CLEAN CLOTHES! kinda...

I’ve been wondering for some time now how I’m supposed to go about doing my laundry here at my homestay, and when I returned from this weekend’s trip I discovered I had to tackle this dilemma quickly…I only had a couple days’ supply of underwear left. I mentioned something to Mama Z about laundry and before I knew what was happening, she had grabbed my laundry bag and marched off to the Great Unknown (aka the third floor that I’ve never been up to)…apparently my house has a washer that I was not aware of. There are still cultural differences that I’m grappling with, and the way in which clothes are washed is definitely one of them. My clothes were returned to me today, slightly stiffer from flapping around in the ocean air of Rabat but not looking or smelling any cleaner. After mentioning this to a few other people in the program, I discovered that using laundry detergent isn’t really the norm here and I was lucky enough that my clothes had even come into contact with water (I’m assuming they had). One of the guys in my program has taken to bringing his laundry with him to the annex where we have Arabic in the mornings, washing it in one of the bathroom sinks, and then hanging it to dry while we learn to conjugate. I went up to the rooftop today and there were his boxers and a few t-shirts, just flapping around in the breeze, with his jeans laid over a ledge. I no longer see things like that as weird or unusual...it's more of a "what else is he supposed to do?" kinda thing.
This afternoon, an off-site discussion took the place of our normal Culture and Society Seminar (CSS). We walked to Mohammed V University where we met with a group of Moroccan graduate students to discuss Huntington’s Clash of Civilizations. It was a great discussion that gave us the opportunity to throw around thoughts, ideas, and opinions with a group we would not otherwise be with in a classroom setting. We all had some very strong opinions on this piece…if you care to know mine, let me know because I could go on for awhile…and there was a general sense of tip-toeing at the beginning of the discussion, so as not to offend anyone, but after awhile we all loosened up and continued to talk for about two hours. Later on, at a restaurant, we (me and a few friends) ended up running into a group of the Moroccan students, so we pulled our tables together and just talked for awhile about everything from politics to things to do in Rabat. After we ate some kefta sandwiches (lamb, random meat, and spices squished into meat patties), one of the Moroccan students offered to walk back with us to the medina because we weren’t exactly sure where we were going, and of course we said yes. He then proceeded to start a one-sided discussion with me on why France is terrible, why I should be studying any language besides a European language, why French people are stuck up, why Europe lacks any culture, etc etc etc…I think you get the point. We had been walking and having this lovely “discussion” for about 20 minutes when I realized we were walking in the wrong direction. I interrupted Abdel’s latest tirade on France’s racism to ask him if he was sure we were going the right way. And get this…he responded by saying “Oh, that I have no idea. I’m not from Rabat. You know the city across the river, Salé? That is where my family is from and where I am now living. I want to walk with you to practice my English.” Great, just great. We finally convinced Abdel that we need to ask someone for directions, and when we had the medina in our sight, we convinced him that he should probably catch his taxi back to Salé before it gets too late. Needless to say, he was quite an interesting character.
Tomorrow we’re visiting Villa des Arts in the afternoon before having a lecture on the Moroccan art scene. I think I’m going to speed through the exhibit because it’ll be a gorgeous day and also it’s market day. Souk times ten…what could be better??