The post I've been avoiding

UWC-AW Class of 2004 Reunion, Berlin 2009

(Plus an old KS high school buddy, Simon)

Some UWC friends in Berlin: Imogen, Lisa, Andras and Doris

Andras, Khalil and Wendy celebrating

This post should be titled something like, "Awesome times in Germany" or "UWC Friends Forever!". I had an wonderful trip to Germany in July to visit with friends from high school and in August it was time for me to write about it and post pictures but I couldn't. I skipped over it and wrote about Toubqal out of chronological order. I don't know where the blockage came from, but in September I was finally ready to tackle this post when tragedy struck.

One of my closest friends from boarding school, Imogen, died on September 10th. Imo was one of the few people I kept in touch with from the United World College. We lived together for two years. We shared a dorm, countless meals and so many life-changing memories. After we graduated in 2004, we went our separate ways out of necessity. It was time to move on, to start becoming adults, and to eek out a place for ourselves in the world. Some of our classmates went to university together and the rest of us tried to keep in contact by phone and email, traveling to see each other when we could. Imogen was particularly good at reaching out to me after long silences, letting me know what was going on in her life and making sure that she would continue to be a part of mine.

Eating ice cream with Imogen in Berlin

People in my position would say "I feel so blessed to have gotten to see her before she died." It was our five-year reunion for UWC this summer, and a small cohort of my classmates, including Imogen and I, found our way to Berlin to reminisce and to catch up. Andras, Julene, Khalil, Lisa, Doris and Wendy were all there. We explored the city, drank beer, sang songs, and in true UWC fashion we stayed up late every night, snacking and laughing and debating grand philosophical issues.

I am so happy I went to Berlin. It was important to see my friends again and to recommit ourselves to one another. It also made the news of Imogen's death in September all the more heart breaking. Her voice rings louder in my head and her smile shines brighter. She is still a part of my life and it seems impossible that we won't be seeing each other again. We won't be calling to catch up or traveling to meet for weddings and babies and lifetime achievement awards. We won't be growing old together. But we got to grow up together.

There are a million important sentiments I should convey here, but I don't have the words. Instead, I just want to share some photos from the trip and say how lovely it was to see everyone again. The trip to Germany was a tangible reminder of the enormous support system I have all over the world. Friends from school in Kansas, from UWC, from Dallas, studying abroad, from working with international lawyers, from living in DC, from frisbee teams and interning in a million places... my life is overflowing with passionate, supportive and joy-bearing friends. My time in Germany was a celebration of that.

Goofing around with Imo, Andras and Lisa in a park during a walk around Berlin

Lisa and her sister Katrine sporting a balloon hat I found in a parking lot

Simon (a good friend from high school in Kansas), and his girlfriend Karin at the top of a church tower in Freiburg

Doris and I in Freiburg

Melanie Luxom (Simon's sister) at their home in Sachsenheim where I first met her in 2002. Her mother's flowers were incredibly fragrant.

I had less than a week total in Germany this past summer, but it was an important week. I landed in Frankfurt, took a carpool to Berlin and found my way through the streets to Julene's apartment were UWC people were already giggling and planning the weekend. We enjoyed the Turkish market, an Iranian protest, a free tour of the city, the Berlin Wall, playing tag and laying in the grass by a museum, long walks, and many delicious treats. After the weekend in Berlin, I carpooled down to Karlsruhe where I met up with my old friend Simon and his sister and girlfriend. They showed me their town and a huge music festival and great fun with their friends. Simon and Karin accompanied me to Freiburg so I could meet up with my UWC friend Doris on her home-turf and the four of us spent a very relaxing day walking around and sitting at cafes. Then Simon and Karin and I headed to Sachsenheim to stay with Simon's family and prepare for my departure the next day.

It was a whirlwind trip! I had an incredible time and only wish we had more of it.

Morocco Article

I recently wrote this little article for the Archer Fellows Alumni newsletter. Thought I'd share it here, too:

Speaking Darija with Ambassadors and Policemen

When I first recognized the power of Moroccan Arabic (also known as Darija), I was still incapable of saying more than 5 words of it. I was working as an intern for the House Committee on International Relations on the Subcommittee on Terrorism and Nonproliferation. I had just finished a semester studying in Morocco and was only a week into my Archer Fellowship, in the fall of 2006. I had bumbled my way through language classes and a friendly homestay in Rabat, but in reality my knowledge of the language and culture of Morocco was still very nascent.

And then, a week after arriving in DC, I was summoned to meet a coalition from the office of the Moroccan Ambassador to the US. From my tiny office of three, way out in the neglected Ford Building, we heard that the chairman of our little subcommittee was about to have an impromptu meeting with the leaders of a Moroccan political wing dealing with the Western Sahara. Somehow, with my extremely limited knowledge of the country and its dynamic political atmosphere, I was pegged as the resident expert on this sensitive and complicated issue. I was asked to attend the private meeting and to receive the Ambassador and his colleagues.

When I greeted the bevy of thirteen in their native tongue, they were more than delighted to hear the familiar tones of their dialect ringing through Rayburn's cool halls. Although I could say little more than "How are you" and "Welcome to the office", the change in their sentiments was palpable. I realized that simply using Darija instead of English of French made them take my welcome to heart. No major strides were made during the meeting, but I felt like everyone was put at ease and, at the very least, the Moroccan representatives came out feeling amused and intrigued by the surprising phrases coming from the new intern. What if I had known more Darija and could have really conversed with these people?

Now, after a year living in Rabat as a Fulbright Fellow, that day on the Hill seems anecdotal and far away. I'm conversant in Darija and Moroccan issues to a degree I couldn't imagine back in 2006. But that brief event helped to shape my motivation in a way I couldn't pinpoint at the time. It made clear to me just how influential my time abroad could be later in my career.

My Archer experiences inspired me to pursue a little-known and narrowly used language that is very dear to my hear. Moroccan Darija is unlike any other form of Arabic. Moroccans can understand people from all over the Middle East and North Africa, but the rest of the Arab world rarely understands Moroccans unless they speak in the formal manifestation (classical Arabic, called Fus'ha). Particularly as a foreigner, it makes an enormous impact that I speak the local language instead of French or Fus'ha. Within the strict hierarchy of languages in Morocco, it is almost inconceivable that a native English-speaker would take the time and effort to learn the "dirty" language of the streets instead of operating in French. But everyone loves that I speak Darija.

One of my interactions that exemplifies this phenomenon was with Said the policeman. I was in a rental car with some visitors from Dallas, and we didn't exactly know our route. We made a couple wrong turns and were looking for signs when a very stern looking police officer flagged us down, blowing his whistle adamently, and instructed us to pull over. He approached the window and I greeted him before he started his tirade in French. I responded in French, politely explaining that the driver couldn't understand, and I asked him if he wouldn't mind conversing with me instead. He agreed, and continued on his rant about our double infraction and the large sums of money would have to forfeit. At this point, I turned to the irate man in uniform and I asked him in Darija if he wouldn't mind speaking with me in Arabic, claiming not to understand French very well. The tone and color of his eyes changed immediately and he warmed to me completely, in a single instant. We chatted about where I was from, how I learned Darija, and in the end Said told us that we were always welcome in his city. He advised us on the best route to our destination and even leapt over a median to stop traffic and assist us in making an illegal u-turn to continue on our way.

I can't help but wonder what kind of exceptions and u-turns we can make in other international interactions just by showing that we've made the effort to connect with the other person's culture. I think back to that day in Rayburn and wonder: if my two phrases of Darija at the time could set that coalition at ease, how would they have responded if I could have had a full conversation with them? More importantly, I'm inspired to posit that peace and stability, at the most elementary level, stem not from grandiose theories and convoluted formulas but from the individual efforts made to understand and connect with other people. Very basic yet symbolic endeavors- like choosing to speak the language of the people rather than the language of the powerful- can make a major difference on the world stage.

Toubqal

I just hiked the tallest mountain in North Africa! It's called Jebel (mountain) Toubqal and it's just south of Marrakesh. Along with friends Sam, Rachel Rubin, Stephanie and Saad Charife, I took 3 days and slowly but surely made my way up the cold and sometimes quite treacherous path to the top.

On Day 1 we woke up in a little town called Imlil where many hikes take-off. We decided against hiring a guide which contributed to our first mistake: waking up waaaaay too early. After hearing horror stories of independent-minded hiker friends sleeping in and then being unable to find the path without other trekkers to follow, we decided to get up at 4AM to have breakfast before the sunrise (since it was also the first day of Ramadan) and then take off. Little did we know, that the final mealtime on Ramadan mornings is much earlier than the actual sunrise. So we were up and fed and completely groggy and we actually made it outside with our packs on our backs before we realized that it was still totally dark and we couldn't go yet. So we went back to bed for another hour and then started walking at first light. We were very tired but it the 6 hours on the path were beautiful.

The early morning mountain path from Imlil to the Toubkal Refuge

The Toubkal refuge, where we spent our second two nights

We arrived safely at the refuge nestled in between the mountains for our first night of sleep and altitude acclimating. Food was expensive but we came prepared with canned fish, trail mix, fruit and bread. Plus there were interested travelers to meet and lots and lots of sleep to catch up on.

Day 2 was Summit Day. We got up early again, but this time not quite early enough. We planned to follow a friend we had met the day before, so as to avoid hiring a guide again. But somehow he got away from us before we were quite ready and we ended up sprinting after the groups ahead so we wouldn't get lost. Thanks to Sam's stealthy hiking and our team's good attitude, we were able to keep a visual on the other groups in order to find the trail in an otherwise very tricky, almost trail-less terrain. From there it was only 3.5 hours of scaling rocks, slipping on our butts and panting our way to the tippy top. And then 3 hours back down on almost total skreet- loose rocks that sent us flipping and falling but, hamdullilah, without serious injury.

Rachel Rubin clings for dear life on one of the harder parts of the trail, narrowly dodging falling rocks that targeted our heads

Sam poses at a peak that we hoped was the top but ended up being about 20 minutes from the real summit

At the pyramid on top of Toubqal

The view from the top of North Africa

A happy Team Toubqal at the zenith of our journey

Stephanie carefully makes her way down, back to the refuge

A super happy me at the waterfalls right by the refuge, about to soak my tired and blistery feet in the cold, cold water

We made it back to the refuge, safe and tired and ready for another night of chatting, card-playing and early bedtimes. At sunrise on Day 3 we were up and ready for the 4 hours walking back to Imlil. I'm not normally much of a hiker, but this trip definitely rejuvenated me and reminded me how much I love the outdoors. I had a great team of friends, plenty of time for relaxation and reflection, and I accomplished a feat I had mentally set out to complete from the moment I arrived Morocco. Check it off the bucket list. And maybe add a few more mountains for future expeditions....

Goodbyes

The summer has been a time of goodbye after goodbye. Many of my dearest American friends here in Morocco have now headed back to the U.S. for good, leaving me to my next phase. It's true what former Fulbright friends have predicted: the 14 months I have here are marked by a number of phases, primarily based on the changes in seasons and the coming and going of friends. No amount of anticipation can truly prepare us for what comes around the corner, month after month.

But goodbyes means lots of goodbye parties! So here are some pics in honor of the good buds who have took their leave this summer:

Final day of lunch and dirty river swimming with Darren, one of my most inspiring friends

We started our Fulbrights together in Rabat, but in July, Matt made one final tagine at his house before heading off to medical school

Hugging my city-mate Meher after her farewell dinner

Goofing with the goofiest: Jon at one last barbecue before he took off

Joe will always be one of my Army buds

Mike almost killed me for this group picture, having mass goodbyes at a late-night shindig: KD, Roz, Joe, Mike and Shaun are now gone

Roz displays pride in her hand, added to the wall in my apartment for all those friends who have been a part of my Moroccan experience

Friends from my year in Morocco who have moved so far: Liza Barron, Anna Gressel, Tara Juliard, Simo Taoufik, Ben Hammond, Cody/Teresa/Evan, Paul Heck, Katie Seckman, Addie Ryan, Elena Chopyak, Matt Murphy, Denise "Roz" Sewell, Darren Grosch, Meher Talib, Joe /Jon/Shaun/Mike, Dina and Nisreen, KD Raymond, and there will be more....

Spaniards, LMA and Ess. Fest 2009

Me and Mirielle with her favorite camel on the beach in Essaouira

Next up in the itinerary: simultaneous visits from my Spanish friends Victor and Mireia and from my best friend from college, Laura Mirielle Anderson. Since I'm so far behind in posts, I won't go overboard with detail, but I will include some photos here so you can see for yourselves that we had a fabulous time catching up and trying new things together. Victor and Mireia are such good-hearted people and very easy-going, and they arrived first. We got along famously and had a smooth time together in Rabat.

Walking Rabat with Mireia and Victor

Amazing couscous Friday with the Taoufik family

Mireia had to leave early for a family vacation, but Victor stayed on and traveled with me and Mirielle. When I say Mirielle was my best friend in college, it doesn't quite capture how integral she was to my four years in Dallas. We lived together all four years and my life would have been truly different- and not nearly as wonderful- without her. She's like a sister to me (and in fact we were often confused for sisters) and it was incredible having her here to share this part of my life.

Keeping cool in Marrakesh with Victor and Mirielle

An old artisan we made friends with in Marrakesh

All together with the shopkeepers who sat us down for tea in Marrakesh

The highlight of our time together was a week-long stint in Essaouira for the International Gnaoua music festival. I'd been looking forward to attending this festival for years and it didn't disappoint. We spent several days relaxing on the beach, meeting up with friends, walking around the old medina and bouncing from stage to stage to see incredible musicians from Morocco and abroad.

Mirielle, me and Jess in Essaouira

Fun times on the Essaouira beach with Victor, Nabil and the girls

Victor goofing around with my buddies, Mustapha (Moose) and Nabil

Dinner with a crowd, including Jaci and Liz, at our apartment in Essaouira

The concerts were packed. We experienced huge adrenaline rushes when the packed crowds would suddenly move in one direction and our big guy friends would huddle us all together to avoid being trampled. We saw a few unnerving fights with fists and broken bottles and I even got to participate in my first Moroccan cat fight (verbal only) with a landlady who wanted to bilk us out of a few hundred dirhams. Needless to say, we moved apartments and I was proud of myself for not backing down and participating in argument as best I could like a Moroccan (all Darija, often involves yelling and gesticulating, getting other people involved, lots of swearing to God, but avoiding disrespectful name-calling or major accusations).

One of the 7 stages of the Gnaoua Festival

It may sound like the festival was overwhelming or even negative, but it was really energizing and not at all stressful. Almost all of my friends in Morocco were in attendance and about 20 of us even stayed in the same place. Days on the beach, nights listening to live music and dancing....who could ask for more?

The crowded beach in Essaouira during the Festival

Playing around on the ramparts while we wait for the sunset

Amazing Essaouira sunset

In the end, my friends all had to go and I had to get back to my "real life" in Rabat. But the weeks I spent with my Spaniards and with Mirielle, especially with friends at the Gnaoua Festival, were unforgettable.

Elizabeth at last!

After 9 months of living in Morocco, traveling and entertaining guests, it was finally time for my big sis Elizabeth to come visit. We had 2 weeks together and it simultaneously felt like a long summer break and a fly-by.

We started off with some downtime in Rabat, getting to know the area and my wonderful, welcoming friends. We went to the beach more than once and Elizabeth got to see how I live, day to day.A Tower of Fun: Elizabeth at home with me and Jess

Beach times with new friends (Khalid, Nabil and Moose)

On the way back from the beach, all piled in

With two whole weeks to spend in Morocco, Elizabeth decided she was up for some traveling. So we headed south to Marrakesh on a long, hot train ride that was made bearable by catching up with my sister and goofing around with each other.

Hittin the road

Happy happy Elizabeth on the hot hot train

We didn't stay long in Marrakesh because we had bigger fish to fry: the Sahara! This was definitely the highlight of our trip, going to M'hamid to see my friends and stay out in the dunes. We also took a day-trip out to the big big dunes, Chegaga, and rode camels with a British travel companion we met along the way.

With our nomad desert guide and good friend, Ibrahim

In the nomad tents where we stayed in M'hamid

Since it was pretty hot, most of our desert time was spent drinking tea and lounging under the palm trees at various oases. On our drive out to Chegaga, we were also treated to some fresh camel milk by our friendly guide, Omar. We picked up hitch-hiking Saharawi guys on the way and stopped to chat with camel-herders. The scenery was amaaaaazing and totally worth the scalding our feet took when we insisted on going out to the dunes before the sand was cool enough to walk on. Eh, what can you do? I guess next time we'll listen to our guides a little better!

Lounging at an oasis in traditional Saharawi garb

Omar made me the tea-maker

About to cook our feet, setting off to climb the dunes

Finally at the top! Holy crap, it was hard to get up there!

At the way waaaaay top, a long, hard walk but soooooo beautiful!


Camels are scary

Elizabeth on her first outside-of-the-zoo camel ride experience!

As a grand finale to our traveling time together, Elizabeth and I spent a day with a friend's family in Marrakesh. Hicham, whom I met at Jama al Fna (the big old square in marrakesh) with my OTHER sister in March, invited us to come to his sister's, who was insisting we sit and eat for several hours. We obliged:) We weren't really sure what we were getting into at first, but went with the flow and ended up having a lovely day of couscous, wedding videos, family photos, and playing with their three young girls in between group naps on the sofas.

Elizabeth with Karima, the youngest of the three daughters

Family photo over sodas after a day full of eating delicious Moroccan food

It was two weeks of adventure and relaxation together after 9 months apart, and it was just what I needed. We made it back to Rabat and said a teary goodbye at the airport, knowing that we'd have only 5 more months to wait until we saw each other again. But not matter how long or how far apart we are, the sporadic visits and phone calls keep us going on inside jokes and interesting stories enough to last us many lifetimes.