africa. One noteworthy difference that I didn’t really like about Morocco was that there was no distinction between being from the United States and being American; in fact, some people didn’t understand when I said I was from the United States, and only got what I was saying when I said America instead. However, I’ve grown up understanding that there is a strong difference: the United States is a country in the continent of America. People from Canada, the United States, Mexico, Guatemala, Columbia, Peru, Uruguay, etc. are all American; but this is not the way it seems all Moroccans see it. When I’ve visited Mexico, some people are even a little critical of people from the United States say that they’re from America and will respond with “So am I, but which country” just to highlight the difference; therefore, it felt a little traitorous of me whenever I had to say America when the United States didn’t translate well. Finally, a comical difference in Spain is that pigs are so worshipped in the cuisine, even though so nearby in Morocco eating pigs is so frowned upon.
Perhaps one thing that really surprised me about all of these countries is that there really aren’t as many rules for coffee names as I had thought there were. I was always under the impression that espresso drinks were clearly defined and universal, but this is surely not the case. In the States, I most often see that lattes are espresso with steamed milk, cappuccinos are espresso with more foam, macchiatos are essentially upside-down cappuccinos, and coffee with milk is not espresso at all but a drip with often cold cream or milk. In Paris, I didn’t drink much coffee. In Morocco, cafe au lait (coffee with milk) is espresso with steamed milk which most resembled lattes in the States, a macchiato was often really syrupy, and a cappuccino was sweet enough to taste just like coffee ice cream that had been warmed and topped with whipped cream and chocolate syrup! In my sisters study abroad experience in Argentina over the summer as well as my mom’s visit to Italy during the tail end of my time in Morocco, each found drinks different from their expectations when ordering the various espresso options. But the biggest consistency has been that only in the States can one ask for big versions of the drinks; everywhere else, it seems that the drink size is nonnegotiable and ordering a second (or third) drink is the only option if you want more. It might seem silly that I’m spending so much time thinking about the differences in coffee terminology, but I do love coffee.
My term abroad in Morocco has been the most fun term at WPI so far. I feel very lucky to have been able to experience living in Morocco for two months, and happy to say that I feel I got to do and see (and eat) everything that I wanted during my time in the country. I got very close to the girls in the Humanities group, traveled around the country almost every weekend, tried food and lodging in upscale and down-to-earth places alike, spoke with countless locals and tourists, and absorbed miles and miles of the Moroccan landscape. I would definitely recommend doing the Humanities project in Morocco to other WPI students, especially to those who are comfortable trying new things and who can experience other countries and cultures without feeling a need to compare to what’s back home or judge with either blue- or rose-tinted glasses. I feel that I made the most of my time in Morocco, and will definitely want to return because I really enjoyed being there.

Morocco: a Land of Contrast

Posted on by sleza

Ever since first landing in Morocco, I have enjoyed seeing the national flag fluttering on the tops of buildings, outside mosques, or atop trinkets for tourists in the medina. I have stopped the flow of the group of Humanities girls as we scurry from place to place in order to line up my camera just so and wait for the wind to stretch the flag in the most aesthetically pleasing way for a photo because I see the waving flag of Morocco as a perfect accent to the many places or buildings I have tried to take back with me through the camera. Perhaps one of the reasons I appreciate the country’s flag so much and feel that it is representative of my experience here enough to highlight it in my pictures is that it is, intended symbolism aside, about contrast; the flag consists of a green star on a bright red background, colors as opposite as can be.

 

These colors are visible throughout the entire country outside of the flag and on the landscape of Morocco. Every time I have driven through the countryside, I have marveled at how lush and green much of the fields are, and also how red the dirt can be. If I were told that the colors of the flag were chosen to capture the brilliant contrast between the earth and its plants, I would be likely to believe it. Morocco seems to be a land of contrasts, a quality so noticeable in many aspects of life here that it is hard to describe concisely exactly what the culture and the country are like.

 

 

Aside from being geographically diverse (such as snow-capped mountains standing not too far from the Sahara desert), Moroccan people seem to have different behaviors depending on the situation. This behavioral diversity hints at some of the contrasts within Moroccan culture, which in my opinion creates a complexity that enhances the experiences that I have been able to have while visiting this country.

 

While I have been in Morocco, I feel that I am first and foremost a tourist, and after that a student (which I’m sure is the opposite of how WPI would like me to feel, but maybe that shows that I’m simply absorbing the Moroccan trend towards opposites). I’ve heard time and time again that Moroccans love tourists and are very hospitable and generous people. I completely agree with this sentiment – as long as the tourists are doing what is expected of them. When American students are attempting to visit a Moroccan slaughterhouse, however, then calls must be made. I have had long conversations about what I consider to be personal subjects – family, politics, religion, etc. – with complete strangers, but when I mention that I’m here to do a research project, the questions become a little more pointed. Of the Moroccans whom I have met, I have enjoyed sometimes too much hospitality, but within a certain scope.

 

The contrast that I have likely enjoyed most and had the hardest time explaining to my friends and family back home would be that lavish beauty is often hidden behind an unexciting exterior. Especially in the medina, the high walls can blend together and be somewhat unstimulating; however, I don’t think I have ever walked into a home or office in the medina without being overwhelmed by amazing decorations. A shining example of this lies in what is supposedly the largest home in the medina (I say ‘supposedly’ because there was absolutely nothing from the outside that would hint that this door led to anything special, so how am I to know if perhaps an even less impressive facade leads into something even more amazing?). This house stands behind a plain, even boring, door on a bare stretch of wall; yet within, there are rooms big enough for a bird to roost in the intricately carved wooden rafters and breathtaking tile and plaster art, floor to very high ceiling. Knowing that behind the high walls and drab doors of the medina may lie the most beautiful buildings makes every trip somewhere new an excitement and a surprise.

 

However, I cannot in good conscience generalize and report that in Morocco, interior beauty is mostly masked by boring exteriors because so many of the doors here are masterpieces in their own right. Now, it may seem contradictory that the moment I am done explaining that one can’t judge a Moroccan building by its cover, I mention that Moroccan doors are so noteworthy to deserve their own paragraph. But this is just how Morocco is a country built on contrasts. While I am surprised at how often I walk into a building where the front face does nothing to prepare me for the beauty within, there are enough spectacular doors in every part of every city I have visited in Morocco that having photos of me in front of beautiful doors was a goal of mine that resulted in enough photos to fill an album. Doors seem to be an exception to the cultural tendency to show humility and not flaunt beauty or extravagance, and often are an opportunity to showcase immaculate tilework, intricate carvings of plaster, delicate pieces of shaved wood, or even a combination of all of those!

 

Other such contrasts that could be explored in more depth have a lot to do with time, privacy, ruins, and traffic. Moroccans are often late to meetings or events that even if they were the ones to set the time. Also, Moroccans tend to announce they must leave and then start a new conversation to delay the goodbyes and then say again they really do have to go. Women in Morocco are often treated kindly and allowed a lot of privacy; however making women uncomfortable through catcalling is very common, and hammams are visited regularly – which, as we recently discovered for ourselves, offer almost no privacy within genders. The Roman ruins in Morocco are a popular destination for tourists, yet the remains of traditional houses, either built with stone or clay, are not as commonly marketed even if they are just as interesting as the other ruins. Speaking of ruins, the busses in many of the Moroccan cities (especially Rabat) are poorly-maintained and quite literally falling apart, yet there are brand new tram lines and bullet trains in perfect condition. The traffic in Morocco is chaotic, but functional so that I sometimes clench my fists or jaw with nerves from being driven but have never seen a collision during the course of two months. Moroccans do well at putting others first (like pouring tea for friends before their own glass), but push to the front to be the first off the tram or stand in front of ATMs as if there is no one already waiting for a turn.

 

Part of the thrill and challenge of being in Morocco has been learning how to handle and predict the different inconstancies that seem to be present throughout the country. Perhaps for Moroccans, these observations may not seem noteworthy because that is simply the way of life here and these contrasts are taken for granted, as I’m sure I am accustomed to certain things back home that would confuse visitors and seem to be an inconsistency in the culture or stereotype. I appreciate that my time here has been a complex thing to explain because not everything follows the same trend even if I might expect it to because it has made me notice more and enjoy all of the red dirt and green earth, all of the beautiful contrasts.

Culture Shock? Maybe Not…

Posted on by sleza
For my third blog post in Morocco, I won’t really be talking about Morocco. I haven’t seen as much of the country, or especially the city of Rabat, as much as I expected or wanted. Likely the most significant element as to why, is that I have only been traveling as part of a group (and by traveling I literally just mean leaving the dorm and walking down the street). At the first introspection, I presumed that I was simply more affected by culture shock and fear of being an American woman alone in Morocco, with all the internalized prejudices towards which that hints. While unpleasant, this was an easy answer. It at once allows me space to admit my faults and also relieve the blame from myself; I may be dependent or racist or not very confident, but it’s not my fault if my peers want to stay in the dorm more than I do.
 
But I don’t think that’s true. The culprit, I believe, is more related to a quality of my personality less obvious than culture shock can explain. I think I just don’t want to be alone because here that means I’m choosing to be. And really, the more I think it through the less culture shock seems to even fit at all.
 
My first solo day in Paris and the highlight of my trip: a Parisian cooking class.
I was in Paris before arriving in Rabat for four days and had the most fun when my friends from WPI left for Spain and I was on my own. I don’t speak French, didn’t ever excange currency to euros, had to study maps both in private and public to have my bearings, didn’t have cell service and depended on WiFi to communicate to my friends or family, didn’t feel comfortable that my belongings were very safe, the list goes on – but I don’t believe I ever experienced much culture shock. Of course, I noticed how things were different from back home, from the stereotypes, from my expectations – but I enjoyed the experience of learning. It was a brand new beast, and I was facing it alone, and I loved it. The difference between being comfortable alone in Paris and here in Morocco, is that now I’m not the only one. In Paris, I was on my own; here, I’m surrounded by people very much like me who are working towards similar goals as my own.

 
I was nervous after signing up to come to Morocco for my Humanities project to find that friends had signed up together, unlike myself. I signed because I have always wanted to travel the world, this was a great opportunity, I didn’t know what else to do for my humanities, and I had the global scholarship, so it really just all made sense for me to go; the social aspect of being a solo passenger on a trip with groups of friends did not even cross my mind. But that is what I am on this trip, in terms of the Humanities students.
 
 Dom and Laura were already friends; Kam and Amir are close from Arabic; Ketaki, Sarah, and Mae all lived nearby in the same building last year. And then there’s me. I suppose Cassie would have been in a similar situation as myself, but her decision not to come to Morocco (while, of course, unfortunate) has actually turned out to really be a blessing in disguise for me. In high school, I had found myself with a lot of really good friends but from different friend groups, so I would kind of float around as desired.
 
We eat altogether almost every meal; sharing food creates familial bonds.
My time in Morocco has been very much reminiscent of that so far. Since Cassie was acquainted with Laura, I am roommates with Dom; this has allowed me to grow closer to her and Laura more than we would if they had roomed together. Separately, I share a mutual friend with the other three girls (as well as other connections) and so I’ve also gotten closer with Sarah, Ketaki, and Mae. Luckily, the six of us girls get along really well together so we do spend a lot of time all together – but I have been able to float around each of the two subgroups within the girls of the humanities program.
 
Okay, so then what’s the problem? I’m getting along with all the girls and feel really free and comfortable to change the group with whom I spend my time!
 
Well, that is my problem.
 
 Because I’ve gotten lucky in that I have an “in” to the two friend groups within the Humanities girls, I do feel a little uncomfortable operating outside of those groups. I haven’t done so much traveling and experimenting alone because I’m tethered to the newly deepening friendships to which I’ve been introduced. When I was in Paris, I was free to do anything anytime because I was the only person available. 

 
 

I don’t believe that now since I’m in a different country I suddenly am uncomfortable being on my own, but now I have the option – and dare I say, the expectation – to not be alone. I don’t think it’s simply just cultural unfamiliarity that makes me less comfortable being a solo tourist; for example, I felt much more paranoid about my belongings in Paris than I have here. While I’m certain the cultural differences do contribute, I think the small microcosm of WPI is what keeps me from being more independent. Because there are only a handful of girls with the same project type and schedule, it’s easier to stick with the group more than I might otherwise. This restricted social pool likely would have the same effects in Worcester as it has here.

 
If this post has been disappointing because instead of being about my time in Morocco, it’s only analyzed my experience in a very small community of my peers from WPI, I’ll briefly touch on (pun not intended) another observation I’ve made recently: people are very touchy here.
 

On Sunday when we had the lunch with many people our age with the Think Association, I was surprised at how many people took my hand and pulled my waist to show me around. Someone told me recently that women here are touchy with other women because there’s less physical contact between genders, but it was still a little jarring for me. I must admit I still mess up the cheek kisses every time, from either not making the smooching noise or trying to pull away too soon or whatever else, but the cheek kisses feel somehow still more natural than the contact in between greetings and good-byes. Even on the tram, people will brush past you to be the first out of the doors even if you’re getting off too. Perhaps in the States we are just more mindful of the personal bubble than people are here, for better or worse.

Clean Plate Club

Posted on by sleza

One of the most compelling reasons I wanted to do my Humanities project abroad was because I was so drawn to the idea of trying Moroccan food. I do not feel even slightly weird acknowledging the fact that I am so food-oriented that I signed up to leave the continent and learn Arabic partially to eat new food. In my experience so far in this country, I have been really happy with the food – but there is something that has been very unnerving to me at restaurants:

People leave behind their bread.

My favorite Moroccan food: couscous, chicken, and vegetables. A guaranteed ticket to the clean plate club for me.

For the life of me, I cannot understand how one could literally be given a basket full of bread and walk away without finishing it. There have been more times than I can count that I have been so tempted to get up and take the food left behind on tables and take it for myself so that it won’t go to waste.

Whenever we go out to restaurants, we ask for more baskets of bread, sometimes even more than once. The waiters do not know what’s coming to them when they give these American girls studying Humanities a table at their restaurant. Our first night in Tanger, we had stray dogs and cats tromping around the edge of the outdoor restaurant hoping to be fed scraps and I watched at least three tables completely ignore their complementary bread while our table absolutely destroyed three heaping basketfuls before our entrees even reached the table.

At Cafe Hafa, which seems to be more for the scenery than the service.

At Cafe Hafa in Tanger, I was distracted from the beautiful views of the Mediterranean and Spain by everyone around us who would order an espresso, drink half of it, and leave. Or the people who wouldn’t fully finish their omelet and let the waiter take it away however many minutes later. Or the people behind us who ordered two delicious looking crepe-like breakfast breads with some jam on top and mint teas and left without hardly touching them! Even though my back was to that table and I was facing the view, I kept turning around because I was just so completely thrown by how they ignored so much perfectly good food. (It didn’t help that we were really hungry at this point and still didn’t have our order taken or bread on the table – but still!)

Here in Morocco, the US dollar goes further than it does at home. I looked up the minimum wage in Morocco and it is roughly $300 per month. Yet complementary food and even food that is ordered and paid for seems to be so easily thrown away while I really make sure to get the most of my meals and join the clean plate club.

I could not for the life of me understand this phenomenon that recurs and recurs, and I even had to bring it up to the university students we met. They said that usually the bread that is served with a meal in restaurants isn’t the best bread they can get, so they tend to ignore it. While I can kind of follow that logic (I say kind of because really that bread that was served on our first night in Tanger was absolutely delicious, so I have a hard time imaging how bread can be so much better), I still don’t like the idea of leaving food behind. Maybe it just goes to show that Americans eat much more than we need to, but honestly I try my best to waste as little food as I can, even if it’s not the best food that I can get.

I’m not sure if it’s just a product of who I happen to be around, or if it’s just common to not finish food here, but I don’t think any amount of time living here will make me feel less compelled to finish everything that’s on the table. I could understand leaving just a little on the plate or in the bread basket to wanting to avoid being the one to take the last piece; but to leave an entire breakfast crepe and half of a mint tea or espresso? I really think the next time I see that, I will actually get up from my seat and take the untouched food for myself. In my opinion, no bread deserves to be ignored.

My First “World Travel”

Posted on by sleza

I have flown on airplanes a lot during my life so far. I was only in second or third grade when I flew alone for the first time, and I was hardly at all scared or nervous for it; if anything, it was kind of nice to be given star treatment for being an Unaccompanied Minor. While it’s less glamourous to be unaccompanied but not a minor anymore, I have a lot of experience flying across the country on my own, and I do like it. I pride myself on being skilled at getting around independently; I credit a lot of my comfortability with navigating cities on my own to taking public buses after school when I was younger. I tend to experience less stress, nervousness, or confusion regarding navigating public transportation or touring unfamiliar places than my peers.

While I’ve been fortunate enough to visit much of the United States, and some parts of Canada and Mexico, I have never been outside of the continent. This will be my first time on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, and the first time visiting countries that speak a language I do not know. Before arriving in Morocco, I will be in Paris for four days.

Before boarding my first flight, I experienced anxiety that I’ve never felt about flying before; I was mostly nervous that I might miss my connecting flight, or that I would land and have to go back through security again (which is unlikely but has happened once or twice to me before). After landing at LAX with almost 3 hours before the next flight, I walked about 20 or 30 minutes to the terminal through the underground maze of the huge international airport. I reached the international terminal too early for my flight information to be posted, but that did nothing to calm my nerves that I would be able to have my passport checked and boarding pass printed in time to make the flight. I busied myself with uploading photos from my phone onto my computer to free storage space on my phone, and sure enough didn’t have any trouble getting a boarding pass and boarding the plane once the time came. The flight was a long 11 hours, but I was fed well and it passed more or less uneventfully.

When landing in Paris, I was surprised at how uncomfortable I was. I think I was overwhelmed to be in a place alone where I didn’t speak the primary language, and I was nervous to leave the airport’s WiFi and be without any connection to the world I just left. I texted via WiFi to my family that I had landed, but I stayed in the airport because I didn’t know where I would go and didn’t want to leave and be left without cell service or access to internet. I was meeting up with friends whose flight would land in 3 hours, and while I had expected I would go to a café nearby or start exploring a little (or at least as much as I could with all my luggage), I was anxious to leave. Instead, I started this blog post and then heavily studied the Metro map I had gotten from the Tourism Information desk.

After learning more about how to navigate the city, I felt ready to navigate the airport. I got to the terminal where my friends would be and waited there for them to arrive, but this time I was much less overwhelmed and began to actually start having fun.

Even though I still hadn’t left the airport, I had gotten my bearings. I now knew how the Metro worked, knew which pass to get, knew where to go to get the pass and reach our lodging. I was still nervous about not speaking the language, but now at least I had a better idea of how to interact with the city; the next step would be the people who live in it. One thing that I strongly noticed was that it was a relief to be able to still be connected to the world I had just left; I can’t imagine not having a cell phone that could text over WiFi while first entering a brand-new country, even though I know that countless people travelled far away before cell phones and Internet. Having the chance to recuperate for an hour before leaving the airport was what made me feel more confident about traveling and more in control of my plans. I think that process of readying myself would have been longer and more difficult if I wasn’t able to connect with my family and friends during that time.

My experience of being uncomfortable upon arriving in Paris was very valuable information for me. I think when I arrive in Rabat, I will want to take time before exploring to really map things out and gain more of an understanding for exactly how to navigate my trip. Once that is done, I hope to be much less overwhelmed and more comfortable to really learn about what Morocco is like. I think this term will be hard, but I am very excited for it.

When I was on my first flight, although it was domestic within the United States, it was the beginning of a journey of a lot of firsts for me. I knew that in a short amount of time, my life would be changed forever. Really, I have no idea what I expect Morocco will be, or how I will use my time, or if it will be a majority uncomfortable or natural; but I think that it’s a good thing to not go in with too many expectations. I know that it will be a valuable experience, but I don’t know how it will be so. And I appreciate that uncertainty because it makes it feel even more like an adventure. And ultimately, that is what I want.

I pursued going abroad for my humanities project because I want to have my perceptions shaken and my worldview redefined by gaining experience that I otherwise may not have. My experience abroad, while short, has already given me the opportunity to grow and learn and push myself; I am excited to continue to have opportunities like that during my term in Morocco.