For the last three weeks I have been living in a large, traditional riad-style Moroccan home with 12 other girls. For my cumulative independent study project, I have been studying the social motivations and consequences of code-switching between Darija and French on Moroccan radio stations. I’ve conducted 20some interviews and I got tours of some big Moroccan radio stations. I’m really interested in this project and it makes me wish I were a linguistics major.
This is my last week in Morocco, and I can’t believe it. Tomorrow we are moving into the same hotel we stayed in during orientation week, and it is crazy to think about how much has changed since January. I am more comfortable in this country than I ever thought I would be. I remember my first thoughts about Morocco as I rode the bus from the airport—I couldn’t believe how green Rabat was, and seeing all the women in hijabs was a shocking sight. Now I walk down “vegetable street” without noticing the fish heads strewn in the street, hanging sheep carcasses, and cats with no eyes or fur. Frankly, I have become hardened to gruesome sights, to the sight of poverty, to sexual harassment, and to unclean conditions. I don’t want to lose this shell; as corny as it is, I think living in Morocco has made me a better traveler and learner. I have truly come to love Morocco. As frustrating and repressive as it can seem sometimes, it is a wonderful place and I’m so glad I studied here. I want to share all the things I love about Morocco with everyone.
Tonight I came across my BlackBerry in my suitcase. It was strange to see and it reminded me of all the things that will seem foreign to me when I return to the States. On the list are: toilets, soap in restrooms, crosswalks, showers, escalators, signs in English, people showing skin on the street, customer service, water fountains, people on their phones, trash cans, hot water, sirens, traffic and driving, suburbs, ice cubes, pets, and churches.
