Oh, language.

Early on in this trip, my father asked me if learning Modern Standard Arabic and Moroccan dialect in separate classes was like learning Italian and Abbruzzese dialect from Scots. While that model isn't quite right, it is close in its bizarreness.

Imagine that Bostonian English, New York English, Californian English, and Southern U.S. English are different in more than just accent - the are different in vocabulary and in some syntax as well. What I'm doing here is like living in Boston and learning both Bostonian English... and Shakespearean English. Possibly even Middle English (whan that Aprile with his showres soote...).

Also, in this version of the United States, when you turn on the TV people are speaking Middle English. And some of your high school and university classes are in Middle English. The rest are in the language of your former colonizers (which in my model can't be England. Pretend France colonized the U.S. I mean, they did. Right, Louisiana?)

The thing about fusHa is that it is standard, but it's not. And it is "closest to the language of the Qur'an" but it has, by necessity, been updated and simplified (and, in any given textbook, marked by at least one country's dialect). But because of fusHa's closeness to religious, sacred language, everyone is reluctant to update it MORE, and bring that weird Shakespearean English down to earth to be used on a daily basis.

Why is this a problem? Go back to my weird version of the United States. Say you want to go to the south to implement a literacy program. The people there speak Southern English. But the language of education and the news is Middle English. So to make them literate in ANY way you have to first make them Middle-English literate, and then get them reading things that will change their thinking, help them get jobs, etc. etc. And yes, I know there are those of you who can make sense of Chaucer and regale us with a recitation - but it takes a lot of extra work to understand that!

And if you wanted to teach people to use computers or whatnot in Southern English, you would not be able to find the teaching materials in that language. Rural women's literacy in Morocco is absolutely dismal - down around 10%. And they are being held back from reading and a whole lot else by the darija/fusHa split. And this is true for North Africa and the Arab Middle East - that is a whole lot of countries! (This is the part where I go look up literacy statistics to put my money where my mouth is.)

So yeah, that's the fusHa situation in a nutshell. Kind of exhausting.

Read more...

Week 3: A Birthday, Schoolchildren, and Environmentalists

Outside of my dorm

This week began with my twenty-first birthday on Monday. It was low-key and quiet—but compared to the chaos that was last week, I was content with having a calm birthday. My roommate gave me a card in the morning and bought me a cake that we shared after dinner. The Belgians sang “Happy Birthday” to me in Dutch and Polish (they also take Polish as a part of their Slavonic Studies program). On Tuesday, my roommate and I made “breakfast for dinner.” We made banana-chocolate chip pancakes, hash-browns, bacon, and eggs for everyone in our dinner-swap. (We take turns cooking dinner for each other in pairs, Monday through Thursday). My friends Martijn and Koen were ecstatic, and kept going on and on about American breakfast food.

Wednesday was the most eventful day of this week--leaving me very tired today as I write this. Some of the international students were asked to travel to Angarsk (about an hour away) to help the university with an “international day” program. The gist of the visit was to expose students to the variety of disciplines and languages that they can study at IGLU. I went with three of my friends (English and Belgian) to lead sessions in our various languages (French, English, German) with highschoolers.

We arrived and were immediately treated like rock stars (some more than others, might I add). We were given coffee and sweets to eat before being introduced in their auditorium. After the opening information session, we went to a classroom to talk about ourselves in Russian. My friend Ashley, from Manchester, was the most popular with the students. They had so many questions about England and his perceptions of Russia. After speaking with students in Russian, we each parted ways to lead our individual language sessions. I had a lovely group of students for English. They were attentive and sweet, and one of them even told me when she walked into the room she didn’t know I was an American—she thought I was Russian. I really enjoyed speaking with them, and I told the teacher that I would gladly return to have another conversation hour. We had lunch in their cafeteria and then returned to the auditorium to hand out prizes to the three best speakers in each language group. After the ceremony was over, the boys I came with were bombarded for pictures and to exchange email addresses. We were each interviewed for their school’s TV station about why we decided to study Russian in Irkutsk before leaving. It was a great experience, and I have included some pictures of the school below.

___

Koen being interviewed___ My English Classroom

Once we arrived back at our university, I went straight to my internship. There, I helped with internet-based advertising for the organization and then looked at the new website. I will be helping translate and design the website, in addition to teaching a beginners’ English class. I am in love with Great Baikal Trail and the people there. I have been meaning to describe them in an entry, and it seems the time is now.

When I first went the GBT office, I ended up going into the right building, thinking there was no way that it could possibly be correct, and went into the adjacent building instead. The adjacent building—though much nicer—was unfortunately a dentist’s office. I asked about GBT, and they told me to go next door—back to where I had started. So I walked across the snowy sidewalk to the adjacent building and pushed open the swinging door. The building smelled musty and looked deserted. I poked around on the bottom floor, and then saw a staircase. I climbed the staircase and stood outside 4 closed iron doors. The one marked “GBT” was locked, so I called my coordinator to say I had arrived. She unlocked and opened the iron door to invite me in. The office is a tiny space, the two connected rooms no bigger than a two room double in Hewitt at Wesleyan. There is a table with several benches and chairs in the first room and a few computers and a couch in the second. The first day, I went to meet my coordinator. I was immediately soothed by her presence and down-to-earth attitude. Her name is Natasha—she wears Lisa Loeb glasses and listens to Bob Marley.

After our first meeting, I agreed to come back in the evening to listen to an English class. I didn’t speak any English, but instead, I listened to their level. The office was packed with bodies, probably about 15 people. Some of the students spoke beautiful English, while others had never studied before and couldn’t say anything. My favorite part is that I got to silently people-watch for about an hour and a half. Remember how I described the Russian high style of fur coats, hats, and high-heeled leather boots? Not here. The people who volunteer for GBT are straight out of Wesleyan. There’s even a girl with dreds! Everyone was dressed casually and one boy looks like he regularly surfs around San Francisco. I was ecstatic—I had found my people, my Wesleyanite-look-a-likes, in the middle of Siberia.

After staying at the office for a few hours on Wednesday, I went home to eat dinner, say goodbye to two friends, and ended up staying up late with a friend who needed some support. I have absolutely no regrets about my four hours of sleep, but I'm starting to feel it. I have a meeting for GBT tonight, and I will try to take some pictures for next time.

In the meantime, enjoy the new photos! (I have a video to upload, but I can't get it to work..I'll be sure to post it as an in-between-blogs treat).

Read more...

Winter Ulpan: Check! Blog...oh yeah!

As Lindsay so eloquently explained, it is really hard to figure out what to say in a blog.  Shortly after my last entry, my ulpan (Hebrew classes) went from 10 hours a week to 30, and all thoughts of what to write in my blog went out the window.  As I discovered during the last few weeks, my Hebrew grammar is a lot better than I thought it was, but I have the vocabulary of an eight year old with a learning disability (since I was eight when I lived here).  When I discussed this with the ulpan coordinator, she suggested trying to test into a higher level.  So I did.  I'll find out how I did when I start my classes on Sunday *fingerscrossed*

I met my new roommate a few weeks ago.  Her name is Noam.  She is from Tel-Aviv, but she lived in Holland for a few years, and she's an English Literature/Psychology double major, which means she and I can both help each other by speaking in our native languages.  So we agreed to alternate between English days and Hebrew days.  She and I get along pretty well, and our first weekend together, she invited me to stay with her in Tel-Aviv.  Her little sister, Roni, is my age and is a medic in the IDF.  And her boyfriend, Ben, does something in intelligence.  The four of us went biking (something I hadn't done in a really long time) in downtown Tel-Aviv.  Roni pointed out to me some historical sights, and Noam pointed out to me the best stores in which to shop.  We went to a poster shop, where Noam and I discovered we have the same taste in movies including The Rocky Horror Picture Show so we decided to go see it together that night.  It was mostly the same as the U.S. except the intro was in Hebrew, and since elections were coming up, there were a few cracks about the top three politicians running for prime minister...I think.  We also watched the first season of my new favorite television show: M'rachak N'giah (A Touch Away) about a Russian immigrant family living in an extremely orthodox neighborhood.  In the show, the son (who is quite the hottie) falls madly in love with his next-door neighbor, whose marriage is being arranged.  Drama ensues.

The following weekend, some family friends invited me over for Shabbat dinner.  That night, their son brought some interesting guests: Three doctors who had come to evaluate the humanitarian situation in Gaza and a nun who had been translating for them.  The doctors had worked in various countries.  They told us about the situation and the non-Jewish ones asked questions about the Jewish customs we did for Shabbat (blessings for the meal, drinking wine, etc.).  It was really interesting to talk to them.

That week, I went to the Israel Museum.  Most of the exhibits are currently under construction, but I went to the Shrine of the Book (where the Dead Sea Scrolls are displayed), the sculpture garden, and the history and art sections of the museum.  I hadn't been to the museum since 1998, and I was startled to find that things were smaller than I remember.  On the other hand, now that I know more about Israel's history, the documents that I saw (which included a record of what the leaders of the country thought would happen right before the Yom Kippur War, the speech that was in Yitzchak Rabin's pocket when he was shot (complete with borderline-creepy blood stains), and the Declaration of Independence) seemed much more interesting.   .

That weekend, my friend Ari, who is here on the freshman program, turned 18 so we all celebrated by going out to dinner and then a bar.  She started jumping when she got carded for the first time.

This Sunday, I will start my classes in the international school.  If I get what I want, I will be in "Revolution and Reaction: East European Jews in the 19th and 20th Centuries," "Biblical Figures and Stories in Jewish, Christian, and Islamic Art," and Hebrew.  In March, I will start my class at Hebrew University on English lit in the Middle Ages and Renaissance, which I will be taking with my roommate.  In the meantime, I will enjoy my last few days of class-less freedom before Passover break in April when I will see all of you.

P.S.  I promise to update more often from now on.  Here are some pictures to make up for my lack of posting.

 

The Shrine of the Book, The Ahavah (love) sculpture

 

The Israeli Declaration of Independence, An art piece made entirely of glass beads

Some friends I met in the international school: Sarah, (me), Shaina, Ari, Emily, and Margot

Read more...

Dar dyalee

Two minute video of the inside of my family's apartment. House Tour! Oops, Alpha Delts read this. Ahem. I mean Tour of the House.

Read more...

Illustrious Persons

On Saturday I went to the Institut Italien here in Rabat to see (drumroll for the French students) Fatema Mernissi. She was speaking about her latest book, L'amour dans les pays musulmans, in the company of the book's Italian translator, a psychologist/literary theorist, and an Italian moderator with hilarious accented French.

Mernissi, as one might expect, is quite the personality. She addressed the audience as "les enfants" and reprimanded one annoying Spaniard who stood up to ask a question but really just wanted to hear herself talk. At the end Lella Fatema signed my program, although I did have to wait for a large multilingual crowd to stop bothering her.

And this morning in MSA I sat next to (drumroll for the Arabic students) Mahmoud al-Batal, none other than one of the three editors of the infamous Al-Kitaab. WHAT? He's apparently teaching us a lesson on Wednesday. I'll have to bite my tongue to keep from telling him that my Moroccan fusHa professor regularly says that the grammar in Al-Kitaab "is not Arabic" by which he means it is, well, too Egyptian for his taste.

Read more...

to do: post on blog

i don't update this blog nearly enough. but that's because i genuinely don't know what to say... what is blog-worthy, really? i could talk as generally as possible about how my classes are going (which is difficult for me to comprehend, let alone those not obsessed with schenkerian analysis or using augmented sixth chords in the right place), or specifically about the people i'm getting to know (interesting considering the public nature of this thing), or maybe, to continue a theme, which new parts of the city in which i've gotten miserably lost (so many!), or other seemingly notable events. notable? to whom? me? family? friends? random people who don't actually know me? oh bother....

so i'm going to ignore all of the above and share one of my perpetually-posted and compulsively rewritten TO DO lists. all of you who have spent time around me have seen these floating around. it should give you an idea of every day life in london for lindsay, notable or no.

TO DO
-fill out remaining applications for CTY, CCY at wes, senior interviewer, national symphony internship, Boston Symphony internship, and accompanying grants so i don't have to live in a box BEFORE i graduate
-practice bach d minor and barber for lesson tomorrow! then practice it for another few hours!
-buy proper shoes for hip hop class before thursday--and ask sabina about how to sign up
-get tickets to visit Hansel in oxford on friday
-start researching for paper on recorded music vs. film, and start analyzing berg's altenburg lieder. and the schubert harmonization. and ahhh.
-plan travels to morocco, germany, switzerland, rome, paris, egypt, and many others. not in that order.
-find new market at which to buy bananas and another cheese i've never heard of
-top up phone

there. for now i think i'm going to go cross a few of those off the list. for later, i promise more compelling accounts of my actually very exciting and inspiring time over here.

still much love from a still very rainy london...

Read more...

Week 2 in Russia: Events Both Good and Bad

On Tuesday, I lost my wallet, ate a hot dog, and watched a Russian performance of Jesus Christ, Superstar. How did this all occur in one short day (in the Emerald city)? I will tell you the story…

In the morning, I overslept my alarm. My neighbor, Ashley-from-England, woke me by knocking on my door at the time we were supposed to leave for Philosophy together. I hopped into clothes, put up my hair, dusted on some make-up and ran out the door. We were, in fact still early for Philosophy. After class, I took Ashley to get his passport photos taken. This is when I realized that I didn’t have my wallet. I frantically called my roommate to ask if I had left it in our room—no, I had not. Then I realized that the last time I looked at it was for bus fare. I didn’t have the correct amount of paper money, so I put my wallet back in my purse and got coins from a separate coin purse. Usually, when not in a hurry, I get my bus fare out before leaving the dorm.

I realized that my wallet was indeed lost or stolen, and immediately went back to the dorm to retrace my steps. Unfortunately—but not surprisingly—no wallet was to be found. I went to my room, dumped out my purse to be sure it really wasn’t there, and made a list of the contents of my wallet. I called my mom using Skype and we together canceled my debit cards and talked over what I should do next. I called the international student coordinator, who suggested I open a Russian bank account. As soon as I told my mom this, our internet stopped working. It probably needed money—not something I had at the moment. I gathered myself together (I thankfully had kept some Euros and US $ in my passport/document belt) to go open a bank account and exchange currency.

After opening a bank account and exchanging money, I went to the university to email my mom the Russian account information. I sent her the email and skimmed through my unread emails. Lo and behold, I had one entitled “Lost Documents” from Lisa, the girl who gave me a tour of Moscow. Someone had found my cards lying on the street and tried the only Russian number that was in my wallet—her business card! Lisa sent me the woman’s phone number, and I called it immediately. Turns out, the woman (Tatyana) works at the Irkutsk Musical Theatre, so I went there to meet her and retrieve my cards.

When I got there, she not only returned my cards (both debit cards, my drivers’ license, insurance cards etc), but also invited me in. She is the sound-board operator for the theatre, and they were rehearsing Jesus Christ, Superstar when I came in. I watched rehearsal from the booth before going to get tea and a snack with Tatyana and her little girl. Unfortunately for me, the snack was a hot dog. I felt bad saying no—refusing food is considered so rude here—and she had just gone out of her way to help me. So I looked at the hot dog, and I looked at her. She told me to cut it on the diagonal. So I did. And I ate it. The whole thing. With coffee.

After that, we went back to the booth and I got to watch the rest of rehearsal and sound check. I was getting ready to leave when Tanya asked if I would stay for the show. I had a ton of homework, I needed to call my mom, I had skipped my internship meeting, and I was tired. But again, rude not to, so I stayed. And I saw JCS in Russian in the third row for free. I loved it. Afterwards, Tatyana gave me her email address and told me to call her when I got home. She very much expects to see me again. So I got home and called my mom first. Meanwhile, Tanya calls to make sure I got home okay! Can you say Good Samaritan?

The wallet-stealing fiasco pretty much sums up my week. Since we had already canceled the debit cards, the bank wouldn’t re-instate them for security reasons, so I still had to transfer money to a Russian bank account. I checked it today and was able to withdraw money. It’s actually kind of cool to see how Russian banking works. Perhaps I’ll write about it in another entry. Anyway, I just cannot believe the kindness of others and needed to let you all know how welcoming this complete stranger was to me after finding cards scattered on a snowy Siberian street (alliteration intentional). Russia kicks you in the back of the knee and then helps you back up again.

Next time I’ll be sure to write about my internship (I finally found Russian hippies) and my first experience wearing high-heeled Italian leather boots in -20F weather. (Right now it’s -13F with a wind-chill of -34F...on my birthday the high will be zero. Almost positive. Almost).

Until then, I’ll leave you with a few pictures. Be safe, keep warm, (and hold on to your wallets!).

Orthodox Church

"Happy New Year 2009"

Kirov Square

PS. If you are so inclined, I encourage you to check out sonorousproductions.com. This is a shameless plug, as I am involved in the project. It's an independent music website, with a premiere of a new musical coming soon (written by Steve Sunu). Check it out and let us know what you think!

Read more...

Marrakech: Did you just give our food a pronoun?

As far as I can tell, this weekend has three chapters (aside from the epilogue, in which I got almost none of my homework done).

Chapter 1: Mosquee and Illness
We got on a bus at 7:30AM, first stop the Hassan II mosque in Casablanca. It is absolutely enormous, and right next to the sea. The sun was breaking through stormclouds here and there, so there was very dramatic lighting on the huge minaret, the archways around the courtyard, and the endless flagstones. We toured the bath complex underneath the mosque - picture a hall full of columns and long lines of marble fountains shaped like eight foot wide toadstools.

Long bus ride to Marrakech, driving in and out of storms. The whole weekend, Friday through Sunday morning, was absolutely, miserably damp. Our first outing in Marrakech was to Jamaa al-Fna, the main square, but I was battling some major nausea and stayed behind. My first Moroccan illness! (It's hilarious and also kind of scary that after a month here we're very used to updating each other about our digestive systems.) Ironically, I was too sick to go out and eat food from the stalls (sweet pigeon tagine, snail broth, couscous) that was very likely to make people sick.

Chapter 2: Chez Ali
Saturday we did some down and dirty sightseeing, hopping on and off our tour bus. My favorite was the al-Badia Palace, literally the palace of the favorite, meaning the favorite wife. Very nice digs. It reminded me of the Seville Alcazar, in layout and decoration (the two are very closely linked in style, I just can't remember who came first). Beautiful painted wood ceilings, amazing tile work, including suras and poetry along the walls which needless to say, I found exciting.
That night some of us went to Chez Ali, a three hour epic of tourism, overstimulation, and groaning hilarity. The experience is very close to Disney World or a Renaissance fair - the completely fake buildings in the middle of nowhere, the dancers in traditional attire who look completely despondent to be dancing in front of your table, and then a very absurd Fantasia show, including trick riders and a belly dancer. It was out there. And one of the dinner courses was quite literally half of a roasted animal. (Cliff?! Oh, poor Cliff...) The second we set foot in the place Christa and I were convinced it was all going to turn into a horror movie by the end, and we would have to steal the dancer's daggers, commandeer the show horses or, in a pinch, ride out of there on a donkey. The finale of the show was a fireworks display and huge flaming letters spelling out CHOUKRAN MAA SALAAMA (Thank you, goodbye), and if that isn't an eerie first step toward a horror movie I don't know what is.

Chapter 3: SUN!
At last, Sunday morning, the sun came out, which also meant that the Atlas mountains materialized out of nowhere. Oh my god gorgeous. There was still fog so we couldn't see them touch the ground, and they were covered in snow, pale blue and blending into the sky.
For our half day left we explored the souks. Michael and I ended up in a carpet atelier that was the full three stories of the building, went all the way up to the top and talked to le patron, who said he had been an interpreter for Dennis Hopper at Ouarzazate when he was filming Samson and Delilah. We saw two men weaving on a very large loom, another spinning on a bicycle wheel spindle. For the next hour he laid out carpets for us, served us mint tea... I started to get really upset that I didn't have enough money on me to make a purchase. Or did I?
We were very careful not to ask about prices until we'd seen over a dozen rugs. I pulled a favorite out from under the pile and asked him a price. 2300dh. Did not have that. He went down a few rungs. We asked about a second hand rug - nope, those are more expensive. Michael and I laid it out: we have 900dh on us, what can you do? Final offer was 1100, and he would be happy to let me go get the rest from the tour bus. So the final picture is of me handing over all my money and following le patron's nephew back through the souk (clutching my rolled up and packaged carpet) and through the main square to get on the bus.
Buying something like that after so much bargaining is a rush, honest to god adrenaline. And the rug! It's a Berber rug, kilim style, with red and black and wonderful gold stripes, about 4x6 feet. Unbelievable. Oh, and 1100dh is less than $140.

So yes, Marrakech was pretty great overall. And Sunday was proof that when the weather finally does clear up, it is going to be sublime.

Read more...

Week One in Russia (Warning: Long)

There are many odd things about Russia that I have already become accustomed to: there are no toilet seats, soap, mirrors, trashcans, or toilet paper in public bathrooms. The bus stops aren’t announced or very well marked. As a pedestrian, you cross the street at an occasional crosswalk, but mostly you just take your chances and cross while traffic is heading toward you, hoping that it will stop (so far, it has). In the university, schedules change without notice—and apparently, no one owns a watch because students and professors are almost always late. Students talk in class, look off one another, and even answer ringing cell phones or walk out of the room to take a call.

The wonderful thing is—these things don’t bother me. I carry my own toilet paper, bought my own hand soap, and often go to the wrong class because a room was changed at the last second. I have learned to count the stops on the bus to know which is my stop, and pray that I will cross the street without getting hit. I haven’t even been here a full week and already I feel I have adjusted. I carry my own reusable bag to the supermarket—which no one thinks is strange because they buy plastic bags just for this purpose (I saw a stand today selling plastic shopping bags, much like reusable cloth bags).

One thing I have yet to adjust to is Russian fashion. They are all dressed to the nines—all of the time. Never mind the snow and ice—they wear their high-heeled fashionable black leather boots anyway. The clothes are skin-tight and flashy and every coat has at least a trim of fur. Furthermore, they’re all really really skinny at my age. You know how in America we have the freshman 15? This clearly doesn’t happen to you until you hit at least 40. Russian women look like perfectly made-up models, making it easy to spot the foreigner. Although, the other day I went to a new class and was mistaken for a Russian; however, the person who made the mistake was Chinese. So at least to the Chinese I look a little bit Russian.

I’m taking four of my courses with international students who are learning Russian as a Foreign Language (Russian for Business, Russian Stylistics and Cultural Speech, Philosophy, and Russian Language Practice). They are overwhelmingly from China, either visiting or have parents who work here. It’s an experience in itself to be translating Russian into English in my head amidst whispers of Chinese.

One of my classes is with Russian students, Introduction to Ecology. I went to class this week and generally understood what was going on. I had to drop the other one that was with Russian students (The Economy of Wildlife Management). I went to class and the professor sat down, opened a notebook, and started reading from it. We were expected to write it down verbatim--and I just can't write that fast in Russian.

The last two of my classes are individual tutorials: Environmental Problems in a Transition Economy and The History of Siberia. It took a long time to figure out my schedule because the system here is so different. Normally, I would have a set group of classmates and together we would have a set schedule focused in one area of study, but I have been allowed to pick and choose. I hop in and out of courses in four different groups, which I suppose is normal for visiting students. After all, we need credits to transfer.

So far, my favorite course is Philosophy. Yes, Philosophy in Russian. The course is lecture-style with four other Chinese students (yes, they are all Chinese, I’m not just generalizing). I talked to the professor after class about getting books and he asked me if this was my first time taking a Philosophy course. He was delighted when I said “yes”—I suppose he was happy to spread the joy of philosophy to a virgin ear.

Here, you get textbooks on loan from the library. It’s still a card catalogue system, and they don’t have a list of textbooks for each course. You have to come in and ask for the book by the author.

Right now I am writing from my dorm room. I won a three-day long battle with my external modem and Russian internet service. My roommate and I decided to split the cost, and it's working really well (now, after going back to the store twice). Russians don't use Macs, so when I told the tech guy today that I had a Mac his eyes nearly popped out of his head. Together we somehow got the internet to work.

Besides getting my Internet to work, I also took a disc of pictures to the photo store today. I printed some 4x6" glossies to tape to my dorm room wall. I stopped by a store to get some tape on the way home. It's called "skotch," which I thought was funny.

Well, a few of you have asked me to upload pictures, and I'll do one better. Here's a dorky little video-tour of my dorm room:

And here's a few pictures of Kirov Square, which is near my university (to the left of the giant ice slide). I have a video, too, but it takes a ridiculously long time to upload, so I'll include it next time. Until then, enjoy these pics!

Read more...

Ash Khbarek?

Well, the news from Rabat is that it has been raining cats and dogs and any other animals you please, with lots of wind that makes for huge waves and sad fisherman - as well as sad Naima, since yesterday she didn't hear the rain start and a bunch of laundry drying outside got wet again.

Tomorrow, however, we go to Marrakech! The south, inshallah, will be sunnier, and the Monday update will be epic.

And in case you were wondering, Naima made pasta for dinner last night, with home made marinara sauce. This was after whipping up what she called an "appetizer", a delicious as well as attractive turkey-ham omelette (no actual ham in this country, that is one thing that has been very consistent).

Read more...

In Irkutsk

Привет!

I have finally arrived safely in Irkutsk. Friday night, I left the O'Hare airport and flew into Moscow. I tried to sleep on the plane but that didn't really work out. In Moscow, I had fun with Russian passport control, but no huge problems, and was met by the site director for SRAS's Moscow program. She showed me around so I was able to see the Armoury, the Kremlin, Red Square, and GUM (A big department store). We ate dinner at a vegetarian restaurant named "Avocado" where we both had burritos just to see what they were like. I had a lovely time with her, and I really appreciated being able to see the city instead of staring at the inside of an airport for 9 hours.

My flight from Mosow to Irkutsk was delayed 45 minutes, but nothing too terrible. I was able to sleep on that flight just fine and arrived in Irkutsk around 8am. I was met there by the director of the international faculty of IGLU. She was very kind and showed me my dorm, made sure it was all in order, and helped me buy a Russian cellphone. She left me telling me to come to the university tomorrow and gave me a bus number. I wasn't so sure about that.

Anyway, after she left me I went to unpack my belongings and use my new international calling card to call my mom and Mark on my cellphone. Hooray for technology! It's a very clear connection and it's just like I was calling from Wesleyan. I talked as I unpacked, and once I was finished I went to a nearby supermarket to get a few groceries. When you enter my dorm, it's very drab and frightening looking on the outside; however, I live on a renovated floor. I have a one room double with two beds, a huge armoir, a large shelf, a desk with two chairs, a tv, and a fridge. Then I share a bathroom and a kitchen with 4 other people. I'm the first one here, so it was quiet.

After my grocery-run I decided to go wandering around. I found an open-air market, a larger supermarket, and plenty of other stores, including a nice women's clothing store. I came back and bonded with the woman who takes our keys when we enter/leave the dorm. She was asleep and I tapped on the glass to wake her. She was startled and dropped my key when she reached for it. It went behind her chair and she had a hard time getting it out. After that, she asked me my name and I asked hers. Her name is Ludmila--the same as my mom. So I have a Ludmila watching over me.

Well, now I'm at the internet cafe in my university. I have a limit of 30 minutes, which I have definitely used up. I have a class to go to today, but my schedule isn't set. I'm a little confused about what I need to do, but I'm sure it will work out.

More to come, for sure, including the beautiful ice sculptures on my way to IGLU.

Read more...

Systems

A brief portrait of Rabat transportation systems:

As a New Yorker, I don't bat an eye at the fact that the Rabat bus system does not run on a schedule. This is actually more familiar to me than having to show up at the stop at a particular time. Rabat, however, seems to be even worse than the M4 as far as gaps between service. You miss a bus at the wrong time of day, well, good luck. (There was also a strike last week - the Moroccan way of celebrating French colonial roots.)
The buses themselves are all metal on the outside, a steep climb to get in, a couple incandescent bulbs inside for light. You board at any door, and once inside the ticket agent comes to take your 4dh (fifty US cents!) and hands you a little slip of paper that says RAHA BUS Rabat - not valid until scribbled on in the agent's ballpoint pen. To signal your stop, you stand up. And if the driver doesn't see you stand up, he may go right past your stop (bus stops are sometimes hard to find - there are no shelters, just a single sign). If the driver does miss your stop, you go over to the door and bang on the metal box above it. Not kidding.

Of course, if the timing isn't right or the buses or mobbed you can take a petit taxi, little blue hatchbacks of various marks and ages (usually Renault, I think). Half the time, the meter inside is analog and not digital, fifties vintage, and is labelled either in Italian or Spanish. You can hail them down wherever and pay metered fare.
There are also taxi stands, and the fare from taxi stand to taxi stand is 4dh flat per person. The trick is that 3 people going the same way get into one cab. How, you might ask, does that work?
The taxi stand next to the train station (where I go in the morning) is a small triangular parking lot formed by two forking streets. Taxis pull in and park. There are two attendants - one is a tall youngish man in jeans, the other is grandfather aged, has a beard and wears a djellaba. As people walk up they find out where they're going, and sort them into cabs. Once there are three people, you go - but not before the driver tips the attendant (1dh, I think), usually by handing it through the window.
The thing about the whole system is that it's not exactly transparent - the attendant's not in uniform, there's no signage... for a week and a half I was going to Jam'aa Badr (Badr Mosque) as my destination until my sister told me to ask for Sharia Franca (Avenue de la France) which is much closer to Amideast but I had no idea it was a taxi stop. I've also seen people get a few extra blocks out of their driver, still on flat fare.

So far, understanding the taxis and buses is one of my few resident-creds. Not much, but it's a start.

Read more...