To begin, let me apologize for today’s (and any future) belated posts. I’m still adjusting to limited computer access, although I’m not necessarily complaining.
In Rabat I can access WiFi in a few places throughout the city: where we take classes in the Center for Cross Cultural Learning, at the hotel and at some cafes. I can’t read my email while walking down the street or laying in the comfort of my bed. The simple act of checking notifications means greeting the world. This might be an optimistic view, brought on by a over-enthusiastic novice, but I say “good. Let them have their Twitter updates and Instagram back home.”
After becoming accustomed to my iPhone and 3G, constantly checking emails and social media has become habitual. In these past three days, I’ve appreciated the sights and sounds of my new environment without constant distraction. I am remembering that journalism does not only mean being alert to every breaking news update. By taking on that title, busy people all over are relying on my powers of observation.
Something I noticed today was that I’m not alone. While plenty of men (yes, mostly men) hang out around the city during the day at cafes, in storefronts and parks, only a handful of people are on their phones. If they are, they’re talking. No, not scrolling, playing tetris or direct messaging. Real human contact. How stimulating.
I want to work abroad, to travel to the story wherever it takes me. As a journalist, I have realized that I depend on the internet too much as it is. I hope this semester forces me to become comfortable with the traditional ways of finding answers, people and stories. It may not be faster and it will definitely mean speaking to people in confused broken Frenarabish while swallowing the exploding nervous frog in my throat, but I’m already here so bring it.
And did I mention the amazing people in this program with me? i won’t go into details to respect their privacy and the sanctity of our still developing relationships but let it be enough to say that my fellow students have skills beyond those I had previously thought a journalist required. We are all wonderfully curious and adventurous. With each day I am more taken with the different skills each person brings to the table beyond basic language comprehension and great questions. I can honestly say I am excited to work with my group. There is so much to learn not only from this new culture and country, but from my peers -one of the beautiful things about bringing people together with such specific interests.
I meant to post this yesterday to describe my first full day abroad, but I’ll try to now insert a portion of the wealth of information I discovered today as well:
The eleven students in the SIT Journalism program had their first full day in Morocco Monday. It began with early breakfast at the hotel as the sun saturated the rooftop clotheslines in Rabat’s Medina.
We then became better acquainted with the Center for Cross Cultural Learning at which we will take classes for the next eight weeks. The building is set off from the main roads, entered via alley. Colorful mosaic tiles cover floor and ceiling throughout the interior. We ate on the first rooftop terrace, but many retired to the second where a calm breeze picked up off the Atlantic to take the edge off a warming sun.
By our afternoon walk, it was about 65 degrees (Fahrenheit). We started at the beach where a considerable surf (relative to the Sound…) ran up and seeped over porous rock. Litter, not unfamiliar to the city streets, was abundant.
Locals sat on the upper rocks looking out at the ocean. This stretch was not as populated as the beaches and parks we passed coming from the airport, where small groups and families crowded the sidewalks and grass.
We saw the greatest number of people in the narrow market street of the Medina, where I followed the path carved by this man and his bike.
There are many stray animals in our area. A man in the park fed cats out of a paper bag next to a patio where children played ball. Small children play soccer in squares and alleys alike (even through our feet as we stumbled by).
The day ended back at the Center where we ate dinner outside. Morocco has the most amazing oranges and peaches spiced like apple pie.
By this weekend we should be with our home-stay families and know some “survival Arabic”. Our studies really begin next week, but on Tuesday we had our first big test. After being dropped off in town, we had to find our way back to the center. Luckily I found my way to a cafe we had stumbled upon the night before, but walking in the street without a group while making observations was an experience all its own. I learned that once I learn Arabic it will be easy to practice. Many people, including a woman asking directions, approached me already speaking it.
Still to come: survival Arabic, taxi adventures, Moroccan drummers, my home-stay family and maybe a Turkish toilet.
Elizabeth Gillis 