I am outside of the Arab World now and reporting to you from Bob's Youth Hostel in Amsterdam. There have certainly been numerous moments of what my traveling partner Zak and I have been referring to as "reverse culture shock." For example, while walking down the street past restaurants here, the proprietors do not to try to physically drag me into their stores. It seems as though they don't even want my business. This is similar to way all business transactions are conducted in this country. Product? Money? Done. No conversation, no tea, no hours of a day passing by. I almost feel used. It was all about the money for you? For shame.

It has been interesting for me to see how the cultural norms communities can differ in subtle ways. Here in Amsterdam, there is no problem with me picking up a Walk 2 Wok (EXCELLENT Chinese food) take-away box and picking at it as I walk down the street. In Morocco, public eating was a fairly serious no-no. I once had multiple people move away from me because I took a bag of potato chips to a film festival. It seems that since the act of eating is so social in Morocco, to walk around with food, implicitly refusing to share it, was a borderline taboo act. Just an example, chosen among many.

So what great revelations have I come to during my time abroad? I don't want to overstate an ecstatic rebirth as a world traveler. No, I do not plan on dropping out of Haverford, buying a Gore-Tex hat, and wandering from hostel to hostel like some of the people I have run across. Still, though, I am glad that I went abroad and still more glad that I went to Morocco and not to Europe. If for no other reason, the Euro is absolutely KILLING us. The Canadians have a more powerful dollar that we do. The CANADIANS. But besides the obvious monetary advantages to coming to the Arab World, it was still (albeit moderate and as Western as possible) still the Arab World. And I'm glad I had the opportunity to see for myself what that label entailed. But I've learned that I certainly enjoy a change of pace and a new scene, I will be happy to come back to the good ole USA. While the deprival of creature comforts may be an illuminating experience, I certainly miss some of those creature comforts. I plan to continue, retroactively, my Moroccan Thoughts section once I am safely ensconced in my room in Portland. While they won't have the "hot from the presses" freshness of my previous dispatches, hopefully the process will keep the journalistic impulse alive a little while longer.

So, starting this evening, my travel plans are thus:

18:25 train from Amsterdam to Paris
Spend the night in Charles de Gaulle Airport WHERE
I'll catch a Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt
Thence an 11 hour flight to San Francisco
Thence an hour and a half flight to Portland, OR
Local time: 8:01pm

And I'll be home. It will be a transition, to be sure. Anyone reading this in Portland? Drop me a line and I'll be sure to catch up. We can swap a few stories, perhaps.

Moroccan Thoughts Contd.

I've decided to make an effort to record some of the day to day things that I see around here. In addition to providing a justification to continue procrastinating, hopefully these little notes will allow me to remember what life was like here after I return. I also recently learned that one of my classmates has produced two hundred pages of journaling since the beginning of the semester. One should never underestimate envy and pride as motivating factors. Maybe if I start with a record of the mundane.

• The King. Morocco is one of the last monarchies in existence where the king wields actual (and ultimate) power. Its very interesting to notice how life is just a little bit different under a benevolent authoritarianism. Portraits of the king beam down from billboards along the side of the road and from frames adorning the walls of most shops and restaurants. The exceptionally politically aware will know that Morocco held a series of elections a few months ago. The even more aware will know that the voter turnout rate was extremely low. This is owing to the fact that the elected representatives are little more than advisors to the king. Sometimes they also serve as scapegoats. I don't know very much about Moroccan politics, but the king is very revered by everyone I have spoken to. He's seen as a father figure of sorts, and everyone counts on his good intentions. Needless to say, the shift from the American political sphere was abrupt.
  
• So how is it living under the thumb of a ruthless totalitarian? Well, there are police men and soldiers stationed at the city limits of every town. Sometimes they ask where you're going and why, but not often. Moroccan students call the soldiers "green men" and think of them as trees placed there by the government. They do very little, but their presence is a constant reminder of the government's authority and commitment to order. It's really interesting learning about the Algerian civil war and realizing how the fear of something like that (probably) affects a lot of Moroccan policy. Its why democracy is seen as an ideal to work towards, but one whose implementation could go very nastily. It's also interesting how systems of political control here are much more visible but less pervasive. Police are there, but they don't do much. They don't record your car's license plate number and store it in a database, like EZ-Pass. Just a thought.
• Most of the girls here do not wear a head scarf, although I would say about ten percent of the students and all of the female staff do. The dorms are gender segregated. As a consequence of this rule, Shakespearean balcony scenes are commonplace. Even as the temperature continues its plunge.
  
• The nighttime sky here is far far darker than any back home. I'm talking ink-black. We're several thousand feet above sea level, and there is very little light pollution (I've always thought that was a strange term) outside of little Ifrane.
  
• Terms of greeting are very interesting to me. Howzit going? What's up? In Morocco one may say the formal "Peace be with you" or "Lebbas?" (no harm?) or "Everything good?" For the last one, the response is "El-hamd'ullah" or "Thanks be to God." The problem with gaining proficiency in greetings is that the cab driver or sandwich maker often makes the mistake of assuming that I know how to say anything else in Arabic. I don't really. But you never know how things could turn out.