The answer is no. No, I do not speak French. Not even a little. My professor tried to teach me the name of our school in French, which is something completely basic like "Centre Amercain" and I still can't say it. I parley vooo non-freaking fransey. I knew I forgot something...
Devin, one of the students who also arrived early is having similar trouble. He and I were getting dinner last night while waiting for our classmates arriving by train and the waiter refused to give us the total in Arabic, he just kept repeating it in French. We made him write it down. Devin has been encountering this even more than I have, apparently. I'm not sure what it is, possibly that the Arabic we speak is formal and not really all that similar to the Darija (Moroccan Arabic) that every one speaks here. I think it also may be an indication of a certain level of education, and perhaps people are trying to assert their status. Which is totally lost on us linguistically-challenged Westerners.
The hostel agreed to check Zoe and Samiya in late, but not a moment later than 9:30. Since their train arrived at 9:10, Devin and I went to meet them to hurry the taxi-getting and Hostel-finding process that took each of us way longer than 20 minutes (despite being about 1km from the station.) We found them (and Ryan, who was sadly lost to us by virtue of a reservation at a different hotel. Ryan if you're reading this I hope you made it OK! E-mail us if you can!) and got to the hostel just in time to check them in. SCORE! (I can not describe the elation of successfully directing a cab for the first time EVER. Ask my roommates, I have trouble with cabs on first hill back home.)
Our colleagues successfully rounded up, we started bonding with the Spaniard and the German who also stay at our Hostel. Zoe quickly made friends with our hostel cat and then we all went to bed.
Before finding Devin, I'd gone out with Ustaadha Rania to get lunch, window shop, and figure out a route to the train station for later. Rania is Egyptian, which means she is more easily understood, and she has helpful insights about all of the things that suddenly became bewilderingly complicated, like crossing the street and saying "no" when strange men want you to eat in their cafe. I am so glad I made the decision to arrive early. I can't imagine jumping right into classes without these few days to settle in and adjust to the chaos around me. Rania and I found a delicious cafe and she helped get me a vegetarian tajeen:
Devin, one of the students who also arrived early is having similar trouble. He and I were getting dinner last night while waiting for our classmates arriving by train and the waiter refused to give us the total in Arabic, he just kept repeating it in French. We made him write it down. Devin has been encountering this even more than I have, apparently. I'm not sure what it is, possibly that the Arabic we speak is formal and not really all that similar to the Darija (Moroccan Arabic) that every one speaks here. I think it also may be an indication of a certain level of education, and perhaps people are trying to assert their status. Which is totally lost on us linguistically-challenged Westerners.
The hostel agreed to check Zoe and Samiya in late, but not a moment later than 9:30. Since their train arrived at 9:10, Devin and I went to meet them to hurry the taxi-getting and Hostel-finding process that took each of us way longer than 20 minutes (despite being about 1km from the station.) We found them (and Ryan, who was sadly lost to us by virtue of a reservation at a different hotel. Ryan if you're reading this I hope you made it OK! E-mail us if you can!) and got to the hostel just in time to check them in. SCORE! (I can not describe the elation of successfully directing a cab for the first time EVER. Ask my roommates, I have trouble with cabs on first hill back home.)
Our colleagues successfully rounded up, we started bonding with the Spaniard and the German who also stay at our Hostel. Zoe quickly made friends with our hostel cat and then we all went to bed.
Before finding Devin, I'd gone out with Ustaadha Rania to get lunch, window shop, and figure out a route to the train station for later. Rania is Egyptian, which means she is more easily understood, and she has helpful insights about all of the things that suddenly became bewilderingly complicated, like crossing the street and saying "no" when strange men want you to eat in their cafe. I am so glad I made the decision to arrive early. I can't imagine jumping right into classes without these few days to settle in and adjust to the chaos around me. Rania and I found a delicious cafe and she helped get me a vegetarian tajeen:
which is basically the most delicious thing EVER. I could eat only that every day all summer and I would be a very happy girl. Luckily Zoe is also vegetarian (as is Kristie, who will be joining us later today) so I don't think I'll feel too strangely about it.
Unfortunately I think I also saw something horrible yesterday. Rania and I were done with lunch and walking around, when we saw a motocycle crash. A crowd formed pretty quickly, and since neither of us could do anything to help, we kept walking. On our way back, quite a while later, the young cyclist was lying in the street, not breathing, with a piece of cardboard over his head. I assume he was dead. This is the first time I've ever seen any one die, which is, of course, upsetting, but I think I was surprised at how upset I felt seeing it. I don't want to turn some one's personal tragedy into a teachable moment (cause I'm not Oprah) but I just want to say to all of you that driving and motorcycling in foreign countries is not something you should do without experience and, when riding a motorcycle, always wear a helmet.
Ok, with that, I think I am going to head out with the gang and have some adventures. Be safe!
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