Even though Im not taking any classes this summer I felt like today was a test of sorts. And to put it politely, I have a lot to learn.
Fenna (the Moroccan lady who I'm living with) picked me up from the airport, brought me to her apartment, and then took me on a driving tour of Tangier. For a city where it's "practically impossible to get lost" (her words not mine) this city is really confusing. Driving full speed down a highway Fenna is spewing information that is both reliant and wayyy to prolific to retain.
And no, there actually were no periods used in the whole 3 hour tour of Tangier.
"On your right there is the closest bakery but I dont like that one I prefer the one I'll show you later, this is where the taxi stops on your map its the place of (insert arabic word here) but we all call it (insert even more complicated Arabic word here) so just ask for that, this is the spanish consolate and on the other side of the block there is...MIERDA!! (she swerves to avoid a pedestrian)...this is the bakery I prefer, am I going too fast?, I'm hungry let's eat"
We stop off at a Seafood restaurant where they have a melange of complimentary Moroccan appetizers waiting for your when we sit down. We munch on those and some calamari and idly chat about school, culture and language. Now when I say language, we both talked about a number of different languages and in a number of different languages. Between the two of us, we used 6 different languages during lunch: french being the man language of conversation, she switched into Spanish sometimes (she went to college in Spain) especially once she found out that I understand Spanish moderately well (as anyone who has tried to talk about me in front of me in Spanish will tell you with much chagrin), we'd switch into English when we didnt want anyone to understand, and then spoke in Arabic and the local dialect (Darija) to the waiter. Then when she learned my last name we went through a few Italian words. If only I had though to use some Basque (although the phrases "Sit down" "Go to the sheep" and "Good dog" didnt naturally work their way into the conversation).
Then came the question: "So what are your ideas for Al Wafae?" I answered with the best answer I had: silence. I had no earthly idea the whole story of what they did, much less where I fit into this. I gave the generic copout response: "I see myself as a problem solver, and trying to impose my ideas on the organization without having done proper backround work is unrealistic." She took this answer but her question lingered in my head. What am I, a Western College student who has never held an official payed job going to bring to the table? My time in Tangier will largely be spent answering this problem, so stay tuned.
We finished lunch, hopped back into the car to see the madina and walk/rock the casbah the and some more crazy fast driving and speaking later we arrive at a Hawaii resort hotel looking pool. Apparently Fenna's best friend owns the pool area and we stopped by to say hello. We sat down at a table and the only other white person in the whole pool (Fenna's friend) came by and started speaking in German (which explains why she's white). Talk about linguistic fatigue. She waved to a waiter in the distance (it felt like she was Willy Wonka playing on his penny whistle to call the Oompa Loompas) and they brought us some mint tea.
Now I'm not much of a tea drinker, but this is a beverage I can get behind: Super-saturated green tea poured over 3 or 4 full sprigs of bruised mint leaves served excruciatingly hot in a tall glass cup. There was something mystical about this beverage: it's so hot it ensures you'll drink it slow, and something about the mint and green tea calmed me down. Now, if you know me, you'll know I never like to seem visibly flustered, so while I might not have been acting it, I was down right scared. Being immersed in a completely new culture, being so easily identified as an outsider, having to react to more languages than I've ever been exposed to, and learning a new city, up until that point was too much. My first sizable sip and time slowed down (I'm excluding that actual first sip where I didnt realize it was infinity degrees and burnt my tongue). My stuttering rambling French became crisp and well accented, Fenna's Spanish color commentary became accessible, and Darija (like basque last year) was just another language. Šukran: shook-'ran: you shook his hand and now you ran so you say thank you so it obviously means thank you, roll the R because of the Spanish influence, and vocalize the transition with a schwa. I can do this.
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