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First Days In Morocco:
The Moroccan American Cultural Exchange Commission had arranged for our first few days in the country. Hotels had been booked, travel arrangements made. This was customary for new Fulbright arrivals in Morocco. Yet, somehow, none of us ever really knew what we were supposed to be doing or where we were supposed to be until the last possible instant. And when we thought we knew, something unexpected would occur, reminding us that that this year would have something to teach us about "taking it easy". A good lesson for anybody, I might add.
In the meantime,
I had some business to start and finish in Fes. |
We
got off the plane in Rabat, on a sunny Moroccan morning. The airport was
small- its quaintness reinforced by the sweltering heat and the memory
of the tent cities we had just flown over. My friend Jon and I were both
a little overwhelmed by the reality of it all, or rather the absence of
any familiar reality. We went through the motions nonetheless, braving
customs, rusty baggage carousels and relentlessly nagging taxi drivers.
Two
days in Rabat, morning and afternoon orientation sessions... A crash course
in Moroccan everything: from religion to politics, with an occasional
stop at cuisine, culture, manners. Between sessions, Jon and I would hit
the streets of Rabat, taking in some first hand impressions- gardens,
terraces overlooking the raging Atlantic, century old mosques. We wandered
around quite a bit, trying to absorb the feel of the city, the pulse of
the land. I hoped secretly that I would be able to divine my potential
for happiness here: could I possibly live in this city for the next 10
months? I left with a positive impression and an urge to return.