Since we have returned from our break in the United States,we have noticed that the following items seem to have gone missing from our apartment:
-One toenail clipper
-Our souk bag
-One USB key
I expect to lose or misplace things when I'm moving, or to leave things or misplace things that I've taken with me while traveling, but how in the world have I managed to lose items in the apartment while I wasn't even here?
30 August 2011
29 August 2011
On patriotism and being an American
I don't think I have ever in my adult life thought of myself as a "patriot." I have associated the word with poor education, "country bumpkinness," militarism, Republicanism, and a lack of critical thinking skills, among other things. I think the word has also become strangely connected in my mind to Walmart, hamburgers and other fast food, fireworks, Chevrolet trucks, and a mishmash of other American entities or institutions.
These are not things with which I generally associate myself.
Up until a year ago, I didn't think of myself as particularly "American," either. But now, after having spent a year in another country, I have come to recognize the "Americanness" in myself. I may hate Walmart as an entity, and I may hate shopping in Walmart stores, but I like and am used to the convenience they provide. I think I have a right to see a list of ingredients in any food I order at a restaurant. I think every town should have a yoga studio and a microbrewery (or should be within an hour's drive of a yoga studio and a microbrewery). I love grilling and eating grilled food. I like getting soy milk in my coffee. I resent governments imposing religious practices on their people, but I expect them to have laws that protect the minorities in their societies. Social hierarchies make me nervous. Etc. Etc.
In short, I have discovered that I am, incurably, an American.
Getting in touch with my "Americanness" made me realize that there are some things about the United States of which I actually am proud, and that led me to realize that such pride could be a form of patriotism. Boy, has that come as a bit of a shock to me!
I knew that living overseas would change me, but I hadn't thought much about how it would help me get in touch with the parts of myself that aren't likely to change. Before I came to Morocco, there was a part of me that thought maybe I would feel like I fit in better here, since I never entirely felt like I fit in when I was in my home country. At least when comparing the two countries of Morocco and the United States, the latter is where I can be more myself.
These are not things with which I generally associate myself.
Up until a year ago, I didn't think of myself as particularly "American," either. But now, after having spent a year in another country, I have come to recognize the "Americanness" in myself. I may hate Walmart as an entity, and I may hate shopping in Walmart stores, but I like and am used to the convenience they provide. I think I have a right to see a list of ingredients in any food I order at a restaurant. I think every town should have a yoga studio and a microbrewery (or should be within an hour's drive of a yoga studio and a microbrewery). I love grilling and eating grilled food. I like getting soy milk in my coffee. I resent governments imposing religious practices on their people, but I expect them to have laws that protect the minorities in their societies. Social hierarchies make me nervous. Etc. Etc.
In short, I have discovered that I am, incurably, an American.
Getting in touch with my "Americanness" made me realize that there are some things about the United States of which I actually am proud, and that led me to realize that such pride could be a form of patriotism. Boy, has that come as a bit of a shock to me!
I knew that living overseas would change me, but I hadn't thought much about how it would help me get in touch with the parts of myself that aren't likely to change. Before I came to Morocco, there was a part of me that thought maybe I would feel like I fit in better here, since I never entirely felt like I fit in when I was in my home country. At least when comparing the two countries of Morocco and the United States, the latter is where I can be more myself.
28 August 2011
On taking the train at night during Ramadan
On Wednesday at 8am (Central Standard Time), T and I left the small town in Nebraska where we had spent most of our time the past five weeks and began our two day journey back to Ifrane, Morocco.
At 6:45pm (Greenwich Mean Time) on Thursday, we were sitting on the train from Casablanca to Meknes and were on (what we hoped would be only) the second to last leg of our travel (we would still need to get a taxi from Meknes to Ifrane).
There were, for once, very few passengers on the train. It's not much fun to travel during Ramadan, the holy month during which healthy adults are forbidden religiously, culturally, and legally from eating, drinking, or smoking from sun up to sun down. The few passengers in our train car looked tired, and most of them sat quietly, watching the sun go down. Many of them had their bottles of water, their dates, and their bagged breakfasts (for this would be their first meal of the day) sitting in front of them, ready to be eaten the minute the sun slipped below the horizon.
Soon everyone began to eat quietly, including T and me. We hadn't been engaging in a strict fast, but had been experiencing the de facto fast that often comes along with traveling. After a few minutes, a man came along with a cart and handed out small packages of dates to everyone--even to T and me. It was touching and marked the first moment for many days when I didn't feel apprehensive and even a bit depressed about returning to Morocco.
At 6:45pm (Greenwich Mean Time) on Thursday, we were sitting on the train from Casablanca to Meknes and were on (what we hoped would be only) the second to last leg of our travel (we would still need to get a taxi from Meknes to Ifrane).
There were, for once, very few passengers on the train. It's not much fun to travel during Ramadan, the holy month during which healthy adults are forbidden religiously, culturally, and legally from eating, drinking, or smoking from sun up to sun down. The few passengers in our train car looked tired, and most of them sat quietly, watching the sun go down. Many of them had their bottles of water, their dates, and their bagged breakfasts (for this would be their first meal of the day) sitting in front of them, ready to be eaten the minute the sun slipped below the horizon.
Soon everyone began to eat quietly, including T and me. We hadn't been engaging in a strict fast, but had been experiencing the de facto fast that often comes along with traveling. After a few minutes, a man came along with a cart and handed out small packages of dates to everyone--even to T and me. It was touching and marked the first moment for many days when I didn't feel apprehensive and even a bit depressed about returning to Morocco.
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