واحد جوج تلاتـه... learning dialects

The first week of lessons is finally over, and thankfully it wasn't as strenuous as it was last year, since the dreaded Fresher's Flu is non-existent, albeit being replaced by the unholy "Medina water flu" as our house has named it, and experienced over the course of the week as a result of (as the name suggests) drinking the water in our area, which isn't recommended for people on a short stay in Fez.

Since we've officially started university, the evenings have been consumed by the number one favourite pastime of students, doing homework. A consequence of this was having that worrying epiphany that this year is essential if we're aiming for that First Class in final year. Luckily, surpassing the stage of being a fresher means that the work is actually getting done for the moment; undoubtedly there will be a stage later this year where I'll be found procrastinating, or attempting to do the most menial and pointless tasks such as rearranging my room, or absolutely nothing, in an effort to avoid the ski run of sheets that will have formed from my desk to the front door.

The one major discrepancy that I (and most probably the whole group) currently have is with the colloquial dialect here. It's wonderful to learn, and the locals are elated and equally startled when they see a foreigner learning what is known to be a very hard version of the Arabic language. There have been times where I've mentally curled up in a ball and started rocking back and forth since the word I might have know in Modern Standard is completely different in Moroccan. Despite this the teachers are very patient with us which is a great help, since half the class felt illiterate when they walked into lessons this week.

Apart from being educated, myself and many of the Leeds students have been slowly integrating ourselves into the Medina life, with neighbours and shopkeepers starting to recognise our faces, even having our preferred coffee stall (which provides a better cup of Joe than a certain international coffee chain). The kind attitude of the locals still hasn't waned, and I doubt it will at any point. There's no hiding that we have all enjoyed the feeling of "local celebrity" if you will, or using a standard phrase from university, feeling like a BNOC (Big Name On Campus for non-Leeds folk).

On a final note- I think my blood sugar level has definitely increased due to my continued intake of mint tea which is that sweet you could pass it as liquid sugar. I can't foresee curbing the addiction though.

First steps in Fez- The view from Dar Xariffa, the "Dishonest House"

 I’m currently writing this looking out on the old Medina from the balcony of my Dar. If that doesn’t describe the elation I’m feeling with being on my year abroad, then I’ll put in in layman’s terms for you, ITS AWESOME! I’m still not used to the scorching hot weather, and with having stupidly packed for the winter without thinking of the continued summer here, a trip to the local shopping centre to get some shorts was much needed, which was accompanied with a trip to what appears to be the only remnant of Western culture out here, a Carrefour.

The first few days of being here are all a bit of a blur at the moment, since sorting out housing for the first time and being in a foreign country was definitely a lot more difficult than the experience that many of my counterparts back home went through to secure a half decent house, especially since myself and some other students were looking for a home within the constantly buzzing and labyrinthine old town, also known as Fez el-Bali, instead of copping out and going for an apartment in the not-so-new Ville Nouvelle; and despite the chaos of house hunting whilst dodging the onslaught of donkeys, walking tours and various stalls thrown at us in the narrow streets of the Medina, everything and everyone seemed to slow down a little when we returned to the Funky Fez, which is one hell of a hostel, not only are the people in there amazing, but the price is ludicrously low, to the point where I felt bad for paying next to nothing to get treated so well!

By this point in this entry, you’re probably wondering where the madness of student life that exists in good old Blighty is about to appear, but you’ll be surprised to know that there is none, and with that I can see that student life here is going to be very calm; worlds away from the apocalyptic “party like its ‘99” style nights out on the neon (and vodka) soaked high street of Leeds. This assumption can simply be made based on the fact that the majority of the group here have lived off Moroccan mint tea, maxing out on some days at 5 cups of the stuff, leaving people relatively flat out relaxed and wanted to do nothing but socialise, the alcohol-free way, which is a nice change since, for the first time in a long time I’m not the minority living in sobriety.

The other part you must also be undoubtedly questioning is most likely to be the lack of studying that appears to be going on. Yes it’s all well and good that I’m abroad and taking countless photos like any other tourist, but why haven’t I picked up a pen and paper yet you ask? Simply put, my course hasn’t started yet, and to put everyone (mainly my parents) at ease, I have been to ALIF (the place where I’m studying) a number of times for everything from sorting out housing, welcome talks and collecting my course books for this year. The school is a much better setting for learning than the settings of Michael Sadler or Hilary Place, which many a Leeds student who studies Languages will be familiar with.

Finally, my first experience of the Moroccan people. To everyone that has mentioned the seedy mind-set of North Africans who apparently “want to exploit you for easy money”, then unfortunately they are sadly mistaken. The Moroccans are wonderful people, and yes there is the occasional hassling from someone offering drugs or a street kid begging for money (at one point I had my arm kissed), but they prove to be relatively few, with a lot of people wanting to help you, and not for profit, which is a great thing to see.

Oh, and the house is called Dar Xariffa, which we've translated as the "dishonest house" and assumed its called that since the door is quite small, yet the house that lies behind it is enormous given the path in which it's located.

It's all coming together, I hope...

OH MY GOD. Those three words have constantly been on repeat in my mind for about a week now, and with only a few hours to go before I need to make the gargantuan trip from Liverpool to Stansted before my flight to Fez tomorrow, the mental state of taking everything but the kitchen sink is in full effect. The frantic running around the house making sure I've got my books from last year (which were nestled under a tonne of dust from all that "work" I did during the summer) is hardly ideal, but then again it wouldn't be me if I wasn't packing my bag with such little time to spare, yet trying to fit all of my life into one bag as if I'm permanently moving to the Maghreb.

Despite all the apocalyptic chaos that I've described my life in, I can reassure you that it's just exaggeration from the sheer excitement/confusion that I won't be coming back to the lovely shores of Britain for at least three months, and won't be seeing my beloved Leeds University for the whole year abroad period. It also doesn't help that a multitude of people who have been fortunate enough to go to Morocco keep feeding me scare stories of their mothers, sisters or any other female companion being offered up to a shopkeeper in exchange for an army of camels, or the purveyor of the all-you-can-eat tagine restaurant located down some ill-lit alley of Marrakesh who's food hasn't sat well with what seems the entire contingent of people that have graced the shores of Morocco.

Although it's not all bad. The fact that my flights are of an extremely reasonable price means that I've had every single friend, acquaintance and their aunt tell me that they're going to come and visit, which in one way is a good thing as I'll have some form of support hopefully, but on the other hand I'm sure the authorities will have their suspicions if they see a group in excess of about 25 people charging through the Medina looking for me and my house (which still hasn't been sorted out).

So as a little bit of advice for students going on their year abroad now and in the future, just remember this is your personal experience. It's nice that people have been to the country you're going to be living in for a year, but remember they've only been on holiday, so there's a lack of full immersion there, they won't be in the country with the same mindset as us year abroad students, since we're "in it for the long haul" so to speak, and have to adapt to the environment we're in.

I'm sure it has to be said, if not on my behalf then at least for all year abroad students leaving or those that have already left, the level of enthusiasm that I'm facing right now is unbelievable, and I am looking forward to it all now!