Let's Go To The Beach-each, Let's Go Get Away

So I'm kind of behind on the blog because last week was miserable due to my first Arabic quiz as well as trying to re-learn how to take a full load of classes versus an internship and 2 three-hour long classes, each once a week. Anyhow, two weekends ago, I traveled to Bouznika with the Explorer's Club at Al Akhawayn to spend the day at the beach, and despite the title, I did not meet Nicki Minaj. I know, it's really sad. I apologize n advance for not having much to say about this experience (due partially to the fact that it was simply a trip to the beach and partially because I'm a full fledged procrastinator trying to figure out how to be a functioning college student). However, I am super excited to write about this past weekend, so here it goes!

The day started off with me grudgingly waking up early on a Saturday (one of my least favorite things to do because I just enjoy having at least one day a week where I can wake up on my own) to grab some breakfast from the cafe and meet the group at the bus stop. Something I have had a difficult time adjusting to is being on time in Morocco. I don't mean that I show up late, but I am at least twenty-thirty minutes for almost everything (except class, which I was about 10 minutes late for the other day). I remember my co-worker, Jacky, always joking with me about her being relentlessly late and how I would typically be waiting for her going to work, although that changed by the end of the semester... She said when I got to Africa, I would be spending most of my time waiting because nothing ever starts on time. I have found it extremely difficult to part with this piece of American culture, as it is severely ingrained into us as Americans, a culture in which time is money and being late is rude-even more so for me, where I was taught to always leave at least ten minutes early for any occasion to account for any possible mishaps (more time would be allotted according to the severity of the event).

When we all go settled into the van, we began making our way to the south to a small, coastal town called Bouznika. To get there, we had to go through the capitol city, Rabat, which was my first time there, although we didn't stop of course, because the day was all about getting to the beach and having fun. We stopped to have breakfast, and trying to order "un croissant fromage" turned into a grilled cheese sandwich, but it was wonderful, nonetheless, except, I'm really  missing everything bagels, and would probably contemplate murder for one smothered in cream cheese right now.

After breakfast, it was a short ride to the beach, where I looked slightly dumb because no matter how seasoned your packing and travelling skills are, you're bound to forget/decide not to pack something. That something for me has been a swimsuit. I know that I definitely thought about it, maybe even had one out while I was packing away my life for my four months abroad, but for some reason, it just never made it into my suitcase, which has been a real bummer considering that AUI has an Olympic sized swimming pool and I'm in Africa, where it typically doesn't get that warm. So, all week leading up to the beach, I had been searching all over Ifrane for a swimsuit. Needless to say, small ski resort towns serving to primarily Europeans don't have much selection for a somewhat conservative swimsuit. Even in the school store, I could justify paying 340 Dirham for a Speedo swimsuit that I will likely never wear in my life again after leaving Morocco. So, I took my favorite pair of jeans that I brought with me that somehow got holes in them after a couple of wears and ripped the bottoms off to wear to the beach. Needless to say, I have gotten very creative with how I get by in Morocco.

I've only been to the ocean once in my life, not including Lake Michigan, which by my standards could easily be a small sea, or the English Channel. So, I was excited to go into the Atlantic for the second time in my life on a completely different side of the world. When we arrived to the beach, the shore was lined with countless beach houses, all in their own style

Since it was just the typical trip to the beach, there really isn't much to say. Unfortunately, it was kind of cloudy, but it was still warm nonetheless, especially compared to what it has been feeling like in Ifrane lately. In the last twelve years since I've been to the ocean, I also forgot how salty it was, which I got to experience because the waves were slightly more aggressive than at Myrtle Beach. 

After the time at the beach, I got to practice my expertise of changing conservatively from my soaking wet make-shift swimsuit: Daisy Dukes and a tank top in a van, where all of the girls shed sand all across the floor. On the way back from the beach, we stopped at a shopping mall in Ifrane, where I got to finally eat good pizza (aside from the week before in Fez at Domino's) from Pizza Hut. Can you tell that I miss American food a little? It's mostly pepperoni pizza, which if I wasn't addicted to enough before college, I became infatuated after moving in with my devoted pizza/chicken eating roommate. When you're a picky eater, it's actually better to have an even pickier roommate who generally won't mind eating the same thing over and over with you. After devouring my delicious dinner (thin crust pepperoni lovers), we headed over to the McDonald's to grab ice cream. Another great culinary bonus about my college experience is studying abroad with people who hate McDonald's almost as much as me. Sadly, there was no sweet tea, which I'm sure I'll overdose on when I get back to SWVA. 

Getting back to the real sustenance of this blog, because contrary to popular belief among the international students at AUI, food off campus isn't actually everything. 

Continuing on the way back to AUI, I got to see a beautiful sunset and had several mini jam sessions to American, British, Spanish, French, and Moroccan pop music. By the time we arrived back in Ifrane, the cold rain had started, and the only things I had left from the beach were the salt in my hair, sand practically all over me and in all of my stuff, and the memories of a wonderful day at the beach in Bouznika.

When in Morocco, Go to the Roman Ruins

The first weekend after classes was pretty relaxed. Instead of venturing out of our comfort zones, a small group of other students and I went to Volubilis, the last remaining Roman ruins in Northern Africa and a UNESCO heritage site.

To get there, we took two grand taxis (because there were seven of us, and six wouldn't have been a comfortable squeeze either). A few of my friends have asked what exactly a grand taxi is, and it actually is a pretty foreign concept to Americans. Basically, it's a car that can take six people to places outside of the town I live in (Ifrane). If you need to get somewhere within the city, you take a petit taxi. But the unique thing about grand taxis is how far they will take you, in America, we are use to maybe taking a taxi from one side of the city to the other or anywhere it is too inconvenient to walk and you don't want to get on a metro. I never had this problem living in Washington D.C. because I'm a rare individual who actually doesn't mind the metro (fares are another story). Anyway, I recall being told that a cab ride from Adams Morgan to Rosslyn on a weekend could cost anywhere up to $70 (another reason I never minded taking the metro). Here, transportation is SO cheap. To get to Volubilis, it cost 300 Dirham, roughly $35, which is then split among the other passengers. Keep in mind, grand taxis take you outside of the city, truly a great deal considering that it would cost twice as much to get home after a long night of throwing back drinks in the bar-scene of Washington D.C. Petit taxis are even a better deal. Instead of walking to the marche, which probably isn't as far as Trader Joe's in Arlington (which I would take the metro to) only cost 12 Dirham, about $1.40 (much cheaper than the to and from cost of the D.C. metro).

Well, now that you have a grasp on transportation costs in Morocco, we'll get back to the FUN part of traveling!

With sadly never having been to Italy before, I no longer felt like I was in Africa when we arrived. The ruins were completely beautiful, and I was amazed that the ruins had been preserved so well, considering the weather, but I guess that's what's nice about stone and mosaics in Morocco, the heat isn't very damaging. The guide we hired at the beginning did a marvelous job of telling us about everything, so I'll try to explain as best as I can in the photographs, which will be primarily this blog because I was almost too preoccupied snapping away to pay attention. At one point, he warned us about going into certain parts of the ruins because of scorpions, semi-jokingly saying, "Oh, yes, I killed plenty of scorpions in and around these ruins when I was a little boy." Apparently, his father had worked on the excavation, so he was probably one of the most reliable people to get a tour from. I just thought about how fun it would be to play in ancient Roman ruins as a child (or at least super cool to brag about).

This was at the very beginning of the site, and I wanted an awesome picture with the Moroccan flag in the background, but of course, the wind wasn't cooperating.

 As a UNESCO site, Volubilis is just now getting money to create a visitors' welcome center, although not quite ready. I found it interesting how the center is so starkly modern compared to the actual ruins, but that's the UN, go big or go home. Underneath the actual museum is an open-air kind of area where different types of columns are displayed.

 This is the main street of the old city, so shopkeepers would be set up on either side, having Romans' version of a market. The gate at the end is The Gate of Tangier, named after the city in which most of the people traveling to Volubilis would be coming from.

The sewer for the city. Those Romans and their infrastructure...

Ellen demonstrating how the are used to collect rainwater was used for hanging out in, like a hippie hot tub.

The remnants of excavation. Unlike our previous thoughts, the Romans in fact did not have train tracks. Slightly out from where this picture was taken, you can see where all of the excess soil was dumped.

One of the many mosaics I was enchanted by. The black color is from volcanic rock in Morocco, the white is marble imported from Italy.

And of course, the faces of the Roanoke International Relations Department! (Take in the beginning of some beautiful tan lines)

And what Roman city would be complete without a triumphal arch to ride through after battle?

Plus side of hiring a tour guide at Volubilis? Getting great pictures of everyone (well, besides poor Anamaria on the far left).

After Volubilis, we stopped in Meknes for lunch, and to go shopping at the souhk, which was insanely crowded. This picture is actually of the wall encompassing the old city, and despite our confusion, we were actually inside the wall, not outside.

After the full day, we decided we wanted to leave Meknes before dark, simply because that can always worsen a situation, especially in a foreign country, so we headed to the grand taxi stand, where we were told that it would cost 400 Dirham to get back to Ifrane, which made absolutely no sense considering that getting to Volubilis, which is farther than Meknes, only cost 300. Thankfully, we had Brittany and Tara in our group, who would not stand for this and speak wonderful Arabic due to a crash course before arriving at AUI. Although we argued for about 10 minutes (well, mostly Tara argued), we finally set on 300 Dirham. There was also a little bit of awkwardness when the driver finally got into our taxi, but Brittany saved the day by winning him over with her Arabic skills. It's truly hard coming from a culture where prices are mostly set to bargain, but it is such a common practice here. Earlier in the day, I did succeed in getting a guy to come down on a necklace by 100 Dirham, but I still feel like I overpaid for it. In all due time, I guess I will get better at the whole bargaining thing.

Just Some Thoughts...

Most of the rest of my first week at Al Akhawayn was occupied by orientation, and it definitely didn't include playing Stupid Ninja Games and learning the Rotisserie Chicken, just sitting in a freezing auditorium (probably the coldest place in Morocco) and learning the basics of living in Morocco (kind of...). There are so many things that you just have to experience for yourself to learn (like not taking crap from guys with horses who triple your rate during the ride).

The most controversial piece of advice we received (which will probably set my family on edge when they read this) is the topic of consent. We were informed that if a female enters a private room with a man, it is implied that anything that happens afterward was consensual. Like I said, this has been a pretty hot topic among the international students since orientation, so when my professor was lecturing on rape in my Women and Economic Development class tonight, one of the students brought it up in a round about way. When the professor didn't understand the question, another student blatantly brought up the subject asking about the validity of the information. All of the Moroccans in the class acted completely unsurprised, almost as to ask, "Yeah, what's your question?" We elaborated, asking how that could be possible, since that's just completely foreign to all of our values. What if you are just doing homework or don't want to necessarily be out in public. There answer was quite simple, "Why else would you, an unmarried woman, be alone with a man besides to have sex?" Another simply stated, "It's a cultural belief that men and women simply can't be friends, there's always something more." One student offered a religious answer, saying that it's a Muslim belief that when a man and woman are alone together, the devil will always show up.

Obviously, all of the American females in a class focused on gender became shocked and started refuting all of these explanations. Despite the fact that we all have male friends who we can hang out with by ourselves back in America still doesn't change the culture here or in other parts of the world. It's still strange for me not to be living in a co-ed dorm, not even a co-ed dorm, because Roanoke is still much less conservative about these matters than many other private (or even public) schools in America (especially the south). I'm coming from a background where it was completely acceptable to have male, next-door neighbors; the only gendered spaces in my pod were restrooms. It's even acceptable to walk to your room through the common area (that can be packed with anyone) with just a towel after a shower. Sure, you might feel kind of embarrassed, but YOLO. If you're comfortable, everyone accepts it. Thus far, this has been the hardest part of the culture to accept, because it is completely against everything I have been taught and experienced. It proves how there are cultural norms slightly more important than something like introductions to learn and analyze.

Besides learning new cultural norms, the most exciting part of orientation was going to Fez to pick up my suitcase. When I got to the airport, another girl and I had to struggle through our limited French to figure out where to go because the student ambassador had to pick up another student at the train station. As much as I like to think I will be fluent in French one day, I feel as though I just started learning yesterday, not seven years ago. Je suis horirble.

When we finally got to the luggage claims area, which would have been much more difficult in America, since it's behind security, we were taken into the same office I made my claim, and there was an employee I recognized who had been working when I arrived in Fez and was somewhat annoying me by asking questions at 1 a.m. while I was trying to file my claim as quickly as possible so I wouldn't be stranded at a foreign airport. While I was trying to get my luggage, he was doing the same thing. Many people know it's relatively hard to annoy me (besides with my mother, where I get Irritable Teenager Syndrome (although I'm twenty...)), so it wan't necessarily that he was, but I was just stressed and wanted my luggage-even after I had been told that it had arrived.

Anyway, he took me off guard, and asked if I was for Palestine or Israel-a question I'm not even sure if I could answer in America, firstly, because I don't feel well informed enough to answer, and secondly, I'm not even sure how I feel. I tend to take a very humanistic approach to everything, which can sometimes be a problem in political science classes, and maybe even for a career in IR, but the things that have brought me to this course have been primarily emotional events in history that I see and want to prevent from ever happening again. Therefore, I'm not completely able to simply take a side because this law or that law or this was ours so it should be ours. I simply hope something happens, and something good. It's a complicated situation that I'm just beginning to learn the real details.

Flustered, though, since I simply had no idea what I was talking about, I blurted out, "I'm American." Probably not my most graceful, diplomatic moment... It could actually probably mean a lot worse to someone rather than picking the wrong side in the conflict. I guess I was also taken off guard because in America, you typically aren't asked those questions for two reasons.

Although many would claim America as the global hegemon (even if you don't it's difficult to deny that the U.S. isn't a country with a great deal of influence), we as Americans are still largely unconcerned with politics (even more so with global rather than domestic). This is probably largely because we don't have to be. Out of curiosity, I've looked up statistics on American travel abroad, and I found that last year, roughly 61.5 million Americans traveled to another country (approximately 29 million of those traveling actually left the continent of North America, of which about 1.5 million went to the Middle East and only around 352,000 to Africa). That may seem like a lot, but that means that less than only one-fifth of the population traveled to a foreign country last year, which is fine. I come from a very remote area, where people are content on never leaving the state (a task I applaud considering that I live around an hour or less from four of the five bordering states of Virginia). Of course, these statistics don't mean that everyone who didn't travel abroad in 2013 never will (I even fall into that category), but the numbers show how disconnected from these regions Americans truly are.

The second reason I have for my abrupt answer is that even in America, you typically don't ask other people about their political opinions. Of course, they may be argued about, but that is when one person states their opinion, which is unsettling with another. We learned in orientation that basically, there is no topic off the table for conversation in Morocco, especially as a foreigner. Questions we may refrain from asking in America because it seems rude or prying to ask, are ways to get to know a person and their culture better: a way of enlightenment.

Luckily, my suitcase wan't held hostage for a more direct, composed, and thought-out answer to the question, and I was able to expand my wardrobe a little bit more and not forced to be an outfit repeater after three days. The rest of orientation went on, and classes began-typical school stuff, so in the next post, I promise to have something exciting! HINT: It's about history and being a tourist!

For some fact checking to keep you busy, here are the links to my figures (If you disagree, they're legitimate government resources, no Wikipedia!):
Monthly Departures from the United States
U.S. Census Population Clock
If you do believe me, I still advise just hopping over to the Population Clock, it's pretty cool.

Monkeys, Mercedes, and Morocco

So if you haven't guessed, I like alliteration!

This post probably won't get too deep, because I really just want to get caught up with what I am doing, and be able to blog about ideas, etc. as they come, but I already have the next three planned out, so stay seated!

Okay, so after having a glorious night of sleep in a REAL bed, I met some of the other students who I arrived to AUI with the next morning to go explore Ifrane, which was a good way to break the inevitable jet lag. Plus, since we were literally the first ones on campus, it was a great time killer, and we would need to figure out our new home anyway. So, I put on some of the clothes that I had thankfully packed in my carry-on because my luggage was delayed, in case you missed the last post. At this point, I still wasn't that worried about it. I had gotten a claims number and the officer's phone number taking care of the case, and I was sure it would come before I completely ran out of clothes. By the way, I just want to inform everyone that packing for a ski village in Africa, where the temperature can range from Mediterranean dessert to Alpine ski village was not the easiest thing to do. I'm kind of toughing it out at this point, because I can feel fall setting in, which I am super excited for, but upset that I can't see the Appalachians changing color, but I'M IN MOROCCO!

Anyway, we ventured into the city center of Ifrane, where I had the opportunity to try my first Moroccan tea. It was amazing. Irish Breakfast may have to fight for its spot as  my favorite hot beverage.

 After lunch, which consisted of salmon pizza pour moi (you can take me out of America, but trying to separate me from pizza and salmon will always be a futile attempt), there was more of a chance to explore the city center, where everyone bought toiletries besides the girl who had delayed luggage. Really, guys, I promise I'm smart. Stopping by a local park to also have a look around, we found ourselves almost trespassing at the royal palace, but all was still good, the officer just politely asked us if we spoke English or French, and told us to turn around.

The rest of the day consisted of exploring my new campus, which is absolutely gorgeous. It's definitely a mix up of western Europe, differing a lot from the buildings outside of AUI, which are very basic structure and seem plain, made out of concrete. Right in the middle of campus, though is the mosque, a beautiful sight at any time of the day.

After another nap (another necessity that is unadvised to take away from me), I met everyone for dinner, after which we went out to the marche to get hangers of all things, which was quite the new experience. My mother cruelly taunted me later that night by jokingly asking if I just wasn't able to find Target yet, literally my favorite store (yeah, I know that's ridiculous, but I have spent countless hours debating over the crucial necessities of new dishes and wall decals in the aisles of Target). My first experience with shopping in Morocco was figuring out that giving change to customers is kind of a mundane task for business owners, which is difficult since the conversion rate is roughly 1 USD: 8 Dirham, and I typically have limited access to change because I only get bills from the ATM. After purchasing the much needed hangers for the clothes that I didn't have, Keenza, a student from Al Akwahayn showed us her favorite place for msemen (the closest thing I can compare it to is a crepe, on which you can add cheese to make it savory, or nutella or honey to make it sweet) and tea, and it definitely didn't disappoint.

Before splitting up for the night, we had made plans to go to Fez the next day, but many of the students advised us against it if we weren't able to take a Moroccan with us, so plans changed the next morning, when we decided to forego Fez and go to see the only indigenous monkey population left in Morocco in a national park called Cedre Gourad.

To get to the monkeys, we had to take a grand taxi, which is the option for travelling anywhere outside of Ifrane. Luckily, a student and her father saw us waiting for petit taxis to take us to the taxi station, and were able to help us explain where we wanted to go, set a price, and arranged for the taxi drivers to come back for us. This made me so thankful for the hospitality that I had already experienced in Morocco, from the small talk on the airplanes to this simple act of kindness. It really made me think about Americans' willingness to help tourists (domestic and foreign) back home. Living in Washington D.C. last semester, I could recall several times when people asked me for directions to what I could kind of point them in the right direction or be forced to just admit that I was a lowly intern living there for three months and didn't want to get them lost-aside from the time that I sarcastically answered the question, "Miss, can you tell me where The Capitol is?" by turning ninety degrees in front of the Library of Congress, and pointing across the street to the large dome capped with The Statue of Freedom, and saying, "I think that might be it." However, I typically think that Americans would be hesitant of answering questions/helping anyone out in larger cities like the people I had met up to that point were. Coming from a small town probably around the size of Ifrane, but much more rural, I also seriously doubt anyone would be willing to help a foreigner like this too, but that could just be bigoted southwest Virginia...

The drive to Cedre Gourad was beautiful. Packed, but beautiful (there were five of us plus the driver crammed into a larger, old Mercedes-two in the front seat). As we were winding around the curvy roads and a pretty high speed, I was enjoying the beautiful countryside. Although it was mostly brown, rocky, and dirt besides the large cedar trees that just stopped and began in the distance, it was really something new to me. I didn't dare take my phone out of my bag to take a picture, one- because I was so cramped in the front seat, two- i feared flying around a car and having my phone flung out of the window, to which I don't think the driver would have any intentions on stopping for. Instead, I thought a lot about one of my favorite quotes, which of course, I have a picture for!

I've been feeling exactly what this quote talks about for years, ever since I went on my first People to People trip, and had the opportunity to fall in love with traveling. I've made wonderful friends traveling through Europe, some that live in America, and I just don't get the opportunity to see very often, and some that I probably won't see again because they live in Europe. I have already also made great friends here in Morocco. Soon, I feel like it is actually going to be difficult to decide where my "home" is. I've actually been missing Washington D.C. like crazy. It is such a wonderful city, and I truly can't wait to move back there (if it is in my cards). I'm sure I'll feel the same about Morocco when I leave because I had the same feelings about Roanoke last semester. One of the things I missed the most was being able to drive wherever I wanted, now, I miss being able to take the metro. Maybe I'll miss taking grand taxis next semester (doubtful). 

Back to Morocco! When we finally got to Cedre Gourad, I was so thankful to no longer being swung around in the front seat of a cramped car, where I really thought we would be in at least a fender bender. I apologize in advance for any of the horrible driving mistakes I make when I come back to America due to becoming accustomed to the new driving style here. However, that feeling of joy was soon over, when several men came up to us and started trying to get us onto horses. One girl was literally being dragged to the horse. In the chaos, I remember someone saying, " We just want to see the monkeys!" Of course, the men then informed us that they would take us to see the monkeys, but it was necessary to get on the horses because they were farther into the woods. So we agreed on a horse ride to see the monkeys that would last 30 minutes for 100 Dirhams, which is actually a pretty good deal. Anything like that in the U.S. would cost probably at least five times as much, so whatever, I like horses, and it was fun. As we were riding through the forest, one guys horse went crazy and started running towards the front, which didn't really concern me that much. Of course, these horses probably weren't the best trained, but I've had plenty of riding experience to handle something like that. Then, we came to a clearing, where for some reason we stopped. While we were there, one of the other girls' horses laid down while she was still on it and began rolling over. I definitely wouldn't be prepared for this is my horse did that. Thankfully, she was able to get her feet out of the stirrups and jump off, but that was where I thought I would lose my cool if it happened. 

Going back into the forest, the smell of cedar trees was so rich, almost overpowering, but made the ride better nonetheless. We came to an area where our guides told us to get off the horses so that we could walk down and see the monkeys. Although they were pretty far away, it was still pretty cool to see them in their natural habitat. Getting back on the horses, we rode back to where we started, and began realizing that if we would have walked a little farther, we would have found the monkeys, and not have been forced onto horses. People were feeding the monkeys, and letting them drink out of their water bottles, definitely something one wouldn't see in the United States. When we got to the horse guys' station, they began asking for their money- 300 Dirham. We began arguing with them, and they told us that we had been gone for twice as long, so the price tripled. Logical, right? Before you begin thinking that all Moroccans are just out to rip off stupid tourists, see the part about actually being helpful above. It made me realize that there are all kinds of people. We learn this from a young age in America, because we can see the different levels of society, plus the whole "melting pot" thing, but when traveling, it seems like you can become one of two extremes at any given time: cold and un-trusting, or completely vulnerable. Also at this point, we hadn't gone through orientation, so we had no idea how adamant people are about trying to pool the wool over tourists' eyes, especially at this time of year, when all of Morocco basically retreats to Ifrane to enjoy the green, shade, and coolness.  Arguing was futile, and I still enjoyed the ride, so I grudgingly handed over the extra Dirham, and went to get a closer look at the monkeys. When our taxi came to pick us up, the driver also got into an argument with a guy who insited he pay for parking. Although it was a really intense argument, and I know absolutely no Arabic at this point in my life, it somewhat made me feel better to see that even the locals get harassed about stuff like this, and I just realized that I will have to be much more aggressive about things while I'm here.

The way back, we split the cars up more efficiently, and only had five people including the drivers in each car, so I got this wonderful shot to kind of give you an idea of what the countryside is actually like. 

Getting There

When the day finally came to leave, I was as prepared as I could be. My suitcase was packed, not to the brim, but to the weight limit, and I couldn't stuff anymore TSA-friendly items into my carry-ons if I tried.

I was beginning to get nervous since the only flying I had ever done, was when I was a toddler (so the system has changed quite drastically) and for People to People and May Term, when all of the logistics were taken care of for me. Now, I was expected to navigate four airports (two which are foreign), three connecting flights, and try not to get attacked while spending the night in JFK. As confident as I am with my travelling skills, this was still really stressful because I had to reassure everyone else that I would make it, which I obviously did.

A few days beforehand, my mom had the fantastic idea of stopping by Roanoke to see all of my wonderful friends one last time. Although we have all said goodbye multiple times in the last nine months (due to my refusal to go a full year and a half without these people), it seems like every time gets more difficult. During my short time at Roanoke College, I have made the best friends anyone could ask for, including my roommate, Michaela (despite what you hear, not all freshman year roommate pairings go south). I guess it's just something about what draws you to a college that makes you find people that you can be so in sync with, or perhaps, it's the fact that you become so close by bonding over the same events in your life. The sad thing is, that you know that your time together is kind of limited. There are going to only be four years that you spend your time with these friends, maybe even less. I guess that's truly what makes saying goodbye to my friends after a short visit so hardin combination with the fact that the time that we've already spent apart (Washington D.C. and summer) is just going to be prolonged by #EmilyExploresEarth. So, of course, I had to Instagram this adorable quote that summed up everything I was feeling that day. Plus, it reminds me of my best friend, Angela, since we have an odd obsession for Winnie the Pooh quotes (BTW, I really miss my mug because I used it every morning in Washington D.C.)

Also, I really love this quote. (There are probably going to be a LOT  of quotes in these blogs, so get ready...)

[Sappy Part 1: Complete]

So after completely losing track of time by hanging out with my friends for the last time for at least four months, it was time to continue my trek to Dulles. By the way, have I ever mentioned how much I hate living in the middle of nowhere, specifically a place where it's required to drive about six hours to a major airport? Oh, I have? Okay.

I got to Dulles super early, even after a traffic jam,but that reassured my and my family's worry-wart state. After checking in at the JetBlue counter, we kind of just chilled for awhile, before I knew I needed to leave to tackle security. Needless to say, tears were shed by everyone, something that has been happening a lot since I moved into Roanoke. Nonetheless, I retraced my steps from approximately three months earlier for May Term (which actually really helped me know what was going on in Dulles), and made my way down to security. after navigating the tram in Dulles and such, I decided just to chill at the gate, which I knew I would be doing a great deal that night.

When I landed in New York, that's when I knew the long part of traveling would come in. I have only been in JFK once, and I don't even think I switched terminals, so I was definitely freaking out about getting lost. I thought to myself, though, that it could be much worse. I could be sleeping in a foreign airport that I had never been to, where no English was spoken. The only real trouble I had was trying to figure out the AirTrain in JFK. A horrible decision on my part really. I should have stayed in the JetBlue terminal, where there were a lot of food options and a carpeted floor instead of travelling to Terminal 1 before security where my last resort for dinner was stale Dunkin' Donuts and two cappuccinos for my late dinner on a cold, hard floor. I curled up next to seemingly the only charger in the entire terminal after being kicked out of the food court, and began reading and texting my mom, who wouldn't be getting any sleep that night either, and not because she didn't have a bed. If you're interested in the fun I had that night, hop over to twitter and search #JFKAfterDark, a project inspired by the always fabulous Michaela Toney.

Morning could not come sooner. I had to get my ticket re-printed before going through security, and I was one of the first people at the counter (before the employees actually). To make sure that there weren't any issues, I made sure my luggage was checked at the Royal Air Maroc counter, although JetBlue ensured me it would be checked to my final destination. *FORESHADOWING* I headed for my gate, once again after going through security. Exhausted, I watched the news until it was time to board, begging for my eyes to stay open, so I wouldn't be left at the gate and miss my flight. I was honestly too tired to appreciate the fact that this would be the last time I was in America for four months, so luckily, I don't have to write anymore sap.

Incredibly, I think I was only awake on the plane for about two hours max-a feat also quite impressive for me,considering that I usually cannot sleep on any mode of transportation. While I was awake, I made short talk with the guy sitting next to me, which was strange, since I swear the seat next to me was open on my TripCase app, and since nearly the whole plane was empty. Through broken French and English on both of our parts, we were able to communicate a little. At the end of the flight, he gave me his number, and told me to call him whenever I was in Meknes, my inner Aerican was screaming, "STRANGER DANGER," because I'm not looking for the next Taken to be based on my life, but I took the number and thanked him. When we finally landed in Morocco, I began to realize the new world that I had walked into. Instead of being delivered right to the door in Casablanca, as I am use to, we were made to get out on the runway, then shuttled to the airport, where the true test of my seven years of French came in, reading directions to the next gate. With about an hour to spare, i found a corner among all of the retired Europeans making their way to some other exotic land, and pulled out my Kindle again. While waiting for the next flight, I got to see my first of MANY Moroccan cats in the airport, something definitely not expected.

On the next flight from Casablanca to Fez, I had the opportunity to sit next to another really nice man, who told me about how he was originally from Morocco, but currently lived in London. We talked for a really long time about me studying abroad and the differences between the British, Moroccan, and American education systems. As he was wishing me good luck in everything I plan to do, he offered to give me his brother's number in case I ever need anything in Fez. Unfortunately, we got separated after customs, and I was just beginning the saga of my missing luggage.

Standing at the luggage carousel, thinking "Really, this is happening?" was truly the lowest point of my two day traveling. I was suppose to be picked up by an ambassador from Al Akhawayn, but she was no where to be seen because I was still behind security, so I had to go and make the luggage claim using what little English the claims officer knew, and after reading reviews on other Royal Air Maroc passenger's luggage debacles, I was getting very concerned. However, the officer gave me a paper with numbers on it, and I took it and ran out of the airport. Of course, the only people standing out there were airport employees and a taxi driver, who kept trying to get me to hire him. Finally, one of the men directed me to the Al Akhawayn van, which was stuffed full of other students and luggage. Honestly, it's a good thing that my luggage was delayed because nothing else was fitting in that van.

After about an hour drive from Fez to Ifrane, I finally made it to my new school, and after about an hour of waiting to get my room assignment, I headed straight for a real bed.

An Introduction, an Apology, and a Promise

Okay, so I know that I should have began blogging weeks ago, but I am pretty technologically illiterate, and anyone who has ever traveled with me (People to People and May Term) knows how terrible I am at keeping up on journaling. However, This weekend will make three weeks since I left my little corner of Virginia surrounded by the beautiful Appalachian Mountains and sweet tea, so I really need to start (partially for my sake of remembering this magical time of my life, partially for the fact that it is a requirement for my school).

Originally, I thought about making a post August 25, the day I began my journey to Morocco. It would be a great time killer while waiting out my eleven hour layover in JFK, especially since it was an overnight layover, and I was pulling one of those very rare all-nighters because Emily just doesn't sleep anywhere. Sadly, Terminal 1 of JFK doesn't have wi-fi (or decent food options after 11:00 p.m.), so I am catching you up with everything I wanted to write that night, and **WARNING**: It's going to get VERY SAPPY. Also, although I am literally writing the next couple of blog posts (two-four) on my bed in order to procrastinate starting homework for next week, they're all ideas that I've had for blogs since I arrived here in Morocco. So here are my ideas for the blog/what I was feeling the week or so before I left home!

 Originally, I had planned on writing a short, reflective essay for the requirement Roanoke has for the study abroad requirement, but as I thought about it, a blog would truly be best. I could share my adventures and thoughts with friends and family from home (if anyone is actually going to attempt listening to me ramble about four months in Morocco) as well as have a more accurate transcript of my time abroad for the next year. Plus, who knows, maybe a producer from the Travel Channel will miraculously find this blog and decided to give me my own show! (#DreamJob) Since I know that I am going to be horrible at this whole keeping up to date with the blog, I have already made a promise to myself (which I've totally already broken), but I found a way to keep myself on track despite how much I am going to hate writing about my feelings and junk, so I am taking an oath right now: I, Emily Kate Bayens, promise to post a blog every time I use Instagram with the hasthtag, #EmilyExploresEarth, considering that I must be doing something relative to culture/study abroad adventures.

For anyone not familiar with #EmilyExploresEarth, I started this hashtag last semester when I was studying and interning in Washington D.C. because simply arriving to my new home in the city was such a culture shock for me. I'd been to D.C. before, but how was I suppose to live in a CITY (not Salem or Roanoke) for FOUR MONTHS? That's when I realized, the plans that I had made for my sophomore/junior years were going to take me way out of my comfort zones. #EmilyExploresEarth isn't just a hashtag, it's a chronicle of my year and a half way outside of my comfort zone. It represents my perspectives changing, my adventures, and the amazing opportunities I am getting to experience thanks to all the opportunities I have been so lucky to be able to take. I mean, how many college students can say that they had the opportunity to go to World Bank and IMF receptions, spend afternoons volunteering at the World War II Monument, walk by the Capitol and Supreme Court everyday to work, see Auschwitz, climb Slovak castles, eat msemen in a Moroccan marche, or live and study in the Capitol of Europe?

Okay, Sappy Part 1: Finished.

Although I was definitely pushed out of my comfort zone last semester, moving to Washington D.C., it still isn't the same as moving abroad. In D.C.; I was still by definition, in my own country, no matter how much I felt like I was on a different planet. So, needless to say, I was pretty much a nervous wreck all summer about coming to Morocco as well as trying to figure out visa processes for Belgium (still in process). However, I've known since summer 2011, when I first left the United States, that study abroad was definitely in my future, so there was definitely no backing out. I wan't particularly worried about anything, despite the many, "Wait, why are you going to Africa?" or "Are you not concerned about Ebola?" I was just nervous, but I knew I'd be fine. I was fine in Washington too, despite having the same feelings beforehand.

So, I said my goodbyes to my little cousin and Frozen duet partner (a pretty difficult task since she always holds it against me that I leave around/on her birthday), and planned to stop to see my friends at Roanoke one last time on my way to the airport. As I fell asleep my last night at home, I was able to sleep (quite unlike me before I travel), but didn't think about the journey ahead of me, simply that I wouldn't be sleeping in a bed the next night, but rather an airport bench.

Only two sappy-ish parts in one post? I'm doing pretty well!

I promise the upcoming posts will be more exciting and interesting-hopefully, less sappy too.